Culturally Insensitive: or something like that.

Dear Post Coital Couples, anyone who has strawberry blonde hair that I have referred to as a ginger, and any men who can grow a beard bigger than mine, which I know isn’t hard but still fuck all you guys:

Pop culture is one of those things I can generally do without in my life on a regular basis, but it’s also one of those things I really fucking love being part of my life. It’s a conundrum, I know. But good god it’s a really large issue for me.

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And honestly it raises questions internally that I come to find I have about myself. Like when I’m standing in a group of friends three days after I tell my girlfriend that pop culture doesn’t matter that much to me, and I’m trying to play it cool, glaring at friends through my horn rimmed glasses and flicking the cherry of my clove cigarillo, listening to all of them go on and on about the drivel that takes up their lives and then one of them says something like “ugh I can’t believe the Kardashian’s are even still relevant” and then something clicks inside me and I feel this need to defend the honor of these strangers I don’t even know and I come back with something just undeniably ridiculous like, “Excuse me what the fuck do you mean by that? The Kardashian’s are one of the most relevant groups of celebrities today!” And then I see them judge me and I’m quick to cover my statement and make it sound like I was truly just being sarcastic by following that up with “Kim gave one of the most memorable blow jobs of our time!”

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Everyone lol’s. Crisis averted.

For now.

But then I remember how close I was to admitting I have a problem.

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I think my brain gave up hope on trying to justify my cultural likings. Obviously I won’t be that guy who justifies going to see the next Nicholas Sparks movie because honestly fuck Nicholas Sparks and fuck his movies. Did you even bother taking time to see ‘A Walk to Remember’? That was the last culturally relevant movie that was made based on a book of his. You can put eight million Zac Efron’s and twelve Ryan Gosling’s into a Nicholas Sparks film but no matter what the context, even if you make them have the all time greatest homosexual on screen romance with graphic animalistic sex scenes, but you cant top the performance Mandy Moore gave to that film. Honestly, when she died, I died.

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I don’t believe anyone that says they didn’t.

I digress…

The problem, is that my tastes, while firm and finite in my mind, are scattered all over the fucking place like the lost souls of celebrity children who end up cutting their hair, experimenting with drugs, and filming themselves taking it on camera.

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For example. because I know this isn’t going to resonate with everyone, lately there have been a multitude of things that hit home for so so many in their heart of hearts. But for so many other reasons than the actual ones that I enjoyed them for.

Like ‘Hotline Bling’.

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You remember it. Drake, came out of the woodwork following some bang up tracks that put Meek Mill’s name to shame when he was trying to have a disgustingly simple rap battle over the interwebs. And suddenly, in all it’s glory, there was neon glow, backgrounds, and Drake. Dancing alone.

Why on earth was it so good? Was it good because of it’s healthy and incredibly catchy tune? Yes.

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Was it good because Drake is a cultural icon for anyone that feels the need to continue finding beer pong relevant and require background jams to get them through the fact that everytime they miss a shot they are admitting to the world just how inaccurate they are, both in sport and in life? Yes.

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But the reason it resonated with me? Drake officially gave his okay to white men everywhere to get drunk at weddings, bar mitzvahs, or whatever culturally boring event they want and dance like they are five stanky legs away from shaking out that bowel movement they have been holding in for an hour. I can literally scoot my pelvis around, point my fingers, and generally just wave my hand in different directions, and no matter what happens, if someone tries to call me out on it I can just start singing “You Used to Call me on my Cell Phone…” and they chuckle, and I continue my generic whitebread dance, and we all get along and go home after the wedding or four year old’s party at Chuckee Cheese and the whole world falls sleep saying something like…

“Damn, remember how awesome Alex was at dancing that hotline bling jig?”

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Straight up I have an issue with how I view things in the entertainment world. Are you enjoying watching American Horror Story this season?

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Awesome, me too! But guess what, not because its quality television! This whole baby vampire plot line was some twilight bullshit that Ryan Murphy ripped straight from the headlines of every article about how Twilight made a lot of money and teenage girls wanna watch Vampires scrump and feed on each other.

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And thank GOD we found all the hot gay actors to use as an opportunity to make GAGA appear well suited for the season, am I right ladies? Because that’s totally gonna work out when you become famous and come face to face with Matt Bomer and he feigns interest so he can keep scoopin on your male date’s wing-wang. Because how else would this season work, what with all of the awesome garbage they’re visually stimulating our eyeballs with, like blood, bleeding, and things covered in blood. Go team GLEE! You learned how to scare five year old kids with no imaginations!

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Want to know what does it for me? I am watching eagerly because I am hoping that eventually there is going to be something that genuinely scares me. I have such hope after the first two seasons that there is going to be something that would genuinely scare me, and then they went and put out two seasons filled with timid characters trying to find their ‘real selves’. I know…

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Gripe Gripe Gripe.

But seriously that’s the draw for me! I want that horror that genuinely instills fear in me. I haven’t seen an actually scary movie in SO LONG. I used to do a podcast centrally focused around movies and I even said on there that the horror films that get put out today are just a gross misrepresentation of what directors think we will be most afraid of, like gore, and sex, and gory sex.

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The Human Centipede series was legitimately the most mind numbing thing I have ever seen, even watching a persons mouth be pulled by needle and thread into the anus of another human, only to consume their poo and continue on in life as the nazi science project they are. Still no scare.

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Horror has lost its edge man. You wanna step back on the band wagon? Make some horror films about scary ass shit. Make me a horror film where you pull up the McDonald’s Drive through and everyone inside has been murdered and its late, and you know you cant go in there but the sheer fact that you wont be able to get that Big Mac you showed up for in the first place is just fucking terrifying lets be honest.

