Monday, September 27, 2010

The "Cut Off" goes Awry.

I think we've all been there. A romance has gone awry and you must never speak to the other person again. Perhaps it was too painful, too miserable, too awkward. Whatever the reason, you'd like to pretend like they never existed.

In this age of uber-technology, we are at the beck and call of every person at all times. If they can't reach us by snail mail or yelling our name out a window, in hopes that we come scurrying... they can try our cellphone, text message, facebook wall post, facebook message, facebook poke, BBMing us, G-chatting, Skyping, Tweeting at us, twatting at us, tooting at us. Somehow they will find a way to reach us.

So when it's time to cut all ties from a person, there's going to be a lot of work. It's exhausting. I haven't had to do the "CUT OFF" to many people in my life, but there are a select few who had become so toxic in my life, it was really best for us both to not communicate anymore.

So what do you do when it's time for the "Cut Off", well I start with Facebook. Defriending someone is harsh, but it keeps establishes some boundaries reaaaaal quick. When do you do the "Cut Off," it's important not to do it with malice, rather, it's important to do it with a pure heart. If you truly know that having the other person so prominently in your technological life is toxic/destructive to you, it's probably best to just go back to square one with them.

Here's the problem with the "Cut Off". When you cut a person out of your life because they have been so awful to you, you sometimes forget they exist. That's where you run into the problem I had recently.

While out on the town with a bestie of mine, we walked into a restaurant and there "he" was. "He" had taken me on a wild goose chase of teenage-like love months before, and ensured he stomped all over my heart as he made his swift exit from my life. (That sounded so dramatic...I'm aware. I just love an extended metaphor..It really wasn't so bad. Let's continue with the metaphor for drama's sake though..) After he stomped off into the night months before with my naive heart clutched in his devilish paws, I ensured he was "Cut Off". (See? Didn't that metaphor feel good?)

But there he was. Sitting at a table with a friend. He noticed me first, I couldn't help it. He invited us to come take a seat. Here's the thing about the "Cut Off," not only do you forget they exist, but you also leave yourself vulnerable when a possible run-in occurs. We sat down. I had forgotten how adorable he was....until he opened his mouth. And I remembered how obnoxious he IS.

That evening taught me something important. I'm not exactly sure what it taught me...perhaps my affinity for vodka soda's with lime (this was after I left the table in a huff..remembering WHY things had not gone well with us months before..), or perhaps the "Cut Off" was done for a reason. We were toxic in each other's lives. Simple as that.

It happens. Romances go awry all the time. Now let's gallop into the sunset with our IPhones and update our statuses telling the world how we are better off without him...

An Open Letter to...SEXTERS! AH!

Lock your phones and protect those all those with a weak stomach! 
We are all at risk! 
Are you a victim of...SEXTING??


You know who you are. All of you. Please leave my innocent friends and I alone. Whitney Houston said it best when she proclaimed, "Crack is whack". Well I'm here to proclaim the same sentiment..."Sexting is WHACK!" defines "sexting" as such: "The act of text messaging someone in the hopes of having a sexual encounter with them later; initially casual, transitioning into highly suggestive and even sexually explicit". 

Tell me something, Sexter, what was it about ME that fits that definition? Because I'm pretty sure your "highly suggestive and even sexually explicit" words in that sext, make me want to vomit and laugh at the same time. Sexting me would assume that we are engaged in a relationship of some sort, when in reality we've only hung out a few times. Let's turn the tables for a moment, shall we? If I were to sext someone I had only hung out a few times with, I would wonder if perhaps they thought I was being a bit forward? Did this go through your mind? Or were you too busy trying to take a cellphone picture in your bathroom mirror. This "turned table situation" wouldn't happen though. Do you know why that is, Sexter? BECAUSE SEXTING IS WHACK! I know it. You know it. The American people know it.

One of you Sexters sent my best friend a picture that was neither casual, nor suggestive. In fact this picture was just plain GRAPHIC. A picture of your man bits saying "Look who wants to say hi!" should I say this....umm...WHACK!

I think I can speak for most recipients of a Sext when I say, we appreciate your efforts, but if you wouldn't say that to my face, don't you DARE send it to my IPhone! Many a gentleman caller has accused me of not being a very good recipient of romance, but I can tell you that what you Sexters are sending to our phones is not's just WHACK!

And some advice, if the recipient of your sext responds with a "haha" or "awky turtle!" or even "wtf?"'ve misjudged the situation. Try again.



Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Butt Sniffing, The Situation, and "The Incident": A Cautionary Tale

I think our canine friends have it all figured out.

When dogs first meet they sniff each other's butts. Butt sniffing just gets it all out of the way right up top. Smelly butt? Smelly future with new dog friend. It's as easy as that. 

Human butt sniffing practices have gone out of style recently. Since it is taboo to sniff the anal region of a new friend when we meet them, we are left only with our first impressions. 

Let's take a moment and talk about first impressions, shall we? Let me tell you a story, kiddies. Snuggle in with your goldfish crackers and get ready for a tale.

The other night I met a strapping young gentleman. For the purposes of this story, let's call him...."The Incident" (like The Situation...but a six pack of beer, not of abs). "The Incident" had the charm. "The Incident" had the smarts. "The Incident" had the cutes. Immersed in our first conversation, I couldn't help but think how lovely this new friend was. He got a lot of points right up top from me. Sense of humor? Check! Similar interests and passions? Check! Not the last few nerd nightmares I've had to spend my time with recently? Check!

Now let's travel ahead in time, shall we? 2 hours later. The party is bumpin'. I'm feelin' fine like red wine. "The Incident" has clearly thrown a few too many back in the whole black hole of his mouth region. Time to go home. While riding shotgun in my beloved Jetta as I gave him a pity ride home, "The Incident" declares that he'd like to take me out for a drink sometime. I oblige politely and tell him when he's sober we can chat about that possibility. "The Incident" tells me I'm pretty. I smile demurely like a lady should. Then....."The Incident" PUKES. ALL. OVER. THE. JETTA. Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a SITUATION AND an INCIDENT up in here.

For all you gentlemen looking to pick up a lady-friend out there...some advice: 

Forgive the expression, but this puking incident put a bad taste in my mouth. All of "The Incident's" positive traits I had gathered from the evening went flying out the window with his vomit (the amount that actually made it to the window, at least). This was an example of a BAD first impression. 

Nowhere in my future friendship with "The Incident" will I ever be able to forget that on the first night I met him, he called me pretty and vomited all over my beloved Jetta. Apparently my beauty made him ILL?!? We don't bounce back from this. 

I wish I had known a few hours earlier that this incident was a possibility, but HOW?? Society says the butt-sniffing practices of our canine companions may not have pin-pointed "The Incident" and my future problems, but it may have...we'll never know because society tells us to keep our noses to ourselves. It's too bad. I'm going against the societal norms. Beware of your butts, I may have to sniff out our problems. I'm apologizing in advance. 


Headline from the newspaper: 

"Baby found crawling on State Highway"

Dear Baby That Crawled Onto the Highway, 

Did someone get out of his crib? I commend you for abilities to escape bedtime, Mr. Man...Baby, but please note that I'm pretty certain you shouldn't crawl onto the highway, lil' guy. 

I know, I know. I know I sound like an old fuddy duddy, but I really have your best interests in mind! You'll thank me when you're older. There are a few reasons you should avoid the highway. First, when cars come whizzing past you, you will surely make a poopy in your diaper. You get grumpy when that happens. 

Second,  you haven't mastered crawling yet, so you will surely invest a lot of time crawling onto the highway...someone will miss nap time! You get get grumpy when that happens. 

And finally, you're a baby. Babies shouldn't crawl onto the highway. Getting hit by a car will surely give you a reason to get grumpy, Baby. 

Ok, well next time make sure to look both ways!



Sunday, September 19, 2010

That's a dealbreaker, ladies!!

There are some sure signs that a fellow is bad news bears. There are the obvious ones that we all know (ie: if he bites you at any point while knowing you...he should probs go away, etc...), but what about those little details we let slip by?? Well, I like to call those "Madde's Red Flags!". These "unique" details about a person that we turn a blind eye to because they may be cute, or funny, or breathing... but too many of those "Madde's Red Flags!" can be disaterous. I have taken the time to compile a list for you, dear readers, of some ABSOLUTELY TRUE "Madde's Red Flags!" from my life. Join me, won't you? I'm embarrassed for myself.

1.  If on the first day of knowing you he says: "HEY! It's YOU! I know YOU! I've done my research on you...your facebook page is super fun! That pink dress you wore is super cute" 

2. If he doesn't speak English, but you do. 

3. If he attempts to make out with you while you are watching Liza Minnelli on the T.V. Liza is sacred, keep your tongue to yourself. 

