All Hail Nicki Minaj

28 Nov

I’ve long wanted to write a piece praising Nick Minaj, who is quite possibly the best female rapper to break out since Lil’ Kim.  Minaj, whose real name is Onika Maraj, is bursting with creative talent and a flow unlike many rappers (both and male and female) who receive a fair amount of radio play. Minaj originally hails from Saint James, Trinidad and Tobago, but grew up in Queens, New York. As a student at the Laguardia High School for the Performing Arts, Minaj studied drama, which I believe has a clear influence on her rapping style and use of alter egos, such as “Roman Zolanski” and “Nicki Teresa”.  Her incorporation of singing with rapping mirrors the style of fellow Young Money artist Drake, with whom Minaj collaborates on occasion, though I am not afraid to state that Minaj is more talented than her male Young Money counterparts.

Minaj, who is signed with Young Money Entertainment (Lil’ Wayne’s record label) first gained attention with the release of several mixtapes during the second half of the last decade.  At this time, Minaj relied on a sexy image that she thought would be necessary to giant the sort of success she hoped for.  In one interview, Minaj discussed the sex appeal expected of female rappers: “the female rappers of my day spoke about sex a lot… and I thought that to have the success they got, I would have to represent the same thing. When in fact I didn’t have to represent the same thing.”

It’s a good thing that Minaj chose to clear away expectations of her becoming the next Lil’ Kim, because the first press on Minaj resulted in classy pictures like this one:

In 2010, Minaj moved away from her over-the-top sex-drenched image and introduced her Barbie-influenced alter-ego, complete with a “Barbie” logo diamond chain and doll-like dance moves she started to incorporate into her performances.

Minaj appeared on several very successful singles throughout the year, the most notable of which are “My Chick Bad,” by Ludacris, “Lil Freak,” by Usher, “Letting Go,” by Sean Kingston, and my personal favorite, “Bottoms Up,” by Trey Songz.  Minaj appeared on the Billboard Hot 100 fourteen times in 2010, and her single “Your Love” hit #1 on the Billboard rap chart. Minaj’s flow could best be described as violent, somewhat over-the-top and punctuated by the strange faces Minaj likes to make while rapping.

By far one of the best verses Minaj put out this year was on Trey Songz’s “Bottoms Up,” though Minaj claims this verse is not Minaj herself rapping, but is instead the work of her alter ego, Roman Zolanksi:

Yo, could I get that ‘Tron?
Could I get that Remmy?
Could I get that Coke?
Could I get that Henny?
Could I get that margarita on the rock rock rocks?
Could I get that salt all around that rim rim rim rim?
Trey, I was like “Yo Trey”
Do you think you could buy me a bottle of Rose’?
Okay, lets get it now
I’m with a bad bitch he’s with his friends
I don’t say “Hi”, I say “Keys to the Benz”
Keys to the Benz? Keys to the Benz!
Muhfuckin right yeah, weed to the 10
If a bitch try to get cute Imma sock her
Throw a lotta money at her then yell fucka, fucka, fucka,
Then yell fucka.
Then Imma go get my Louisville Slugger
Excuse me, I’m sorry, I’m really such a lady
I rep Young Money
You know Slim, Baby?
And we be doin’ donuts while we wavin’ the .380
We give a lotta money to the babies out in Haiti
Yellin all around the world,
Do you hear me? Do you like my body?
Anna Nicki
Rest in peace to Anna Nicole Smith
Yes, my dear, you’re so explosive
Say hi to Mary, Mary and Joseph
Now bottoms up and double my dosage.

Minaj’s first album, Pink Friday, debuted last Tuesday and features the singles “Your Love,” Right Thru Me,” and “Check It Out.” I strongly believe that Minaj is perhaps just as talented or even more talented than Lil’ Kim. Additionally, the world-positive spin Minaj places on her verses is in opposition to the hard female rapper persona that Kim and her contemporaries (Foxy Brown, Trina, Eve) worked hard to establish at the tail-end of the 90’s.  Minaj’s album is crisp and fresh and incorporates pop, hip-hop, and R&B into a style that has yet to be named.  Minaj is the new standard for female rappers. I take that back. Not just for female rappers, but for rappers, period.