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Do you see where this is headed? I am a confused man child who cant get a grasp on what it is he likes. The good movies bore me. The boring movies make me horny. And porn just doesn’t cut it anymore. Give me plot! Stop picking up girls on the side of the road and banging them in the back of a van. There is nothing sexy about that.

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That’s how you get the clap.

Am I honestly supposed to believe you just pick up these women who look like someone that has been rode hard and put away wet, and your first thought isn’t ‘How do I know this woman is clean?’

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You’re just going to chance it? BangBus I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.

I am going to be the guy that likes Batman v. Superman or whatever because Ben Affleck gives a stellar performance that I can actually hear because he isn’t grumbling through his overbite like that half bit hack Christian Bale used to. (Thank God)

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I am going to be that guy who gets stoked when the next Adele record comes out because I want to hear a female singer that might actually put out an album that doesn’t have more than one song on it about how a guy did her wrong. Adele already did that. I have high hopes that this one is going to have like A SINGLE song on it that references whatever sad bro gave up on a thicky thicky thick girl and now she hella famous and he’s shootin smack on the weeknights because his rent check bounces.

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I WILL STRAIGHT UP BE THE GUY WHO GOES TO SEE EVERY SINGLE TYLER PERRY FILM WHEN IT HITS THEATRES BECAUSE THOSE FILMS ARE EMOTIONAL GOLD. Not to mention the plot twists and sincerity that goes into the man’s work is just inordinately good! I give zero fucks! If you cant Madea then friends we can’t be-a.

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Do you understand internet? The straightforward course that you’ve all been running is misguided!

And now I’m here to fix it.

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One post at a time.

Sincerely,

Someone slowly slipping into the depths of irrelevancy.

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I’m still not sure why my dad read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’.

Dear anyone who was a dick on April Fools Day, John Legend, and parents confused about what makes a good gift for a child’s birthday:

We are back!

Writing hiatuses are always tough, because for some reason or another you just lose that drive to have something to write about. You want to write and you start, and then you end up with five entries saved in your draft queue that you never follow through on.

Fortunately, all at once almost at the exact same time, all these great things come rushing in at once and you’re overwhelmed and you’re confused and you just think, quick write it down or you’re never going to be famous and you’ll never be able to go back to your twenty year high school reunion and rub it in the faces of everyone who became a doctor or a lawyer.

But realistically what actually happened here is I got lazy. And then the holidays happen and I suffer from a really nasty case of seasonal affective disorder or SAD which is absolutely appropriate. A lot happened in four months, and I will absolutely get around to an update on life soon, but that’s not what today is about.

Today is about addressing something for the guys out there. Because it was a huge success in theaters and all your girlfriends lost their shit when it came out, ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ swept the world off its feet and made everyone consider their comfort levels in the bedroom, but for one reason or another you didn’t get around to seeing it.

And that is why this blog exists. Because you as a gender (males) need to know what happens in this film, and why your girlfriend needed to see it. And because MY girlfriend wouldn’t fucking drop it, we downloaded it illegally and watched it together so I could find out exactly how great this work of art ended up being such a huge part of pop-fucking-culture. 

And this is all off the cuff, so as you read it, you are legitimately seeing the movie as it goes along. But through my eyes. Which lets be honest, is the only way you should ever watch a film.

And so:

Fifty Shades of Grey : a comprehensive play by play breakdown of one of the most confusingly pointless films ever made from a book I’m still confused about why my father ever read.

  • So the movie opens on overcast city scape and what I assume is Christian Grey running all over the place getting exercise. I already have nothing in common with the male lead and have no investment in this film.

  • The camera has panned to show him in front of his closet trying on one of eight of the same suit and what I assume are fifty shades of grey in ties. So far I have been able to deduce that I am watching American Psycho or Barney Stinson on How I Met Your Mother.
  • We finally meet the Romanian princess Anastasia and she has bangs, a floral button up and is giving Zoey Deschenel a run for her money in a race for who is the most frumpy recluse in America.
  • Fuck, I downloaded a version with Asian subtitles. If the movie wasn’t ruined before, it surely is now. The movie was already ruined I just hate when I get what I paid for, or lack thereof, when it comes to downloading illegally.
  • Things we know about princess Frumpington ten minutes in: she is really smart, overwhelmed by tall buildings in city skylines and may or may not be a lesbian.

  • Or she knows she’s about to meet that guy with the weird sex dungeon (SPOILERS)
  • Mr. Grey will see her now.

  • Barney Stinson’s secretaries all appear to be better looking than Frumpalina, which leads me to believe this guy this guy is gay or he surrounds himself with really attractive women to overcompensate for his small penis.
  • Makes more sense why Frump Queen has been invited to conduct an interview with him. Low expectations. She tripped walking in and totally shattered any dreams Barney Stinson may have had about banging her on his desk upon their first meeting.

  • She forgot her pencil for the interview, she is super unprofessional but luckily he’s got a pencil to give her in the first of what I will assume are a million sexual innuendos.
  • He looks twenty. Is he twenty? How the hell is he in charge of this company. It had to have been handed to him by family, there’s no way he worked his way to the start of an enterprise at twenty.
  • That means he is lazy or they casted poorly, but either way I’m already bored with this movie, like if this was a first date I would have asked for a check and mentioned that the chit chat was covered over tinder.
  • There is so much sexual innuendo in this that I can’t take it seriously.

