Due to my fondness of dick and fart jokes, I am friends with mostly guys. I follow numerous amounts of them on Instagram so when I am bored and looking through the "pictures my friends liked" page, I see lots of photos of women.
I would have to estimate about 95% of these photos are "selfies," meaning they are pictures of women, taken by said women. This is mostly a female based phenomenon because men are not as self involved as we are. Although, I am willing to bet if Donald Trump had an Instagram, it would be filled with pictures of his bad toupee and money...
The concept of the selfie is ridiculous really..."Hey look at this picture of me and 'like it' to let me know I am aesthetically pleasing to your eyes." Even though it is silly, even modest little ole me is guilty of such vanity. I mean, if I wake up and don't feel like I look like I am in my third trimester, my hair has decided to take a break from being an asshole for one day, and I actually spent the time to put on make up (and not just my usual make up routine, aka sunglasses) it is my civic duty to share it with the world. Only if the stars align and all three of these occur, will you see a selfie out of me.
Some girls just can't seem to get enough of themselves and post selfies constantly...you know who you are. We all know what you look like so you can stop now. Seriously, we get it.
However, there are some of you have never taken a selfie, so that's where I come in. It's a right of passage so I am here to help you achieve the perfect picture to make people think, "Hey wait, she doesn't look like that in person!"
I am about to teach you the power of the selfie, just don't abuse it or it will lose its magic...
Step one: Find the Perfect lighting.
Something that says, "No, I'm not radioactive, I just naturally glow in the moonlight." Another safe bet would be to go outside and let the sun reflect directly off your face...it's nature's Photoshop! (Don't worry about looking tan, we can fix that later.)
Step two: Achieve the perfect angle.
Everyone has their "good side," but what you need to do is move the camera around to endless positions until you look at least ten pounds thinner. If you are already thin, find the angle that makes your boobs look bigger. If you are thin and already have big boobs, you either bought them or I hate you. Either way, your lips can never be big enough so purse those suckers out. Don't worry, no one will notice you didn't have those puppies yesterday.
Step three: Do not smile.
If you want people to think you are sexy, you can't show your teeth. I was under the impression that "The sexiest thing a woman can wear is her smile," but millions of girl's selfie photos have taught me otherwise. Don't even smile with your eyes. It's best to try to look dead inside.
Step four: Don't even look at the camera.
You want people to think you are not only sultry, but intelligent as well. Nothing says, "I am deep," like gazing off in the distance. You'll have them wondering, "Is she thinking about world peace? How to cure cancer? All of the above!?" Beauty and Brains? Well that almost never happens"...until you!
Step five: Be artistic.
You are hot (maybe), smart (kinda), so now you need to seem creative and whimsical. Try flipping the picture because no one will think you are a free thinking, creative, spirit, unless you turn your picture side ways or upside down. Everyone knows you can't look sophisticated right side up.
Step six: Filter that bad boy.
Give yourself a tan, remove those bags from under your eyes, hell you can even cover up bad skin with the right filter. Why just stop there? Double filter that baby. Triple filter it! You'll have people wondering if they have glaucoma or if you are Mila Kunis in no time!
Step seven. Caption it.
My little selfie wonders, you've come so far so don't fuck it all up now. You need the perfect caption. You want people to think you not only gorgeous, smart, and artsy but modest as well. Let them know how much you "hate this picture of yourself" or "how little make up you have on." I mean, I know personally my lips are naturally red and my eye lashes elongate and curl themselves while I sleep...don't everyone's?
*Bonus Step* If you spent hours achieving the the perfect selfie yesterday but actually look good on your own today, there is still hope. Grab some inanimate object and post a picture of yourself holding it. No one will notice your back to back selfies or suspect you're coincided if you pose with a paper coffee cup, and caption it, "MMMM Starbucks!"
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Things I am better at than you.
Last week I wrote a blog about all the things I will never be good at so this week I decided to build up my diminishing self esteem by listing all the things I am so amazing at doing, you couldn't keep up even if you wanted to. Go ahead and try, I dare you.
I am totally extraordinary at...
brushing my teeth and getting toothpaste everywhere. Sink? Check. Mirror? Of course. Floor, face, cleavage? You know it. The Ceiling? What can I say, it's a gift.
eating until I am so full I want to die...then having dessert.
being able to tell the exact moment people go from buzzed to drunk. It's like I have a 6th sense that can detect the split second their eyes go from normal to crazy.
coming up with disgusting statues to post on your Facebook when you leave your phone unattended.
watching shows like "American Ninja Warrior," and saying, "I can totally do that," yet I have to do push ups girly style. I'm just kidding guys. I don't do push ups.
quoting movies that have received two or less stars.
eating 1,000 times my daily calcium allowance via VitaGummies.
not punching people in the face when they say the word, "amazeballs."
going into Target for toilet paper and buying the whole store. Yes, the entire store. No Target left for you.
cracking my iPhone screen. Oh you have broken your iPhone too? Unless you shattered your screen by drunkenly throwing it down the steps at a Cubs game or squashing it with your Kardashian ass, I win. I really am the best at this.