4. This is not a pick of line. I repeat, this is NOT a pick up line: "Do you want to go to my room and watch 'Teen Wolf' on VHS?"

5. If while walking down the street hand and hand: "So, I think I'm in love...her name is ______" If that blank spot does not contain your name, you should probs go home. 

6. If at anytime on a date the words "Close your eyes and open your mouth, it's a Jelly Belly tasting party!" are uttered. RUN! 

7.  If during dinner he has to go outside and check to see if someone has stolen his car, he's probs not the most balanced individual. 

8. The Darth Vader suit in his house is better dressed than he is. 

9. If you go over to his house for dinner and his cat violently attacks your leg, chances are the two of you (you + the kitten) are NOT going to be able to live harmoniously together. Do the cat a favor, and get gone! 

10. If he can tell me where he was when Kennedy was shot, he is probably too old for me. 

11. If he has a thing for Miley Cyrus, but can't name all of the Spice Girls, he is probably a child and shouldn't be asking you out on dates. 

....and finally...

12. If he has named his bong "Charlene", there is no hope. 

So there you have it! Some red flags...just in case you are ever wondering if he's loco or not. 

Saturday, September 18, 2010



I'm obsessed with you guys. No, make my day. Your Random Acts of Smiles brighten my day more than any unicorn pictures, cartoon pratfalls, internet monkey videos, or glitter parties... combined!

Imagine my surprise as I'm walking down the street, minding my own business, and then BAM! Your pearly whites are there to greet me on the sidewalk. I never know who is going to whip out the whites! It's like a surprise birthday party EVERY DAY!

 Old man with the Twins ball cap in the parking ramp? You would have made me sad had you not sent a grin my way...but YOU DID! Little girl with pigtails who was clearly peeing on the floor of Target? Thank you for smiling at me and letting me share in the joy of your misbehavior! Hot waiter guy who was not MY waiter....I'm sorry I recklessly smiled at you with food on my face. Thank you for indulging me with a smile. If I could have tipped you, I would have. Instead, I send you a smile...from my soul!

I love to smile. If I could have a smile party, I would invite all of you. We would have cupcakes with smiles on them. There would be ice cream sandwiches arranged in the shape of a smile. We would play Pin the Smile on the Grumpy Donkey. What fun! Yay!

 Smile at strangers, they might dedicate an entire blog entry to you.

Keep smilin'!



Wednesday, September 15, 2010

When You Wish Upon a ManVault.

Every few years Disney goes deep into their Disney Vaults and releases some of their classic films again. As I walked through my local DVD retailer yesterday, I found myself drawn to the Disney aisle. Picking up each beloved remastered cartoon, holding it close to my chest as I hummed "When You Wish Upon a Star" with tears welled up in my Alice in Wonderland blue eyes.

.....And then I remembered something very important:

Bambi's Mom got shot. 

The nostalgia of seeing those old Disney films in their brand new shiny packaging, made me forget how awful it was when that baby deer's mother was shot and killed in front of me as a child. Somehow I had been dragged into the vault and there was no hope of my escape. Memories, emotions, catchy songs about whistling, had all overtaken my logic. You guys, BAMBI'S MOM GOT SHOT! And I fell for it!! AGAIN!

I've been going into my own vault these's called a Man Vault. (Wait...what? Gross. No. I didn't mean it that way!) I digress...the Man Vault: A place where you keep all of the the men you've ever gone on dates with. You keep them in the man vault for safe-keeping...just in case you have a change of heart somewhere down the line.

Here's the thing about going into the depths of your own personal Man Vault, when we dabble in the Man Vault, BEWARE: everything will look shiny and new again. Maybe he's even remastered himself with a haircut, better teeth brushing skills, social graces that don't make you want to crawl into a corner and die every time you find yourself out in public with him.

Let me illustrate this for you...for example: 

6 Months ago: An arrogant bully with an affinity for tight shirts and looking in the mirror. 

After 6 months in the vault: Aladdin. Hot. No shirt. 


Don't be fooled. I repeat, do not be fooled. Proceed with caution. Now, it is very possible that 6 months in the Man Vault will have him coming out a changed man. I know I've changed in those 6 months, fingers crossed that he has too!

My dabbling in the Man Vault the last few weeks has brought some very nice surprises though. Bachelor #1 may have been an uptight man-baby 6 months ago, but has loosened up in the vault and has apparently looked up the words "fun to be around" and "don't be boring around adorable girls" in the dictionary. Thank God. The nerves and anxiety of our first interactions have gone by the wayside, and while I don't want to date him is nice to see him growing as a human being. I was worried there for awhile.