 

  • He is not gay according to her interview questioning. I’m not buying it. I mean if that does end up being the case I guess it is good because I feel like the movie would have turned out so much differently.
  • Maggie has stated she just wants to watch only the sex scenes. I inform her that as a dedicated blogger I must push through the intense grey set design the filmmakers chose and make it through ALL scenes of this movie.

 

  • Okay so in Mr. Grey’s interview he was polite and courteous and smart and intense so he’s probably a good guy and like isn’t this is how it always starts? Do girls even try to gauge the crazy nowadays? How exactly does one identify a psychopath?

 

  • We’re back at her kitschy apartment with her amplifyingly hot roomate where she, plain jane, is opening a plain loaf of white bread to suit her plain Jane needs. So far the loaf of bread is the best actor in this film.
  • She gets on the phone with her mother and from what I can tell this woman’s relationship with mom is strained which is funny considering how strained is part of the word restrained. Lol at bondage jokes.

 

  • Cut to homegirls work and th…woah this motherfucker stalked her to the Home Depot she works at. Maybe a red flag? No? Oh! An opportunity to flirt, please carry on!
  • Cable ties and masking tape are on his grocery list today
  • And rope

 

  • He’s either looking to fasten down a tarp for his highschool graduation party or he’s gonna put someone in a very precarious predicament.
  • Plain Jane can’t function talking to him, but like…does that actually happen? Every girl I’ve ever talked to has never been at a loss for words when they want to say ew no go away, creep.
  • He should have bought a shovel and Lyme to throw her off the scent of his prison hostel dungeons

 

  • Good news though, he still managed, after all those creepy purchases to get her to go the hotel he was staying at.
  • Bad news he only invited her to take his picture.

 

  • This storyline is horrible…Did this book really do it for all the women of the world? Like I’m all for the whole movement of viva la woman and Rihanna’s ‘S&M’ song or whatever sparks butt play amongst even the most proper of people, but did grade level writing that is loosely based on twilight fan fiction really get y’all’s jollies in a bindle?

 

  • He doesn’t do the girlfriend thing and therefore he has to let her go. Am I the only one that has used that line before? The last time I used that line I ended up dating the person I said it to.
  • Does this mean the movie is over now?

 

  • Nope, guess not, because this motherfucker wants to toy with her emotions. So he bought her collector series books, which implies that, well… I guess he didn’t have to let go of her THAT much
  • Cut to the next scene and she is doing shots at a bar with her gay bff that looks at her like he wants to be in her pants yesterday.
  • Christian is home contemplating his lust for her (or whether she has any single guy friends) surprise surprise and apparently drinks white wine. Honestly I bet he knows where it’s from and the grape type and whatever blends went into it and shit about tannins and regions and shit…

  • Now they’re on the phone and he doesn’t like that she is drunk. She hangs up on him and Lol Christian won’t stop calling her back, just like the needy boyfriend who doesn’t wanna be the boyfriend but wants to control every aspect of your life.
  • He is coming to get her at the bar…even though he has been drinking…tsk tsk Mr. Grey
  • Speaking of which five bucks says he shows up and he is wearing grey
  • Gay bff is not gay, though the decision on Christian Grey is still out. We’ve all played that card before though, right? Oh I’ll totally spend the night watching chick flicks and bonding with you and not even remotely thinking about you naked and on top of me. And then you cry ONCE during ‘a walk to remember’ and your shot is ruined…

 

  • Christian has arrived and he has grey on, and I’ll take that five bucks.
  • She barfed on him, now he has grey and brown on. Not a good color combo. He can probably pull it off though.
  • He took her back to his hotel room which happens to be bigger than my entire house I’m just saying, like what the fuck did I do so wrong in life that this guy can pay my mortgage for a nights stay in a place like this and I get to come home to my dog rolling around in his poop because he keeps eating people’s shoes so we have to crate him while I cry in the shower alone every night?

 

  • His accent comes through when he is acting sometimes and I can’t take it. Motherfucking casting directors could pick from eight billion handsome people and you couldn’t find ONE handsome American actor?
  • He makes a necrophelia joke, she again, does not see any red flags.
  • He eats her toast for breakfast like, super sensually, but still, that motherfucker would have lost a finger if it was me sitting across from him. I don’t fuck around with my toast.
  • He explains that he doesn’t do romance. So so far it sounds like he just wants to bang. Like period. No relationship, no romance. So I’m pretty confident it’s just sex…
  • …Or he is a murderer.

 

  • Laying the innuendo on heavy again and she wants him to enlighten her. Wink wink.
  • He needs her written consent to touch her, and I assume the rest of the movie can only go downhill from here. It seems like a reasonable request from a serial rapist on parole, but maybe he is just a really good guy that gets “No means no’.

 

  • Grey’s brother is shaggy from scooby doo.
  • Maggie (my girlfriend, not a film character) is getting a weird female giggle thing down while we watch this movie, first it was cute now it’s distracting me from figuring out if there is an actual plot in this godforsaken piece of shit referred to as a movie.
  • He gets her car service home from her job and a helicopter ride waiting for her like WHO THE FUCK CAN COMPETE WITH THAT KIND OF BULLSHIT!? No one ever takes me on helicopter rides before they introduce me to bondage.

