This is why I drink.

New year's Resolutions.

How many times have we been through this?  When will you learn!? Year after year I will wholeheartedly promise to do, or not to do various things, only to find myself doing them (usually) the very next day.  It was a good fight.  It lasted a whole 12 hours...10 of which I was sleeping off a hangover.

Private profiles on Instagram.

Are your pictures of food extremely secretive? Do you have a very private cat?  Oh I see, your super filtered, perfectly angled, selfies must be ultra exclusive. Damn you!  I have never needed to see anything more in my life.

After holiday candy sales at Target.  

You are just wandering the isles when you see the sign out of the corner of your eye.  You know what it is, but you try to not make eye contact.  ”75% off.”  How can you pass up a deal like that?  Fill your cart now, and hate yourself later.  I need to hit the liquor isle up too since I am going to want to drink after I gain ten pounds.

Hair straighteners,

Like heels, I have a love/hate relationship with them.  On one hand, they make you look fabulous, on the other, they are the devil.  Every girl who has ever used a hair straightener has a battle wound to prove it.  I have burned everything from my forehead to my neck and even my boob, and for every burn, there has been a bottle.  If Chi created a vodka line, they could rule the world.

Influenza: a step by step guide.

Well folks, it finally got me.  I have been avoiding it for years, somehow managing to dodge it winter after winter.  I knew sooner or later it would catch up with me, but I always figured it would be once I shit out a couple of germ magnets who brought the virus home from The Cootie Kingdom (aka school).

I was out Saturday night with some friends, and what I thought would be my biggest concern Sunday morning would be nursing my hangover. Little did I know what was in store for me. The MOTHER FUCKING Flu.  I never thought I would be wishing for the latter...

I am currently on day 4, and I have become a completely useless human being.  I am unable to feed myself, and my personal hygiene has become questionable.  I did manage to shower a couple of times in hopes of washing away the virus, however, I have not seen a hairbrush since Sunday so I am hoping dreadlocks are the new black.

When you have the flu, there are only a few things you can really do.  So far I have created a pretty solid list of ways to pass the time/virus.

Step 1: Try to prevent the obvious by drinking tons of orange juice and inhaling copious amounts of Emergen-Cs. Consider shooting it directly into your veins, but remember extreme fear of needles.  

Step 2: Sleep.  Wake up still feeling sick.  Not enough sleep.  Sleep more.  More.  Comatose.  Am I dead? Nope.  Still sick.

Step 3: Chicken Noodle Soup. Better than Penicillin? Lies.  All lies.

Step 4: More orange juice.  Can you OD on OJ?  Let's find out.

Step 5: Cry.  Release that demon virus through your tears.

Step 6:  Shower.  You probably smell... and by probably, I mean definitely.

Step 7: Make that a bath.  Too weak to stand.  Don't get out until you look like a senior citizen.

Step 8: Crawl back into bed.  Shake. Freeze. Cry. 

Step 9: Sweat. Strip naked. Freeze. 20 blankets. No blankets.  This sure is fun.

Step 10:  Sleep for 100 years.

Step 11: Eventually (to be determined) wake up feeling better and carefully rejoin society. Slowly. A lot has probably changed since you went on hiatus.  You may have missed another Kardashian wedding or starlet meltdown.  Try to act normal.

Step 12: Realize you have lost 5 pounds with out even trying, and pray for at least 2 more flus this winter.

I never got the memo.

As I have mentioned in the past, I mostly hang out with guys and only have a handful of female friends.  I have just always gotten along better with boys because my sick sense of humor tends to offend most women.  I also really like video games and fart jokes.  I am basically a dude with boobs.  A 12 year old dude with an amazing rack.

Seriously though, being a girl is a lot of work. It's exhausting really.  We are held to very high standards and expected to follow a lot of rules.  I just can't keep them all straight.  Here are some aspects of being a girl I will never fully understand...

Wearing my hair in more than one way...down.

Not ordering a double cheeseburger with a side of cheese fried dipped in ranch dressing on the first date.  Boys see this and think I have a tapeworm.  There is a real possibility I may die alone...and hungry.

How to wear tights with out putting a hole in them, usually half way through putting them on.

