In spite of my potty mouth, hatred of small children, lack of boobs, and whatever R. will tell you when he’s drunk, I am a 100% lady. That said, like most 100% ladies there are some lady things I just don’t get. Instead of keeping these things to myself, I thought I should probably put them on the internet to piss off the other 100% ladies who don’t agree with me. Cattiness: it’s the 100% lady way. (Inspired in part by a post over at Eden Eats Everything).
1. Most “attractive” celebrities
I’ve already briefly touched on this, but I feel strongly enough about it to revisit. Seriously, Depp is the only one I’d look at twice. Ryan Reynolds looks like a frat boy (I’m more of the nerdy-LoTR-fan type), and his movies don’t help him in that respect. George Clooney looks like he could be my father, and has for about twenty years now. Ick. Don’t get me started on Tom Cruise, even though I have a feeling his slow slide into insanity has dimmed his star in many women’s eyes. Nonetheless he has and always will look like a mole. Observe:
2. Glittery and sparkly things
Ladies, are we three? Are we magpies? Like that asshole in Twilight, do we really gush at the mere sight of sparkles? Because I just… no. No glittery shoes. No sparkly dresses. For fuck’s sake, no glittery nail polish. It automatically gives you that “I’m 30 but think like a 12 year old” vibe, which is creepy as fuck. About the only positive thing that glitter’s ever done for you is serve as a red flag that your mister’s been out to a strip joint without thinking to invite you.
3. Fancy Cupcakes
Don’t get me wrong, I can house some cake. Cake is delicious! But “gourmet” cupcakes are usually dry, cardboard-flavored collections of crumbs designed to convey massive quantities of shitty buttercream frosting to your mouth. My bewilderment probably stems from a disdain for frosting and icing in general – a lightly sweetened cream cheese frosting is about the only type I can tolerate, and ice cream is a clearly superior cake accompaniment – but seriously, if you want frosting that much, go down to Kroger’s, buy a canister for two bucks and go to town. Or, better yet, make it yourself! You get twice as much frosting for half the price. A $4.00 cupcake is just throwing your cash away.
On a side note, cake pops are pretty much the worst invention ever. You’ve added the worst cake accompaniment to cake and destroyed the cake by making the two impossible to separate. Completely mixing something shitty into something awesome only brings down the awesome. Here’s a quick summary, for those who don’t feel like reading a hundred words about cupcakes and poor choices:
Cake and ice cream > Cake > Cake and frosting/icing > Fancy-ass cupcakes > Cakepops
(I originally had romantic comedies as number four, but after writing a very rage-filled post about all the terrible tropes and general awfulness of the genre, I realized it wasn’t amusing or interesting to anyone, just angry. So I briefly thought about writing a bit on that horrible book Eat, Pray, Love but realized that it was even more rage-inducing than romantic comedies. I gave up and went with weddings instead, so you wouldn’t need to read a thousand words that amounted to FUCK YOU EVERYTHING. You’re welcome.)
So, I understand marriage. It’s not an easy thing, but it’s a good thing to have a partner. Even though R. and I have decided to keep our relationship on the other side of legally recognized,* I fully support people who want to get married now or in the future. Really, for most people marriage seems to be a way of feeling like the hard work they put into their union is legally recognized with government-provided benefits, and I can’t blame them. What I cannot truck with is the typical wedding.
The “typical wedding” always seems to start out the same for people my age – they swear up and down they just want a “little celebration,” that it’s “not a big deal,” and six months later all the bridesmaids are being shoehorned into fuchsia taffeta nightmares that flatter no one and are at least one size too small, the groomsmen are sweating, drunk and terrified at the prospect of being in some sort of choreographed three-hour long ceremony because really, they only agreed to this to go to the bachelor party, the groom is grimly declaring that his bride-to-be will get to have “her day” even if it means killing her parents to make it happen, and the bride is sobbing into a pile of flowers that aren’t just the right shade of ivory and asking everyone why they’re so mean and hurtful that they can’t understand how important today is to her. This is not a celebration, this is torture. In all honesty, I really think modern weddings were developed in the fifties so that the bride’s mother could tell her daughter that it’ll get easier once she’s married with a straight face. Also, if you have a cash bar and don’t warn your guests, fuck you. Just saying.
I’ve been pretty lucky as far as weddings go – I was a bridesmaid in my brother-in-law’s wedding (which was a traditional but pretty low-key affair) where my sister-in-law was just about the chillest, least-demanding bride I’ve ever come across (this means I chose my own dress and sister-in-law, I owe you), and my best friend is getting married this November in what can only be described as a big ol’ party in her backyard. The key seems to be that both of these people just want to be married. The ladies who want their day to feel like a princess are the ones who can fuck off, because if history has taught us anything it’s that nine times out of ten, being a royal means ordering people around, flipping out over stupid shit and sucking at being a decent human being. No thanks.
*The scream you just heard was my mother declaring for the nth time that “all [our] children will be bastards!” Thanks, mom, love you too.
5. Atrocious designer purses
I’ve got to be clear on this one, because I love a good purse. A good, well made purse, designer or not, it a staple if you’re like me – I have to carry a million things around because if I don’t have a checkbook, last year’s tax return, a small bronze statue of a cat, three extra tampons and change in seven types of currency on me at all times, I feel like I’m not prepared and have a massive anxiety attack three feet from my apartment door. What I don’t get is the gaudy, trendy designer purses. I’m talking the ones with really large, visible logos (Dooney & Bourke’s logo bags come to mind) and damn near anything quilted that retails for more than $5.
Take a moment and go look at the most expensive Louis Vuitton purse ever made. That atrocious thing was $45,000. I mean, although I wouldn’t do it I get the general idea behind paying boatloads for clothing or accessories – part of it is quality and part of it is the “because I can” factor – but please. If you’re going to spend the equivalent of a middle-class person’s yearly (pre-tax!) salary on something, at least try to make it something with some sort of class or taste. That looks like something Brittany Spears would design, if Wal-Mart asked her to start up an affordable fashions line. In other words, you’ll look like a $2 Louisiana hooker carrying that shit around. $45,000 denim-patched purses: don’t.
Editorial note: I’ve finally updated my stupid “About SomeSummerSunday” page! You can click the link at the top of the page, or just click here.