 

  • Idea for a plot twist: he shoves her out of the helicopter once in the air and turns out to be a serial killer who then gets down with the male driver of his car service limo.
  • Kidding, my luck isn’t that great
  • His “home” place is okay, in like an “I bring in at least eight figures” kinda way
  • Okay so, she signs a contract not to talk about him because obviously he has a reputation to protect as a non psychopathic sex freak. Why can’t people just be more open minded…
  • He opens the door to the sex chamber (It’s red)
  • I hope he likes scat play because anistasia just shit a brick
  • Don’t worry, he has rules for how this whole ‘taking control away from a person and beating them with rods’ thing works and good news! If she obeys his commands she gets him as a consolation prize. But not as a boyfriend. Or romantically.
  • How many people honestly would look at all this and be like hey yeah this seems like a good idea. Raise your hands. Head count?

 

  • She is a VIRGIN! Bomb just went off! Homeboy is not happy, but no worries apparently all is good in grey town and he has no qualms about being her first.
  • We have reached sex scene number one and she has chosen to wear granny-panties.
  • Maggie has the biggest grin on her face. Which confuses me because this movie is in no way doing anything for me.

 

  • Christian is officially no longer wearing anything grey. Because he is no longer wearing anything.
  • Oh good he’s using a condom, we don’t need any accidental psychopaths running around in the near future.
  • She is up cooking him breakfast. Apparently the morning after losing your virginity to basically a complete stranger the first thing you wanna do is make them breakfast and stay in their personal prison.

 

  • She must feel guilty or something because her face is super red, like allergic to getting laid red
  • There are now Boobs. The first boobs of this movie hooray. And by hooray I mean they’re just kinda meh.
  • Maggie agreed so I feel justified in writing that.

 

  • He has grabbed a tie and appears to be binding her wrists and asking her not to move. She keeps moving. Her ability to follow directions seems like it’s gonna be a problem In the future.
  • His mom has somehow walked into his house unannounced. Therefore she has a key. Therefore he is a mommas boy. I know because I am one.

 

  • Mom seems like a peach, super nice, so she’s hiding something. And this is apparently the first woman mom has ever seen him with. So Mom probably thought he was gay. (Join the club)
  • He doesn’t wanna be seen in public with his sex slave, but he DOES want to have his cake and whip and flog it too
  • I’m starting to fall asleep, straight up.

 

  • They’re going on nature walks and recapping his backstory and is all super boring.His mom friend made him a sub. She was a dom. Blah Blah Blah. He bought her a MacBook Pro like it was a mc flurry off the dollar menu so she can research the kind of kink he is into. Seems a bit much when she could probably just search on her phone.
  • She seems to have come to her senses after researching. She doesn’t seem down with all of this anymore.

 

  • He doesn’t like that answer and Jk she wanted to be tied up she was just messing with him I guess?
  • She giggles-He doesn’t-probs about to commit murder I mean I wouldn’t laugh either.
  • What a great family film. I would love to interview some parent that brought their kid to see this with them because they couldn’t get a sitter.
  • Beyoncé is on while they bang, marking officially the first thing I agree with decision wise in this film.
  • He goes down on her with an ice cube in his mouth. Everyone knows icecubes are for ameteurs. He is probably getting the engine primed before he does it with a fireball candy.

 

  • She has problems with the contract agreement, but I bet it’s not anything too detrimental.
  • Address change-Shocker
  • No fisting-No genital clamps-no FUN
  • What are buttplugs? Like for the drain on tubs?

 

  • She needs Clarification of some terms. Hopefully they are ‘yes’ and ‘no’
  • Homeboy is sweetening the pot with a date once a week if she plays nice.
  • I think that he can physically smell her pheromones.
  • I’ve straight up seen pornos with better acting than this movie. She keeps building him up and breaking him down really abruptly he is going to get blue balls. Zero fucks appear to be given by her. I really hope she turns down this contract.
  • He said he wanted to fuck her into next week-That’s some space time continuum shit, you can’t mess around with that kind of stuff. This is either romance or Sci-Fi you cant do both.

 

  • He kinda looks like Dan from gossip girl. Great, now I kinda wanna start gossip girl over now. I’m more of a Chuck Bass fan myself but you know it’s the thought that counts.
  • She has officially graduated. From highschool?
  • And ah good they’re drinking to celebrate her saying yes to the contract. She’s probably gonna need a few more drinks in her to be okay with his plans anyway.
  • Alcohol and domination are always good combos for life choices.
  • He bought her a car for graduation. Shes gonna have to give so many blowjobs to make up for this gift. That’s like overbearing I have no idea how she is comfortable with this!

 

  • He is spanking her over his knee. Because she rolled her eyes. I am so happy Maggie just calls me an asshole when I do it, this would just make me uncomfortable.
  • Andddddd he left her alone to go to work. So like a man…
  • Shit I fell asleep…where are we?
  • She’s tied up.
  • He’s gonna hit her six times, and she is going to count with him.
  • Did Maggie switch this to an episode of Sesame Street?

 

  • She’s crying.
  • None of this seems sexy.
  • I have like an inverted boner.
  • I’m so un-turned on.
  • I’m gonna rest my eyes now.
  • No I’m gonna keep one open in case Maggie gets any bright ideas and tries tying my wrists with the plug from the table side lamp.
  • No one is happy. He is sad. She is sad. Everyone is sad. Apparently all that weird stuff he spent two hours of my valuable time warning her about didn’t go over well.
  • Can’t wait for the sequel. Hope they recast and go in a different direction. Like leaving this drivel in the book form which is already WAY further than it should have gotten.

I’m not saying the movie was bad. 

I’m saying the movie was awful.

I maintain that the white bread Dakota Johnson ate is still the best actor in this film by the end credits.

And because blogs are great fun, sometimes your friends from highschool make them, and because they are friends you plug them on your blog, even if their blog is about being a parent and having babies, and your blog is about pornagraphic adaptations of mommy smut. Somehow you just have to tie the two together to somehow make them work just so you can help them with the plug.

