Category Archives: Lady Stuff

Literally Just 10 Reasons I’m Happy I’m 50 Because OH MY GOD

[Hi. Yes, this blog still exists. If you’re wondering why it’s in your inbox, it means you subscribed sometime prior to 2015. It’s been so long that I truly have no idea where to find my subscriber list. If you want to unsubscribe, it won’t hurt my feelings!]

I don’t spend much time thinking about the differences between lived experiences of adjacent generations of women. Sure, the differences between women who grew up in the 50s versus the 90s are easy to compare. But the differences between groups of women separated by only 20 or 25 years are a little harder to see.

When the Aziz Ansari story broke earlier this week, it was as if women 45 and older were reading a completely different story than younger women were. No one seems to dispute what happened. I think everyone believes “Grace”. But whether you were in the Bad Date camp or the Assault camp seemed to be largely determined by age.

This post isn’t about that. It’s not about Aziz Ansari or #MeToo or #TimesUp. But it got me thinking about how different it is to be a middle-aged woman in 2018 versus being a younger one.

I’m not bashing millennials. Not even a little bit. Nor am I yelling at them to get off my lawn. They’re welcome on my lawn anytime!

I’m just glad I’m not one. Here’s why:

1. I never had to plan a gender reveal party. 

Y’all, what even is this?

Why? Why are folks doing this?

When I had my first daughter, who’s now 21, WE — her parents! — didn’t even know her gender until the moment she was born. What? I figured if I’m gonna do all this work, I’d like to have a surprise at the end. So gender reveal parties are just one of those things I totally don’t get. Frankly, it seems like a thinly-veiled excuse for presents and Instagram flossing.


2. I never had to talk to little kids about pussy-grabbing or shithole countries.

I just . . . I don’t . . . I can’t . . . I mean, I really have no idea what to say about this. I can’t imagine what it’s like raising younger children in 2018.

I suppose it would have been tough to explain “I did not have sexual relations with that woman” if my daughter asked questions about it. But you can save all that “What about Bill Clinton?!” bullshit. The chasm between that and ALL OF THIS is difficult to even fathom.

I’m sorry, y’all. That’s got to be really tough.


3. The men I’ve been with did not grow up on free Internet porn.

This could be an entire post on its own. I’m not saying guys had no exposure to porn. I’m just saying that it wasn’t available 24 hours a day in the comfort of one’s home. Even guys 10 or 12 years younger than me* had to go buy a magazine or a DVD. And the variety was pretty limited by today’s standards.

In general, I think the expanding definition of what’s “normal” when it comes to sex is a really good thing. But I’m not sure the proliferation of porn is enhancing real life sex for women. The things I hear from young women are jaw-dropping. The things they’re expected to do. And to be “cool with”. If they’re into it, great. But it seems many are not and yet they’re subverting their own desires to satisfy someone who expects them to behave like a porn star.

It’s gross and it makes me sad.

(*This is my way of letting you know I can pull younger dudes. IN CASE YOU MISSED THAT.)

4. We didn’t know smoking was bad for you. 

LOL. Just kidding! Of course we knew it was terrible. But we could do it without other people looking at us like we were stomping kittens. It was fun.


5. I don’t have to make my life Insta-worthy.

The loudest voice in my head is the one that unfavorably compares everything about me to someone who’s doing everything better while having more and looking gorgeous. And that’s always been true. It’s not healthy. I’m still working on it.

But when I was young, I compared myself only to people I actually knew or to people who were famous enough to be in magazines. I didn’t have access to Insta-perfect lives; to people who are neither famous nor personally known to me but who somehow have a worldwide audience that enthusiastically covets the look of their curated lives.

Blerg. Nope. Do not want.

Also, R.I.P. Big Ang.


6. There is no record of my public or private shenans.

The other day, I saw a video on Twitter of a guy getting a blow job on a parking lot shuttle. You could clearly see his face. I felt extreme, painful, cringey secondhand embarrassment for everyone involved.

Should these people have been engaging in public mouth love? Absolutely not. But, damn! They also don’t deserve to have their (probably drunken) antics broadcast all over the world because someone whipped out their phone! Just think about things you’ve done in a public or semi-private place. If you feel no embarrassment or shame, you’re probably not the kind of person who would find this blog interesting and why are you even reading it?