The smokey eye, cat eye, or really how to use eye shadow in general.  I always end up looking like the morning after.

The color pink...especially women who wear it head to toe. Are you a two month old baby trying to confirm your gender?  Do you think you are Elle Woods from Legally Blonde?  Maybe you are convinced you are a pretty, pretty, princess?  Not so much.  What you are, however,  is a walking penis repellent.

How to stop trying to out drink my 6+ feet tall male friends.  It's never going to happen no matter how hard I try...well, except maybe one.  You know who you are, cough*Roy*cough.  Lightweight.

Lipstick.  It makes me look like I have bad collagen injections. It feels weird, tastes gross, and ends up on everything.  I don't get it. I would like to know the fascination with foundation (aka slimy fake skin in a jar) is as well. Will some girl explain these to me?!

Spanx.  They do not make you look thinner. They only push your fat up higher and make it uncomfortable to sit. eat. drink. move. breathe.  I mean really, nothing screams sexy like a granny panty/girdle.

When to wear white.  If you aren't supposed to wear it after Labor Day then why do they make white coats?  Also, how do you wear it and manage to stay clean?  Do you just not eat, drink, or sit with it on? I can't commit to any of those for more than 5 minutes.

Posing awkwardly in pictures...hand on the hip, head tilted to a 45 degree angle, THAT FUCKING DUCK FACE.  It's a picture.  Look at the camera and smile. You throwing up the rock sign does not make you look like a bad ass, and the peace sign does not make you look like the Dali Lama either.

And the most befuddling...

how to paint my nails without painting my cuticles. fingers. hands. arms. hair? fuck.

Friends...with benefits?

I went out last night to visit a friend in town from New York.  There were a few new faces, but mostly the usual suspects.  At one point throughout the evening a female friend became uncomfortable when a guy she recently hooked up with took a seat across from her.  To try to console her I pointed out that I too, had hooked up with someone at the table, and it was no big deal.  Upon further investigation, I realized we were all a bunch of hoe bags and pretty much everyone at the table had hooked up with someone else.

We started to talk about males and females as friends and after some careful reviewing and some questionable years in college, we both realized we have hooked up with a decent amount of our male friends.  When I say "hooked up" I am including something as simple as a drunk make out session.  I just wanted to clarify that fact since I have a plethora of male friends, and if I was sleeping with all of them, I wouldn't have time to write this blog (and my vagina would have fallen off by now).  There is also no time frame on this epiphany either, meaning I may have kissed my buddy Johnny once in high school, and we are still friends.

I used to think men and women were capable of platonic relationships, but like the time I thought I would look good as a blonde, I was wrong.  So very wrong. Either you two have already hooked up, or one of you secretly (or not so secretly) wants to, or at least wanted to when you first met.  No man has willing taken a trip with you to IKEA without hoping to try out the new bed he helped you put together.

Before you boys start befriending me on Facebook, know that I have not hooked up with every male friend of mine because there are a few loop holes to my theory. You can be friends with a member of the opposite sex without an agenda if you two have

A. known each other since childhood
B. dated the other's brother/sister/close friend
C. they are gay and you are straight or vice versa
D. all of the above

That is it.  Seriously ladies, even if you are missing limbs or body parts, as long as it's not your vagina, your male friends are trying to have sex with you.  Even if they aren't actively trying at the moment, they still would if you presented them with the opportunity.  It's like when someone asks if you want to grab some dinner after you had a late lunch...you may not be hungry, but you will always say, "Sure, I can eat."

America. Fuck yeah.

There have been several discussions about guns filling up my Facebook news feed recently.  The obvious argument being whether or not they are our constitutional right as Americans...

I am not going to go all political on your asses about the topic...I mean seriously, after all this time I feel like if you'd expect that from me on this blog, well then you don't even know me at all...

Instead I am going to go ahead and talk about some of my other rights as an American which I like to pursue regularly.

I have the right to...

• think Taylor Swift is a saint and not in fact a crazy bitch, and every guy she dates is an asshole who is entirely responsible for their breakup.  

• have a crush on Russel Brand, without reason, even though I will probably catch an STD from merely typing his name.

