MySpace Surveys

Remember MySpace surveys? Fuck, remember MySpace? Well, I found one, and being the creative individual that I am, that’s my blog post for today! Maybe my “Online Now” button is also flashing while I am listening to Simple Plan and crimping my hair, because MYSPACE.

Anyway, here goes. It’s so long, and so, so uninteresting. I tried to make it funny with my charm and wit, but come on. I’m only human. Besides, I am way more curious about the people who thoughtfully take the time to put together these lists and then watched them spread through MySpace about as fast as herpes spreads through, well, MySpace.

  • 1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged? No. He’s a great chap, but–how should I put this? I’d rather turn my own skin inside out and walk around like that all day.
  • 2. You talked to an ex today, correct? Incorrect. You don’t know me!
  • 3. Have you taken someones virginity? At gunpoint!
  • 4. Is trust a big issue for you? No, why? Did someone tell you I have trust issues? It’s my mom, isn’t it! Isn’t it!
  • 5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently? LAME. Ugh, God, I’m having ‘Nam-style 8th-grade flashbacks when you didn’t date/fuck/”talk to” people, you “liked” them.
  • 6. What are you excited for? This survey to end.
  • 7. What happened tonight? This question doesn’t make sense. It’s only 7:00 PM. It’s not even “tonight.” The fuck I look like, a fortune-teller?
  • 8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted? Ask my liquor cabinet.
  • 9. Is confidence cute? EWWWWWW STOP 8TH GRADE.
  • 10. What is the last beverage you had? An Orange Julius and it was so fucking good.
  • 11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? All of them, teehee! Let’s all go to my house and take roofies!
  • 12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? Lots.
  • 13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? Fuck your mother, James. (40-Year-Old Virgin, anyone? No?)
  • 14. What are you going to spend money on next? Hunting down and torturing the creator of this survey.
  • 15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed? Yes, we’re totally “going steady” and he even holds my hand in public!
  • 16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? Well, I feel that wearing clothes for 3 months straight might be a little constrictive of my fashion sense, so yes.
  • 17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? You, survey. You.
  • 18. The last time you felt broken? SHUT UP.
  • 19. Have you had sex today? Me-ow.
  • 20. Are you starting to realize anything? Whatthefuck?
  • 21. Are you in a good mood? I was, before I started taking this survey, and now I just feel horribly locked into it.
  • 22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? Maybe yes.
  • 23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? Yes.
  • 24. What do you want right this second? I believe we’ve discussed how much I want to stop filling out this survey.
  • 25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy? Adios, muchacho!
  • 26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color? Mostly.
  • 27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? No, I am not a robot.
  • 28. What was the last thing that made you laugh? A really funny-looking mall cop.
  • 29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now? Yes.
  • 30. Does everyone deserve a second chance? It depends on what. Ew, gross, I feel like I’m giving sincere answers now. Stop it, survey!
  • 32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?
  • 33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda?
  • 34. Listening to?
  • 35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?
  • 36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?
  • 37. Do you believe in love at first sight?
  • 38. Who did you last call?
  • 39. Who was the last person you danced with?
  • 40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?
  • 41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake?
  • 42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?
  • 43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?
  • 44. Do you tan in the nude?
  • 45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss?
  • 46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?
  • 47. Who was the last person to call you?
  • 48. Do you sing in the shower?
  • 49. Do you dance in the car?
  • 50. Ever used a bow and arrow?
  • 51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?
  • 52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?
  • 53. Is Christmas stressful?
  • 54. Ever eat a pierogi?
  • 55. Favorite type of fruit pie?
  • 56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?
  • 57. Do you believe in ghosts?
  • 58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
  • 59. Take a vitamin daily?
  • 60. Wear slippers?
  • 61. Wear a bath robe?
  • 62. What do you wear to bed?
  • 63. First concert?
  • 64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?
  • 65. Nike or Adidas?
  • 66. Cheetos Or Fritos?
  • 67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?
  • 68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?
  • 69. Ever take dance lessons?
  • 70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?
  • 71. Can you curl your tongue?
  • 72. Ever won a spelling bee?
  • 73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?
  • 74. What is your favorite book?
  • 75. Do you study better with or without music?
  • 76. Regularly burn incense?
  • 77. Ever been in love?
  • 78. Who would you like to see in concert?
  • 79. What was the last concert you saw?
  • 80. Hot tea or cold tea?
  • 81. Tea or coffee?
  • 82. Favorite type of cookie?
  • 83. Can you swim well?
  • 84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?
  • 85. Are you patient?
  • 86. DJ or band, at a wedding?
  • 87. Ever won a contest?
  • 88. Ever have plastic surgery?
  • 89. Which are better black or green olives?
  • 90. Opinions on sex before marriage?
  • 91. Best room for a fireplace?
  • 92. Do you want to get married?