There is a Man Vault problem that I need to warn you about. The shiny new boxes for the new Disney remastered films allow us to fool ourselves into thinking that somehow the movie inside is going to be different. True, sometimes the Disney detectives have found an alternate ending to Cinderella sitting on cutting room floor (In that new version Cinderella is sent to work for a pumpkin farm and spends the rest of her life putting on Halloween extravaganzas for the community...), but usually the story is still the same. Dumbo is still made fun of for his freakishly large ears, Eeyore is still a downer, and BAMBI'S MOTHER IS STILL SHOT AND KILLED!

He may have been in the Man Vault for 6 months, but be aware that his storyline is still pretty much the same thing. If you are a true Disney fan, you will wish upon a star and hope for him to change his ways. It's possible! ;) The nostalgia of days gone by may have brought you back to him, but know this: he may look shiny and remastered on the outside, but usually it's the same ol' movie from before.

Also, I'm pretty sure HE was the one who shot and killed Bambi's mother. Jerk.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010


There's this really nifty gadget on this blog. It allows me to track things like how many people read the blog a day, what entries are most popular, how popular I am in different countries, and how people even find my blog to begin with. I'm fascinated by this little gadget. If you ever need an ego boost and a good reason to use proper punctuation and spelling in your blog, this little gadget will do it for you. Not only is it shocking to see just HOW many people read this crap a day (it's a crazy number...I don't want to sound like a snob, but it's a number I didn't even know I could count to), but I stumbled across one of the most concerning things in my entire life.

According to the gadget, the majority of people that read my blog have found it via Facebook or Twitter. Many people use Google searches to find my little blog. I wasn't surprised when I saw people found me by typing in "Madde's Blog" or even "Madde + Dating + Unicorns", but what did surprise me was the person who found my blog by typing into Google (I kid you not on this one)....."Gay Bleach. com". I now present to you an open letter to...THE BLOG READER WHO FOUND ME BY LOOKING UP GAYBLEACH.COM ON THE INTERNET!


Well this is surely not what you intended on reading! What a magical place the internet is that it would send you to me, when you were clearly searching for....well, I bleach?

I don't mean to sound ignorant, Reader, but what exactly bleach? I have chosen not to google it myself, for fear that it would forever stay in my computer's history and someone might find it and pass judgement on me. I hope you know this is NOT a judgement on your reading materials, Reader! Never would I pass judgement on such a loyal reader such as yourself! 

My mind wanders when the subject of this gay bleach comes up. What is it? What is it used for? Perhaps it is a cleaning solution you are seeking out to rid yourself of your homosexuality. If so, I strongly suggest you reconsider this! You are beautiful the way you are! NEVER rid yourself of your beautiful qualities. EVER. This blog is strongly supported by the homosexual community that thinks I'm mildly amusing, so I shant lose you as one of them!  

Perhaps this gay bleach is something one uses in their hair to lighten the color to an extra gay blonde. If so, I have been using gay bleach (disguised as peroxide) myself for quite sometime! What joy! We have something in common, Reader! YAY! High Kicks! Glitter! SMILE PARTY!

At the end of the day, Reader, whatever gay bleach is and however the internet thought it was related to my blog, I'm glad it brought us together! Truly. Madly. Deeply. Gay Bleachly. 



Tuesday, September 7, 2010


I have a lot bizarre habits. For instance, I have a strange tissue phobia. Yes, that's right. A tissue phobia. Just the sight of a box of tissues forces me to stuff the puffy part down into the hole so I don't have to see it. There. I said it. It's weird, I know. Sorry.

One of my most bizarre and unnecessary habits is defriending people on Facebook. Defriending usually happens whenever I get a cold that requires me to stay in bed for at least a few hours. Perhaps minor common colds give me a feeling of mortality, forcing me to "get real" and "focus on the people that are important in my life"...but I think I do it cuz my nose is stuffy and I'm bored.

So now, an open letter to...THE 131 PEOPLE I DEFRIENDED ON FACEBOOK


Well........................this is awkward. Umm...You well? That's good. 'bout them Twins, eh?........................ I don't like sports!! We all know that! AH!!
Ok, I can't do this charade anymore! I'm just going to cut to the chase, you guys. I just had to do it. I had to defriend you! I'm sorry. If your feelings are hurt, I suggest you get over it. 