I’m eternally grateful that there is no record of my, um, more impulsive years.


7. The music of my youth was actually GOOD.

I KID! Every single generation says their music was better. And it’s never true!

What is true is that it’s important for younger people to make music that does not appeal to the Olds. That’s how it works! Oh, Migos is trash? You don’t “get” Cardi B? Guess what? It’s not about you! Have at it, kids. This is your time.

(Fun fact: if you open your mind, there is good music everywhere, all the time.)


8. Fucks-to-give supply levels are dangerously low.  

Like, dropping a little every day.


9. When I got married, the wedding industrial complex was just a glimmer in capitalism’s eye.

Sooo, y’all know there’s an entire billion-dollar industry devoted to convincing you that you have exactly ONE day in your life when you get to be a pretty, pretty princess, right? A whole bunch of businesses make their money solely by coaxing you into believing that $35,000 is a reasonable amount to spend on a party.

I had the first manicure of my life on my wedding day. I got my dress at a store in Underground Atlanta. The rings were silver, $35 each, and we bought them at some store in Toco Hills Plaza. Our cake was homemade. The ceremony was in a family friend’s front yard and the reception was out back. (Business in the front, party in the back — aaayyye!)

And it was amazing. It was so beautiful and so special and so fun and my marriage lasted a long, long time.

Y’all. Don’t let this industry take all your money!


10. I’m more open to possibility than ever before. 

And here’s where it gets a little serious.

A little over four years ago, I fell completely and totally in love. It happened in the loveliest, most unexpected way.

(Note: After typing that, I spent several minutes staring into space thinking about how incredible it was.)

Ok, I’m back.

It was magic. The man, the way it happened, how it made me feel — it still takes my breath away.

For a few complicated reasons, it ultimately didn’t work out. The pain of that is still a little raw. But the fact that it happened at all, that it happened at 46 years old, when I wasn’t looking and I never saw it coming? It still kind of blows my mind. And one of the things that made it so special was that this man saw me, saw as true a version of me as any person could, and I was loved and adored anyway.

When we met, I felt like I’d sort of done it all and the rest would be, honestly, kind of downhill. I’m embarrassed to say that but it’s true. I’d been married, my kids were growing up and away, I’d had a couple careers. But he believed and he made me believe that there was so much more life to coming to me. It changed the way I see the world. I know now that magical things can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere.


I don’t love everything about being fifty years old. I wish I’d worn more bikinis. I wish I’d saved more and bought less. But there’s a lot to be grateful for. All the time.

And who knows what’s to come?

Consider This A Verbal Selfie

Five Things I’m Thinking About Today:

1. Ever since we got back from the beach last week, I’ve put Sublime in heavy rotation. That one album – Sublime, the one that came out right after Brad Nowell died – so perfectly captures the laid back feeling of summer days. Love.

2. Even though I binge-watched the entire series two weeks ago, I can’t stop thinking about Orange is the New Black! I keep Googling stuff about the show, checking the cast’s Facebook pages and stalking them on Instagram. My favorite of the OITNB Instagrammers is Danielle Brooks, who plays Taystee on the show. SHE IS SO ADORABLE I NEED HER TO STOP! (click the pic for a darling video)

3. I am an occasional smoker. There, I said it. Especially when I have a lot on my mind. (Or have had more than a couple cocktails.) I like the feeling of pausing and just watching the smoke for a few minutes while I take a minute to think. I have also heard – and I think maybe it’s true – that smoking is not considered a healthful activity! So I recently decided to switch to e-cigarettes for at least the majority of my smoking occasions.

My review: not as great as actual cigarettes but considerably less likely to kill me, so, ya know, sticking with it ’til I decide it’s just too weird and that smoking actually sucks and I stop all together.

It’s weird how there’s no set end time with an e-cig. With a real coffin nail, there’s a period of time when you’re smoking and then you’re done because you’ve burned it down. Not so with the e-variety.  An I never thought it mattered to me, but the awkward size of the e-cig is, well, awkward. Instead of feeling like this:


E-cigs feel more like this:

allisonstopalready(Fans of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills will recognize this as the awesomely horrible Allison Dubois at Camille’s Dinner Party from Hell. I could watch that episode over and over and over.)

