Category Archives: rampant use of the word fuck

Why OKCupid is terrible.

fred astaire barri chase hollywood film set

Disclaimer because this post will probably upset people: to the guys I’ve been out with on OKC lately, who are probably not even reading this, this doesn’t refer to you, so calm the fuck down, even though you pretend you don’t care, but you totally do, because all anyone wants is to be flattered, especially on the Internet. This post is about OKC and my experience with it in general, not the exceptions.

I am tired of doing this. I am tired of dating. Tired of OKCupid dating, mostly. I can’t. This is getting ridiculous. Guys, hot tip: if you don’t look like Chris Pine, do not use the photo that someone took of you on that one day where the lighting was just right and you looked, for once in your life, like Chris Pine for two seconds. Especially do not use it as your main profile photo. You have to let us know right away if you’re ugly. (And maybe you’re not actually ugly, maybe you’re just picking terrible photos that you think are flattering.) And here’s the thing, before you yell at me: I have very specific, crazy standards. Most of the guys I consider ugly are men that most people consider attractive. So don’t get angry with me, like I just sent you an email saying, “Hi, ______, I was just looking you up online and you are ugly.” No. And I’ve been called ugly. And I get it. I look like Mick Jagger. I get this. I have a weird face. Some people consider my weird face weird enough to somehow work and be beautiful. Other people see my face and think that nothing works and it’s a mess and that it’s ugly. And that’s fine. I don’t give a fuck.

Everyone tells me to change my standards. No. How about you stop being ugly? Why the fuck should I change my standards? If you don’t like my standards, then don’t date me. Find someone else who sees you and wants you for you who are. I like men who look like this. Or this. And this. I do not like men who look like this. Or this. And those last two men are men that lots of women think are insanely attractive. See? I’m not asking for Ryan Reynolds-Gosling. That isn’t my type. Do you get what I’m saying here?

Be thin. Yeah, sucks to conform to the same standards we’ve had to deal with for years, doesn’t it? Go fuck yourself. Be thin. Be creative. Be smart. Be able to play an instrument, even if it’s just barely. Be able to have an awesome conversation with me. Be kind. Be generous. And I don’t mean just with money. I mean with your time. With your patience.

Almost every time I meet a man who fits these standards, they either 1. live in New York, 2. Leave me for an ex, or 3. Both. I’ve tried long distance. If you’re worth it, I’ll do it. I visit New York a lot now that my dad lives there. But you give up on me. And I go back to OKCupid and try again. And I don’t find anyone I like, and if I do like them, they of course do not like me.

Or maybe, I hate you. Maybe you hate me. But if you’re hot, and we have heated arguments, and then hatefuck each other, I’m okay with that. Because at least there’s passion in hate.

If you want help with your OKCupid profile, I can help you. Because I really just want you to find someone who loves you as you are. I don’t want you to be an asshole like I am. I want you to be happy. I want to help you be happy. I won’t judge you. I will find the most attractive and awesome thing about you and amplify it times a thousand. And why? Because I am sick of these stupid, inane, misleading, diabolical online dating profiles. So help me help you.


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This post was written last Friday around 10:30 PM.

bob dylanHave you felt that moment when you look up someone you had a crush on and they have a girlfriend and live in fucking KOREA I AM SO FUCKING LONELY? What the hell and why do I ruin everything? This was in college and I had my moment and I didn’t resist the shining adventure and we had sex in my bathroom while my friend was sleeping on the couch, it was a studio apartment, I’m not really sure what you want from me, and it was New York (!) and I was young and blonde, I mean, that’s just going to happen. He wanted me, I wanted him, and then, the way things happen in New York City when you’re on your own for the first time, he became a bisexual drug addict and left school.

AND, BECAUSE HE DELETED HIS FACEBOOK ACCOUNT, I NEVER HEARD OF HIM AGAIN. Until now. Until this sad moment, when I stuffed my face with meat and cheese and chocolate and then almost did Wii fit but stopped to look up this ASSHAT on Google and now I’m sitting here in a push-up bra and sweatpants BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I WORK OUT, FUCK YOU, and I discover that he still exists, has a girlfriend, and lives in Korea. This is the same boy who once adored me. The same boy who once came into class, excited, and said, “Last night was crazy. I slept in an arm chair man,” the same boy who couldn’t afford to buy a GAP shirt so instead he went the a thrift store across the street and bought a GAP shirt from there.

FUCK YOU, DUDE. FUCK YOU FOR MOVING ON WITH YOUR LIFE AND BEING HAPPY AND MOVING TO KOREA. Even though I only remembered your existence about 20 minutes ago. How could you do this to me? How could I let you do this to me? What is this? Why am I so sad and lonely and pathetic and undesirable to those I desire? DAMN IT. WHY DO YOU LIVE IN KOREA???


cat mayor



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joseph szabo

Photo by Joseph Szabo.