You have to understand this was hard for me too! I don't want any tears! Stop with the tears!! Please. You're making me feel guilty. Just stop it.

You have to know this...My process was organic. I didn't go into the Facebook defriending with YOU in mind specifically. It just happened to end up that way. You didn't make the cut this time. This happens sometimes, former Facebook friend. You see, I went through my friends one by one, and had to use some very harsh tactics to ensure that my defriending was efficient that day. These are the following reasons I probs went all deletey-crazy all up on your profile:

If I had no idea who you were from your name alone...DEFRIEND. I'm not sure how you got in my facebook to begin with. I'm sure it was a "you know my friend and I got drunk and told you a dirty joke at a party one night, so you friended me on Facebook...yay! We're best friends!" situation. Carol "The Body" Messerschmietz? DEFRIEND.

If you continually post status updates that make me feel the following emotions, you're headed for defriendville: sad, depressed, annoyed, bummed sauce, woebegone, irked, and miffed. I don't have time for those feelings in my daily life. I have a lot of things to do today, and feeling badly for you is not one of them. DEFRIEND. (I'm sorry. I'll buy you a journal for your birthday. I promise.)

3. One Word: FARMVILLE:
Knock it off! I don't like fake farming, I repeat, I DON'T LIKE FAKE FARMING! I don't want to help you buy a chicken, or find a home for the fake turtle you "found" somehow while you were sitting on your bum at work. You know how I respond to your request for me to milk your fake cow?? DEFRIEND! It's not that I don't like you, I just don't like that stupid game you play. You understand, I'm sure. Quit the fake farm, regain the Madde. 

And finally..the most offensive of them all...

If I wanted to be in your relationship, you would find me spooning with you 2 in the middle of the night. Please look in your bed right now... am I snuggled in next to your cat with my September issue of Vogue? No? That means I don't want to be in the middle of your make-out session with you and your lady friend. You, your tongue, your girlfriend, and your nastiness have earned you a DEFRIEND. 

In conclusion, I hope you are able to rectify some of these things before you refriend me. It has the potential to get reaaaaaaaally awkward-sauce if you refriend me and I have to defriend you...AGAIN. 



Monday, September 6, 2010

All The World's A Stage to Us...

Here is a rule actors should all live by: 


Here is a rule that normal people should live by:


As an actor myself, I have learned the importance of avoiding fellow drama-makers. Why? Well, unless chosen VERY carefully, dating an actor can be a big pile of messy. 

"But Madde, if we were to follow this rule...that would mean that no one could ever date you! You're an actor!" said this adorable puppy pointing his finger-paw. 

To that I say...shhhhh, puppy. Simmer down. That's not true. I'm awesome. I'm ALWAYS the exception to the rule. 

Anywho. Dating actors. Let's get back to the point. Actors are a special breed of human being. If you have ever been in a group of us, you can sometimes feel as though you are in an alternate, heightened reality. 

For instance, the other night as I stood on the beautiful rooftop balcony of a closing Minneapolis theater, I took a moment to look around. I was surrounded by hipsters and actors screaming at each other about the importance of doing avant garde Shakespeare for the masses in the modern age. Yes, that was a real conversation. And yes, eyes were welling up with tears. Actors mean business. All the time. 

One can argue that it isn't just actors that wear their hearts on their sleeves. That is true, but as actors we are bred to be so in touch with our emotions that if the moment is right to cry....we will cry. If the moment is right to scream expletives as we do jazz squares...we will break out our character shoes and scream the f-bomb in a British accent at the top of our lungs. If the moment is right to put on full clown make-up and a mink, while we sing "Everything's Coming Up Roses"...we will put on clown shoes, channel Mama Rose, and effing belt out "Everything's Coming Up Roses". It's just how we are made, we can't help it. 

Dating actors is especially dangerous if you are an actor yourself. Think about it in your mind grapes for a second. Let's think about actors as explosives for a moment. 

Let's do some simple math:




Truth: There are many actors who have made it work together. They are in the minority, I'm sure. Truth: I fully admit I am filled the brim with dramatic tendencies, therefore...for me "actor + actor=bad news bears". 

So, a warning to all those who don't know any better and date an actor: 

All the world is a stage to actors...don't be surprised if things end up accordingly. 

I'm just sayin'...


I became irrationally angry at some girls feet tonight. Here is my tale: an open letter to...FLIP FLOPS!