4. I <3 cover songs. I have devoted ridiculous amounts of time to creating playlists made of nothing but covers of great songs – the more unlikely the cover artist/song combo, the better. (Katy Perry’s cover of MGMT’s “Electric Feel”? Perfection.) So I really enjoyed this list of 21 Cover Songs That Make You Realize How Amazing the Originals Were. 

5. Being tan feels so good, you guys. Like smoking, it’s not great for longevity or the long term appearance of one’s skin. But I love having a real true SUN tan so much! I’ve tried spray tanning and it’s a decent substitute for the sun that first April day you decide to rock a skirt without tights. But honestly: nothing beats the freckly golden glow you get from spending a few hours relaxing in the sunshine.

Preferably with an icy Michelada and Sublime bumpin’ on your system.


Our D-I-V-O-R-C-E Became Final Today

And that’s that.

Received my Final Judgment and Decree of Divorce in the mail today. In the eyes of the Superior Court of Fulton County in the State of Georgia, it is considered “that the marriage contract heretofore entered into between the parties in this case, from and after this date, be, and is set aside and dissolved as fully and effectually as if no such contract had ever been made or entered into.”

So. As of June 10, 2013 our union is legally dissolved as if it never happened. For us, it’s been dissolved for quite awhile. We’ve been living apart for almost exactly two years. In our minds and our kids’ minds, we’ve been divorced since sometime in April of 2012 when we decided to call it quits after a year of separation. Legal stuff has never mattered much to us anyway. We consider our anniversary to be April 4, 1992 since that’s the day we stood before family and friends and entered into a marriage. We found out later that a ship’s captain is only allowed to legally marry people when they are out at sea – whoops! – so we had to go to the courthouse sometime in September (I truly don’t know the date) to make it “official.”

Ours has been a drawn out divorce, but not an acrimonious one. It took so long mainly because it was such a big decision to really and truly pull the plug. Also because we are both exceedingly lazy and with no beach houses or Ferraris to fight over, we took our time. Our lawyers told us that ours was one of the most civil and respectful settlements either of them had ever seen. We didn’t know how to take that. I’m sure they meant it as a compliment, but we’re not trying to get good at divorcing each other so, uh, thanks?

Why am I sharing this? I try hard to keep this blog superficial and fun. I guess I’m sharing it because, well, it’s big. Even after two years, it kinda lays me out that it’s really all over. But no matter what the court says, it DID happen: a contract was entered into and it was entered into in good faith by all parties. I hope the two people who share us as parents always feel assured that they were created from real true love and from the sincerest desire that the marriage would last forever. I know it’s a little melodramatic (so am I) but I guess I want people to bear witness.

I’ve said before that I often follow Hemingway’s directive to “write drunk, edit sober.” Tonight I’m not drunk, but I’m not gonna wait to publish because I might just change my mind. I’m sad, happy, wistful, excited, somber, stunned and hopeful – all at the same time. Tomorrow, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. For tonight, let’s pour out a little Henny for something that happened and is over now. As Mike Skinner (The Streets) says in Empty Cans, “Something that was not meant to be is done / And this is the start of what was.”

How About We…Rant About Dating (With GIFs!)

Since my divorce, my friends have been hassling me to get out there and go on dates. In general, I’m like:tumblr_inline_mnff9qdsKt1qz4rgpI know everyone means well, but the reality is that I’m pretty happy on my own. This is the first time in my adult life I’ve been single and I kind of love it! I really feel good about where I am right now!

tumblr_m6y5xifLJH1qjzveqo1_500I’ve already spent enough time on to know it’s not for me, at least not for now. But I read about a site called and I was kind of intrigued. The idea is that you post a date that sounds fun to you – mine was the Paella 101 class at Barcelona – and then people can respond if they think they might want to go on that or some other date with you. The idea that I might meet someone fun based more on what we both want to do rather than on strict criteria like “Agnostic over 6 feet tall and under 50 with kids” sounded somewhat appealing to me. Or at least less awful.

