MisSn mii GurLz

Here’s the thing: it’s summer. Get over it.

I understand that your life currently sucks (actually, I don’t understand, but you complain so much about how your life currently sucks that I’m starting to grasp the concept). However, just because you are currently 500 miles away from all your CoLlEge GiRLz and 9^tH FLoOr HaLLmAtEz doesn’t mean you need to cry.

Please remove all countdowns from your Facebook status that sound something like “45 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes and 59 seconds until I’m back in (insert poverty-stricken college town here) with the roomies!”

Seriously, it’s the fucking summer. Why aren’t you either A) on a cruise ship or B) reaching new levels of obliteration? (Please note: these activities may be completed simultaneously.)

I Can’t Wait To Be Pregnant.

I do not understand why you are holding a baby in your profile picture.

1) This baby is not yours. (If it is, then I am sorry that there is now another human being with your genes).

2) No one cares. There are a lot of babies in this world. This isn’t something that I haven’t seen before.

3) All babies look the same. No, the one you are holding is not the cutest one I have ever seen. Every baby looks like an old man. End of story.

In conclusion, I know your life aspiration is to be a mother, and that really bothers me. Because I want to be the editor-in-chief of Vogue.

My Sweet Little Honey Bunny Baby Muffin

Up until recently, I was under the impression that using terms such as “slut muffin” were a joke. Duh, what else would you call your best friend?

However, today I had an epiphany. Girlfriends across the country, I realized, were using “honey bunny” and “little muffin” to describe their Aeropostale-wearing boyfriends.

Apparently, writing “can’t wait to see my sweet little muffin tomorrow!” on your Facebook status is totally fine these days. Well, I have news for all you girls in (fake) gold hoop earrings: you’re making the rest of us nauseous.

My Grandma is my Hero

I really like your Easter family portraits taken by your Uncle Jeff. Your mother, your grandmother, your Aunt Sally, and your baby cousins Debby and Pamela look really good standing outside your upstate New York ranch-style house, surrounded by six acres of grass with three cows on the property. I’m glad you all wore matching light pink polo shirts that you purchased from Sears with khaki pants and brown work boots.

Thank you for posting your entire extended family on Facebook. I was really curious to see what your Grandfather looked like. It was truly the highlight of my day.

Please make sure to send me your annual family Christmas card. I wouldn’t want to miss you all wearing reindeer ears.

Note to Self: No One is Interested in My To-Do List

Why are you updating your Facebook status with things such as “noTe 2 seLf: zebra print and bank tellers!”, as if anyone knows or cares what the F you are talking about? There is absolutely no reason to inform all 1,200 of your Facebook friends that you need to remember to pick up Orange Juice in the morning, or that Aunt Sally needs to borrow your hideous bright-red nail polish for her big day at the zoo. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to type your oh-so-important reminders into the Stickies widget on your Macbook Pro?

Not to be rude, but we’re really not interested in the intricacies of your daily agenda. Thanks anyway, though!

“I don’t really get hangovers.”

Okay, I get it. You’re nervous. You have anxiety. Your neighbor’s best friend’s brother’s co-worker’s aunt once died from partaking in a game of Fuck the Dealer. However, this doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy the fine taste of alcoholism.

Let me be more specific here: let’s say you’re at the bar. Everyone around you is belting out “Jump on it! Jump on it!” at the top of their lungs, all the while double-fisting gin and tonics, falling out of chairs and making poor life decisions in the corner.

You, on the other hand, are slowly sipping a Bud Light and readjusting your orange halter-top from K-mart.  You’ve never forgotten your actions from the night before, nor do you have plans of ever doing so. You enjoy the “flavor” of beer and once threw up from chugging a 6-pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade at the Kansas County Fair.

Listen, orange halter-top wearing girls. Over here in the fist-pumping corner of the world, we’re worried about you. We want you to work on being a shitshow at all hours of the day. It takes practice, but anyone can wake up in the hospital with enough hard work!

Stop Being Weird.

Serious question: why are some people so weird?

No, seriously though. It legitimately bothers me when I witness 30 year old women running around the subway station in bizarre Star Wars outfits. Sometimes they’ll be singing the lyrics to heavy metal songs or jump roping. Other times they’ll opt to take pictures with inanimate objects and add captions such as “hehe me and the stuffed animalz are BFF lolz”.

In conclusion, I wish we could just put all of the weird freaks of the world on their own little island… without paddle boats, that is.

Life is easy.

Today, as I was taking a leisurely stroll down 5th Avenue, I realized something.

In between the herds of people sprinting across intersections and screaming on their iPhones, I was simply shopping. Everyone around me was scrambling and sweating and doing things that weird, “stressed out” types of people do. I couldn’t help but wonder why my life was so carefree, when all of these freaks around me were so worried.

HELLO, “stressed out” freaks of the world. Chill the F out. Why do you try so hard?

I urge you all to grab a blueberry iced coffee, take a little walk over to Topshop (currently having an insane sale, BTW!), possibly purchase some new self-tanning products from Sephora, maybe get a few happy hour cocktails and then finish off your day by blacking out/fist pumping to Lady Gaga at your neighborhood bar of choice.

What’s the big deal? Life is easy.

Is Your Name Shirley Temple?

I’ll just get to the point. Curling your hair with a curling iron to get those ‘perfect curls’ is not fashionable anymore. If you look like you’re about to go to PrOm, circa 2005, then you need to dowse your head with water and start all over again.

Have you heard of loose curls, perhaps? Or maybe you can try using a curling iron without a clasp (i.e., how Taylor Swift does her hair). I really cannot bare to look at your album entitled ‘Debbie and Bob’s Wedding’ where all of the bridesmaids have perfect curls that look fake, cheap, and tacky. This issue can easily be resolved by never, ever stepping into a ‘Supercuts’ (or some other horrendous chain hair establishment).

In conclusion, stop making your hair look ugly.

Working Hard or Hardly Working?

Do you spend your days stocking shelves at the local convenience store? Do the outfits you wear to work contain any sort of mandatory apron with hideous typography? Do you often find yourself lifting heavy boxes and performing manual labor for eight hours a day? If you answered yes to any or all of these questions then please take a seat. It’s time for an inter-friend-tion.

Now don’t get me wrong little fashionistas of Arkansas, I have definitely had my fair share of pointless and annoying minimum-wage jobs. I’ve sold shampoo and taken to-go orders and steamed lattes; I’ve even read books to grotesque children covered in mud. And do you know what I’ve learned from it all? THAT NO ONE FUCKING CARES. Sorry to be blunt, but you need to get over the fact that you have the worst job in America and stop announcing it to the entire world of Facebook. Status updates such as “uGhhhhh omGGG i Have to wOrk a d0uBle shiFt 2moRrow at thE *~~CafE~~*” are not acceptable under any circumstances. Get with the program, girls.