I want someone to sweep me off my feet, the way Romney sweeps all questions about his tax returns under the rug. Fuck it, I am a romantic at heart. I’ve tried to tell myself that I’m not. Today, I am coming forth and admitting my truth: I like romance, I like to be romanced, and I love the fuck out of candles. Someone adore me. Really, truly adore me. Because we all deserve that. We should all have that experience, of being Tears For Fears-style head over heels and have it being reciprocated. That’s the key, you don’t want to be the creep who is in like with someone who has no interest. Yeah, that sucks, but you have to find a way to accept the situation and walk away. The sooner you learn how to do this, the better. I found that the only way to get over someone is to find someone else to get under. I don’t mean that in a sexual way, but if you want to interpret it as that, go ahead, why not.

I’m sick of all this hipster cynicism. I like looking at photos of people who are in love. As long as they’re not ugly, I mean, let’s not get carried away. I like when people do adorable stupid shit like surprise their loved one with a Doctor Who painting or whatever the fuck the kids like these days. I like looking at photos of weddings and I like reading the stories of how when the bride and groom first saw each other, they couldn’t speak, because they were so overwhelmed by their feelings of complete love and joy. I’m really sick of the whole attitude of, “Fuck it, we’re all going to die one day, nothing lasts forever, and everything has an expiration date.” Is that really how you want to live your life? Wouldn’t you rather be happy?

Someone back me up on this. Or argue with me, that’s fine too.


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Shit that I am so into right now (part 1).

Here are some things that I’m ~~really into~~ lately. I found all of these photos on Pinterest and Instagram.

10. Me.

almie rose child actress

I am just soooo into me right now. Look at what an amazing child I was. Not much has changed. I’ve had bags under my eyes since I was six and I have the same stupid bangs and my lips have gotten bigger but that’s it, I am still incredibly, wonderfully, unscathed by time and by the harshness of people just, like, not getting me.

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Monogamy Is Such A Lonely Word.

I’m sorry I’ve been updating so infrequently. I’ve had some sad sandwich in my life. Sad sandwich is my new way of saying, “There are so many shitty things going on in my life right now that I don’t want to talk about” because I think that sounds better. Feel free to use it. Confuse everyone!

I’ve said this before, so I’ll say it again, because it’s my fucking blog: I want a wedding but I don’t want a marriage. At least not the way my country (or is it culture?) defines marriage. The problem with marriage is the whole, “‘Till death to us part” thing. Name one thing in your life that you are confident you will love from this point until you die. For the longest time I thought I loved cheeseburgers, then I briefly went vegan. Now I’m back to eating meat and loving it, but I am still surprised that there was a period in my life in which I detested it. However, I think there is one exception. I think that people can have lifelong friends, and here’s why: you don’t have sex with your friends (or you have sex with your friends like once or twice and only because you’re both hung up on other people). Once you bring sex into it, everything changes. “I FEEL LIKE I’M TAKING CRAZY PILLS.” Me too, Mugatu. Me too. That’s what sex does.

I hate people who break up and say that they’ll always love the person they broke up with. Oh, okay. I guess love is not all you need. You think I’m naive for saying, “If you love each other, why isn’t that enough”? Well I think you’re naive for saying marriage vows and believing in them. I think the best way to ruin a relationship is by marrying someone. And now you’re going to tell me, “You’re wrong, I’m married and I’m happy and I cry rainbows and blah blah blah.” Okay, fine. I’m sure that’s true. But what about ten years from now? Twenty? You know those earnest wedding toasts where the young groom tells his young bride how excited he is to spend the rest of his life with her? Yeah, I don’t think he realizes what the rest of their lives could entail.

Here’s how I think marriage should work: it should be like leasing a car. You’re with a person for a set amount of time, maybe a year or four. Then after that period of time you decide whether or not you want to extend the marriage. And if you do, you sign a type if marriage lease. I think that this would help eliminate divorce. Marriage is a contract anyway, so why not make it something you can decide to renew or cancel?

What is so crazy about that? There’s a dude who married a video game character and yet God forbid gay people get married. It’s because marriage is a completely fucked institution.

Look, here’s the thing: I am not saying I will never get married. I’m young and I have no idea what my life is going to be like. I can’t even picture what next week looks like. But if I marry someone, I want to make damn sure that it’s for the right reasons and that I am aware of all the things they do that annoy me and that I can handle it for 10+ years before I sign up. And fuck I want the dress, I want the party, I want the photos, I want the ring. I’m thinking about buying my own engagement ring. Yes, I know that’s sad. I don’t care. Kanye probably has diamond fucking Adidas, I should be allowed to wear my own diamond engagement ring without being pitied.