Dear Flip Flops,

Who the hell do you think you are? Are you shoes? Are you slippers? Are you a shower sock? Or are you nothing more than cheap pieces of rubber that promote sprained ankles? What is happening with you? What's your deal?!? I'm super confused. All I know is this fact: you make me so angry sometimes. 

You can keep flippin' and floppin' all over town, Flip Flops, but know that you have an enemy in me. 

First of all, have some self-respect and get some coverage for the top of a foot! Jeeze louise. You just keep walkin' around, gathering dust and dirt build-up around your stupid little v-shaped strap. You and I used to be friends, but every time I took you off, that dirt V that appeared on my foot was so sickening that I threw you in the back of my closet and chose not to hear your cries for help when my cat gnawed on your pink rubber heels. 

Second, women should have to sign waivers before putting you on. In this waiver they would promise to ensure that their toes didn't resemble anything that could be found on an elf, including, but not limited to, wacky long toenails and hobbit hair on their toe tops. As for dudes, dudes should never wear flip flops! When did you become so damn inclusive, flip flops?!? You should know you aren't proper footwear for men!

In conclusion, I effing hate you flip flops. You make people look like d-wads when they wear you. You get dirty very quickly. And you're just generally stupid. Get out of my closet and don't look back for any love from me. 


Sunday, September 5, 2010

Love is blind..but I am not.

Blind dates. 
Were you aware they still existed? 
Were you aware they existed AT ALL?
Well they do, and I'm going to be the first to say...

...methinks they are making a comeback!

The closest I've ever come to a blind date was a blind "we sort of know each other because we know people in common, and they keep talking about you to me and it's getting annoying...let's hang out so they leave us alone" sort of situation a few months back. That was fun. 

Although we were already facebook friends (we are still not sure how this happened...), we really had no idea who the other person was. A few texts sent back and forth pre-hang out, but really, that was all I knew about this fellow. I opted out of facebook stalking pre-hang out, noting in my mind that it would really be more fun if I had no idea who this mysterious creature was. For all I knew he could have been 9 feet tall with a mustache in the shape of a balloon animal. Or perhaps he dressed up in Renaissance puffy pants and insisted that all women must call him "Lord SugarDaddy". Alas, he was a normal fellow. Charming, adorable, and didn't even attempt to kidnap me (le sigh.). 

The blind date is a crazy concept. Think about it in your mind-grapes for just a second. A third party is SO confident in their own personal mating skills that they take it upon themselves to set up two poor souls for romance. Talk about over-confidence! Yow-za!

With the birth of dating websites in this new millennium, the blind date has gone by the wayside. Instead of the confidence of another person, people looking for dates have the confidence of a...well, of a website? Does anyone trust the Internet? I don't. That's why Internet dating creeps me the eff out. (For more reasons on why Internet dating creeps me out: I digress. 

So, I suggest the blind date make a comeback. Why? Because although the 3rd party setting you up on the date has the over-confidence of Danielle from "Real Housewives of New Jersey", they can be fun! What a new adventure! My 20-year old pessimistic friend just got set up on a date with some chick. Why should blind dates be reserved for the over 40s? The 20-somethings love a good adventure! My blind "we sort of know each other because we know people in common, and they keep talking about you to me and it's getting annoying...let's hang out so they leave us alone" sort of situation a few months back, developed into a lovely friendship with someone I would have otherwise never hung out with. 

My challenge to you is this: Be over confident and set 2 awesome people that you know up on an amazing date today. And what if you want to go out on a date? I'll set you up on a blindy with some of my amazingly awesome friends. (Disclaimer: I may have gone out on dates with some of the dudes I will set you up with...So, if you're a lady lookin' for a hot dude from my files, I'm sorry. If you're a dude, you're welcome. I know how to pick 'em!) 

Now, someone set me up so that I can write an awkward blog about it. I can technically write the date off on my taxes, right? No? Oh, who knows! 

Friday, September 3, 2010


Hello Friends.

I'm your MenWomenegimin girl.

...Are you tired of toxic men in your life? you poop at parties?



For only 32 easy payments of $9.99, you can get rid of those toxic gentlemen callers who have ruined your day....every day for 3-4 months. 

"But MenWomenegimin Girl, what if I've already TRIED getting rid of those dudes from my life?"

Thanks for asking, image of a grumpy girl I found on Google Images!

A lot of people ask me this question. MenWomenegimin is our patented* "MAN CLEANSE". 