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Ryan Reynolds? Really? Okay, People Magazine…

17 Nov

The most important announcement of the year came out today – Ryan Reynolds is the Sexiest Man Alive 2010 as chosen by People Magazine.  This decision came as a huge surprise to me – as a connoisseur of People’s annual man-flesh fest, the last person I expected to be on this year’s cover is Reynolds. I don’t think he’s even been in any movies since last year’s The Proposal, which did give us a good view of Mr. Reynolds’s washboard abs. (See exhibit A.)

Exhibit A: Ryan Reynolds's Abs.

The title Sexiest Man Alive carries a lot of heft behind it – many a leading man have had the honor of carrying a title that is somehow both ripe with meaning yet completely arbitrary all at once. Four men have won the title twice – Richard Gere, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Johnny Depp. Those are some extremely sexy men, though I hope Brad Pitt will be able to take the title a third time sometime in his fifties. Because, damn. It does not get much better than Brad Fucking Pitt.

What one must also keep in mind when considering People‘s list, is that sexiness is a completely subjective trait. What I may find sexy about one man may be a complete turn-off for another woman. Also, being handsome does not equal being sexy. A man can have a square jaw, ocean-blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair and still be entirely unsexy.  This is because sexy has to do with many other factors, among which I include personality, sense of humor, intelligence, and general swagger.

Let me give you a real-life situation. I have a  lingering interest in two men we shall refer to as Guy A and Guy B. Guy A is handsome by my standards (square jaw, blonde, blue-eyed, and athletic) while Guy B is also handsome by my standards (square jaw, blonde, blue-eyed, and athletic). However, Guy B, though he is very polite, appears to have no visible sense of humor and takes himself super-seriously. Guy A, though he often comes off as an asshole to those who may not know too much about him, makes me laugh constantly and gives me orgasms without us actually having sex. I choose Guy A for obvious reasons – also, I may or not be attracted to him because of the way his skin smells – this reason supports to the theory that we are inherently attracted to those with immune systems very different from our own immune systems, which we discern from the smell of another person’s skin. It’s true. I heard about this in one of my favorite movies, 2 Days in Paris, so it must be true.

Anyway, now that I’ve bored you with that story, I must say that the surprise of Ryan Reynolds being named Sexiest Man Alive does not stem from his not being sexy. The title “Sexiest Man Alive” is often reserved for huge movie stars and the sons of Presidents (JFK Jr. was the only non-actor to win the title in 1988. But he deserved it, because he was really fucking hot.) Reynolds really is sexy, funny, and seemingly fly as hell, but it also seems that there are some sexier men of the moment that were overlooked.

There’s Jon Hamm, for instance, whose real-life personality makes him both a huge nerd and completely endearing because of it.

Exhibit B: Jon Hamm as Don Draper.

What about Alexander Skarsgaard, of True Blood fame?

Exhibit C: Alexander is all man.

Or what of my personal choice, Leonardo DiCaprio? The man just turned 36 – he’s all man, and one day I will make him mine!

Exhibit D: Leo, completely perfect in my wanting eyes.

We shall see who wins next year. In the meantime, enjoy your glory, Mr. Reynolds.

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This Explains My Social Life

11 Nov

The Long Island. Chock full of vitamins G, V, T, and R (Gin, Vodka, Tequila, and Rum).

Mmm, drinking. Such a wonderful pastime for those of all age groups and ethnic backgrounds. Everyone and their mother gets down on the sauce, for varied reasons (my apologies ahead of time for those teetotalers who could become offended at my lack of sensitivity for those who are actually struggling with alcoholism and not just taking one too many shots of Jager at a party).  When I saw a recent piece on drinking in The Week, I had a eureka-like moment.  The article poses the question, “Why do smart kids grow up to be heavier drinkers?” All at once, I had a new justification for my gin-soaked social life.

I don’t want to sound like a total asshole, but being smart is hard. I know that sounds completely asshole-like, but for some people, being smart from a young age is a completely burdensome experience.  When you’re a little kid who understands much more about the world than any adult would deign to tell you, your imagination becomes a refuge for the endless thoughts and feelings running through your little, under-developed mind. Plus, you’re probably getting teased a lot by dumb children, which sucks a lot.

The Week poses three theories to explain why it is that recent studies show that “more intelligent children in both studies grew up to drink alcohol more frequently and in greater quantities than less intelligent children”:

1. Evolution: ‘Smart people are generally early adopters and, in the context of human history, “the substance [alcohol] and the method of consumption are both evolutionarily novel.”

Awesome! I can now justify my ability to hold my liquor with science.

