Things That Ruin Real Life (But Never the Movies)

Movies and TV are a dream world, and I get that. But lately, the trend has been gritty, hyperrealism–take the hungry, dirty cast of The Walking Dead and the depressing personal lives of everyone on Mad Men, for example. Everything about modern movies and shows is as real as possible…but damn, do they still forget some important details. Such as…

  1. Periods. Yeah, people, I’m going there. Sometimes–usually about once a month–girls have some “lady business” going on. And for those of you who don’t know, it’s not a one-day affair. I am really not sure how all the women of The Walking Dead are coping without tampons. And if you’re saying, “Oh, they have some but they just don’t show it,” bullpuckey. They made a whole episode about getting baby formula, so don’t tell me one of those girls isn’t in need of some feminine hygiene products. And Lost is even worse. There is NO WAY they were getting pads from anywhere, but nobody breathes a word about that.
  2. Haircuts. See above–how the fuck is anyone in end-of-the-worldia making time for a nice trim with haircutting scissors? Or a straight shave?
  3. Dead bodies. In a lot of movies and shows where a large number of people die, there are WAY less bodies around than one would expect. Or, said dead bodies are pretty as a peach, since no movie wants to show the beloved main character looking like a bloated beluga whale. Let’s get real here–corpses aren’t cute.
  4. Bullet counts. Oh, wow, the main character of EVERY MOVIE EVER has a magical 42-round pistol! Better buy me one of those before it’s illegal, ammIright? Count the shots in the next big fight scene you’re watching, and I’d bet my bottom dollar the hero is not reloading when his double-barrel shotgun kills 9 people.
  5. Makeup. Unless the movie is about beauty queens, you’re supposed to assume that everyone just looks like that. They show the girl next door lying down peacefully with a full face of makeup, and you’re supposed to believe part of her “natural beauty” are eyelash extensions and lipliner. Or said girl will be running through the woods for 6 weeks without food and water, but her eyeshadow is still flawless.
  6. Clothes. No one in movies or TV shows EVER repeats an outfit. Even characters that aren’t supposed to be loaded seem to have a limitless closet. Take Sookie from True Blood–she’s a bayou waitress with noooo money and yet she owns more sundresses than a Macy’s.
  7. Sex. I know that showing the two hot-and-heavy leads taking out a condom kind of kills the magic, but damn, people, STDs!

Now, I could go on and on, but I’m in the middle of a movie marathon, so I’ve gotta go soak up more deliciously flawed entertainment.

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Things I Want to Happen (That Never Will)

The title says it all. I’m a pretty big daydreamer, and even I grudgingly accept that some of my best fantasies will never come to fruition. But there is just SO MUCH STUFF I want to happen, I guess some of it’s bound to be impossible. Like…

Having sex with Cry Baby-era Johnny Depp. Yes, the man is like a fine wine that gets better with age, but dude is still OLD now! Oh, how I wish I had a time machine to waste on twenty-six-year-old Johnny.

Winning fifty billion dollars. Or inheriting it, I’m not picky. See, while some optimists might say this isn’t impossible, let’s be real–I don’t play the lotto, I don’t know of any rich relatives, and even if I did magically get a windfall of cash (pleasepleaseplease), it would never be that much. Fifty billion is “throw out scuffed Jimmy Choos” rich.

Being French. You can’t change genetics, and while I’d never toss away my own face and blonde hair on some weird French nose and mousy brown locks, I would die for the accent and access to tried-and-true beauty secrets (those French hold out in interviews, I swear–I’ve read French Women Don’t Get Fat, and I think there’s more to the story then they’re letting on).

Having an amazing talent. I am not without my skills, but I am not “the best” at anything. Wouldn’t it be cool to be, even if it was something dumb?

Being an amazing cook. I guess this is similar to the previous one, except I don’t want to be the best cook, or even halfway best, just pretty good. It will never happen. Never. I hate cooking, and I will always hate cooking, which is why literally every meal I eat has under 5 ingredients (never underestimate the stimulating powers of chili powder, lemon juice, lettuce, bottled sauces, and butter).

Seeing every country in the world. I started to write “every cool place in the world,” but I refuse to put that on a list of things that will never happen, because it’s one of my life goals, damn it! But it’s crazy to me how we live on a big frosty marble and don’t save the money or make the time to leave our tiny portion of it. Brasil, people? Ireland? Have you seen pictures of Greece? I’d even go to Antarctica, just to say I have.