We all have these men in our lives that we can't shake. The ones who called us "pretty adorable" once, so we keep running back to them in hopes that they will say it again. Or even in more serious cases, the ones who we drunkenly made out with some unfortunate evening, and despite their new girlfriend they still call us to "hang" every once and awhile.

I bet you didn't know that you rid yourself of your need to constantly text this person, or go out for drinks with them on a Tuesday night because they are "bored and had nothing better to do than to call you." 


MenWomenegimin works in 3 easy steps:

1. Pour our Man Cleanse liquid into a chilled cocktail glass, fill to brim with vodka. 

2. Sip. Sip some more. Get a straw and sip til the last drop is gone.

3. This is where the magic of MenWomenegimin really works...
Suddenly your mind will cause you to do the following:

*Delete toxic male numbers from your phone. 
(This will allow you to never feel the need to text him again. Also, when he calls you you are able to do your coy "Oh, hey..sorry..umm..don't know who this is? Who is this?")

*Your eyes will open to all the NICE dudes in the room. 

*Dance. You will just want to dance all the time. You are at your most attractive when dancing. You're welcome. 

Never feel the grump caused by toxic men again. 


Thursday, September 2, 2010


Dear People with Fake Accents,

Oh, hey. Or should I say "HOWDY!"....Someone call a doctor, I'm concerned. One second I'm having a normal conversation with you about the significance of the Cherry on the Spoon sculpture, and then BAM! someone from Tennessee walks in the room and you start talking like Dolly Parton! I know you were born in Minneapolis, this accent you started speaking in? I think it's fake. Just a thought.

People with fake accents, you're not fooling anyone. LeRoy from Tennessee knows that you are not from Tennessee! The jig is up, my fake friend! Do you know how he knows your dirty little secret? Because HE'S from Tennessee and you don't sound like anybody he's ever met. Your accent is a mix between a bad George W. Bush impersonator, Jessica Simpson in "Dukes of Hazzard", and a touch of Big Bird.

I suggest you stop with the fake accents as soon as you are able. I'm concerned for your well-being. Everyone knows it's not real, and if it continues I may have to smack you in the head with an over-sized cowboy hat. You'll have no affinity for the South after that, so let's not let it get there. It's not worth it.



Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Gay Bar Probation...perhaps it was a good idea?

If you have been reading the blog from the beginning, you will remember that I put myself on "Gay Bar Probation" about a year ago ( in an attempt to peel myself away from the arms of the adoring gay men in my life, and leap into the less fabulous arms of a straight man. I realized how ridiculous this decision was very soon after I proclaimed my probation on the internets, and have since returned (many times) to the places where fruity drinks flow freely and the dance floor is begging for me to take a boogie all up on it.

For a straight girl with bleach blonde hair and a flare for wearing animal prints, the gay bar is a haven...a safe-place, if you will. A short sparkly skirt isn't met with the googly eyes and drool-drenched faces of a man waiting to pounce on my lady bits, rather it is met with a "Heeeey Girl! You rock that! Take a spin around the room!" It's a lovely feeling to walk into a bar, not a meat market. Well, I should say it WAS a lovely feeling, until the other night...

This was me the other night. A mop of blonde hair atop my head and lips smothered in my new Chanel lipstick "CoCo". 

I have been in an artistic hibernation for the past 3 months, spending every night in a dark theater telling tales and making fart jokes for money. I finally had a night off. My friend Aaron had suggested we go out for an evening of fun. I was all in! We hopped from one place to another. Seeing the sights, enjoying the smells of the city, and because I'm not a huge drinker, the beats of the dance floor at a local gay bar. I don't like to drink, but I have never met a dance floor I don't like! 

Having had a tumultuous summer full of dates with boys from the wrong side of the tracks (more to come at a later date..if I can stomach it), I looked forward to an evening of dancing. I danced. And I danced. And I danced some more. Jumping from one side of the room to another, hands in the air, swinging my mop of blonde locks from side-to-side. My dancing reached a level of...shall we say...umm...huh..what's the word...insanity? Sure. It reached a level of insanity. And then...BAM! I punched some dude in the face!! Woops.

When you punch someone in the face while dancing, they should yell at you and walk away. This man did not do that. Instead he invaded my personal space with his groove thang. Still under the impression that I was in a gay bar and my lady-bits were safe, I proceeded to dance with this fellow as an apology for Mike Tyson'ing him. What happened next is....repulsive. I apologize for anything I am about to say. He...oh god...well, you see...he...uhh...well...umm...he licked my ear. It was gross. I know you are sitting there thinking..."Gross. That is disgusting."...To that I say, yes, it is disgusting, but you didn't have to have it happen to you. So I need your sympathy, not your judgement right now. 

