Poor Girls Morning Routine Part 1 – Mirra Laes

makeup-on-the-cheap

No car insurance? Oh well. No food money?  As long as there’s still cheese in the fridge we’re fine. Run out of eyeliner and foundation?  We have now entered a LEVEL 10 SPECIAL ALERT PANIC ZONE.

Let us, friends, discuss a poor girl’s take on makeup….

I’ll start right at the beginning.  I wake up and probably have some makeup on from the previous day, creased, caked, and smudgy, my eyes an especially gross event that requires vicious rubbing and picking while I figure out who has to go to the bathroom more urgently, myself or the dog.  The dog statistically has a 85 percent chance of establishing importance in this decision, and I end up immediately regretting it as my urgency goes up by 15 points after stepping out into the ever chilly morning (err noonish) air.

Once the pup has had all his needs taken care of (outside, breakfast, sufficient amount of morning recognition in the form of various pets) I step into the bathroom to do step 1 of my morning stuff.  Step 1 is wash face.  Washing face is essential since my face is covered in previously mentioned leftover makeup as well as drool no doubt.  I want to point out that the face washing situation is very simple. I do not have toner, I don’t have a special wash for certain days or situations, and I don’t have a special sponge, wipe or towel.  I have face wash, the same face wash the boyfriend uses, with little beads of something in it , and the word” Morning” on it in yellow or bright blue.  I use a very small amount, not to conserve as you would assume but because it dries my face out too much as I’m older and my skin is not as greasy and I should have put lotion on it before I went to bed anyway, BUT a poor girl cannot afford face lotion for night and day, that’s like a $9 an hour job luxury. [Read more...]

God Is the Ultimate Wingman – Linda Roy

Single Christian
God is blazing a technological trail into the 21st Century.

And how is the all knowing Creator doing it?

He’s running a dating site.

God is the ultimate wing man.  He’s the Heavenly Host with the most, the Almighty matchmaker. Because frankly, he’s tired of watching us mortals fuck it up. He’s seen the reality dating shows and decided it’d be a sin not to throw his two cents into the collective basket.

If you want something done right, do it Yourself.

People aren’t exactly flocking to church these days and He needs to increase his fan base. What better way than through the Otherworldly Wide Web.

Besides, now you don’t need background checks.  It’s nicely packaged as “mingling”. Suggests a level of purity.

I like that. There’s enough tawdry shit on the interwebs. Never mind that He’s got zero dating experience. It’s not like He’s going to hook you up with that schlub from Accounting who’s got the crusty Hustler collection stashed in the hall closet.  Plus, you’ll always have a Sunday morning brunch companion.

Not only that, but if you’re an aspiring actor or model, He’s got a website for that too! Wanna “shine for Christ in the entertainment industry”? Of course you do and God wants to be your agent. Oh…and sorry, I know becoming a Christian is automatic, but you might have to audition for this.

As for dating, it probably feels like you’ve spent 40 days and 40 nights flooded with the uncertainty of your romantic future. But fear not single Christian. On God’s dating site it’s raining men.

Hallelujah.

 

 

Single Christian

Music by Night Ranger
Lyrics by Linda Roy

 

Single Christian, oh the time has come

God’ll help you find the only one who’ll say

“Let’s Pray”

 

You’re ownin’ it

Trust your plight to Christ

He’ll find your Mr. Right

He runs a dating site

 

You’re smolderin’

It’s not like you’re Sasquatch

You’ll find God’s perfect match

The fish you’ll loaf to catch

 

Single Christian, oh the time has come

God’ll help you find the only one who’ll say

“Let’s pray”

 

‘Cause you’re smolderin’

Yeah, smolderin’

 

 

Linda Roy

Linda Roy fronts the Indie Americana band Jehova Waitresses alongside her guitar toting husband. Remarkably, after years of this they still haven’t killed each other. They live in Jersey with their two boys (somebody’s gotta carry the amps) and she unleashes an inner Larry David on her blog Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom.

 

Fashion Tips for Broke Girls – Ginny Leise

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Us broke girls take a certain pride in being low-maintenance. Go all winter gaff taping your boots together? No big deal. Pairing a mealy t-shirt with a mini you outgrew years ago? That’s Saturday. Then spring comes along and quite literally sheds new light on your ragged sweaters. Want to freshen your wardrobe without forking over grocery money? Here are some tricks for keeping yourself consistently presentable and occasionally great.

1. Host a Swap. Invite over a big group of girls and their unwanted yet wearable clothes. Hold up each piece one at time and describe it (size, label, etc.) and interested parties take turns trying on. Things can get a little cutthroat so make sure to only invite your more civilized acquaintances. Pick out a charity for the leftovers. Viola, new clothes plus a little good karma—that never happens when you shop at Target. Speaking of which… [Read more...]

Suburban Haiku ~ Peyton Price

cami photoThe funny ladies
age much better than the sluts
and get less TDs.