To be honest, this list is starting to get a little depressing, since I want all these things and I feel like I’m condemning them to impossibility, so I’ll cut it short. And if a young Depp knocks on my door, I’ll take it as a sign from the universe that there’s still hope on that 50 bil.

Fall Favorites

Fall is my favorite season. It’s the perfect temperature–hoodie weather!–and everything is beautiful (extra so to me, since reds and golds are some of my top colors). Plus, the best parts are that you can wear anything. Literally anything! It’s still warm enough for skirts with cozy cardigans, or jeans, and…okay, if you couldn’t tell, this is just going to be me talking about the clothes I want for fall.

So, foxy little foxies, here is my mandatory wish list for fall. Feel free to buy anything and everything seen below and overnight it to me. Or buy it for yourself and roll around in leaves–or have sex in some! (Just watch out for slugs…I can think of few mood-killers worse than a slug in the wrong place.)

1.) Riding boots. Riding boots are sooo quintessentially fall. I don’t really know why, maybe because they’re preppy–all great fall clothes are, because of memories of going back-to-school or something? Who knows, who cares, buy me some. Snap snap, my delicate feet are catching a chill!

2.) Plaid. Especially in red. So cozy and cute and cuddly, and it crosses over into winter so easily. I have a super-cozy red plaid flannel button-down and you just look so effortlessly cute (or I do, anyway).

Best part? The gents look sexy too

3.) Wool skirts. Are you catching the drift here? Schoolgirl chic, with a kick! (Ha.)

Are you still just sitting dumbly at your computer screen waiting for more things to list? Well, so am I…but I refuse to post them until I get some creamy mocha leather riding boots in my size. Giddy-up!

Saturday Thoughts

Kevin Spacey looks like he rapes people. But in a kind of sexy way. Maybe.

I’m attracted to old guys. Like really attracted, and I don’t even have daddy issues. I dated my high school teacher after I graduated–I met him by grabbing a book he was reading at his desk out of his hands and going to read it, then bringing it back and making fun of him for a dirty poem about a mountain that was in it. When we got together like four years later, he admitted he wanted me as bad as I had wanted him the whole time. Lolita problems?

Whenever I lie facedown on my bed, I bounce my booty. Like I’m doing right now. It’s weird but I kind of hope it’s accidentally toning my butt or something.

I just watched the entire 2011 Victoria’s Secret fashion show and Nicki Minaj looked so fat and short compared to the models she was performing next to, and she looked kinda pissed about it. She’s also a really, really bad lipsyncer.

Chipmunks should be household pets! They’re cute and I wanna see one in a hamster rolly-ball.

I secretly dislike girls who don’t know how to wear makeup and think it’s funny. You are a LADY. Your looks are a part of life, which is short. Why not enjoy them? Plus it’s so dykey to be hold up a tube of mascara and whine, “Where does thiiiiiis go?”

I was just about to type that I’ve never had sex on a washing machine, and then realized I totally have–and some dryers, too. Funny how quickly you forget your exes.

And th-th-that’s all for my random Saturday thoughts, folks! Nope, not thinking anymore on this day!

Why Kids Suck

Okay, let me preface this by saying I love kids, which might seem totally at odds with the title of this post. What I mean is, having kids sucks. Kids, themselves, the actual human units known as “children,” are pretty great. They’re cute and they say stupid hilarious things and they’re more honest than any adults I’ve ever met (for better or worse).

BUT. But but but but but. Kids who aren’t just human units and happen to be your human units, whole people for whose lives you are entirely responsible, suck. And I know that they are miracles, and they allegedly turn one into a giant love-machine, and “you don’t even know yourself until you have a child,” and blah blah blah.

That’s all great, but I would rather just not know myself if I have to have a child to do it. For people who want kids, that’s great. But for people who don’t, child-havers, please stop judging us as sub-par humans ’cause we’re just not into it. There are plenty of reasons to have a kid, apparently (I’m pretty sure I’m missing any and all maternal/desire-to-carry-on-the-human-race genes), but all I see are reasons to not have a kid. Such as:

  1. They are a 24/7 job. You can’t just shove them away and say, “Well, fuuuuuck this! I’ve had enough of screaming and puking and pooping, and I just want to relax.” You can’t just not take them to school, and listen to their horrible teenage attitudes, and suffer through their ridiculous girlfriend/boyfriend choices. FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, you are saddled with responsibility that you can never, ever shake, unless Child Protective Services gets involved.
  2. They are expeeeeensive. Money money monn-ay…all gone.
  3. They ruin your body. (Men, fuck you.) They rip up your lady parts, make your flat stomach scarred and saggy, drag your boobs to the floor (haha I typo’d that as “boops” at first…can that be new slang?), etc. You can always tell a mom from a non-mom unless they had that sucker when they were 15 and bounced back like a rubber band.
  4. They never care about you as much as you care about them. Sure, they love you as much, but they don’t worry about you every second of every day and think about your well-being all the time and how their everylittledecision might affect you. That kind of sounds like having a boyfriend who’s just not that into you, except you can never break up.
  5. If you fuck them up, you fuck. Them. Up. They will be in therapy forever, crying into a couch cushion, just because you scared them with a Bobo doll or had a fight in front of them. They’re like little sponges that you have to squeeze ever-so-gently, or you’ll leave them dried up and bent out of shape forever. (Damn, I’m proud of that analogy.)

And those are just the negative reasons! The positive reasons go on and on and on:

  1. Hot young body for years longer!
  2. Tons of extra money to spend on yourself! Trips, clothes, wine, cars, trips!
  3. No one to look after–more alone time!
  4. More sex!
  5. More drinking!
  6. More motivation to take up a cool hobby when you’re older–salsa dancing? Pottery? Windsurfing?
  7. More of ANY-FUCKING-THING YOU WANT, BECAUSE IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU!

That’s the general idea, you see. The all time, number-one reason I don’t want kids is because I am selfish. To have a child, you give up a huge part of yourself, a huge piece of your life, and a world of possibility you might never get back. It’s the most selfless thing you could ever do…and, ladies and gentleman, I applaud you. And I’ll keep on applauding you when I’m 35, sitting in a comfy living room painting my nails and admiring my new expensive clothes, with not a binky or a bottle in sight. Cheers!

Notflix

I like movies. A lot. I wouldn’t call myself a “movie buff,” because I’m not an emaciated nerd with who gets woodys for his Woody Allen collection. But I like movies.

The problem with movies is Netflix. I don’t know what drunk group of monkeys picks what movies go on there, but I think they have some kind of arrangement with B-list Hollywood. So finding a watchable movie on there takes longer than watching the movie, and it’s killing me.

Some Horrible Movies I’ve Seen on Netflix

1.) The Killer Inside Me. I might not be qualified to speak on this, since I turned it off 20 minutes in, but I’m obviously not alone in my opinion because Jessica Alba “won” a Razzie for it. First of all, it was confusing in just the first few minutes, and second of all, there are two violent sex scenes and child-rape in just the 20 minutes I watched, plus a horrible beating scene (the Razzies were unfair–Jessica Alba totally looked like someone who got punched in the face after she got punched in the face) where I turned it off. The reviews said he basically keeps that up for the rest of the movie. Ooh, what a story!

2.) Everything else. (In case you couldn’t tell, I just watched that unwatchable 20 minutes of The Rapist Inside Casey Affleck and I just wanted to complain. I don’t really know what other terrible movies are on there well enough to write about them, because they’re CLEARLY TERRIBLE and so I don’t watch them.)

 

Fetish Week: WAM

Come one, come all to the grand opening of Fetish Week! I’ve decided to devote one post a week to a fetish I find on Wikipedia, because that is clearly a good use of my time. Besides, it is really hard to run out of things to write about with all the, um, sexy fetishes out there. I decided to start Fetish Week off with a non-creepy one: WAM!

WAM is “wet and messy” fetishism, which is not as gross as it sounds (or is exactly as non-gross as it sounds, if you don’t have a dirty mind. Which you clearly do, because you’re reading a post about fetishes, you filthy fuck). WAM-lovers just get off to people covering themselves [Ed. note: I totally typo’d that as “them elves,” and I’m pretty sure that’s a whole different fetish] with messy things, like mud or whipped cream. It’s not even weird, really. Like, what guy doesn’t want to see his girlfriend rub oil all over herself?

Plus, the best part? WAM doesn’t include anything disgusting like “wet and messy” kinda implies. No bodily fluids, no puke (apparently that’s a thing? Thanks, Wikipedia), no nothing. Mud is pretty much the grossest thing on there, and since mud wrestling is about as common as a ladybug with spots, even that doesn’t faze me.

So, now that you’ve learned and adopted a new fetish, enjoy jerking off with ketchup like one WAMmer did! Or, you know, stay tuned for next week–but put on your seatbelt, because I’m going to pick freakier and freakier ones until your minds explode. (That’s called brainexplodingophilia.)

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