Or what I will do, when I really find the right person, is to have a non-wedding wedding. We’ll have the party, the dress, the photos but we won’t sign a certificate. We’ll call it an “Us” party or an anniversary party. We celebrate our own birthdays, so why not celebrate our own relationships? Unless you’re an asshole. If you’re an asshole and you’re inviting me to your “look-h0w-happy-I-am” couples party, go fuck yourself.

I don’t know. I just think it’s all so fucking serious. Monogamy doesn’t have to be serious. It should be fun, it should be wonderful, it should elate you, it should be goddamn fucking Disneyland, and if it’s not, I am peacing the fuck out.

Us (Me and Mrs. Officer) — My Sick Uncle (Lil Wayne/Regina Spektor mashup)


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Yeah, Fuck It. Seriously.

Fuck you, guitar man. Fuck you for looking beautiful as you got on stage with your guitar. Sure, you were dressed like a bartender and before you got on stage I thought you worked here, but now it’s all different. Fuck you for singing and playing the guitar so well. I don’t even know if you’re playing it well or if your general attractiveness is just translating through everything, but fuck you anyway.

Fuck you for looking like a more grown-up version of my ex, who I hope has been attacked by bears and after the bears attacked him they left him for vultures and the vultures did what they could and then a shark joined in, it actually got up out of the ocean and hobbled over, and then the bears came back because they decided they weren’t done (you know how bears are). Fuck you for looking like him and doing a really great cover of a great classic rock song mixed with another great classic new wave song. Bitch.

Fuck you for that glimpse of wedding ring that I didn’t catch until your very last song. Fuck you for being married. Fuck everyone for being married.

Fuck everyone who has ever let me down. You will never make your way back. You’re on my list. There is no getting off of this list. All of the pizza parties in the world will never get you off of this list. Oh, you don’t care? You don’t care that you’re on this list, guitar man? Too bad. Because I am an amazing friend. Once you’re my friend I will remain loyal to you with a ferociousness that is both admirable and a little scary. I am generally a good person. I am kind, generous with money, will show up to your Facebook events, and I fuck like a champion. So fuck you, guitar man. Fuck all of the guitar men of the world. And fuck you, Prince. I don’t even have a reason, but fuck you.

How Dark Is Your Dark Side — His Name Is Alive


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Harsh Words.

This is how it works: you’re young until you’re not. — Regina Spektor

I’m going to lay it down for everyone.

You are a total idiot if you text and drive. You’re also an idiot if you talk on the phone and drive, but if you do it on speakerphone or on a bluetooth then I guess it’s less dumb. They say that texting and driving is worse than drunk driving, which is a relief because now when I drive drunk I don’t feel so bad. KIDDING!!!!! Seriously though, don’t text and drive. It’s fucking distracting. When I’m on my way to meet you, don’t text me. I will not respond. You shouldn’t expect me to respond. Why? BECAUSE I’M DRIVING. If you need to reach me while I am on the way to meet you, either call me or wait until I get there. Pretend it’s 1994 if you have to, and cell phones are not common. If you are on your way to meet me, and you have to tell me something, LITERALLY CALL AND TELL ME. If you text me, I’m going to respond with “DON’T TEXT AND DRIVE.” If you do it again, I will call your ass and tell you to stop. It’s seriously the dumbest fucking thing you can prevent yourself from doing. We all make bad relationship decisions, money decisions, life decisions — don’t make this one. And don’t say to me, “I only text at red lights.” Would you get to a red light and close your eyes? No, because that’s dumb. So don’t text at a red light either, because although you may be stopped, other people are morons and could run the light, run into you, etc. Do not text and drive and if you do, don’t do it in front of me, unless you want me to think of you as a total dumbass.

Why are you jogging at night in the fog on Mulholland Drive? Are you fucking asking me to hit you? Are you fucking stupid? If you need to work out that badly, get a fucking treadmill. It’s like one of The Simpsons Halloween episodes where Ned Flanders says, “Time for my nightly fog walk!” and then is promptly hit by Homer with his car. It’s just ridiculous. You are asking people to hit you with your car when you powerwalk on streets that don’t have sidewalks after 8:00 PM in the fog. I can’t even–

Always RSVP. I cannot tell you how rude it is when you leave someone hanging. You’re not the fucking weather; I shouldn’t have to predict what you’re going to do. Either tell me that you’re coming, that you’re not, or that you’re trying to come. Don’t be lackadaisical about this shit. I admit, I have been done this before, but sometimes I go a few days without checking Facebook, which seems to be the main way to invite people to things. And why not? It’s easy, it’s quick, and everyone is on it. But then you never know if people are going to check it in time. But if you’re updating your goddamn wall and you still haven’t responded, then you should feel bad about yourself. You have failed at being a polite person. Mrs. Potts would be appalled. You are not Gaston. You are not exempt from behaving like a nice adult. Goddamn. And yes, I see the irony here in acting like a bitch while telling people to be nice. But I have the passion because I love. It comes from care and it comes from love. Or something.

Think I Wanna Die — Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin


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