Monday, November 29, 2010

Girls, Liquor and Sex

One would think that after a 3 day party weekend I’d had such a hangover that I wouldn’t be able to think something other than “Another one, please! And keep ‘em coming!” (this applies to Martinis as much as to aspirins)… But I did, I managed to learn something along the way. Two somethings, actually. *Clears throat*

  1. Some (emphasis on that word) girls try too hard.
  2. I’m way too old for this shit.

I’ve always been a stay-home girl but now that I have such a freedom to go out, I have decided I need to try something up before I decide that I hate it… What I’m trying to say is that I’m kinda new to this whole social ritual and I’m amazed of how hard women have it (and by amazed, I mean fucking scared).  Do you, guys, know how much time does it take for a girl to get ready? Ha… I already knew the answer, I just wanted to mess with you. However, I’ll still say it: it’s fucking annoying. I don’t get why it’s so hard for them to chose a freaking outfit, I find it incredibly easy: “My boobs look great on that dress + I want my boobs to look great tonight=I’ll wear that dress” It’s simple math, people. Then comes the make-up, god forgive if they leave the house without privatizing an inch of skin from oxygen… Finally, my worse enemy: High heels. I get heels (I don’t wear them, even if my 5’2 height begs me to, but I do understand why people wear them), what I don’t get is high heels. Just super models can walk in high heels, the rest of the mortals just look like they have osteoporosis.

I guess the reason I don’t worry too much about it, is because I know something most 18 year olds don’t. I could be wearing an oversized t-shirt and no make up, tell a guy in a bar I’m horny and I’m pretty sure the answer won’t be: “Sorry girl, you’re totally wearing the wrong shoes… And I like licking the eye shadow out of my girls, gets me going”.

Point number two doesn’t need much of an explanation, right? I think even at 16 I was too old for this; people call it being “an old soul”… I don’t think that’s my case, but if I have to put my finger on it, I’d say I have the soul of a bitter old woman. I’m getting a bit too tired of hearing these girls complain about every little thing when we go out… And I know what you’re thinking, I’m complaining about people who complain (and if you weren’t thinking that, shame on you, it’s a great argument), that’s part of my charm, I’m full of contradictions.

I’m fat. No. You’re not.
I have nothing to wear. Then don’t wear anything. Guys will love you.
My nose/teeth/feet/etc is/are too big. Probably yeah, but what are you going to do about it right now? Just own it.  

What I’m not too old for is playing match-up, as if I was in elementary school. Ok, ok, hear me out, this was actually kinda fun. Girls and boys received a little paper, at a party, where it was written the name of an animal; it was very biblical, one guy had an animal and some girl out there had it too. I was a tuna! And just like life itself I harassed a couple of guys outside of their bathrooms asking them if they were my ‘tuna’. One of the guys  answered “Sorry, I don’t smoke”… It was either a mix because of my accent or he thought that the only possible reason I could be asking that kinda stuff would be because I was smoking marijuana. Oh, well. I didn’t find my ‘other half’; should I take this as foreshadowing?

Sunday, November 21, 2010

He’s Out in Hollywood

Just now I realize that the amount of love I have for an –out of my league- celebrity at any given moment it’s a direct reflection of my lack of love/sex life.

About a year ago, I had boyfriend (including, you know, all the good stuff) and I really didn’t care for any famous guy; I’m not going to lie, of course I thought Jake Gyllenhaal was drop dead gorgeous and scenes from Full House could make my lower region feel all funny (scenes with John Stamos in it… I’m not into anything weird), but that’s as far as I got.

There isn’t any other way of describing my current situation other than doing the polite thing: Inviting you all to my wedding with Rupert Grint. June, 3rd. Summer wedding, it’s going to be lovely.

I wish I was kidding… Well, no. To be honest, I wish I wasn’t kidding and there was an actual relationship, not just me being mentally unstable.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Professional Secret, Buddy

Getting Laid 101 (straight* guys edition).

Search for a girl who looks like she doesn’t get out of her dorm too much and is craving for some male attention. Once you’ve spotted that girl, make sure she’s around to hear your new resolution: You’re working on demonstrating that a guy can be happy without sex. It’s very important you say this casually and not directly to her, to a guy friend preferably; say it with confidence (I can’t stress this hard enough), you don’t want people to think it’s just an excuse for not being able to get any.

Don’t make any moves on her just yet; I can promise that you already have her attention, but you want to make it believable.

Wait until she does something a little bit sexy: a dance, a look, a smile, whatever works for you. Ask her (again, casually and with confidence) to stop doing that, let her know that’s she’s making it really hard for you to keep on with your little goal.

If she responds positively, (if she doesn’t you’re screwed and I’m sorry I made you go all the way through this) she’ll, hopefully, bring up your (made-up) objective, tell her something along the lines of “you’d be able to convince any guy to do whatever you want”.


You should be giving her head by now… Or at least she's picturing you doing it.

*It doesn’t hurt if you’re drop dead gorgeous too.

*Warning. Don't use this technique on a girl who has to head home half an hour later, due to strict rules of her residence. Both of you will end up horny and alone.

Lines to Avoid:

“You look like the kind of girl who has a better relationship with her father than with her mother”

“Has anyone ever told you your hair kinda looks like a mop?”

“You’re 20? I thought you were 23”

And whatever you do, no matter how desperate you are, Never Ever go for this one:

“Just make out with me! Look! All your friends are making out with my friends!”

But if, for whatever reason, you blurt it out, and she said no (and I'm hoping, on the name of self-respect she'll say no): Don’t lean to kiss her either way… I mean it.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Oh, Marvelous!

Here’s a fact that might shock some of you: Girls are loud. Girls are fucking loud. Girls won’t just shut the fuck up… Yes, this is the best introduction I could find for my entry.

Living in an only girls dorm is not as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, lack of testosterone makes us go all gaga every time we hear a male voice inside the building; usually is just the technician, but a girl would be surprised of how guy-deprived syndrome makes one look at middle age fatties with a whole new perspective.

Other than that, it’s going quite well… There’s no drama, so all my training watching America’s Next Top Model hasn’t paid off, I’ll just have to wait a little bit more to drop the “I’m not here to make friends!” line. Girls are usually nice, ask you how your day is going and offer help if they can. My only issue is that they always find a reason to scream, and, boy, do they scream.

Please don’t assume I’m some kind of Daria; I’m not. I do some jumping of my own when I’m on the mood, specially while watching puppies, and by puppies I mean penises (no, I’m kidding… I actually meant puppies). I just think that my jumping and giggling should be kept for special occasions and preferably not at 1am on a school night.

Say it. I’m such a nerd.