Ok, so this stranger licks my ear. I push him away and I'm all..."Excuse me? Did you just lick my ear?" He nods. "Ok, umm..ya. You can't do that again. I'm a know that, right?" to which he says..."I'm straight! You think I'm gay??" Yes, yes, yes, all sorts of yes! I think you're gay because your hair is slicked back, your shoes are pointy, and you are dancing at the gay bar!  Maybe this is judgmental of me. And if it is, I'm ok with that! YOU LICKED MY EAR! 

The moral of the stories, kids...your ears are never safe. Someone is always lurking around the dance floor corner waiting to stick their tongue in your ear. Watch out. Be safe. And just remember, always keep dancing! And never date a man who puts his tongue in your ear. You don't know where that tongue has been. 

An Open Letter to...HENNEPIN AVENUE WEEKENDERS! (puke.)

I spent a rather unfortunate evening on Hennepin Avenue in Downtown Minneapolis this past weekend. It has taken me days to recover from the mayhem that is Downtown on a Saturday night. Ladies, Gentlemen, Lady-men, I now present to you..AN OPEN LETTER TO THE HENNEPIN AVENUE WEEKENDERS!


You guys are really cramping my style. I usually try to avoid this strip at all costs, but tonight I was showing some Canadians the Minneapolis "hot spots" and apparently you fall into that category. As I have become accustomed to do, I shall now break you down into categories so I may talk to you crazy people more directly.

1. Ladies out for "GIRLS NIGHT!! WOOO!!"
See this picture? This is the image that came up when I googled "hookers". Do these women look familiar to you? They should! You know why? Because you are dressed exactly like them! Ladies (I use this word ironically), some time I would like to go shopping with you. At this time we will talk about "Size of Dress" vs. "Size of YOU!". We will also discuss "How to walk down the street in heels", "Closing our legs when we get out of cars", and most importantly, "How to stay home on the weekends, and subsequently save money because you don't have to purchase as much eye make-up". 

2. Drug Dealers
Drug dealers, do I seriously look like your clientele? I don't know where you went to drug dealing school, but when you ask me if I would like to buy drugs from you and I say " thanks", drug dealing text books would say you would move on and find a new client to buy your drugs, right? That's not what you did, Drug Dealers. While I respect how persistent your business model is, telling me that "You'll reconsider this decision" is a dumb response and not going to get me to buy your drugs from you. You know why? Because D.A.R.E taught me not to do drugs. Just sayin'. Drug Dealers, go back to  D.A.R.E!

3. The D-wads who towed my Jetta
What the eff? Seriously? Seriously?? You're going to TOW MY CAR?? SERIOUSLY? Wait..hold on...that sign says the lot closes at 2:30 am. You're right. You should tow the Jetta. 

Oh wait! NO YOU'RE NOT! It's 2:45! Give a girl a grace period!! SERIOUSLY! Ugh. I need a pancake. 

4. Ridiculous Bachelorette Parties
I'm just going to say it. If your future husband saw you right now...he would reconsider his decision. I know that's harsh, but it's true. "Buuuut WHYYYYY?" the girl in the veil and unfortunate sash that says "Bride-to-EFFING-BE!!" in a ridiculous Muppet voice. I'll tell you why, Mrs. Muppet. 

First off, what's with all the grumpy faces? You look grumpy. Your girlfriends look grumpy. Even the guy who just walked out of that strip club looks grumpy. I'VE even become grumpy just staring at you. Wipe those pouts off your faces...YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED!

And those shirts you had made that say "Rachel's Bachelorette Party! One more reason to FLASH the world!!"? You remember those? First, when you ordered those online you should have asked for a bigger size. No one looks good in a bedazzled tank top...NO ONE! Especially when said bedazzled tank top is made for a toddler, not a grown women who has plans to do keg stands all evening. 

You are all hot messes. I suggest the following things tomorrow morning. Wash your face. Drink some water. Delete those pictures you took with every gay man you encountered on the Avenue. Pretend like it never happened. 

Never speak of it again. Trust me. 

...and finally...

 5. Dudes who look like THIS:
Stop it. Just stop it. 

HENNEPIN AVENUE WEEKENDERS, I appreciate your desire to come "party" in Minneapolis. I just don't think I can be down there with you again. Ever. Someone text me when you leave.