Do you see how much more there was? How much horrible, horrible survey? How did we do it, people? HOW?

Chicken (Bawk, Bawk, Bawk!)

Hey, you! You walk around all day like you are a normal, stable person and maybe even own a car and a blazer, but guess what? You are hiding some totally lame secret fear. And if you’re not careful, it might crawl out from underneath your bed and eat you. Think about that while you drive around in your blazer, Mr./Mrs. “Well-Adjusted”!

Hmm, I’m not really sure where I was going with that. My introduction kind of ran away with me. But this post is about Things That Scare You! Or, you know, Things That Scare Me, because you’re not writing this post (but you can totally write 18 comments about how you sleep with a nightlight and a teddy bear and a knife because you’re afraid of the Boogeyman, if you’re so inclined).

I am scared of barking, snarling dogs. I love dogs, but I have an atypically high number of friends with horrible facial scars from doggies biting them (okay, only 2 scarface friends, but still). You can’t come back from that shit.

I am also afraid of people who follow me, because as gorgeous as I am, I am afraid they’re going to pull something terrible out of their pants and try to put it inside me, such as a knife (see what I did there?).

I am afraid of clowns. When I was little, I was at a carnival thing inside a big circus tent, and we were sitting high up in the back. I was grooving on all the trapeze artists and the big fat elephants, and then I turned around the way you always do when you can feel someone looking at you, and who was there? A clown. A tall, scary, unsmiling clown, staring me dead in the eyes. You can’t come back from that shit either.

This post is pretty boring. I am boring myself just writing it. But I haven’t posted anything in a few days and I know my sexual little readers will just DIE without some new material. So, here you go. Hopefully something interesting will flit into my brain and then I can entertain you all instead of talking about my bad childhood clown experiences.

A Work of Living

Jobs are a bleak dreary horrible thing. If you are some kind of freak who likes their job, then you can just go sit in the corner with some construction paper and scissors and cut yourself some confetti. Otherwise, you are probably a normal person who wants to die for 8 hours a day.

Cats make the wanting-to-die thing a little better.

Do you know that movie The Island, where everyone lives on a secret hippie commune island and they all pitch in for food and shelter and get to live in a beautiful paradise together? That is what life should be. Instead, people work all day to survive, but they are wasting their lives at work. It’s a paradox, or a circle, or something smart-sounding: you work to make money –> you make money to enjoy life –> you can’t enjoy life because you’re working.

But what if you could have any job ever? What would you be? I never really gave this any thought because the obvious answer is “independently wealthy.” I am not at all ashamed to admit that I would gladly sit around and shop and drink tea and travel to exotic places and do nothing of value to society if I had the G’s. But if I had to have a dream job not titled “rich bitch,” I’ve figured out what I would be.

  1. A stylist. You get to shop for a living. And hang out with celebrities. And if you hated them and they were obnoxious and self-absorbed, you could put them in something hideous and call it “cutting edge.”
  2. A magazine editor. You get to put together a book full of shopping ideas. Plus, you get to make Anne Hathaway do your bidding, and I don’t care for her so I would make her do stupid things like fetch me lattes whilst on a unicycle.
  3. A museum curator. You get to shop for art for a living. And, you can help up-and-coming artists become the next Andy Warhol but less creepy and rude.
  4. An artist. I can’t think of a quip for this one because I would absolutely love making art for a living.
  5. A blogger, which if you get paid for it, is just like being independently wealthy while taking lots of pictures. (Hey there WordPress, wanna pay me?)

Rich and famous people always say you should “be what you love” and all that shit, and I am for chasing your dreams like a My Pretty Pony prancing through a field of daises, but in my opinion that only applies if you love garbage removal or difficult math. “I love to shop” doesn’t exactly translate into a stellar job.

So, the best I can hope for is the zombie apocalypse (totally not influenced by The Walking Dead playing in the background right now) so that I can steal all the clothes I want from abandoned malls and then go live in some former stylist’s mansion.

Let’s Hate Ourselves

If you live in America, you probably hate yourself. Don’t feel bad, it’s just a thing, like knowing the Pledge of Allegiance or owning Levi’s. (I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic, for which it stands, one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all! Is that right? I typed it out of memory, okay?)

Anyway, people react to this whole society-makes-us-hate-ourselves thing in two ways: they either pretend they love everything about themselves and that their every flaw is a precious adorable diamond, or they keep a secret mental list of everything they would change about themselves if they could. An easy way to find out which type of person your friend is is to ask one simple question: “If you could get plastic surgery, what would you get done?” Absolutely everyone is going to swear they would never get it and they don’t want it, but the fine folks in sector two will then say, “But if I had to…” and then launch into their I-Suck List.

I am fully aware that this is kind of depressing and sad and blah blah blah, but it’s also totally fun if you still generally like yourself but have some things you would like to change. It’s like a game, except you can never win! Me, for instance: I would have thicker hair and perfect skin with a perennial tan and a ten-digit bank account. You just have to be careful not to play too much, or you might find yourself sobbing on the floor and slowly cutting off sections of your eyelashes.