2. Alcohol makes up for boring early years: Joanne Hinkel of The Frisky had this to say: “All that studying in childhood repressed kids so much that they’re still trying to compensate well into adulthood for all that fun they missed.”

I could not agree more with this theory. I went to a college that is not considered “fun” by normal standards, and I spent the majority of my nights slaving over papers about Victorian poetry in the library. At least I can now celebrate the fact that I chose to get an English degree with endless Long Island Iced Teas.

3. Drinking is the only way to deal with morons: Greg, of Food & Wine Blog, says that a few drinks allow a smart person to “relax a bit, stop being so anal with semantics and let comments slide a bit.”

This is also true. I find that people with whom I would never be inclined to interact with are much more endearing when I’m drunk. Then I sober up a little and wonder why the fuck I thought it was a good idea to have an hour-long conversation with Mike, the local UPS delivery man with wandering hands. It can also be said that more intelligent people drink simply to turn off their minds for a little while. When you’re a smart person, you tend to over-analyze EVERY. LITTLE. DETAIL. Drinking helps to turn off your mind for a while, relieving you of the burden it is to have to think about all of your problems and then some.

I do think there is one more explanation for why smarter kids grow up to become heavier drinkers: emotional sensitivity.  I read somewhere that smarter people are more in tune with the suffering of others, making them particularly emotionally fragile. One commenter on The Week offered, “a study of genius-level children a few years ago found them acutely and painfully attuned to the suffering in the world, feeling a personal responsibility to help. It may be that they need to dull some of their sensitivities to survive.” Hmm. I suppose there is more to my love of bar-hopping, after all.

Bottoms up!

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The Sexy Halloween Costume: Keeping Feminists Awake at Night

30 Oct
Sexy Ghostbuster!

Something tells me that Bill Murray would still like this.

There exists a bit of vitriol for the “sexy” costumes that now fill the Halloween landscape. Once a holiday completely dedicated to the gore-ish, All Hallow’s Eve is now a celebration of the whorish. Walk into any of those temporary Halloween stores in your local mall and you will encounter a special section of sexy costumes – sexy devils, sexy angels, sexy Dorothy, sexy cop, sexy Bob Ross…you get the idea. Halloween is a holiday for sexy times just as much as it is for scary times, and I happily choose to embrace both factions of this Halloween conundrum, in spite of being a man-hating feminist (sarcasm intended).

Feminists very much tend to hate sexy Halloween costumes. I am quite wary of several recent posts on Jezebel denouncing the meteoric rise of the sexy Halloween costume. I feel that it’s fine and dandy to want to see people be much more creative than hiking up their skirts and calling it a costume, but how is it okay to denounce women who choose to dress sexy for Halloween? Jezebel chose to invite women to post pictures of their least-sexy Halloween costumes in this post. The results are actually quite amusing – fellow Jezzies dressed as everything from Big Bird to Pat from It’s Pat to Antoine Dodson (of “Bed Intruder” fame) to The Golden Girls to a leper. That’s quite a show of creativity from great feminist minds. However, this post was also meant to tear down those women who choose to vamp it up for Halloween.

My Halloween game stepped up when I was in college in New York City – NYC is THE city for Halloween fun, and people are SERIOUS about their costumes. While in school, I dressed as a French person (very hipster-like of me, I know), Wonder Woman, and my personal favorite, Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction. Now that I am out of college, I feel that Halloween is a holiday to treasure for its partying craziness and creativity potential. My costume idea for this year stemmed from a bizarre social interaction – one which I will explain in a future post on Fixed Air. I dressed up as a dominatrix this year, which lead me to decide that very few people have the balls to do any such thing.

So did I show a little extra skin this year? Did men stop and stare a little harder? Did I break the unwritten feminist cardinal rule of NEVER dressing sexy on Halloween? Yes, yes, and yes. There is little wrong with showing one’s sexy side on a night when anything goes, and I am proud to call myself both a feminist and a sexy woman. I will fight for the sexy cops, sexy Dorothys, and sexy devils until the end of time – they have a right to wear those costumes with just as much gusto as a woman dressing as un-sexy Dwight from The Office (yes, I’ve seen this done several times over). Happy Sex-o-Ween!!!

If you’d like to see me in costume as Madame Roux (yes, I did name my dominatrix alter-ego), please click here.

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Cash, Cars, and Ho’s: How A Feminist Can Love Hip-Hop

21 Oct

Like Jigga, I am also addicted to the game.

