Speaking While Female

I watched this through Buzzfeed and think it's very interesting. If you haven't watched it, watch it. It's eye opening that these snap judgements are biological. It's made me think, and not in a good way. Like, if we're programmed to automatically not trust a higher voice (women), what does that actually mean? I'd love your thoughts.

Men: Text Messaging

I'm speaking to my ladies in this post.

I've had my suspicions (which I just tried to spell like magicians) about this in past relationships and friendships with men. I've long suspected they can't answer more than one question per text message.  This also applies if you're trying to ask two questions is a row. You have to wait for them to answer the one before asking the second one.

While this is annoying when dealing with any man, I don't need to ask my run of the mill male friends that many questions. However, having a boyfriend changes all this; I have a lot of questions to ask all the time.

Instead of freaking out on Boo (which I'm wont to do), I decided to test this little theory out. And, now I have scientific evidence that I'm right about this. Boys can't answer more than one question per text message. Just to make sure Boo isn't an anomaly, I added some more male subjects to my test: male friends and family members. ALL of them failed.

Not only do women have to be the more beautiful, smarter (don't argue, we can answer more than one question at a time), have babies, cook and clean and be physically weaker, we now know we have to siphon out our text message questions one at a time because your little man brains can't handle more than that. Jesus Christ.

The Perfect Body and Windsor Grace Dream Big

My friend, The Perfect Body (TPB) and I were sitting around her house watching Gallery Girls last night (she's never seen it). And while discussing the likelihood of Chantal being a Horcrux (very likely), Liz being a huge bitch (at least she owns it like a bad ass) and Maggie's awesome hair, we came to some conclusions:

1: Moving to New York City would be totally awesome if we didn't have to be insanely poor (duh)

2: Moving to New York City would be awesome if we had tons of money we can throw around, do whatever we want and only ride the subway when we want to (I didn't mind the subway when I was there, I like the anonymity of it, but TPB disagrees).

3: Moving to New York City would be awesome if we could party every day and night like rock stars but still have normal and functional lives (you know, we don't want to be that girl)

4: Moving to New York City would be awesome if we were so nice and amazing that everyone loved us and wanted to be around us and all of the men would want to be with us and we had enough backbone to shoo away assholes and stand up to jerks but still lovable and amazing.

Then TPB said she'd be the upper and I'd be the downer. Because that's how we are.

This is where the plan broke down into giggles and staring off into the distance imagining our amazing doppleganger, New York livin' selves.

just because I don't have a dress on doesn't mean death

I'm having one of those times. Where I just feel super insecure and bad about myself. I'm having a weird dynamic with a couple of friends and this situation has spun me. I don't know what I think about them (her) and if she's doing the right thing and if I'm an asshole or if she's an asshole or if no one is an asshole...? Not knowing how to feel about someone and something I have to be around all the time is super confusing and kind of infuriating. You know?

All of this confusion and anguish (i.e. heartache) has taken me from the mountain of awesome I was feeling last Wednesday after my critique and into a dark abyss of insecurity, uneasiness and unhappiness. (I wonder if my other friends are tired of me calling and complaining about it?) This probably has something to do with the break and lack of constant activity. The situation is a piece of shit no matter what, but, having endless time to sit and stew in it just makes it worse.

Where I'm going with this is I hate the way I look right now. There's nothing like a friend completely (metaphorically) stabbing me in the back to help me decide I'm fat and horrible looking (not that there's anything wrong with that). Not to mention, I've convinced myself I'll be alone forever, no one will ever love me, my friends sit around and laugh about what a mess I am without me (crazy time), I look like crap, blah blah.

I called one of my friends to cry about the betrayal and she told me all I can do from here is look really hot. Usually, I'm all over that. All over it. But, last night I spent the night at my cousin's house, packed a sparkly tank for work then forgot my razor. I brought another shirt, but, ew. And because of this shirt (and running a little late) I didn't put much makeup on. And without makeup, why fix my hair? I just slapped it in a bun. And put on some hippy shoes. Because of all these things, I'm kind of melting out of my chair with misery. I believe this means I'm super shallow...


le sigh