So please, take time to settle in for a nice read about the qualms of having children, from one of the many people I went to school with who got pregnant and married already and left me feeling like somehow I have not lived up to my potential.

But really, it’s a good read written by a great person.

MommAccountable

And as always, remember that most things are garbage.

Also I’m leaving for another vacation in two days with the girlfriend, and we all know how those go, so check back soon!

Fondly, and still uncertain how I can process thoughts after watching such horrible drivel for the sake of my girlfriend,

Me.

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Be Underwhelming: Rules for Impressing Lovers on Vacation.

Dear Mom and Dad, Wegmans and whoever plans to travel soon,

I wanted to let you know that I heard your caution to take things slow during this new relationship. The advice you gave was clear and concise and any normal human being would heed your warnings.

But much like the time you told me not to try making s’mores in the toaster oven, and though I still maintain they would have tasted great regardless of the house burning down, I have chosen to ignore your decree.

And so in an attempt to woo my new lady of the night (no she’s not a hooker she just works until 6 so I usually only see her in the evenings), I asked her to go on a vacation.

I know what you’re going to say…and honestly, I feel like we have known each other for years! I really feel as though I know enough about her to invite her on a long car ride to meet family members I usually wait until the second Christmas to introduce.

I believe it was the wise Chris Brown who once spoke of amorous feelings when he said:

“I’m on some new shit, I’m chuckin them deuces up.”

Such wisdom. He most certainly does not GAF.

(Mom this means ‘give a fuck’)

And so we set out on a drive down the east coast to Virginia Beach for one unbelievably relaxing vacation. I figured I would just update you and let you know about all the rules I learned about vacationing with lovers and the plethora of events we got to experience together making our power couple status comparable to that of HOV and Bey.

Rule 1:

You’re going to want to get an early start on your vacation. In this case I made sure to accommodate our circumstances well. When I say circumstances I mean she drove the whole way. So as a surprise, and in order to ensure she wouldn’t have to hit rush hour traffic or be driving late into the evening, I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. just to make sure she was wide awake and ready to cart our asses around.

Don’t worry, I used Miley Cyrus for an alarm ringtone so she would wake up really happy.

We stopped at McDonalds for breakfast, and I couldn’t decide which breakfast sandwich I wanted her to buy me more, bacon egg and cheese on a bagel or a biscuit, so I just ordered both with a coffee and I definitely should have gotten the biscuit only, the bagel was sub-par but whatever I didn’t buy it.

Well, whatever the mud they called coffee actually is, it ran through me quick and I had to stop at a rest area. Plus it gives your beau a half hour to stretch their legs while they cart your Ms. Daisy ass around.

Rule 2:

If you stop for bathroom breaks, take your sweet time. You’re gonna be on the road a while, and even if your partner doesn’t have to go, you don’t want to rush.

Also, in the event you clog the rest stop toilet, I know you are wondering and yes, definitely tell your boo as you exit the bathroom. They will be proud and they will congratulate you with things like:

“Those things are made to take down anything and everything…just…how?”

“You’re so pretty”

Rule 2a:

Fart.
Fart a lot.

Rule 3:

If you stop anywhere for an hour or two, and there is a mall nearby, and you’re a man, prepare to be there for three to four hours. I don’t plan these things well, and I like shopping, but somehow whenever my new boo takes me to the mall to grab

“a strapless bra”

it really means

“new flip flops, a maxi dress, wait maybe this maxi dress, or this maxi dress, can you pick one of these the navy with gray striped maxi dress or the navy with charcoal striped maxi dress, never mind I’ll get both, new hat just in case there’s sun, probably a soda, but no not that soda, I want the soda from that place, ew this one has zero carbonation, probably a haircut at this Sears salon would be cost affective and convenient because we’re here, don’t you need sweatpants oh well whatever I’ll just wear them, oh I work here so I get a discount we should walk the perimeter of the store eight times just in case I can use my store discount maybe, do you think it’s warm enough for flip flops maybe I should return them, oh and did you want to stop in the Chik-fil-a we originally came here to eat at?”

Rule 4:

As a passenger, it is your absolute duty to entertain the driver. They are going to get stressed, and you are going to hit traffic, and when you hit this traffic and they double down with exhaustion and anxiety and all they want to do is sleep and stop driving, that’s when you have to up your game and prove you are the best car co-pilot ever as well as a useful lover not just during the secks.

Tell them how good they’re doing. Things like:

“Honey, you’re overreacting you just need to learn how to merge properly.”

“That was the exit a half mile back you just chose not to get over so we’ll just find the re-route.”

“Your emotions are surprisingly tame for having your period, that in itself is something you should be proud of.”

And when THAT doesn’t work, pull out the big guns, and distract the other drivers trapped in the gridlocked hell by smushing your beautiful face against the passenger side window. Your driver will laugh through her tears and that four car fender bender you cause will be a distant memory in thirty to forty minutes.

Rule 4a:

Definitely take a lot of pictures of your girlfriend even if they don’t want you to, like in the rain or when they’re trying to “snuggle” or whatever.

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Rule 5:

No matter how good of a person you are, don’t fuck with the universe by saying things like “we made it safe and sound” a block from your destination…

…because the universe will summon animals, like Bambi…

…and your driver/girlfriend will barrel into Bambi’s skull at a high rate of speed…

…and she will have another panic attack because this is the first deer she has ever hit EVER and she will of course, have just been talking about how nothing has ever gone wrong with her car since she’s owned it just before this occurs.

Definitely keep your thoughts on safe arrival to yourself.