I am completely enamored with the world of what I like to call the “theater of hip-hop”. Most women who identify themselves as feminists would not dare admit any lingering love for rap and hip-hop. The genre earned the reputation for objectifying women during the Gangsta rap era, which began in late 1980s Los Angeles. Hip-hop and rap that developed before Gangsta rap embodied a carefree, party-focused mindset; artists like The Sugarhill Gang, Grandmaster Flash, and Afrika Bambaataa are some of the first to popularize the rap genre at the tail-end of the Disco era. However, when the Original Gangsta himself entered the scene, hip-hop became a multi-layered genre with a niche for every fan. Ice-T released what many believe is the first Gangsta rap song in 1986: “6 in the Mornin'”.

Gangsta rap focuses on exactly what its name implies; artists of the genre focus on what they know best: the danger-tainted lives of black youths on the hard streets of L.A. Many people love to whine about what a horrible influence gangsta rap is on American youth, but it’s best to give young people the benefit of the doubt and assume that they will not get hold of AK-47s and run China White in the suburbs. At an early age I was exposed to the “My god! What about the children!?!” mentality that is strangely prevalent among square adults – however, I learned to take the words of gangsta rap with a huge grain of salt. My theory on “the theater of hip-hop” helps me to defend my love of rap to those who hate on the genre, especially my fellow feminists. I see hip-hop and rap as a large playhouse in which the artists are players on a grand stage. In this world, anything goes, and that may include referring to women as “bitches,” but the most important things to emphasize are making cash, driving fancy cars, and popping endless bottles of Champagne.

Listening to rap and hip-hop is nothing more than pure fun to me. There’s nothing more entertaining than turning up Ludacris’s “Move Bitch” and going for a ride through the suburbs. It may surprise some that hip-hop is as popular as it is among young, upper middle class suburbanites, but that is exactly who buys everything moguls like Jay-Z and P. Diddy deign to sell to young people. Dancing to rap and hip-hop is also endless fun; I cannot stand women (or even men) who refuse to dance to such music. This is usually the sign of a square and/or someone who cannot be trusted. Rap also gives me the opportunity for me to pretend that I am a much bigger baller than my reality may show. Therefore, I do not find it contradictory for me to call myself a feminist and a fan of hip-hop. Hip-hop is an art form that suffers due to endless witch hunts. Good hip-hop (of which there is an endless supply) is not demeaning to women, and the songs that do mention “bitches” and “hos” should not be taken so seriously. My advice to anyone questioning the importance of hip-hop in our culture is to buy a copy of Jay-Z’s The Blueprint 3 and then try to argue their points. Rap and hip-hop are American cultural institutions not to be dismissed, but saluted. Now pour one out for your homies.

Here are three rap songs that currently make me want to stay on my grind, if you will:

1. “Toot It and Boot It,” YG

As a proud feminist I should hate this song. It’s a young man’s anthem about how he loves to fuck chicks and leave them, but I figure it can also be utilized by women regarding their personal lives. Plus, the video is pretty good and features one of my favorite rap video clichés: thick women dancing in the rain.

2. “My Chick Bad,” Ludacris ft. Nicki Minaj

Ludacris has long been the greatest Southern rapper. My childhood is peppered with memories of his fantastic little ditty, “Move Bitch (Get Out the Way).” For his most recent album, Luda focused on beats that make you want to shake your ass, and “My Chick Bad” is my go-to song for getting pumped up for a night on the town. It also features the hottest female MC of the moment – Nicki Minaj (an upcoming piece on Fixed Air will sing the praises of Minaj.)

3. “Successful,” Drake ft. Trey Songz

Drake is the second hottest thing on the rap scene now, right after Nicki Minaj. This song says it all: “I want the money, money and the cars, cars and the clothes, and the hos, I suppose…I just wanna be successful.” I give mad credit to Drake, who is of course best known for playing Jimmy on the Canadian teen soap opera, Degrassi: The Next Generation. Little Jimmy is all grown up. Tear.

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The Duke “F*ck List”: Thoughts and Consequences

13 Oct

 

Duke: Home of the Blue Devil, and an endless supply of hot men.