I am totally extraordinary at...
brushing my teeth and getting toothpaste everywhere. Sink? Check. Mirror? Of course. Floor, face, cleavage? You know it. The Ceiling? What can I say, it's a gift.
eating until I am so full I want to die...then having dessert.
being able to tell the exact moment people go from buzzed to drunk. It's like I have a 6th sense that can detect the split second their eyes go from normal to crazy.
coming up with disgusting statues to post on your Facebook when you leave your phone unattended.
watching shows like "American Ninja Warrior," and saying, "I can totally do that," yet I have to do push ups girly style. I'm just kidding guys. I don't do push ups.
quoting movies that have received two or less stars.
eating 1,000 times my daily calcium allowance via VitaGummies.
not punching people in the face when they say the word, "amazeballs."
going into Target for toilet paper and buying the whole store. Yes, the entire store. No Target left for you.
cracking my iPhone screen. Oh you have broken your iPhone too? Unless you shattered your screen by drunkenly throwing it down the steps at a Cubs game or squashing it with your Kardashian ass, I win. I really am the best at this.
Monday, June 17, 2013
This is why I drink.
Weather forecasts.
"It is going to be the worst storm of the century" (one rain drop). "It is going to be a beautiful summer day" (50 degrees and pouring in June). Can we all just agree that unless it's California and the forecast calls for sun, no one can really predict the weather? Well except maybe for Karen...
Owning a car in the city of Chicago.
I am lucky enough to live in an area with ample street parking, however parking anywhere fucking else makes me want to pound vodka shots until everyone is pretty. Even if you are lucky enough to find an open spot, you still have to read about 643879 signs to make sure you won't be out $250 while wandering a rat infested vacant lot at 2 AM to get your car back. You should also reserve a portion of your paycheck for all the side mirrors you will have to replace, another chunk for street cleaning or snow plowing tickets, and the rest towards ever rising gas prices. At this point, I guess it's good you own a car since you will need to live it shortly.
Sad songs.
Like really sad songs that are sooooo good you can't stop listening to them, even though they make you want to kill yourself a little bit. Thank you iPhone for starting my day with "Tiny vessels" by Death Cab for Cutie, and following it up with, Bon Iver's "Skinny love." Maybe next you can play "City and Colour's "The way it used to be" so I can slit my wrists as I cry into my Cap'n Crunch.
Thank God for Bloody Marys and Mimosas.
"It is going to be the worst storm of the century" (one rain drop). "It is going to be a beautiful summer day" (50 degrees and pouring in June). Can we all just agree that unless it's California and the forecast calls for sun, no one can really predict the weather? Well except maybe for Karen...
Owning a car in the city of Chicago.
I am lucky enough to live in an area with ample street parking, however parking anywhere fucking else makes me want to pound vodka shots until everyone is pretty. Even if you are lucky enough to find an open spot, you still have to read about 643879 signs to make sure you won't be out $250 while wandering a rat infested vacant lot at 2 AM to get your car back. You should also reserve a portion of your paycheck for all the side mirrors you will have to replace, another chunk for street cleaning or snow plowing tickets, and the rest towards ever rising gas prices. At this point, I guess it's good you own a car since you will need to live it shortly.
Sad songs.
Like really sad songs that are sooooo good you can't stop listening to them, even though they make you want to kill yourself a little bit. Thank you iPhone for starting my day with "Tiny vessels" by Death Cab for Cutie, and following it up with, Bon Iver's "Skinny love." Maybe next you can play "City and Colour's "The way it used to be" so I can slit my wrists as I cry into my Cap'n Crunch.
Thank God for Bloody Marys and Mimosas.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Things I will never be good at.
I'll start with not ending sentences in prepositions...
Recently I was out for drinks with some friends, and we were talking about our various talents. It was a depressing realization that I am not particularly good at anything. I was not valedictorian of my class nor did I play any sports to receive some useless trophy my parents could covet for the rest of their lives. I didn't even own a "participant" ribbon. Womp womp.
Sure, I am a decent cook and occasionally I may amuse you people, but the list pretty much stops there. It seemed the more I tried to rack my brain for my special skills, the more things I discovered I am not good at doing (and possibly never will be).