And whatever you do, don’t refer to your lover as Bambi murderer or Venison creator for the rest of the trip.

Rule 6:

Take some time for you. Get a pedicure. They are fantastic.

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The chairs assault your back like you owe it money, and they do all kinds of things to your feet that you never knew you could do. Like shave them, lotion them, and give your legs a massage that could make a paraplegic moan with joy.

Rule 6a:

Don’t make paraplegic jokes. Ever.

Rule 7:

Visit all the novelty gas stations/grocery stores/fast food joints you don’t get to in your shitty overbearing town of Albany, like Wegmans, WAWA, Wegmans, Sonic, Wegmans, White Castle, Chil-Fil-A, Wegmans, IKEA, and Wegmans.

Seriously, Albany, fucking Wegmans. Stop being so lame and just sell booze at the grocery stores this is ridiculous.

Rule 7a:

Something to keep in mind when traveling is that your bowels are on a fairly strict regimine. Disruption in the form of temperature change, altitude change, or even the stress of having to criticize someone else’s driving for a week can block you up for some time and that can get uncomfortable.

Definitely DO NOT get food at the above locations and pile it on top of the compounded issue.

UNLESS! You have never tried them before…

In which case, in order get the spicy chicken club sandwich with waffle fries, IKEAS Swedish Meatballs and a salmon dill wrap, McDonalds at least twice, a buffalo chorizo based egg dish for breakfast at a kick ass diner, any and all breakfast sandwiches at WAWA, seafood at the Virginia Beach shore in grilled and fried format, a gigantic bagel sandwich at a cute sandwich shop, a giant bagel schmeared with cream cheese also because YOLO, and a creamy chicken and spinach Alfredo.

But be warned, piling this internal organ layer of food together leads to the next rule.

Rule 8:

When you stop up your hotel rooms toilet, you absolutely positively need to notify your lover first. It doesn’t matter how invested in the current episode of ‘Flip it to Win it’ they are, you shut it off, look down at the ground shamefully, and then inform them that you’re going to have to be a little late to the free beverage and cheese hour at the hotel lounge because there is an inch of toilet water on the floor in the bathroom.

Then call maintenance. Priorities.

Then when maintenance arrives, say something to the effect of:

“I have no idea how that happened”

or

“Does this happen often?”

Then, because your insides didn’t suffer enough the last five days, go eat enough cheese and creamy pastas to block up someone with IBS comparable to that of Pompeii’s eruption.

Rule 9:

Because you got a great deal on Priceline from that guy from Star Trek, you are located on the 8th floor, in a private bode where silence is encouraged and loud noises are frowned upon.

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Take this opportunity to prove to the world that even though you’re not super well endowed (thanks a lot mom and dad), you can still get the job done.

I’m not saying to have the sex loud and rambunctiously while you’re on vacation, but I am saying you should at least spend some time slamming your palm against the neighbors wall while you make noises similar to the ones you’re going to hear when you visit the zoo the next day.

You’ll feel better. I promise.

And you definitely won’t cry by yourself eating leftover room service from the night before because your girlfriend “needed to hit the steam room for some alone time”.

Rule 10:

When you visit the museums your bae wanted to see, definitely opt for the audio tour. Even though they will complain afterwards about how much of a pain it was, it earns you an hour of silence while you pretend you’re listening to your tour but really are enjoying not hearing about how “tired” someone is from all the driving she has done.

Rule 11:

Other states don’t have the concept of always being hungry grasped, so you need to be aware, places like Richmond and Virginia Beach, close down their restaurants at 2 p.m. right at peak “grab a samwich somewhere to tide us over” time and then they don’t re-open until 5 when it’s dinner time.

You should definitely look like a man in front of your new girlfriend and freak out because you’re hangry and there is no where to get a god damn peice of food that isn’t from a seven eleven and you should definitely blow it out of proportion and pout because girls love that shit and when they tell you to stop being dramatic you should definitely blow that shit out of proportion and say things about how you should just break up then because obviously she doesn’t value your relationship when you can’t get a fucking sandwich after walking around all goddamn day and only eating a handful of goldfish.

(I used to have a temper problem and I’ve really been working on it at the request of my mother, and I think we can all agree looking back on rule 11 that we learned a really valuable perspective on how well we’re doing because we haven’t had an outburst like that in a while, and we are super fortunate to have a girlfriend who will at least wait until we get back home to break up with us so that we don’t lose control in a foreign state)

Rule 12:

If you do get pouty, definitely make sure when getting off your exit to go back to your relatives, that you exact revenge on the driver for calling you a princess and telling you to calm down by telling them you know where you’re going, and then saying left here, right there, for fifteen minutes before you end up in a church parking lot and then admit you have no idea where you were going and then when your girlfriend gets upset you have the upper hand and can say things like:

“Now who’s being the drama queen?”

You win.

FINALLY, Rule 13:

Make sure you tweet everything that happens. Broads love twitter. Document the trip, you’ll be better off:

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Still taken but unsure why,

Me.

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Leggings as a Thing: a Response to Fashion Week.

Dear Dolce and Gabbana,

It’s fashion week here in the Most Things are Garbage household.

This means three things.

Number one: the repercussions from Super Bowl are the devil. All that salsa laden food covered in various cheeses and seasonings probably influenced by salt has all settled in the mid section of my body, and it is holding my waistline hostage somewhere on the tipping point of a 31 spilling over into a 32.

But cheese. Dear god the cheese.