 

Last week, Jezebel posted the Duke University “Fuck List,” created by student Karen Owen, in its entirety. The “Fuck List” consists of 42 Powerpoint slides complete with pictures, charts, and thorough descriptions of the sexual performance of thirteen different young men, all of whom happen to be Duke athletes. The Fuck List entertained me more than anything I have had the chance to read in recent weeks, and it shed clarity on what appears to be a continually disputed idea: are women as vigorous in their quest for sex as men, and if they are, should they be allowed that right? Of course the answer to both parts of that question is yes, and the “data collection” performed by Ms. Owen is little more than a visual representation of a common occurrence among young women and men alike – people are having sex and talking about it, and this should hardly be news.

Owen, who titled her Powerpoint “An education beyond the classroom: excelling in the realm of horizontal academics” (quite a clever title, indeed), ranked her 13 “subjects” in the following categories: physical attractiveness, size, talent, creativity, aggressiveness, entertainment, athletic ability, and bonus points (“Bonus points were given for extraneous factors, such as the presence of an Australian accent and/or professional surfing skills. Points were deducted for rudeness or being Canadian.”) Now, call me cynical, but isn’t it COMPLETELY NORMAL to either discuss these details with close friends and/or record them for future entertainment? Owen’s creation of a detailed Powerpoint presentation is no different from the sex gossip that covers college campuses – the only difference is that someone found her creation highly entertaining, and chose to forward it to other friends in a fateful email.

Now Ms. Owen is facing a slut-shaming barrage from various media outlets, including both NBC and Fox News. The treatment of the “fuck list” in the media is sensationalist, with clear aims of portraying Owen as a sex-hungry young woman with no respect for any of her sexual partners. But let us pause for a moment, and imagine, if you will, that the Duke “Fuck List” was the work of a young man. There would likely be backlash from women’s rights groups and feminist media outlets (I will include Jezebel in this category), in addition to interviews with female celebrities expressing their “anger and outrage.” Many recent TV interviews with Duke students show an amused student body, entertained at the fact that Owen was sure to include penis size comparisons and indications of lame and/or inattentive lovers. But would students (especially female students) be entertained at a ranking of tit size or blow job ability? Perhaps they would, but my judgment says no. There is a clear double standard when it comes to sexual promiscuity. Men are encouraged to fuck as many chicks as possible, while women are cautioned away from enjoying sex as they please. Women are continually discouraged from pursuing sex, and when they do, they are labeled “sluts,” “whores,” and “ho’s,” while their male counterparts receive high-fives.

The media is portraying Karen Owen as a real-life biblical harlot and one gem of a video clip comes directly from Fox News, in which Megyn Kelly offers her sage advice to young girls everywhere:

http://www.youtube.com/v/8Whnt3zn-k4?fs=1&hl=en_US

See girls? It’s that simple! Do not sleep around! It’s dirty! Of course we would be lead to believe by Fox News that Ms. Owen is a huge slut deserving of little more than the recognition that she is a slut!

Ms. Owen is a normal young woman who has been blessed with a sex life that appears to be something out of a series of Harlequin romance novels. I am firmly in the camp that feels Owen deserves at least a book deal, or perhaps some sort of sex advice show. Any woman who can enjoy sex and have a sense of humor about it is golden. She also bagged a lot of hot, athletic men, for which I give her props. If Ms. Owen were a man herself, she’d be receiving high fives from all of her male friends and sneers from women. But in this world, and according to most media outlets, Ms. Owen is little more than a disrespectful slut deserving of shame. If being a “slut” entails enjoying a healthy and fun sex life, then I’d take being a slut any day.

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There is a Special Place in Hell Reserved for Maury Povich

3 Oct

Maury, how I worship thee.

There seems to be an endless supply of souls ready to put the most intimate details of their lives on daytime television airwaves. Perhaps the best example of such fodder is Maury, a talk show with a primary focus in paternity testing and exposing lovers as horrible cheaters. I tend to catch Maury at least two or three days a week, and it’s become a part of my lazy day routine. I can’t really explain why I enjoy Maury so much – perhaps it’s the comfort of knowing that I am not one of the women testing ten or more men in a futile search for the father of my toddler, or perhaps it’s the show’s constant revelations of men being cheating assholes who leave evidence of their infidelity for their miffed women to find. Either way, Maury is a fascinating piece of pop cultural awesome that many people, whether they will admit it or not, would very much enjoy.

