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The new site is much more pleasant to look at and the URL is so much easier to remember. Now, you can tell all your friends to check us out at www.notsoglamorous.com without the added hassle or confusion of the whole “wordpress” part.
Don’t forget to update your bookmarks and Google Readers!
I’ve got a lot of new juicy posts coming your way soon on www.notsoglamorous.com
Well, he didn’t cure famine but you would have thought something magical would have happened when he cut off his mystical locks. He still looks hot as hell. I’ve been feeling close cropped hair on guys for a while and this just cements the fact. Mommy likes. What do you think?
Well, not really but the scan below is hilarious and weirdly accurate…enjoy.
I'd Still Hit It
A few months ago I decided I was going to try eHarmony after the holidays. I have a friend who does it and actually meets fun people, well, fun people for her. She gets all these investment bankers and traders who shop at Barney’s and hang out at the hottest clubs. That’s a pretty good fit for her. I tend prefer my guys a little less buttoned up but I’m sick of meeting “artists” or “writers” (aka waiters and temps) at bars in Williamsburg so I’m going to give this eHarmony thing a try to see if I can meet a cool guy somewhere inbetween stock broker and just plain broke.
Anyway, I’m filling out the profile thing now because I heard that if you do it and don’t sign up they’ll send you some discounts. Plus, you get to see some of your matches and it helps with my whole not-doing-work-at-work pastime. This questionnaire has hundreds of questions, mostly picking things out on a scale of one to seven with a few open ended ones. I’m having such a hard time answering these things. One of them was “Name the three things you are MOST thankful for”. My response to this one took me and my top gay about 45 minutes to answers because I want to be truthful but when you don’t know me some of the stuff that comes out of my mouth doesn’t make sense. Were I to answer this question truthfully, I would say:
If you know me, it makes so much sense. I DO love puppies. They turn my cold, black heart into a warm, gooey s’more. And I DO love homosexuals. My life without gay men would be unimaginable. And, well, I’ve often been heard referring to my DVR as my boyfriend. That said, if you don’t know me I sound like a fat chick with a bobblehead kitten collection. So how did I respond?
That sounds much more normal, right? It also doesn’t sound like that took two people 45 minutes to come up with.
The question that just popped up is “What are you passionate about?” This is gonna take me like 3 days to finish. Off the top of my head, here’s what I am really, actually passionate about:
I am passionate about pop music, specifically Britney Spears; drinking wine and smoking cigarettes; gay men and their preferred brand of lubricant; Gossip Girl; men with large penises; men with accents; men with puppies; the zoo; Mexican food; wearing the color royal blue; not cleaning my apartment; Ambien and Xanax; Robert Pattinson; gossip blogs; ordering french fries at fancy restaurants; good tequila; dancing with gay men; dancing with black men; reading; and, finally, having fantastic hair.
That girl sounds like a train wreck! A fun, hella cool train wreck you would love to have as a friend, but deffo not someone you would choose to date based on reading that. Aight, I’m gonna go attempt to sound like a normal person now. Wish me luck!
UPDATE: Here’s what I ended up writing. It actually only took me like half an hour.
I’m passionate about having fun. Life should be something to enjoy and not just trudge through. I work to live – not live to work. My friends are very important to me. The people you surround yourself with make all the difference so why not put a little extra effort into keeping the good ones around. On a less philosophical note, you could also say I’m passionate about celebrity gossip, ordering French fries at fancy restaurants and paying the extra couple of bucks for the good scotch.
Britney Spears and Ellen DeGeneres spread holiday cheer. It’s super cute!!! Happy Holidays, y’all.
I’ve been feeling a little reflective lately. Probably has to do with the fact that this week marks one year since the Break Up. Once I was able to unfold myself from the fetal position I spent weeks sobbing in, I decided to spend 2008 doing all the crazy, single, twenty-something things I wasn’t able to do the six years prior. I even told my mom, “I promise I’m going to think of my career and grad school, but not until 2009. I’m dedicating 2008 to being a drunken, crazy mess.” (In similar conversations with friends I would replace the word crazy with slutty.) My mom was happy to have me out of an unhappy relationship and finally able to speak full sentences without breaking down into sobs so she fully supported my decision to be a hot mess in 2008.
I was pretty successful as being a mess this year, much of which has been or will be documented on this blog. I was also successful at other things. I now have a close knit group of friends, both new and old, who not only let me be myself, but help me celebrate it. I got my own large-by-NYC-standards apartment. I got promoted. I lost some weight. But, most importantly I’ve started to really find myself. From the moment I was finally able to stand up off the floor, I realized that I am one of the strongest people I know, even if my self esteem waivered at times and soul crushing depression seeped in through the cracks. I survived something that I thought would end me. Not only did I survive, I came out stronger. I actually used to wish that if The Ex died in a fiery plane crash, I was with him when it happened so I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of losing him. Me! I cannot believe I ever thought that way. Those feelings seem so distant and far away now.
