One of the most important relationships a woman will ever have is the one she has with her father. Now, I realize that I have been especially blessed because not only do I have a father to speak of, but I have a father who is one of the kindest, smartest, most loving people on this planet. Really the only daddy issues I have are knowing what it feels like to be loved and respected by a man. Because I know that I am at an advantage having someone like Dick Smith a mere telephone call away at any time, I loan him out to a lot of my friends, which he is more than happy to do. Basically, if my dad isn’t following you on Instagram, you’re doing something wrong. So, here’s to all the dads of the world- whether he’s your dad, you baby’s daddy, or father to your four legged friend.
They say the way you spend New Year’s day foreshadows how you will spend the rest of the upcoming year. Probably not promising for a lot of you who woke up missing articles of clothing, unable to identify your bedside companion, sans cab fare for the journey home, and with a headache equivalent to the explosion of the Hindenburg. As for me, if today is any indication, I’m all set. Being handed a mimosa upon parting my eyelids, walking outside outfitted in a crop top, and spending the rest of the afternoon alternating between drinking rosé and napping is something I could get used to. Certainly an improvement over the last twelve months. 2013 was a hot ass mess… or maybe that was just me. I basically spent this past year dating completely inappropriate individuals, staying up too late, not working hard enough, and writing it all down. There are plenty of personal bad habits that I wish to lay to rest along with 2013. That said, here’s a countdown of some other things from 2013 that I certainly won’t be crying crocodile tears about kissing goodbye.
- No, I don’t want to play Candy Crush.
- Trainwrecks. I mean, obviously literal ones, but really figurative ones a la Amanda Bynes, Lilo, and most of my ex-boyfriends. Can we please stop encouraging bad behavior?
- Parody t-shirts. You know: Féline, Homies, Commes des Fuckdown, and the likes.
- Anything with a peplum.
- “Keep Calm” and STFU. Please stop making these. Along with most some e-cards, and definitely those comic strip things.
- The word/action of twerking. Also, all mentioning of molly.
- “DJ” as a fallback career. When did grasping the general concept of Spotify equate to a paid occupation?
- Awl dese cray wayz of mizspelling thangz n stuph. Idk. Itz nawt kewl, bb, k? Werq.
- The exploitation of unicorns.
- Miley Cyrus’s tongue. (Though her explanation to Babs was somewhat endearing). Let the record show- I’m a Miley fan.
- Leggings as pants. Seriously.
Peace out, ’13. I’d be lying if I said I’ll miss ya. xx, WhyDid image via
2013 was a very interesting (by interesting I mean coma inducing) year when it came to music in my humble opinion. I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be a music expert, but if even I was bored, I can only imagine how audio afficianados must have felt. All genres started to blend together just as the days of the week started to blend together for me. Is it Tuesday night or Saturday morning? Who cares? A little Drake whining about his leftover Chinese food followed up with some Miley Cyrus soft porn will alleviate any confusion. Just stick out your tongue, grab a leotard, and start twerking- you’ve got 2013 music covered. It’s like Now That’s What I Call Music: 9 Billion. Listen to this playlist til 2014, then let’s bury these songs like a time capsule not to be revisited until another decade has passed.
Award shows always manage to leave me scratching my head and trying to figure out just how much wine I ingested in the last two hours. It’s as if celebrities save up all their crazy for these star studded events and then unleash it on their adoring fans. Fortunately for us, it’s all caught on film to be watched time and again for days to follow. These evenings provide news sources plenty of ammunition and the platform to play things out and beat a dead horse.
Speaking of which… The only thing weirder than Lady Gaga’s arrival on a wind up horse, was her awkward performance with president R. Kelly who probably should have stayed trapped in the closet. I didn’t have too long to wonder what the real purpose of this horse was or whether Ke$ha and Gaga are actually morphing into the same person, because moments later I thought I spotted a red carpet crasher, but it was just Marc Anthony who looked as though he’d been halfway through his Sunday stack at The Griddle when he realized, “Shit, that award show is tonight.” His former better half, Jennifer Lopez, more than made up for his failworthy flannel with a high energy tribute to Celia Cruz. It wasn’t all cringeworthy though. Watching Rihanna accept the Icon Award from her mother even made me tear up and Christina Aguilera’s soft vocals during her performance with A Great Big World had me fall in love with her all over again. Just when I started to think that maybe this award show was bringing back a little bit of class to the music world, Miley showed up in a cat covered two piece leotard and I had a hard time deciding which cat to look at because the one lip synching behind her kind of stole the show.
But alas, what we (at least I) bother watching award shows for… the fashion. If you weren’t wearing white, you were wearing black- or a combo of the two. This, of course, makes me happy because my second favorite “color” behind black is white. If you weren’t wearing one of my two favorite shades, you were wearing metallics or heating things up in fiery reds and oranges. To be clear, just because I post it below doesn’t mean I like it. It just means it happened and I firmly believe in being informed. Rihanna, Nicole Richie, Ciara, and a very Kardashian-esque Naya Rivera were a few of my favorites, while most of the others left plenty of room for improvement.
Bad Bitches are the New Black:
Black and White and Chic All Over:
Bright Like Diamonds:
Girls on Fire:
I’d wondered before about your feelings on getting tatted up, and it’s still one of my most searched posts. The other day, I was sitting and chatting with one of my best gals, Cat, and we noticed that all of the young starlets and songstresses were using ink as their best accessories. And I can’t lie, I think a lot of them look really cool, but having one tattoo of my own that’s not visible to the general public (sorry, Dad- cat’s outta the bag), I can imagine regretting a more substantial stain of the skin. Call me a commitmentphobe.
The thought of having to explain to little Tommy why his mom has an explicit phrase emblazoned on her forearm, makes me cringe. And let’s not even get into that thing called gravity. A cute little fish on your bum may some day become a whale on the back of your knee caps. But that hasn’t seemed to slow down the beautiful people from Beverly Hills to the Big Apple. Hollywood’s biggest stars from the queen of twerk to leading lady of the runway are expressing themselves in a dermal way- one of which is having hers removed due to a type-o. Whoops.
So, we decided we were going to go ahead and get ourselves some henna fakies. And then I saw a status update regarding a little something called jagua. Inquiring minds had to know. I went ahead and fired up, good ol’ Google. Wouldn’t you know, I could order an at home kit and create my very own temporary tattoos. And order I did. Thanks to Amazon.com, I received my DIY kit within a couple of days and I couldn’t wait to test it out. One fine fall evening, we headed up to the roof and started to draw all over each other. We began by testing the pre-made designs, but our creative geniuses (and that liter of wine) got the best of us and we went free hand. From hashtags to this little reminder I painted on my forearm, we went wild. Take that, Miley.
While we had taken the time to read the directions (a novel idea for me), we didn’t really take them as seriously as we should have. Trust me, there’s a reason they include a pair of latex gloves. Not only did we awake with hangovers, we also had stained fingers and smudged designs. When the directions said to let it dry, they meant it. Anything we’d wiped or tried to correct appeared the next day. A bit of scrubbing and some patience erased our mistakes, but true to promise, the art will stay on for a solid two weeks. Verdict? A great way to test out a tat, but be sure to not drink and ink.