Maury receives criticism for the way the show presents an endless parade of human suffering for the delight of the unemployed and lazy who are watching at home. I have to hand it to Maury Povich. He’s made a career out of searching for deadbeat fathers and exposing dirty, nasty cheaters. But is he exploiting these sad, desperate people? Many would think so, but he’s become a millionaire doing what he does best. If he has to fake a little sympathy and tell his guests to “do what’s best for that child,” then so be it! However, if there is a hell, or even purgatory, for that matter, Maury Povich could very well be on a VIP list.

Some of the most entertaining paternity cases I have seen recently involved the following items: a woman testing three different men at once (her ex, her ex’s cousin, and the cousin’s other cousin – none of them were the father), a woman testing a sixteenth man (he was the father!), and a show with the theme, “I’m not the father – test the pizza delivery man!!!” Ah, Maury is such a beautiful and constant reminder of why I love America so much.

Maury lets viewers in on the most intimate details of the lives of others and dares to entertain those stuck at home watching daytime television. I am sick of the implication that anyone who watches Maury could not possibly be intelligent or empathetic toward others. I recognize that the “guests” appearing on Maury may not have been dealt the best of hands in life, and it is not up to me to judge the outcomes of their poor decision-making. However, Maury serves both as entertainment and a moral guidebook for the restless throngs at home on their couches. I now leave you with what is perhaps the most salient daytime talk show quote of all time (right behind Steve Wilkos’s “Why are you still sitting on my stage!?!”):

YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER!

(I have already checked if I could put it on mugs. Those mugs already exist.)

More Reasons to be Disappointed with Men, Including “Blue Walls”

21 Sep

Today I have several reasons to be disappointed with the opposite sex:

1. The charming existence of the article “Local bison bear all at Phi Kappa Psi’s Annual Lingerave” in the Johns Hopkins University school paper, The News-Letter. This piece of shit, written by a very spiteful young man named Greg Sgammato, insults all women with disgusting misogyny. Sgammato comments on the harmful existence of “fat chicks” and their clear intent to prevent douchebag frat boys from hooking up with their “hot friends”. Here’s a little gem from his “article,” describing the tragedies taking place at lingeraves (a combination of the words lingerie and rave, leaving endless possibility for make-believe debauchery):

In the future, one can think of at least one alteration to make; indeed, perhaps advertising a party as a “Lingerave” will bring about more bad than good. While seeing a hot chick in only her underwear is undoubtedly a treat, seeing a blimp without the welcome shield of clothing is a much worse fate for everyone at the party. A seasoned veteran should have the confidence to wait until the bedroom to see his girl without clothing; don’t subject the majority to the tyranny of the – funnily enough – enormous minority.

Hmmm, blimps, huh? Other terms Sgammato uses to describe women include: “livestock,” “elephants,” “grenades,” “bison,” and “it”. Now, I could go on and on about how Sgammato is likely an ugly man who could not even get a standard hot chick (whatever that means) to blow him if he tried, but all I really want to say is how he’s just ignorant. How could someone who holds such nasty opinions of women think that it would help his writing career to put his name on such sexist trash? More importantly, is this really how he feels about women? I weep for the day this moron ever has a daughter, because she will need therapy galore. This guy deserves to have his name associated with trash writing for at least the next few years. Oh, and as a bonus below, Jezebel found this picture of Sgammato, who is seen on the far right with fellow bad writer Javier Avitia on the left and the FEMALE editor of the Johns Hopkins News-Letter in the center. Is he winking here? Ugh.

2. The even more charming existence of a SECOND sexist piece in the SAME edition of the Johns Hopkins News-Letter, entitled, “Banging Under the Influence: The Ups and Downs” by a moron named Javier Avitia. Javier tries to argue that having sex when both parties are drunk is the best thing ever. According to the author, being drunk while fucking makes girls “slutty” and “submissive,” while men become “emboldened”. Yuck. Avitia writes:

For guys, the appeal of this is obvious: it cuts out the hassle of having to pretend to care about a relationship and the protocols of a thing called “courtship” if they want to sleep with a girl, it gives them an excuse to think with the other head, and, as many a study has shown, girls become more submissive when intoxicated while men conversely become more emboldened. So score one for the men.

The sad part about this quote is that it showcases what seems a prevalent attitude among college men – why be nice to a girl and actually care about her as a person when she has holes for your dick that feel good? That’s all we women are good for anyway. Javier’s piece is yet another reminder that women are still thought of little more than objects used at any man’s discretion. It also insults both the acts of drinking and sex, both of which are enjoyable and not necessarily mutually exclusive. Thanks Javier, for ruining drinking and sex for everyone.