• never actually see a doctor but rather visit WebMD and self-diagnosis myself with cancer every time I have a sore throat.

• click on a YouTube link and spend the next four hours watching videos of puppies and kittens.

• refer to any woman thinner/prettier/better dressed than me as "that bitch."

• assume I am fabulous day in and day out, and anyone who tells me I look tired is just jealous...including the mirror.

• play any song I want on repeat for 6 hours, even if I never learn the words or never finish the song entirely.  I also have the right to sing along to the only 3 lines I do know and the right to be tone-deaf.

• eat cake for breakfast.  YES I DO ROY!  Stop judging me!

• be 31, have several jobs but no career, not married, and childless.  I can drink all the vodka I please, on the beaches I want, on all the vacations I take while you are discovering the spit up stain on your jacket while stuck in traffic on the way to your office job.  

• shake what my momma gave me, without apologies for all the jiggle.

• stay up until ungodly hours to watch movies on TV which I already own, which I have already seen roughly a thousand times, none of which have received more than two stars.

• buy an item of clothing, wear it 473974 times in a row, and decide I hate it the very next day.  I also have the right to decide it is the greatest thing in the history of the world a few months later. 

• lather, rinse, and repeat.  All.fucking.day.long.  I don't have kids so I have all the time in the world.

• be on a first name basis with everyone at Taco Burrito House...and know their wives. And kids.  How is little Alejandro's orange belt coming along?

• hate red wine. White wine. Most wine. And prefer the taste of something that has more sugar than a cupcake, preferably served in a pineapple, with a little umbrella.  Throw in a twisty straw, and my life is complete.

• still have a crush on Shawn Hunter and fan girl out when I hear they are making a Boy Meets World spin off.

• buy another scarf.  Yes, ANOTHER scarf, without having a cold neck. 

• have a love/hate relationship with my ass...You're awful, I love you.

• assume that when I throw a shoe at a spider on my bedroom wall and miss, he is going to round up a group of his buddies and kill me in my sleep.  I also have the right to sleep (or lose sleep) on the couch for as long as I see fit.

• steal my friends' phones and leave statuses about explosive diarrhea or liking it in the butt.

• be a grown up and still find this funny.

Frenemies.

I was recently thinking about a concept most women can relate to...frenemies.  I say "women" since men are capable of being friends with other men without secretly wishing harm upon them.

Women are complicated.  We are beautiful, magical, beings who have the ability to be jealous, spiteful, little people if the wrong one crosses our path, and every woman has had that bitch not only cross her path but has invited her into her life unbeknownst that she would try to ruin it.

I am not saying all women want to hurt their good friends,  however, every woman has that one friend they wish would trip on her stilletos while accepting her "Woman of the Year" speech.  Anything you have ever accomplished pales in comparison to her achievements, and as long as you two remain "friends," you will always be playing the supporting female role in the movie of your lives.  She would probably cast an older, fatter, version of yourself to play the part of you as well...

If you got a raise at work, her husband bought your company.  When you get a new haircut she tells how much better it looks now compared to that train wreck you had going on before. If you lose ten pounds, she is there to deliver you a celebratory dozen cupcakes on her way to the gym.

In most cases, this creature of darkness is one you have known since childhood.  You two probably grew up being compared to one another by your parents, teachers, and friends thus setting the bar for the level of competition that will continue until one of you loses and dies first. "I can't believe that bitch got married and had kids first, and now she had the nerve to die before me too? Who does she think she is?  Was.  My condolences. May God rest her soul."

There is no way to avoid a frenemy unless you can avoid women altogether, and you can't...there's too damn many of us. So just remember, keep your friends close and your frenemies closer. That, and if she tells you how amazing you look at the holiday party, burn that fucking dress. She's lying, and you probably look fat.

I do what I want.

Those of you who know me, know I love to eat.

And drink. 

And eat some more. 

Even if you don't know me (but you read my blog), you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know how much I love food.  I would marry a Kuma burger if I could, however, we wouldn't make it to our honeymoon.