Dress code addendum:
extra coats of mascara
do not count as clothes.

It is nice weather
but not wifebeater weather,
Mom in spike heel boots.

Women of the burbs:
If it’s sold with underthings
wear it under things.

Consider cleavage
before showing up at school.
So, is this enough?

[Read more...]

K A B L O O E Y’s Dope of the Day: The Self-Pitying Dieter

art
There’s always one woman at every Weight Watchers meeting who acts like she’s the guest on a talk show, and the rest of us are her audience. When the topic of giant red wine glasses came up (you know, the bulbous fishbowl-sized ones restaurants use) this is what she said:

We went to Applebee’s and I had the salmon and grilled vegetables. My friend gets this big glass of wine and it looked so good, but… (sigh)… I just had water. I felt like I was in a concentration camp.

Um. What do you say to that–thanks for sharing? Interesting analogy? Good command of history; Bergen-Belson was infamous for poorly grilled vegetables.

I’ve said “I’m starving” countless times, but of course, it’s never been true. As someone who hasn’t missed two consecutive meals in… ever, at least I know “I’m starrr-ving!” is just a hyperbolic whine produced by a hunger pang and a soft life.

So lady at my meeting, just remember: you were at Applebee’s, not Auschwitz. Having to pick water instead of wine… is not exactly Sophie’s Choice.

 

K A B L O O E Y

K A B L O O E Y is a 47 year old non-practicing filmmaker who lives with Phineas at an undisclosed suburban location. Their three kids are Moochie (6), Lonzie (20) and The Big Puppy (22). She (who am I kidding, I’m writing this myself) tweets @kblooey and has two goals: 1) To make creative work a central part of my life, and 2) To keep my family from needing the services of the Supernanny.

You Poor, Stupid, Sad, Fat Girl by Adrianne Frost

Choking1

 

In the movies and on television, fat girls have it pretty bad. Frankly, fat girls are fucked. End of story. I personally have died twice, as a poor, stupid, sad, fat girl.

The first time I died, it was because my boyfriend was in the Al Qaeda. He was using me to get some kind of Al Qaeda shenanigans going. I had met him on the internet, in an “I like fat chicks” website that my fat friend and I trolled. He thought I discovered his plot and had me killed. The killer was a handsome stranger who flirted with me in a liquor store, whom I followed and, presumably gave a blowjob to in hopes of true love (because that’s what fat girls do), but was strangled and left in a boiler room in Brooklyn instead.

The second time I died, Cuba Gooding, Jr. found me at my job at an elementary school, and he charmed me into meeting him later for dinner by jump starting my car and flashing a toothy grin. He comes to pick me up at my apartment and my roommate tells him that I got freaked out, thinking I wasn’t attractive enough for him and I went off unaccompanied. So, I’m all alone in the bar, looking sad, when the dashing Neil McDonaugh (a time-traveling murderer) sidles up and begins a friendly conversation. I welcome that, because I hardly ever get attention paid to me. I go to the bathroom, Neil follows me, Cuba gets there too late and I get eviscerated. I’m serious. I had a big “Y” cut into my chest. I looked like a bullfrog, in a nice dress, who wandered into a science class.

Dead1

This wasn’t real-life, of course, but two acting jobs I had. I have noticed that this happens with most movies and TV shows: fat girl ends up with not-fat guy because he is using her or she is so desperate that she doesn’t realize he is a serial killer/rapist/puppy eater. Most of these characters are flattered and flustered when a white, physically fit, non-UPS driver pays them any mind. It’s like they’re looking at a work of art that they can never afford. And who would sell it to them, anyway?

Mostly, I get stuck as the 911 operator, patrol-car cop or EMT. You know, the sit down jobs. We can’t run, you know. That’s why you never see us on “The Walking Dead”, we done got ate. Once, I was cast as a lawyer who was not described as “heavyset” in the breakdown. I was just a normal, money hungry, ambulance-chasing attorney representing a killer. It felt progressive. Then, a few years later, I’m in Baton Rouge, getting dissected by a handsome actor. [Read more...]

DON’T CLICK SEND!: The 5 Worst Dating Message Mistakes – Mallory Schlossberg

Photo on 5-18-12 at 7.03 PM

I’m a big proponent of the Internet dating scene. Why? You can talk to the opposite sex while looking at animated GIFs, you don’t have to see the guy’s “I’m-rejecting-you-face” when he rejects you, and you can flirt in your sweatpants while eating peanut butter out of the jar! Win, right?

While you may or may not find your soul mate via the Internet, you could very well procure a date or two or thirty seven! It’s important, however, to avoid making these mistakes that I will make for you right now. Us funny ladies usually think that the men are the ones at fault (with their “heYy sexYY LaydEe Lez Do It Now” or their “I want to slather you in my shaving cream and eat organic avocados off of you” messages), but sometimes, we can be at fault, too! We all have our inner creep, let’s not be too proud, here. Since we are just as capable of poor e-flirting, these are the worst messages to send when you are attempting to score a date via the World Wide Web (does anyone call it that anymore? No. No one does. Okay).

