HOLD UP Y'ALL. Jessica Simpson is 'bout to turn her chair around and get real with the kids, because she has got some shit to say about the shitty way she was treated in the media with regard to her weight. Of course, she tells it to Oprah, the queen of turning chairs around:
Hey, before you guys start talking about date rape and just saying no, I'd like to turn this here chair around and talk from my heart with you kids for a minute. You know, jam wit' you while I wear these acid-washed jeans and high-topped sneakers. Lay some issues down. Because shit is bout 'ta get real, y'all.
Girl Scout cookies are kind of gross.
Girl Scouts are cool, and cookies are cool, but man, the combination of the two has resulted in some seriously overblown love for a mediocre snack. In American pop culture, the Girl Scout cookie has reached mythological status. Thin Mint, Tagalongs, Caramel deLites. Merely saying the words inspires awe and reverence among mass throngs of people.
Hold on a minute, kids, 'cause Imma jive with you, yo. Sorry for interrupting Saved By The Bell, but Imma turn this chair around and lay it down: shit is bout 'ta get real, y'all!
Since today's list was about getting dumped, it's fitting that this edition of SIB'TGRY is about exes. Specifically, talking about them. Specifically, how grown-ass people shouldn't really do that on the internet if they can help it. If you are over the age of 25--and even younger, if you're feeling precocious--consider not bitching, moaning and talking shit about your ex-lover on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, etc. It will end badly, and you will mainly just come off as a jealous asshat.
I'm not talking about writing or discussing thoughtfully the in's and out's of failed relationships. That can be productive. I'm talking about the things you want to write in all caps on your Facebook status after four too many whiskeys. For folks of a certain age, it's just plain tacky.
Cue the chunky, drop-shadow graphics and cornball synth tunes, because it's time for me to turn this chair around and get real with you kids. Let's talk about issues. Let's talk about being gay.
Is there such a thing as being too old to go gay?
I don't mean to ask if it's possible to live the gay lifestyle you always secretly wanted or suspected you wanted. I mean to ask if there is some point in one's life after which it is unlikely that you will discover you like kissing girls if you're a girl, or guys if you're a guy.
You may ask how I got to be wondering this, and the answer is: I just got off a 3-hour road trip with my fellow Doll Susan, and when it gets down to the wire, apparently we start talking about who and what we made out with in college. Me? I never made out with a girl. And now, at 26 years old, I wonder if I ever will.
Cue the hip, neon graphics and vaguely non-rocking generic instrumental intro, because I'm about to turn this chair around and rap with the kids. See, shit is bout 'ta get real, 'cause we're gonna talk about dating, y'all!
The conundrum: what is the polite way to turn down a date you are kind of sure is a date, but might just be a friend thing, but you can't just say outright beforehand that you're not interested in the person, because that would be presumptuous, but you are kind of sure they're interested in you that way and you're not?
Hey, kids. I'ma crank up this funky pseudo-funk-studio-musician-tune and turn this chair around, so I can straddle it and talk about some real shit. Today's pressing issue: what you call those muscles on men (and Pink) on their lower abdomen that point down to their boyparts.
Because being real 'bout our bodies is way cool and hip, right? I mean, next week we'll probably talk about teen suicide and bullying, but right now, we need to get something straight, and that something is agreeing on a term for those muscle things.
I asked the Twitter world to help me out. Why? Because hey, I'm being real with y'all: that's what friends are for.
So which is it, Dolls? Are we going to be technical, what with the "psoas" or classical, with the Davids? Or perhaps pop cultural, with the Ken? Turn your chair around and tell me why your term is the most real, y'all.
Hey guys. I'ma straddle this chair backwards and talk about some real shit with y'all.
I'm sitting here at one of my favorite Austin pubs having a pitcher of Shiner with my excellent ladyfriend Susan, who has just been on a fun date. A day date. A grown-up day date, y'all! Because grownups go on dates in the day time. Especially over-stressed graduate students. Who are also very grown-up.
Instead of doing a squealy-mouthed hope-filled replay of her date, we walked--like grown-up ladies--to the pub in question, and proceeded to talk calmly and rationally about Susan's date. After rehashing the high and low points of said date, we realized that dating expectations have become measured. No longer boundless optimism, our dating approach is now colored by a somewhat lengthy history of disappointments, let-downs, and--of course--successes.