I will never be good at...
pretending to care about the "cutest thing" your kid just did or the "funniest thing" he just said. Seriously, "pasghetti" is not a word. Your child has a speech impediment, and I am not amused.
all sports and forms of exercise including but not limited to jumping, running, not tripping on cracks in the sidewalk, stairs, and pretty much walking in general.
not getting food in my hair or finding it in my cleavage.
buying new clothes and wearing them instead of putting on holey jeans and a t shirt with questionable stains from the '90s.
turning down a free shot or freeing down a turned shot, depending on how drunk I am.
avoiding cake. I suck really bad at avoiding cake...or maybe it's just really good at finding me. Pie is currently stalking me, and I have a restraining order against chocolate as well.
buying bananas and actually eating them. Maybe I just enjoy watching them turn from green to yellow to brown because then it's like fall in my kitchen.
going to the bathroom in a timely manner. I prefer to wait until I am full of about eight drinks and two seconds away from peeing my pants before I start crying in the never ending restroom line.
not throwing out "that's what she said" at completely inappropriate places and times. "Yes, Grandma. It (your 90th birthday cake) is rather large. That is a very accurate observation."
not thinking every creak or random noise in my apartment is a psycho murderer coming to kill me in my sleep because only virgins survive that shit.
eating what I ordered and not stealingsome most all of your food.
Recently I was out for drinks with some friends, and we were talking about our various talents. It was a depressing realization that I am not particularly good at anything. I was not valedictorian of my class nor did I play any sports to receive some useless trophy my parents could covet for the rest of their lives. I didn't even own a "participant" ribbon. Womp womp.
Sure, I am a decent cook and occasionally I may amuse you people, but the list pretty much stops there. It seemed the more I tried to rack my brain for my special skills, the more things I discovered I am not good at doing (and possibly never will be).
I will never be good at...
pretending to care about the "cutest thing" your kid just did or the "funniest thing" he just said. Seriously, "pasghetti" is not a word. Your child has a speech impediment, and I am not amused.
all sports and forms of exercise including but not limited to jumping, running, not tripping on cracks in the sidewalk, stairs, and pretty much walking in general.
not getting food in my hair or finding it in my cleavage.
buying new clothes and wearing them instead of putting on holey jeans and a t shirt with questionable stains from the '90s.
turning down a free shot or freeing down a turned shot, depending on how drunk I am.
avoiding cake. I suck really bad at avoiding cake...or maybe it's just really good at finding me. Pie is currently stalking me, and I have a restraining order against chocolate as well.
buying bananas and actually eating them. Maybe I just enjoy watching them turn from green to yellow to brown because then it's like fall in my kitchen.
going to the bathroom in a timely manner. I prefer to wait until I am full of about eight drinks and two seconds away from peeing my pants before I start crying in the never ending restroom line.
not throwing out "that's what she said" at completely inappropriate places and times. "Yes, Grandma. It (your 90th birthday cake) is rather large. That is a very accurate observation."
not thinking every creak or random noise in my apartment is a psycho murderer coming to kill me in my sleep because only virgins survive that shit.
eating what I ordered and not stealing
Thursday, June 6, 2013
You are an asshole.
If you are a vegetarian who eats meat "sometimes," you are an asshole.
If you are currently doing a juice cleanse, you're totally an asshole.
If I stop my car to let you cross the street and you don't at least pretend to put a hustle on, you are an asshole.
If you are currently doing a juice cleanse, you're totally an asshole.
If you douse yourself in perfume or cologne because you like the smell, you are an offensive asshole.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
You're so vain. You probably think this blog is about you.
Recently I made a generalized statement on my Facebook (no names mentioned) and some guy took it so personally, he felt the need to write a negative blog about me. I mean, wow. I never got my very own blog before! I felt so special to know that my little ole opinion could make someone lose sleep at night. I must be moving up in the world.
I am not going to name names or put up his picture like he did because I am a grown up. I was actually more amused that I didn't use anyone's name, yet he was so sure it was about him. Plus the more I thought about it, the more I felt sorry for him. I mean, he is almost 40 years old, and he is attacking a little woman via the internet. Somebody's daddy didn't play enough catch with him when he was little...
I figured he probably could use some attention so I would return the favor, I mean someone needs to help the poor little bugger out. He needs a big hug and from what I hear, a shot of penicillin.
I decided to make a list of a few things he could do to release some of that pent up aggression so he can finally transition from Regina George to a woman we can all respect and admire.
He could...
buy a dozen puppies and give them all names like "Cuddles" and "Buttercup."
watch endless re-runs of "The Brady Bunch" and "The Partridge Family" until he feels all warm and fuzzy inside. Come on get happy!
eat cupcakes, chocolate, ice cream, cookies, and pies until he feels he has adequately eaten his feelings, his negative feelings that is...
take a trip to Disneyland. I mean, it is the happiest place on Earth. Although at this point, he may need to just move into Cinderella's castle...
soak in a hot bath filled with bubbles and the subtle scent of lavender. It should help calm the nerves.
lay on the beach and soak up some Vitamin D. I hear that helps cheer up even the emo-est of boys.
read this, and laugh, and realize how ridiculous it is to be almost middle aged and still acting like a teenage mean girl.
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