Hold The Phone.

I am sitting at Caribou right now and I feel the need to blog. Strap in cause it's gonna be a whiny one too - mostly because it's Saturday morning and I'm upset that I'm being productive and not disgustingly hungover.

Dear dudes who check out chick's butt's and think we don't notice,

You know who you are. Don't deny it. I see you, and despite my glares and mouth agape at your inconspicuousness and lack of class, you just keep on staring, which compels me to write this letter, you dirty old man.

Here's what you did.

You're over at the end of the counter waiting for your drink and a young girl in jeans was standing at the register ordering. Evidently, her curves didn't suck. You also noticed this and decided to get a better look. So you backed up and took a few steps to the right to get an unobstructed view, and stared. Just STARED. Your eyes did not move from her ass. I stared at you. I kept staring at you. You didn't notice.

I felt for this girl, she was just standing here in jeans and a sweatshirt, a senior in high school, ordering some coffee, and she became the object of whatever sick fantasy was going on in your dirty old man mind. And you didn't have any decency to hide it.

She walked over closer to you. You kept staring. I kept glaring.

Truth is, I wanted to smack you and tell you you're a sleazebag dill hole, to so obviously lust after a woman that is a solid 30 years younger than you, somebody's daughter, and by the looks of that ass, most likely somebody's mother.

And maybe you think we didn't notice. Maybe you think we can't see what you're doing as you undress her with your eyes and bestow them upon the beauty that will never be yours.

I was once the chick you dirt bags stared at, as most of us were, when I was young and thin and, well, perky. And now, I feel this weird motherly-like protective instinct for women who aren't asking for it and yet become  sex objects under the power of a masochistic gaze.

I have a feeling you don't get it very often.

I have a feeling you have a very small wee-wee.

I have a feeling you aren't much of a man at all. You probably pay for it. You probably pay women to meet the expectations of your self-centered apparitions. It was clear you thought nothing more of her than what she could offer you sexually.

Well dude, we all saw you gawk. And we all know you're a L-7 WEENIE. So, bug off. Perv.

Sincerely,
Early Bird Angry Lady

Valentine's Day. Because Love Isn't Complicated Enough.

All I want for Valentine's day is to spend the evening with someone whose himself, and by "himself", I mean perfect. Come on guys, is it that hard to pick out my favorite restaurant, my favorite movie, spritz on some Fierce, say all the right things, and fuck my brains out? Didn't think so. And don't bring chocolate - I hate chocolate. And don't bother asking me out if you are sloppy. I don't care how adorable you are, if you can't take a shower and dry off on the conveniently provided mat, we're done. On that note, is it that difficult to wash your hands without turning my bathroom into a goddamn slip'n'slide? Also, I don't care how gay you think it is, get a pedicure. I'm not exactly sure what happens here, but why does every man between the ages of 18 and 80 have at least one deformed toenail? It's either yellow, crusty, or infested with some mystery fungus that is impervious to all over-the-counter treatments. And when we're on our lame date, don't be that douche that tries to play the hero, even if it means making up situations. For instance..

Man: Did you see that guy? He totally just checked you out! Who does he think he is?

Me: I didn't see anything..

Man: Stay right here, I'm going to go take care of this.

Yeah, let's go Hercules, I'm starving. When we get to the restaurant, don't park in the farthest away possible parking space to avoid getting a scratch on your door. As far as etiquette goes, don't chew and drink at the same time, please take an obnoxious dose of Gas-X pre-date, don't eye-fuck the shit out of our waitress, and stay off your iphone for the night. 

That being said, guys, you know I love you. You fill the world with muscles, sweat, problem-solving skills, a wealth of useless facts and movie trivia, the ability to vaguely determine the general origin of a scary car noise, and an endless supply of "it's going to be okay's" But sometimes, I just want to strangle you with that loosely-fitted metro sexual tie. 

So on a serious note, I don't have plans tomorrow - so who wants to be my Valentine, grab some wings and a couple beers and nestle in on the couch and divulge in Dave Chapelle re-runs? It's a date!

éclat

"Whether you think you can or think you can't, you're right."