Tag Archives: friends

She Bangs

If you have to get a haircut, do not get bangs. If you already have bangs, do not have them trimmed. The amount of time between bang-cutting and regret in most US women varies between five minutes and two days. Please see process below:

  1. Bang-cutting ideation
  2. Bang-cutting plan
  3. Actual bang cutting
  4. Very short period of satisfaction
  5. Regret
  6. Anger
  7. Blaming self or others
  8. Googling “how to grow out bangs” and/or “bang extensions”
  9. Consumption of excessive amounts of red wine
  10. Bargaining
  11. Acceptance
  12. Just kidding about the acceptance thing
  13. Asking friends “Am I still pretty?”
  14. Crying
  15. See #9
  16. Confusion
  17. Posting of one Instagram photo showing the cut
  18. Deletion of photo
  19. Rage directed at all women without bangs
  20. General malaise
  21. Diagnosis of hair dysmorphic disorder
  22. Hair spray and barrettes
  23. Long recovery period
  24. Cycle starts over at #3

You somehow fool yourself into thinking that forehead fringe will solve all of your problems, but the host of issues it brings will be a plague on you, your friends, and your family. Just say no.


Highway to the Friendzone

If you have to talk about how you got “friendzoned” by a girl, realize that you’re speaking about something that doesn’t exist–and it makes you sound like a desperate, sad whiner who has probably never been with a girl anyway.

Gents, I hate to break it to you, but girls have made the irrevocable decision of whether or not they would EVER EVEN CONSIDER sleeping with you within approximately 32 seconds of meeting you for the first time. Literally. Introduce yourself, wait a minute, and then ask her if she’d ever even possibly think about sleeping with you.* She’ll either say “hell no” or she’ll blush. There’s your answer. You’re welcome.

If you claim there’s such a thing as the “friendzone,” then you’re assuming that thing is an aberration from the norm… namely, you are assuming that most girls want to sleep with you.

Allow me to offer the dissenting and most likely uncomfortable opinion: almost no girls want you. If you happen to find one who does, THAT’S the aberration. When this rare occurrence happens, say you’ve been “bangzoned.” Makes a lot more sense, and I bet you’ll find more people will want to celebrate with you about that compared with the low attendance you’ll find at your little friendzone pity party.

* Omg, please let me know if you try this. I want to know every detail about what happens, including how much you cried when she kicked you in the balls.

Pal Analysis – Part 1

If you have to ask the question of whether or not you and I can be friends, I’ve composed a few basic questions you can ask yourself (and score) before bothering me with your inane request for friendship.

  1. Do you have an iPhone? If no, don’t bother me. I have neither the patience nor the time for you and your Android bullshit.
  2. Friends or Seinfeld? The correct answer is yes.
  3. Do you drink wine? Okay, you don’t have to know the difference between a Cabernet Sauvignon and a Pinot Noir, but you do have to be open to drinking it. Or else.
  4. Where would you rather hang out–the beach or a driving range? Either or both are perfectly acceptable, actually.
  5. Do you use your turn signal in a roundabout? If you do, go hang out with the Android people who were eliminated by question #1.

These are just the basics–the fundamental building blocks upon which any good friendship is based.

Flatly Failing at Female Friendship

If you have to question why we’re not friends, count your X chromosomes. Are there two? …There ya go. That’s why.

I have, like, five female friends. I tried to figure out just why that’s the case. Here are my theories:

1) I’m terrible with insincere compliments. I don’t want to tell Mandy that I like her sweater. (I hate it, in fact. It’s ugly. She’s ugly. And the sweater’s not helping.) If Barb got a bad haircut, I’m not going to tell her she looks “great omg I love the way it flips like a duck’s butt! It’s so versatile!” Barb should keep her stupid haircut under a hat until it grows out. Oh yeah, and don’t tell me you loooooove what I’m wearing. That’s ridiculous. You could never wear this.

2) I’m not all gossipy. Sure, I’m privy to more information than I should know, but I’m going to disseminate (or not disseminate) that information strategically. And I’m not telling you.

3) I can’t drama. I hate drama. I hate hearing about your drama. I can’t bring myself to care about why or how Tiffany is trying to interpret what her boyfriend said. I get exhausted when Sandy starts yammering about how she’s not sure how she should handle Sue’s whatever-the-hell-problem she’s having this week.

4) I don’t enjoy talking about childbirth or waxing or pedicures or going to the spa or getting my hair did or “women’s problems.” Keep it to yourselves, ladies. Yuck.

5) I don’t like emotionally exposing myself. There’s a 92% chance that another woman will exploit and/or tell someone else about another woman’s emotional vulnerability. That’s fact. I have a pie chart to prove it.

6) Have you ever tried to arrange a lunch with a woman (let alone a group of women–yikes)? “Where do you want to go?” “I’ll only eat at places that have GMO-free corn!” “My ex and I used to go there, so I’m out if that’s where you’re going.” “I know we were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago, but I’m doing my hair, so maybe we could meet in 2 hours or so?” “I don’t have a babysitter and I can’t leave the kids home alone with my husband!” “The cocktails are too expensive here! I’m leaving!” Ugh.

It’s just too much work with zero payoff.

Pyramid Scheming

If you have to invite friends to a pyramid scheme party, include something at the bottom of the invitation that says, “I understand that extending this invitation means that we are probably no longer friends.” (And if you group text the invite, note that everyone on that list hates you and will be texting each other about how tactless and awful you are.)

Creative Chef, Pampered Candles, Smelly, those stupid scrapbooking things, spa crap deals, and don’t forget the “adult toy” parties… Inviting your friends to your house to buy overpriced crap so you can get a Hostess Gift (omg lol wow yay!) is a quick way to lose said friends. The pressure to buy a $27 melon baller, a $43 pair of crosscut scissors, a $50 soy candle that smells like cinnamon baby wipes (wtf?), and $25 for a cherry-flavored “personal lubricant” called Slerm or something is ridiculous.

If your friends actually DO show up:

1) They thought you were just inviting them over to hang out, so lock the door behind them and hide their coats in the furthest room from the door.

2) You had better have copious amounts of good wine and artisan cheese at the ready. (For friends who are a bit less snobby than me, you can probably get away with weak margaritas and store-bought chips and salsa.)

3) You need to make it seem like you had no idea the stuff being hocked was so expensive. (They’ll all know you’re faking it, but they’ll appreciate the effort.)

4) Finally, if your friends are still talking to you after the party, know that you are on the hook for buying them some excellent Christmas and/or birthday presents–AND UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE THOSE PRESENTS TO BE FROM THE ADULT SPA CANDLE CHEF COMPANY.

Thank you, and please understand that when I don’t reply to your stupid party invitation, I’m really just trying to preserve the precarious nature of our friendship.