So I decided to try it. And here are some of the actual date suggestions. Please to enjoy.

“How about we… go to dinner, movie, a walk in park and take a carrots ride.”

nene wineOhhh, here we go! How about you learn to proofread?

“How about we… Throw burritos at sidewalk joggers while driving.”tumblr_m5f366PIBa1qk8dyk

Ha. Ha. You are very clever, aren’t you?

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You Guys, I’m Pretty Sure Angelina Jolie Didn’t Cut Off Her Boobs for Money or Publicity

I’m loosely affiliated with a group of mid-life bloggers called Generation Fabulous. By “loosely affiliated” I mean that I was invited to join the group after a friend of a friend who is one of the group’s founders read my post about I was and am thrilled to be a part of the group. I don’t post with them very often, primarily because I still think I’m in my late 30s (which I definitely am not) rather than in mid-life. This is my own issue, not proud of it, blah blah blah. Also, I mostly write about superficial stuff and my posts about being annoyed by Beyonce and Gwyneth’s friendship don’t look too good next to pieces about caring for our aging parents.

Even though I don’t post much, I love what the Gen Fabbers are doing and I think it’s cool that marketers are starting to pay attention to this very influential demographic. Until recently it seemed like they were only interested in mommy bloggers. I like to keep up with what’s happening and there is some really great writing happening in the group.

One of the ways I keep up is via a group Facebook page. This morning, someone posted a link to a site which claims to have “proof” that Angelina Jolie’s double mastectomy was “part of a clever corporate scheme to protect billions in BRCA gene patents and influence Supreme Court decision.”

Say what?

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Do You Need Something to Be Furious About Today? Here Ya Go!

Yesterday a friend of mine who probably wouldn’t call himself a feminist (don’t worry, I’ll get him there in time) sent me a link to a video. This was the note that accompanied the link:

“This video is called ‘The Perfect Technique for Kissing a Girl in 30 Seconds’ but should be titled ‘Guide to Raping Women in the Street.’
You see how he grabs on to them? At least one definitely pushed him away. And the kisses looked more like him trying to bite them!”

This friend is not prone to exaggeration so I was curious to see what he was talking about. As much as I hate to give the “filmmaker” more views, you’re gonna have to watch the video to understand the rage it set off in me.

Am I crazy or is he basically committing sexual assault OVER AND OVER AND OVER?! What in the actual hell is happening here? The first woman he approaches must be a plant; her shitty acting is porn quality. But every other woman in the video appears genuinely startled and upset.

That a large portion of the internet is a stagnant, garbage-filled parking lot lake of filthy water is not news. So this asshole makes offensive videos for pathetic brodudes to watch and air high-five each other about? Whatever. Who cares?

Well, what makes this so, so much worse is where my friend came across the video.

Screen Shot 2013-05-11 at 6.07.09 PM

Oh, wait. You don’t read French? Here’s the headline in English. (Thanks, Google Translate.)

Screen Shot 2013-05-11 at 6.10.25 PM

Yup. This video – the one you just watched above, in which an aggressive d-bag grabs women on the street and mauls their faces – is just “the perfect technique for kissing a girl in 30 seconds.” Relax, ladies! Why so uptight?

The editorial board at Yahoo Quebec wrote that headline and the post that accompanies the video. To them, theirs is an accurate representation of the content of the video.tumblr_mf2vqa7VV81rccyxzo1_500

Ok. Are these people stoned all day everyday? Is Yahoo Quebec just an awesome place to work because you can hang with your bros drinking Labatt’s and comparing assault techniques all day?

In some ways, this brings to mind the iconic V-J Day photograph by Alfred Eisenstadt. The image is recognized all over the world as a romantic symbol of the elation of freedom.images-1

But the facts behind the picture tell a totally different story, one that is considerably less charming. And less consensual.

I’m so exhausted by all this. Aren’t you? I mean, the uproar over that Dove video is one thing. Sure, it’s worth discussing. But I firmly believe that we as women are at least as guilty as men are of heaping appearance-based hate on each other. I don’t ever defend the Kardashians but look at the fat-shaming that Kim has suffered while she’s f***ing PREGNANT. Jesus.

