Bringing Slutty Back

"Let's bring slutty back!" That was my grand thesis at the end of the night after my graduation party slash many many (read: too many) shots. You're probably thinking that I was on the way to a one night stand or something, but no. I was on the way home to my cat and a deep dish pizza from Domino's.

Let's break here and talk about this pizza because I cannot even get over. It's possibly the best pizza out there, and I know you're totally judging me for saying that because it's from Domino's, but you need to CHECK YOURSELF and order one right now and experience that CHEESY BLISS.

Okay, back to sluts. My idea is a lot more virtuous than it sounds. Basically, I just want women to be able to hook up with people if they want to hook up with people and not feel guilty about it or be judged for it. Much like men.

Equality, yo.

Now, I've discussed this concept with a couple people and some of them have said that they don't think the double standard exists anymore, but I disagree. In fact, just the other day, my friend told me about how she met a guy, had a great time with him, and hooked up with him on the same night; and her follow up statement was, not surprisingly, "I broke my rule of prudence and am slutty."  Do you think he thinks he's slutty? No! No, he doesn't. And furthermore, no one's slutty in this situation. People are just human in this situation. Sometimes Stella needs to get her groove on. And "rule of prudence" sounds so Victorian, which, despite its literary genre, is not a world I want to live in.  Okay, okay, maybe an arranged marriage would be nice on account of the free housing (the rent is too damn high!), but that comes at the cost of not having any kind of organized plumbing system. Think of the smell! No one wants that.

So, let's embrace 2013 and do our thing. Now, I'm not saying go out there and be gross or anything. Wrap that shit up! But then, after that, get it girl. 

Got it?

Feliz Navidad

Dunkin' Donuts recently reminded me that my birthday is coming up. Considering how poor I am lately, I'm pretty excited that I'll be getting a free coffee from them sometime this month.

Anyway, since my birthday is just right around the corner, I thought I'd make it simple for you all by compiling a list of things I like and dislike so that you can easily pick out the perfect gift for me! I'm so thoughtful, huh?

Likes:

1. Cats
2. Peanut Butter
3. Books
4. Beaches
5. CHEESE
6. Wine
7. Sangria
8. Football
9. Baseball
10. CHEESE
11. Beer 
12. Music (good kinds)
13. Coffee
14. Men
15. Medieval soft-core porn
16. Food
17. CHEESE
18. Wine

Dislikes:

1. Space
2. Movies
3. Birds
4. Cilantro
5. Celebrities
6. Faneuil Hall
7. Chain restaurants
8. Shitty television shows
9. Country music
10. Zombies
11. Light beer
12. Fake mustaches
13. Pictures of feet in the sand
14. Terrorism
15. This website

You have until June 16th. Or whenever. I'll accept gifts at any time, really.

No One Likes a (Green) Giant.

Have you ever seen that Green Giant commercial that says you can now eat your vegetables with sauce and not feel guilty about it? It's pretty awful, and it also makes me wonder if anyone ever felt guilty about it before. I know, according to the media, I am supposed to feel guilty about eating chocolate and ice cream and food, but I never knew vegetables were bad too. 


Apparently they were. That is, until Green Giant saved the day with its low-cal cheese sauce. In the commercial, a woman (of course, because women are the only people who diet or need to diet and who have to sit and eat fucking vegetables without sauce or they'll get fat and die and no one will like them ever) is happily eating a tiny plate of broccoli and sauce. There's nothing else on the plate. That's all. A half cup of broccoli and some watery "cheese" sauce. And she's smiling about it. 

Listen, this bitch is either on serious drugs or getting paid a shit ton* to pretend that she's actually satisfied with this bullshit meal.  Take it from someone who used to eat Green Giant vegetables for lunch every day. Those were the worst days of my life. MY LIFE. And not because I felt guilty about the sauce, but because I was fucking starving.


I could get more feminist about this, but I'm not going to do that because that's not the purpose of this blog (there's a purpose?), and because I still strive to be a housewife. But the fact that women feel like they have to eat a 60 calorie meal so that they don't feel guilty about eating in general is fucked up.






*legitimate unit of measure. 

Cats 4-L

Yesterday was my parents' anniversary. They have been married for 38 years. That's, like, disgusting. They met in high school, which stresses me out more than necessary because I have this fear that if you don't meet someone in high school or college, then you're totally fucked. Or not fucked, whichever way you look at it.

Although I'm not sure I would want to be married at this current point in time, I am concerned I may spend the rest of my life with only my cat. Did you guys know cats live for like 18 years? That's absurd. I didn't consider that when I adopted Boo. He's kind of reckless though, so maybe he won't last that long. I mean, not that I want him to die or anything; I love him. But sometimes I'm like, "holy shit, you are so fucking annoying," ya know? Maybe parenthood should not be in my future.


But seriously, I really do like him. The other day my roommates asked me if I had to give up cheese or Boo, what would I do? I was like, "Sophie's Choice!"  Because in case you didn't know, I fucking love cheese. Like, more than people. Especially goat cheese. I could bathe in that shit. 

Sing it, sister.

But ultimately, I decided I would give up cheese over Boo, so don't worry, everyone. I'd most likely resent him for the rest of his life, though.