3. I can’t go to work without being leered at by both customers and coworkers. I would like to go into more detail here, but I probably shouldn’t, and I would rather make the point that creepers are neither worth my time nor my energy. I will say one thing – if you are a major creeper, do not keep trying to touch a young girl’s shoulder with your creeper hand, because she will give you the stinkeye and then write about how gross you are in her nationally read blog.

4. I don’t like it when a guy gets you all hot and bothered for him and then leaves you with whatever the equivalent of blue balls for women may be (actually, I just Googled and Wikipedia mentions “blue walls” and “blue box”- how classy). I mean, if you’re telling a girl all the things you like sexually, you should maybe follow-up on that sometime in the future. Hello, you’ve got a girl who’s DTF into you – do some work, you lazy ass. I’m hot, you’re hot, let’s hit it already. And I may remind you that I am not on call for such things – I’m not a nurse or a traveling saleswoman. Please change your attitude stat.

And those are all the reasons I can think of to be disappointed in men at this very moment.

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I Never Want to Hear “He’s Just Not That Into You” Ever Again

12 Sep

"Haha! I guess we don't really like each other after all!"

The most toxic phrase infiltrating the pop culture lexicon is “He’s just not that into you.” Coined by authors Greg Behrendt (a comedian who does not hold any sort of psychology degree) and 49-year-old never-married and eternally single writer Liz Tuccillo (not exactly an expert on relationships), the phrase is the title of their 2008 book He’s Just Not That Into You, also a terrible and poorly-written “romantic comedy” starring practically every star of the moment you could think of.

The book claims to offer advice to women on the dating world. Greg, who seems to think that every man is a type A personality who will jump at the chance to ask out any woman in a hundred-foot radius, is sadly mistaken. Not all men are cut from the same cloth, and it takes all kinds of people to make the world go round. I know from personal experience that not all men are like this. Most men, in fact, are shy, confused, and generally terrified of asking a woman out, never mind asking out a woman they really like.

The book and film offer these gems of advice for women: be completely passive when it comes to dating; your only job is to accept or deny dates as the offers come flooding in; NEVER EVER call or pursue a man in any way, shape, or form. In other words, become a subservient doormat with no wishes or desires of your own to fulfill. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a woman asking a man out. I’ve asked out a few guys in my short lifetime, and guess what? I did not spontaneously combust into flames while doing so.

My main problem with the He’s Just Not That Into You philosophy is its assumption that all women want to be wooed and yet are not allowed to do any of the wooing. Why is it that HE is just not that into me? What if SHE is just not that into him? Can’t this idiotic philosophy be applied to both sexes? And what is wrong with giving a guy a call? I admit that I’ve questioned my attempts at wooing men, but why is that? We are taught that women are automatically the weaker sex; we are small forest creatures, if you will, waiting to be hunted down by the proverbial kings of the jungle. God forbid we ever pursue a man we actually like – we should just take the ones that force themselves into our lives.

I also have a major problem with thinking that everything must happen within a certain time frame for a relationship to develop. The idea that a guy must call you within three days to express his continued interest does not account for confusion, shyness, being busy with actual life commitments, and/or the possibility that you’re not the only thing he has to worry about. I’ve noticed that some of the strongest relationships start out as friendships. In these cases, both parties are interested in getting to know each other before jumping into anything serious. I think if you do not get to know someone at first, you could very likely end up with the very sort of people you need to avoid – stalkers, assholes, and perverts, who always seem overeager to make something happen.

The advice in He’s Just Not That Into You can be summed up as such: if you pretend to be a weak woman in need of a strong man, a strong man will find you and sweep you off your feet. Never mind if he’s not really someone you are attracted to or compatible with; if he’s calling you then he’s all you deserve. Also remember to play plenty of mind games, because men love a woman who comes off as an enigma – he won’t want to get to know you as a person anyway, so do your best to confuse the hell out of him.

My current situation in the “romantic realm,” if you will, involves a lot of confusion on my part. I am definitely attracted to and interested in one guy in particular; however, my current limbo-like state in life and romantic history makes me unsure of whether I want an actual relationship or some sort of fun fling. Hence, I am confused. I would not be surprised, considering what he’s told me about his romantic history, if he were confused as well. However, if he really is “just not that into me,” I suppose I will have to curl into a little ball with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and cry until some asshole comes along to sweep me off my feet. But no thank you. I will continue to wait this one out and see what happens – I’m certainly in no hurry.