At least that Dove commercial was trying to emotionally manipulate us to sell soap. This douche-y auteur Vitaly is just going around grabbing women – my friend described the guy’s hand as a “rape clamp” –  and filming it. And getting nearly 5 million pageviews for it. (I don’t even need to tell you that avoiding the comments section below the video is best for your mental hygiene, do I?) In the same week that three women who’d been missing for more than a decade were found alive in a gruesome neighborhood prison, I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.

Without being too dramatic, I can honestly say that not once in my life have I ever been alone in a public space without my guard at least somewhat up. There is never a time when I am alone anywhere that I am not at least peripherally aware of the possibility of some man getting too close to me, or saying something offensive to me, or – worst case – physically violating me. Honestly, it’s much easier now that I’m older and more mom-ish, but I still get unwanted attention nearly every time I pump gas or go grocery shopping. Even if it’s something as comparatively benign as being commanded to “Smile, pretty lady!” when I’m mean muggin’. Hey, Asshole. I’m scowling so a man JUST LIKE YOU won’t consider me even remotely open to your proprietary advances.

The idea that there are preteen boys doing Internet searches on “how to get girls” and landing on a seemingly legitimate website like Yahoo to find advice like this just makes me want to go to a corner and rock back and forth for the rest of my life. And as long as women’s bodies are regarded as public property, this kind of thing will continue to happen.

It’s a good thing that women over 40 are anathema to shitheads like Vitaly. Because if he pulled that shit with one of us, he’d be picking up teeth.

Linked In Can Suck It and Here’s Why

God, I hate Linked In.

A couple years ago when everyone started jumping aboard the Linked In ship, I was waving from the dock with a cocktail, wishing everyone bon voyage. My initial dislike of it was simple: I thought their design was ugly and boring and also I was an unpaid stay-at-home mom not looking to “network” with other stay-at-home moms.

I can’t remember who sent me the first “Invitation to Connect” but at some point I thought, “Damn, I better swim on out and see if there’s still any room on that boat!” I accepted that Linked In wasn’t the passing fad I thought it was. So I created an account and have maintained the laziest and most blah of profiles, while trying to Beadazzle™ my Facebook and Twitter (and sometimes Pinterest*) on the daily.

Since I’m looking for work in social media now, I’ve done tons of reading about the usefulness of Linked In. And I’ve been advised by people I like and respect to beef up my profile. Damn it. I have to do this now. But first I’m gonna rant for a minute about why I hate it and don’t have to like it and you can’t make me. sam_spratt_300_linkedin_gizmodo_copy

1. I hate self-promotion.

Right now I’m supposed to be writing my own reference letter for an associate (fancy) who is going to sign it when I’m done. I’m having the hardest time! I can write a recommendation for someone else in a quick second but writing about how awesome I am is not coming naturally. And saying that you’re good at things means you create the expectation that you’re actually good at those things! I know, I know: weak. But getting on LinkedIn and coming across like a serious person who knows what she’s doing is haaard, you guys.

2. The endorsements thing is a total scam.

Because of this blog, I get a lot of endorsements that I really, truly appreciate. When I see that someone has endorsed my writing, or web content, or social networking, I feel like it’s a really nice hat tip. But I usually can’t reciprocate. I don’t KNOW if I should endorse your proposal writing skills. ARE you really good at segmentation or integrated marketing? I don’t know because I don’t work with you and I don’t really know what you do! You’re a great pal and I love our chats, but we haven’t talked about your skills in Adobe Creative Suite so I can’t say if you’re good at it!


This is why LinkedIn is just the worst.

Remember a few years ago, everyone was seeing these scammy ads telling you you could see who’s checked out your profile and then it all turned out to be fake because thank God the one thing Facebook hasn’t taken away from us (yet) is the ability to hide our stalking? Well, Linked In totally lets you see who’s checked out your profile. Grrreat.