Hey!  So, I read your profile, and I also LOVE all of the bands, books, music, movies, and foods you like. We have SO MUCH IN COMMON, it’s almost like we’re related! Except not really haha lol jk. Let’s hang out!

Just a heads up, “it’s almost like we’re related” might be the kicker here.

OMG do I know you in real life?

Ten out of ten times I know what people I know in real life look like, even when I find them on the internet, unless their profile pictures are abstract art in place of a face, in which case most moderators would have taken the pictures down already. [Read more...]

Memories of my America – Of Liberace and The Hope Diamond

hdColombians are prone to embellishment, to taking a story and making it even grander. It was Gabriel Marquez, the famed Colombian novelist, who proclaimed, “To Colombians, life is a stage.”

My mother has entered a delightful stage of dementia. Delightful in the sense that her already Colombian tales of life have become even more entrancing. We pick her up on the weekends, and she spends the day at our house, where my three boys and I spread her favorite blanket across her lap, much like a ceremonious draping of an ermine wrap across a queen’s shoulders.

We settle her in with Mexican cocoa — hot chocolate with a pinch of cayenne — which she sips slowly, blowing softly across the steam, and when she leans forward to set her mug down, we know we are about to hear, The Theatre of The Colombian, Part Six; where she will pick up where she left off, when she was here last.

“You know,” we all turn to see what she will floor us with today. “I had to say no when Fidel Castro asked me to marry him. Yes, he acted one way in front of our government, but I knew… he was not going to grow into a nice man. And look, I was right.” My mother reaches for her hot cocoa, blows and sips, sets it down, and begins again. [Read more...]

How I’m Filling That 30 Rock Void ~ Ginny Leise

 

2 broke girls VS 30 Rock

Now that 30 Rock is over, I’m hunting for a replacement show to fill the void.  TV, as a whole, is in great shape right now. There are so many great shows out there it’s a struggle to keep up with them all. Mad Men, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, Walking Dead, Downtown Abbey, Breaking Bad… the list goes on and on. But the hole 30 Rock left in my heart is specifically shaped. A 30-minute sitcom hole that no character driven hour long drama could properly plug.

Parks & Recreation- You lend stability to my life like an awesome big sister. You are consistently funny and I don’t live in fear you’ll be randomly canceled mid-season. And yet, as much as I adore your writing, the feeling is more platonic than passionate.

Community- Thank god you’re back! It’s like being reunited with a college lover after a whole summer and fall semester abroad. But I must guard my heart because as many comedy orgasms as you’re giving me now, you could get canceled at any moment and never call me again.

The Mindy Project- I like you Mindy, as you the public figure and as you the heightened sitcom character. But I don’t really like anybody or anything else on this show. Which bums me out because I want to supportive not snarky. Best not say anything else.

New Girl- I like you. Although sometimes I wonder, “Why are they all yelling?” But boisterous is definitely the worst thing for a show to be. [Read more...]

Oscar Fashion Review, by Héléne Bouffant

Bonjour, my little golden statuettes!

It was with great joy and a keen eye for criticism that I watched this year’s Academy Awards. Hollywood’s annual masturbatory fashion event has come and gone to sleep, and now I shall judge its performance.

I shall start by sharing my personal contribution to last night’s awards. It should not surprise you that I – Héléne Bouffant – have provided styling at the Oscars for eons! Of course, my influence is most prominent behind the scenes rather than on the red carpet. But do not underestimate my power, my little chickadees! In fact, I control the red carpet itself! And by that, I mean that I am the official stylist to the men who roll out the actual carpet.

 rollcarpet

The jaunty newsboy cap was my idea.

 

Yes, my work was featured on CNN this year. They try to keep me in the shadows, but Héléne Bouffant will not be silenced on Oscar night!

But now, let me offer my thoughts on those designers whose work was seen on those in the spotlight…the burning, white-hot spotlight that calls to me with the intensity of a thousand STDs. I shall return to greatness one day, and I will bring a firestorm of plaid and sequins with me. But for now, let’s see what these other assholes turned out.

Oscars Anne

 No one puts Anne’s nipples in a corner

I have four words for this dress. MAG-NIF-I-CENT. Yes! A pale pink Prada sheath accented by hard, prominent nipples. Bravo, Miss Hathaway, for showing the world in no uncertain terms how very excited you were to be a part of this special, slightly chilly night. Now, some are trying to give the credit for this look of alertness to the darting on your gown. I reject this assessment, and applaud your nipples for their Annie Oakley-like defiance of cultural norms. The rest of your look may say, “subdued” and “appropriate,” but your nipples are saying, “Who do I have to stab around here to get a beer?”

Bravo, Madame.
[Read more...]