This uplifting message has been brought to you by the WildHearts! And, big disclaimer, whatever you hate about yourself, someone else probably stalks you taking photographs of and wants to lick (your big feet, for instance). So just roll with it like our hippie-dippy friends in Sector One!

Want > Need

Right now, I am longing for…

…a bright red shirt with the Coca-Cola logo on it, fresh flowers to fill my room, a Jag, less split ends, a spa day, a tiny fuzzy pet to hug, tan suede wedges, slutty velvet dresses from American Apparel, a stable full of horses, summertime, more sushi from the place up the street, a plain tank top in every color of the rainbow but mostly black, and the motivation to work on my other blog.

Oh, shhh, I’m starting a personal blog! Kind of fashiony, kind of not, lots of pictures of my sexual self (but not sexual pictures, you little pervs)–you know the type. But tragically, none of you can ever see it since you read all my freaky-deaky thoughts and you know all my deep-dark secrets. So why am I telling you, you ask? Well, for no reason, I answer! Anyway, what are you longing for tonight?


The Ugliest Men in the World

Everyone has a type, whether they know it or not. Even if you dated a fatty and a tall dude and then a really skinny midget, they probably had something strongly in common; you just didn’t realize it because you were too busy having sex with them. But hopefully, you silly sluts, none of those guys were the Worst Type in the World. You know the kind of guy I’m talking about. The species douchious maximus, or The Douche.

The Douche is usually really buff, really tan, and wears really tight clothes, but don’t be fooled. The soul of a Douche doesn’t always wear such an obvious suit. Nope, the Douche also comes in quasi-hipster-with-a-soul-patch form, the floppy-haired guy-next-door form, and the well-dressed smooth dude form. But since I’m superficial here at WildHearts, we’re going to focus on the members of the Douche clan who make themselves easily identifiable: see the first description.

Have you ever watched the Jersey Shore? No? Bless your little heart, you’re probably better than me because you don’t own a TV or day-drink. But for those of you who have witnessed that MTV majesty, think back to all the mounds of glistening orange muscles. That, my friends, is a Douche.

I can't bring myself to post a picture of the Douche prototype. These guys could totally be Douches, though, so there you go!

 Theoretically, I’m sure, some of these nasty meatsacks are nice guys, but in my opinon, a guy…

  • with vanity muscles
  • who spray-tans
  • and owns more hair products than me
  • (just kidding, that’s not possible)
  • and buys expensive, ugly clothes
  • so that lots of people will pay attention to him

…is a Douche. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good and blah blah blah but I think we can all agree that Ed Hardy is not good. Or stupidly pastel-colored Lacoste polos. Or those Abercrombie sweatpants that look so soft and so stupid.

So, in short, the Douche is the worst type, and I would easily classify them as the Ugliest Men Ever, and I hope it’s not your type. But if it is, at least someone is giving them love–they clearly really, really want it.


When you hear the word “Lolita,” you probably think one of these things:

  • Oh, the book written by Vladimir Nabokov.
  • Oh, the movie by Stanley Kubrick.
  • Oh, the girl’s name.
  • Oh my, I have no idea what this person is talking about. I’m going to pretend I got a text.

When I hear Lolita, I instantly think of boots with lacy ankle socks. Say what you will about the supremely creepy Humbert Humbert, but Lolita herself had some style. Red heart-shaped sunglasses? Adorable socks? Little dresses? I never saw the film, but H. H. here goes into ridiculous detail over what his stepdaughter/mini girlfriend wears in the book. And she might be twelve, but girlfriend knows how to put together an ensemble.

So I say, take some style cues from Dolores “Lolita” Haze. Who cares if you’re twelve or twenty, this smashing style can work for anyone!

However, I am so not talking about that weird Asian lollicon nonsense. I know that in Japan they have a whole “Lolita style” thing going on, but it’s so bastardized that I like to pretend it doesn’t exist–if you read the book, Lolita is not a 19th century ten-year-old who wears giant poofy dresses and carries a parasol. She is your average skinny little girl who runs around in regular kid clothes and has a really good tan, according to Humbert Humbert’s creepy moaning over her.

So how can I dress like a twelve-year-old so that creepy old men get sprung over me, you ask? Why, it’s simple! To add an edge of Lolita sexiness without looking like a weird cosplaying Asian  one of those people who sleeps in a crib after they get home from practicing law wanna-be kid, the key is to keep your outfit mostly age-appropriate and then mix in some innocently sexy pieces.

Think a cute dress you’d wear normally, with my Lolita favorite: ankle socks with heeled booties. Or an oversized sweater over a short, flippy skirt. Or, you know, you could just walk around dressed in too-small clothes and suck on a lollipop and see how that works out for you.