The problem with this is that let’s say there are only a few people in the world that you would definitely say that you hate. Like, you loathe them. Your interactions with them from more than a decade ago still have the power to get you heated. You may have even crafted a revenge fantasy or two. Then let’s say one boozy evening you decided to google this fool and see what she’s been up to. And LinkedIn comes up first so of course you click on it. Now you’ve visited her profile. She thinks you’re interested in her for good reasons, not bad, shameful, you-should-have-moved-on-by-now reasons. And then BAM! The next day, there it is: your “invitation to connect”! And attached is a stupid note saying something vague about how long it’s been and how glad she is to reconnect. D’OH! You don’t WANT to reconnect with that heifer! But just the fact that she knows you looked gives her the upper hand. And then you cry violently at your life.

In the next few weeks, I am planning to try to do some real networking and self-promoting on Linked In because I know that I need to grow up and accept that it’s important to try to appear professional in order to get people to pay you. But I will be rolling my eyes the whole time.

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*Let’s talk about Instagram another day.

Instagram WISHES It Was This Cool, And Other Things I Learned From A Box of Pictures

I don’t think I’ve shared this on the blog, but I am not currently employed full-time. Or part-time. Or even at all. I hope it won’t stay this way for long but that’s the way it is right now.

So while my kids are at school, I find myself in a strange place where there usually isn’t anything pressing that needs to be done. When you have younger children, there is always – ALWAYS – something that absolutely has to be done, but once the kids are older, the day-to-day urgency of chores lessens a bit. This is all a very long way of getting to my point which is that sometimes I have enjoyable stretches of time to do what I want.

I try to use these found hours to do things I’ve long put off. One project I’ve meant to take on forever is going through my boxes of letters and mementos and seeing what’s actually there.

Today I pulled out a couple of boxes of “special things” and ended up on an all expenses paid tour of Memoryland (Memory Lane is just one small street) that sort of blew my mind. You guys. Here’s what I realized: kids today – yes, I just wrote that – will probably never know the joys of finding a box that contains stacks of pictures and letters and cards. It just won’t happen. Coming across time-stamped and organized emails from your first boyfriend will never be the same as opening a yellowed envelope, holding a letter in your hands, remembering the handwriting. Swiping your fingers across your phone, gazing at the faces of lost loves will never be the same as finding a snapshot tucked into a book. Kids still give each other cards and things (wait, do they?) but there was something truly magic about opening up a box to find a disorganized jumble of memories. Here are a few I found today.


Proof that I’ve always been an excellent speller, as if I needed that. And wouldn’t you know? They misspelled my name. 



First concert. Awww, yeeeeah.


My granny was my hero when I was a kid. She was hilarious, salty, and fun – everything I aspire to be! In this picture, Granny is posing next to picket signs made by her neighbors after she hosted a party and didn’t invite them. What a bunch of fun drunks.

An incredibly detailed scrapbook made (out of construction paper!) by my childhood friend, Roxanne. We are still close and we always remember the intensity of friendships between girls before they discover boys. A lovely example.

An incredibly detailed scrapbook made (out of construction paper!) by my childhood friend, Roxanne. We are still close and we always remember the intensity of friendships between girls in those years before they discover boys. This is a lovely example.


My dad and me at my high school graduation. He was actually very handsome, even though he’s making a weird face here. I don’t have many pictures of us together so this is a treasure. Sidenote: It makes me want to cry that I thought I was fat then.

Double exposures! A roll of film in which a baseball game showed through in pictures of my wedding. Instagram WISHES it could do this.

Double exposure! A roll of film on which pictures of a baseball game, a backyard pool party AND my wedding were shot. Instagram WISHES it was this cool.

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The Week in Celebrity Vaginas

I probably should have used quotation marks around celebrity because the people I’m talking about are celebrities in the same way people like Ingo Rademacher and Sean Lowe (who?) pass as “stars” on Dancing with the Stars.

So, how about this? Some people that a lot of people are aware of said some stuff about their vaginas and I have some things to say about what they said.

Let’s start with Amerika’s favorite sisters, the Kardashians. I generally try to limit my exposure to Kardashianalia. There are a number of reasons for this but the primary reason is that I CANNOT LISTEN TO THEIR VOICES. Because I love trashy pop culture so much I want to marry it, I know that not watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians leaves a gap in my knowledge base. So I have tried, Lord knows I’ve tried, to watch the show. But I have never made it through a full episode because of those voices. The combination of that flat, nasal whine and using “like” every fourth word makes me feel insane.