There is one more thing I would like to add: if you happen to encounter a guy who does everything without hesitancy and says all of the right things at the right time (much like the “ideal” men Greg describes in the book), chances are he’s a player who likes to fuck ’em and leave ’em. The type of man that Greg glorifies in his “book” is exactly the sort women need to avoid.

I suppose my point is that we are not all simple creatures who know what we want and/or need at any given moment. Dating is much more complicated than saying “he’s just not that into you.”

Live in Concert: John Mayer at Red Rocks

4 Sep

I’m completely unsure of how many times I’ve seen John Mayer live, but September 1st’s show at Red Rocks was my latest Mayer adventure. The Battle Studies tour consisted of a winter American tour, which included the Pepsi Center show in March. The set list for the March show had a much more layered feeling, while this Red Rocks show consisted of a lot of older hits that amateur Mayer fans would certainly be familiar with. These songs, “No Such Thing,” “Your Body is A Wonderland,” and “Why Georgia,” could have easily been replaced with more recent songs either from Continuum or Battle Studies. Some songs I would have loved to have heard are “Assassin,” “Friends, Lovers, or Nothing,” “I’m Gonna Find Another You,” and the ever-elusive but personal all-time favorite “St. Patrick’s Day.”

The set list from the other night consisted of these songs:

Chest Fever > Vultures
No Such Thing
Beast of Burden > Perfectly Lonely
Ain’t No Sunshine
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
Bigger Than My Body
Love Soon > My Stupid Mouth > Comfortable > 3×5
Your Body is a Wonderland
Heartbreak Warfare
Voodoo Child
Who Says
Gravity
Do You Know Me
Why Georgia
Half of My Heart > Don’t Stop Believing

Encore:

Edge of Desire

I honestly think that playing only one song for an encore was a load of shit. Unless the law was forbidding that he play another song, John usually closes out with one full-band encore song and a pairing of acoustic solo songs. I’ve never seen him play ONE song at an encore. What’s up with that?

I also thought that the songs he chose to jam on were interesting, but standard. I did enjoy the “Ain’t No Sunshine” jam but could have done without “Voodoo Child”. He could have pulled out some “Covered in Rain,” but I’m sure mostly everyone in that audience would be confused by the 11 minutes of genius that would have followed.

The best part of the show was when he played what he called “rarities.” I’m not sure if I would call “Love Soon” and “Comfortable” rarities, but if you haven’t followed John since 2001 or so, you might not know any of the words, which is exactly what happened on Wednesday night. During this acoustic medley, John included “Love Soon,” and at one point, when he paused to let the crowd fill in the blank, I was literally the only person in the first ten rows or so who completed the lyric. I screamed “I’m calling it love soon,” and John raised his gorgeously tattooed left arm to point at me. “Ah!” he exclaimed, in awe of my lyrical knowledge. Thus, I was acknowledged (at least in my own crazy mind) by a rock legend in training. Even though I didn’t party on his tour bus like I did last time, this show was a welcome end to a mostly shitty summer (Is it just me or was the summer of 2010 pretty miserable?).

Overall, the Battle Studies tour was really unpredictable in terms of set list choices, but it’s also been the most solid set of performances by John’s band. John and his band are playing at a level completely off the charts. David Ryan Harris, a favorite and an original member of John’s band, joined on the summer leg, though was conspicuously absent in the winter.

John seemed especially chatty on Wednesday night, not to mention he appeared to be very grateful that anyone had shown up to hear him play at all. He thanked the crowd at length and inquired about whether we had had a good summer. Summer was a little blah this year, in my opinion. Last February, John received a lot of heat for some unsavory comments he made about Jessica Simpson and black women in Playboy. I feel as though everyone has nearly forgotten about his verbal missteps, and John’s retreat into the recesses from tabloid celebrity served him well. John is once again all about his music. His music should stand alone as a testament to his resilience as an artist. After nine years, Mayer still moves me. I can’t explain how he does it – he’s John Fucking Mayer, and that’s all I need to know.

I was lucky enough to catch John twice this year, which likely means that he’ll be doing a few special shows next year, in major cities like LA and New York. I’ll be in LA soon enough to be able to catch him if this happens. I’m also hoping for a Mayercraft Carrier 3 next year – that’s John Mayer’s 3-day cruise that consists of live acoustic shows and general hilarity. Until next time, Mr. Mayer.

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