Number two: my cat and dog are not my biggest fans. Don’t get me wrong, dressing them up is great and fashion week is all about the looks, but my dog is super comfortable when he is naked and roaming free in life, and really who the hell isn’t?! It just makes it easier for him when he decides to embarrass me in front of all the dates I bring home from the Internet as he pleasures himself at their feet while we watch Amelie on the couch.

Number three: Research!

I believe it was Spider-Man who said “With great fashion comes great responsibility.”…

…or something like that.

I mean it’s 2014 now so I feel as though fashion is unbelievably lenient now-a-days, and that there is a lot more room to be flexible.

Personally, I’m usually an all dark everything-all black everything kinda guy usually. My standard wardrobe would make the interior of Drake’s Maserati blush.

As far as dress goes though, I am not on the up and up with the latest trends or the hot styles now. It is complicated and written a long while back, but if you really want to know the progression of my fashion technique, you can read this.

Basic gist: My mom picked out my outfits until I was 24 and I made those sex-bracelets out of soda cap things to wear, and then passed them off to my parents as me being creative and not at all slutty. Also, those bracelets didn’t work and I usually ended up breaking all of my own while I played with my action figures on a nightly basis. Then I made progress somewhere after an ex-gfs insistence that I dress human, I understood how important the world of fashion truly was. There’s only so many times someone can say, ‘Stop shopping at Delia’s’ before you finally start listening.

Blah blah blah, a few years later I’m basically Tyra Banks.

So I basically understood all things fashion except one:

When the fuck did it become socially acceptable to wear leggings as pants.

Mom! You didn’t prepare me for this!! I’ve seen some horrible things!

To me saying leggings are pants, is like saying cotton swabs make a good substitute for pepperoni as a topping on pizza. No, just stop it doesn’t make sense!

I had to get to the bottom of it, this fashion phenomenon that has been sweeping the world.

Well as I generally tend to do before I believe anything I’m told, I heavily considered setting out to conduct a very detailed experimentation. I weighed the pros and cons of actually wearing a pair of leggings as pants for 24 hours, and was quite hesitant but a friends Facebook post pretty much solidified the decision for me:

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Sold.

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Luckily for me, I gave up on shame several months ago. I mean really what does in matter in the long run, grand scheme of things in life, a male wearing leggings out as pants should be considered normal right?

Well staying true to the daily experiment, I began by purchasing a 10$ pair of jeggings at target in the women’s section. It was not awkward for I had my female companion in friendship in attendance with me. I grabbed a bag of gummy worms and a copy of Bridget Jones’ Diary for checkout so there would be no misconstrued notions about what I was doing.

“Ten dollars?!? Where did you find these?” exclaimed the female cashier.

Somewhere between shirts that look like dresses and accessories I have zero idea how to utilize.

One, two, skip a few and here we are at D-Day. I made sure to wear my leggings to bed so that I awoke physically wearing them for the start of my 24 hour period.

I fixed myself a pot of coffee and a hearty plate of bacon because, well these have an elastic waistband and who the hell am I trying to impress really?

I mean with the exception of that OkCupid date at Starbucks but was there any doubt that I wouldn’t kill that?

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And so, as their time wound down as house guests, Kurt and Rachelle in all their marital bliss, invited me to join them around the Capitol Region while they ran errands.

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I figured since I was basically going to be miserable wearing basically no pants all day, I may as well take in some pre-wedding bickering to really twist the whole knife of joy lodged in the torso that is my life.

Well we made our way through several locations to collect data, as will be evident below in the results. To begin, in the car I did the only thing any reasonable person would do when conducting an experiment of this caliber:

Post about it on Facebook.
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I apologize to no one. I have done everything right up to this point.

Next, I took a ‘from where I stand‘ photo to post to the Instagram at a later date after results were concluded.

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It was eerily reminiscent of the majority of shots I tend to see on the Instagram, so I knew I was doing something correct.

Suddenly, and without warning, my 00’s pop princess mix on Spotify was interrupted by the buzz and buffering of multiple notifications. Apparently, my post on the Facebook had caused a stirring in the loins of many females, and opinions began rolling in a la the form of comments:

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I am not saying no more pants is a bad thing. I’m also not saying the female who posted this has never taken her pants off in front of me.

(She hasn’t. I got friend zoned when I was like 9 for saying the word ‘vagina’ in front of her on the summer camp bus. Boys are gross.)

What I am saying, is that females rushing to the defense of their sacred skin-tites was not enough to convince me!

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Well you know women…20140210-155346.jpg

So of course there were many more opinions to be given:

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Obviously by this point I was welcoming any and all opinions because I knew in the long run half the research would be done for me. Part of the plan all along.

There were funny opinions:

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There were honest and sincere opinions:

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There was sassy-ness:

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There was classic disagreement amongst the female species:

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Obviously there would be no final group consensus as we all know that females can never just agree on something.

I knew that the fate of leggings as pants lay I’m the hands of me, and I had to get straight to business.

Below are my findings:

Daily itinerary by location:
Big Lots
The family Dollar
Michaels Craft Store
Starbucks (OkCupid first date)
Home

Variables:

Constant– me, my beauty, my ass, my sass, hair.

Changing– butt uncovered 50% of the time at each location, customer type in store.

Reasoning and rules:

1. The golden rule.

Leggings being worn as pants is applicable first and foremost ONLY if the booty is covered. It is scientifically proven, and therefore is the first regulation to this process. See scientific findings below:

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Booties are meant to be poppin, but not in leggings ladies. Covering your bottom makes all the difference out in public.

See:

Hot:

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Not:

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2. Present yourself well!!! 