Also, Kim’s face freaks me out.

But I am aware of them because DUH. So when I read earlier this week that on their television show, two of the sisters asked a third sister to compare and judge the smell of their vaginas, I thought, “Well, of course. Of course they did!” The way in which the winner was determined is that sisters Kim and Kourtney individually wiped their vaginas with a cloth napkin and then each in turn presented their napkin to sister Khloe for a sniff test.

That’s right: these adult women smeared (sorry!) their essences (again!) on a piece of cloth, which they presented to another adult woman to judge.

Big surpise, Kim was the winner! Know why Kim was the winner? Because Kim getting peed on by a third-tier R&B singer ten years ago is the reason these people are on TV. How is Kim gonna lose?

Here’s my favorite line from the whole thing: “Do I want to be the judge of the pineapple p***y?” Khloe rhetorically asks. “Not really, but we’re sisters … if I can’t smell their p***ies, what else am I supposed to do?” Exactly, Khloe! You just summed up sisterhood beautifully! I mean, come on! WHAT ELSE ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO?!

Some would argue that Amanda Bynes is even less of a celebrity than the K sisters. We’re splitting (pubic) hairs here, but at least Amanda Bynes had a career as an actress with her own TV show and a movie or two before turning full-time professional car wrecker. Everyone pretty much forgot about her until she started acting all weird and druggy a few months ago. And then she went on Twitter with this lil gem:


. . .

C Bale WHAT?

Um. I don’t . . . I just . . . WHAT?!

I guess she means she wants to do sex with Drake? But Amanda, WHYYY do you use words as though you’re a non-native English speaker?

Even though we hear the word “vagina” in public more now than we used to, it still pricks up the ears when people talk about their own. It’s sort of a guaranteed attention-grabber.

So, to you, masochistic Amanda Bynes and you, sweet-smelling Kartrashians, I say well played. Well played.

The Longest “Girls” Recap You’ll Ever Read

Oh my God. What the hell happened last night? By the time the episode ended with another Q-tip jammed in Hannah’s ear, I had folded myself into a fetal position. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen three people so spectacularly self-destruct over the course of 30 minutes.

Lena Dunham took a ton of shit last season for the show. Part of that was simple “how dare you be a hilarious, smart, successful average-looking young woman and be this funny?” But it was also because the characters she created were so spoiled and seemingly devoid of self-awareness. That’s why I was only a sporadic, On Demand watcher last season. It’s also why I don’t typically hang out with people in their 20s. The lack of self awareness is draining. This season, I feel like LD is working to show people that she gets it; she gets that these people are over indulged, self-centered brats. And she really made her point last night.


You and me both, girl.

Hannah ::

The episode started with Hannah meeting with her e-book publisher who matter-of-factly tells her he didn’t read the pages she sent him because he didn’t want to. Wow. Okay. Um. So he suggests that she fictionalize her sex life, before sending her on her way with the parting comment that he looks forward to not reading those pages either. (Hannah, blogging is ten times easier and probably as lucrative as the stupid e-book. Do it! )

Later, Hannah is on the floor, presumably working on her book. After she gets a splinter in her butt, she removes it. Of course. Because what would an episode of Girls look like without bare Hannah flesh? Looks like we’ll never have to find out!tumblr_inline_mgxo6xxYrr1rqli3pAnyway, she finds herself driven to clean her ears. (Don’t even act like you haven’t had that same compulsion. Usually it happens to me in other people’s bathrooms but let’s move on.) She proceeds to injure herself by putting something “smaller than an elbow in there” against her irritated mother’s screechy advice.

She ends up in the hospital, being scolded by an older Indian doctor. This is just the sort of man whose hard work and presumably much less privileged circumstances leave him with zero patience for whippersnappers who hurt themselves in stupid ways.

I like that Hannah didn’t talk much in this episode. She sure got her comeuppance and then some, huh? Dismissed by her publisher, annoying to  her parents, berated by a doctor and blown off during a chance meeting with Adam. She’s not doing well right now and maybe, possibly, life is taking the wind out of her usually inflated sails?

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