If you are anything like me, you are too busy doing the happy dance while you are eating to pay attention to portion sizes. Then, one fateful day while you were enjoying your bowl of Cap'n Crunch (finding your way through the maze on the back) you accidentally stumbled onto the nutrition facts.  You knew you had made a terribly wrong turn when you discovered your giant of bowl of cereal was in fact 3, ok ok, 4 portions.  Who, TELL ME WHO, eats 3/4 of a cup of cereal?  Surely it's not the Captain since he is not the poster boy for nutritional health...

It goes far beyond breakfast too.  I'm willing to bet most of you have finished a pack of Ramen and thought, "I could sure go for another one of the those." That would leave you consuming 4 portions of mediocre noodle product. I'm starting to think this has something to do with the "Freshman 15"...

I was curious as to how many peoples' meals I was actually consuming on any given day so I looked up some standard food portions...

Here are a few of my favorite...

Please.  If that's a portion, I am going to consume a whole casino's worth of cheese as well as three to four packs of playing crackers.

Oh, you're not showing me that the plate on the right is mine, while the left shows the rejects that get fed to the dog?  Fuck you.

Thanksgiving portions...

For a 2 year old?  How dare you even suggest I consume anything less than twelve times this on any given Turkey Day.

Sooooo this last one may or may not be accurate, but after finding out a muffin is three servings, I'm not sure what to believe anymore...

Questions?

If you guys ever want to ask me something, or have a topic you would like me to rant about, feel free to submit it to my tumblr ask box.

http://www.oohstephanie.tumblr.com/

Thanks!

First World Problems.

Hello all!  I just got back from my favorite place on Earth, San Diego.  My brain is a little fried from a 5 day drinking bender so today's entry is going to be short and light.

While on vacation, my friends and I kept joking about the ridiculous things we complain about that shouldn't even be issues to begin with, aka "First World Problems."  Turns out, we are all a bunch of spoiled brats who complain about things like being too full after an abundance of delicious food.

Here are a few of my favorites from the trip...You know you have said, or at least thought one of the following, you selfish bastard...

"I have a closet full of clothes, but nothing to wear,"

"There is nothing to watch on any of my 900 TV channels."

"I left my iPhone on the couch when I went to poop and was bored the entire time."

"I'm so hungover from drinking that entire bottle of champagne."

"3G is so slow compared to Wifi. It's taking forever for my Instagram photo to load."

"I took a nap, overslept, and now I am even more tired."

"My expensive, new, shoes really hurt my feet."

"One of my delicious nachos just stabbed the roof of my mouth."

Bonus "problems"

 And my personal favorite...

We really are a bunch of assholes.

See you next Tuesday.

I'm off to California for vacation so I may or may not write...you never know if the mood will strike drunkenly at 2 am.  If not, you'll hear from me when I get back.  Try not to miss me too much.

Photoshop's a hell of a drug...

"The problem with quotes from the internet is it is hard to verify their authenticity"  -- Abraham Lincoln


Those of you who saw nothing wrong with the above quote need to go play in traffic.  In fact, if you believe everything you read on the internet, you need head to six corners and set up a picnic.

A lot of things circulate online (Facebook especially) that are complete and utter bullshit.  I see friends sharing all kinds of crap on a daily basis, but I just laugh and keep scrolling.  Most recently, a man who claimed to have won the last Powerball jackpot was supposedly giving away one million dollars to a random person who shared his picture. 

First off, the numbers on the ticket were not printed in numeral order, which they always are.   Second, if you just won half a billion dollars, would you be on your Facebook asking people to share your picture and checking it every five minutes?  I know I would quietly delete my Facebook altogether to keep that friend I had one class with Freshman year of college from hitting me up for money with some sob story about his one-eyed cat needing surgery.  Everyone I have ever known would be trying to get a piece of my million dollar pie, so I would move to a private island with all my closet friends so everyone else would leave us the hell alone...

Think back to KONY 2012. From the get-go something didn't seem right about that guy, and I thought he was full of shit.  When I suggested Jason Russell, (the guy who made the video) seemed like an ass face, several people called me insensitive...

Soooooo...how's your little, red, string bracelet saving the world now? In case you were wondering, I believe it went toward Jason's bail when he was caught running through the streets of San Diego naked.

Next time you see something on the internet, don't jump the gun and assume it's automatically accurate.  After all...

I rest my case.