Choose your outfit carefully. Whatever the fuck tunics are, they are apparently closely associated with the legging ensemble. I chose a tank top under an oversized sweater. It was sensible and not too ragged. It requires a certain chutzpah to pull it off in public, and while you may feel comfortable, the attitude makes all the difference between:

‘Look I’m lazy am I doing the shopping right oh god what is my life I miss my cats time to go home’

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And…

‘Look I’m basically Beyoncé you’re just frontin’, I AM Sasha Feirce and yuh jealous’

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3. Know what to expect.

There is a very good chance you are going to get some looks. Am I right or am I right ladies? You have to be aware of your surroundings, and science proves that with certain places come certain levels of judgment. In reality, we all know the real judgment free zone is not planet fitness, but Walmart.

Below are the findings from my day:
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If you notice, places you would expect to see leggings as pants (Big Lots, Family Dollar) are more judgmental than those places you are expected to be creative and different (Michaels, home). This is because your brain loses the ability to give a shit how you look when you go to locations you fully expect to see a lazy ensemble.

4. There is a direct correlation between pockets/zippers and comfort: 20140218-090744.jpg

Where sweatpants are basically the closest thing to allowing your bottom parts to feel more free than my refills at Starbucks, jeans can be binding and constrictive. Leggings comfort level becomes clear when put in these terms.

5. Say no to UGGS.

Look I’m not saying UGGS look stupid with leggings, I’m saying UGGS look stupid. You need to own this look, and frankly everyone looks foolish in UGGS.

Be a boss, sneakers for the win kiddos:

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Final verdict:

LEGGINGS ARE COMFY AS FUCKKKKKKK!!!

Here’s the bottom line though. If you love your body and you’re comfortable, who gives a shit what you’re wearing.

Odds are you’ll end up reclined in front of Netflix anyway.

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Honestly, with the amount of criticism put on body types and choice of dress nowadays, I personally vote for the whole if you like it, wear it at this point.

Science agrees:

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Just do you, learn to love the skin you’re in, and you’ll be fine.

And take lots of selfies…always…

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Bless this mess,
Alex.

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Throwback Edition: Excuse me, do you have this in a size impossible?

Dear Paris Hilton or anyone who starts a fashion line,

I dress like an asshole. I said it.

Now feel free to judge, although who are you now, really?

I was brought up on a budgeted shopping style and if my mother taught me anything, it is that everything goes down in price eventually. She calls it “bargain shopping”. Some refer to it as “being fiscally sensible”.

So it is no wonder that when I enter a store with the sole purpose to pick up garments, I legitimately b-line for the clearance rack faster than a Kardashian’s farce of wedded bliss.

I will admit, that in highschool, amongst the superior Abercrombie and Hollister models that walked the halls, with their frayed strapped flip flops, AE logoed ball caps, and seagull encrusted zip-zip hoodies, I adorned the most comfortable shoes I could slip on without using the laces at all, jeans that ranged, from falling off my ass, to putting my testicles in an ever-lasting chokehold with their tag team partner my thigh, all to be topped of with a t-shirt, usually of the graphic orientation.

I know. Teenagers, am I right? And like it wasn’t that I didn’t WANT to wear the clothes that the large chains had to offer, it was just that I usually waited until they appeared on the marked down rack in the local Marshalls.

“It’s just a phase, he’ll grow out of it.”

Absolutely. And no sooner did that happen, did I graduate from college and, you know, never have to see people that would care again. But did it make a difference? Of course not!

Let’s check out my old styling pick up lines:

“Hey Ladies, who wants to date this attractive man, donning a pair of DVS skate shoes covered in muck from working late nights at Cold Stone?”

“Bet you never saw a smurf-parody of The Sopranos on a t-shirt before, generally more attractive woman than me.”

“Really though miss, are these pants that look like they could be my mother’s really not doing anything for you?”

Thank the lord I was not able to walk into bars/clubs/opiate dens back then. I would have been chewed up and spit out, trying to product place my face into a girls memory, no matter how sloppy of a mess she was finishing off her 8th appletini.

Then came that wonderfully awkward point in life when I realized, while trying to actually start shopping for myself when it came to clothing that wasn’t a standard jean or t shirt, that my body is just ever so delightfully the shape of a pear sitting in an ice-cream cone.

Pants? Forget about it. What you mean you can’t find a size 42 waist with a 32 inseam? You mean, I will never be able to wear anything they even sell at the chain named stores because they only go up to 38 waists and their button ups are slim fit? Are you really trying to tell me that some men have large chests, and are just screwed if they happen to have a small body for the large width, they were ever so disgracefully granted in their genes?

A big-and-tall section, will not, and never has been a savior to me.

Im not sure what it was exactly that sparked the change in body shape but I got there eventually, to the point where I could actually fit into the clothing I WANTED. I didn’t have to spend fifteen minutes choking back tears in a dressing room anymore after realizing that none of the eight pairs of pants I brought in with me were going to fit.

I still have not adjusted to the what to wear when, what patterns should not be worn with which patterns, and how stripes work, but I am a work in progress as far as my style is going. Find me without a mismatched pair of neon colored socks, and it probably means I’m at a dressy event-wedding, interview, etc. I have officially managed to blend into the adult world now. Shirts tucked in, belts on, dressy shoes kept clean and shined. Pick me out of a crowd in their cubicles, you could not, unless you know me obviously.

Still to date I haven’t managed dressing appropriately for the cold weather. So that is why I delved into this diatribe against my dressing decisions, because I am officially sick. Laid up, in bed, with a head full of more pressure than a math major’s expectations for her son in school.

(sorry mom, I’m trying)

With Love,

Alex

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