But, like I said, I knew I was strong and everything was for the best, but there were many, many low moments throughout this year. Moments when I felt I was unworthy, ugly and unlovable. Even in my strongest, happiest times, I knew there was a black hole there and if I got to close to the edge I would fall in. And I fell in often. Whether it was not getting a call from a boy, helping a friend with their own break-up drama or even an emotional episode of Grey’s Anatomy, it seemed that whenever I thought I was doing ok, something would happen to make me regress. Until now…
A couple of weeks ago, I was doing something silly like dancing in the mirror as I got ready for bed and it hit me. I was finally, actually, over it. Not ok with it or dealing with it or temporarily happy about something else. I was finally at peace with The Break Up. I felt lighter, happier and friends noticed that I looked better. My heart used to skip a beat every single time I saw The Ex. Now, I smile when I see him. The week I realized I was over it I saw him four days in a row. On the third day I saw him, I just started laughing. It tickles me to see him now, like my own little inside joke. I still can’t be friends with him but that now has more to do with the fact that I just don’t think we have anything in common anymore and, frankly, he’s just not good enough to be my friend.
This leads me into the thought of other boys. I’ve f*cked around a bit this year and for the most part it was just good old, dirty fun. I dabbled in dating but quickly realized I had no desire to become part of an “us” again. The only boy I’ve really had any above-the-belt feelings for this year lives eight hours away and therefore was a safe person to have feelings for because I knew there was no chance of us becoming an “us”. Yesterday, I was analyzing the various reasons why I don’t like the most recent boy I’ve dabbled with. Just as I was settling on the fact that he “accidentally” roofied himself at a party, an even more glaringly obvious reason hit me – he’s just not good enough.
The idea of acknowledging that certain guys just aren’t good enough for me may not seem very revolutionary to you, but I know a lot of girls that should live their dating life this way. Over the past year, I’ve been so obsessed with whether or not so many guys liked me that I never really stopped to take a minute to think whether or not they were good enough for me. Yes, he might be a good kisser, but he’s dumber than a rock. Yes, he’s got a nice c*ck, but he’s 34, lives with 4 roommates and has no career prospects. Yes, he’s polite and thinks I’m gorgeous, but I’m not even really attracted to him. Now that I am more self-assured and aware of my value, I don’t plan on wasting time on these losers. If he’s not good enough for me, I’m not going to pursue it. And, I implore everyone out there to take a second and think about this next time you are giving some dude your number in a bar. Have dirty make out sessions with these boys on the street, but don’t let them any further into your life if they aren’t good enough.
Sure, I’m still going to hook up with boys because they are cute or because I am drunk. That’s just plain fun and, besides, a girl has needs. But, I am going to refocus the energy I previously would have wasted on trying to get them to like me, onto doing things that make me a better person so that I’m really truly ready for it when someone good enough finally does comes along. I’m also not in a rush to find this. The idea of having some mentally, physically and emotionally good enough for me is so delicious, I’m willing to wait.
This made me laugh out loud. Probably because I often find myself lying on the floor of my bathroom with my cat giving me the same exact look.
Source: icanhascheezburger.com
This is devastating news and, no, I am not insinuating that Ed Westwick, aka my 2nd favorite dirty British boy, is gay. He’s not, I mean, he might be, but I don’t think so and that’s not the point. This little piece of news is particularly devastating because Ed Westwick was at a gay bar last night that I have frequented in the past. Last night he was spotted hanging out at Marie’s Crisis on Christopher Street in the West Village. For those who don’t know it’s a lovingly, divey piano bar where both gays and girls who love showtunes go to sing around the piano. It’s mildly tragic at times, but everyone there tends to be really nice and it totally wins you over to be around people like that.
Living in NYC, you know there are celebrities all over the place, just not in your little version of NY. Seriously, depending on your salary, field of employment, subculture and vice preference, there are thousands of different “kinds” of NYC. My New York City doesn’t have real life celebrities in it…until now…on a night when I was at home baking cookies. Shoot me now.
I’m a big fan of making out with random people in bars. If you feel the same way, consider yourself warned.
BBC News is reporting on a story about a young Chinese woman who lost her hearing after a hot and heavy make out session with her boyfriend. Now, doctors in China are warning people to “proceed with caution” when kissing. According to the girls doctor, “The kiss reduced the pressure in the mouth, pulled the eardrum out and caused the breakdown of the ear.” To read the full text, go here.
First it was unwanted pregnancy, then syphilis, herpes and HIV. Now, it’s deafness. Can they make being a drunken slut seems any less appealing? Thank god for hormones or we would all hermetically seal ourselves in human sized condoms.
Thanks A
File this one under another story from the not so glamorous dating world of NYC. At a party this weekend, this guy I slept with like six months ago showed up. We’ll call him Motor, but only because he likes cars. No sexual innuendo implied – if I wanted to give him a nickname based on our moments together I would probably call him the Giggler. ANYWAY, back to the party. He shows up and it’s not a big deal. He doesn’t talk to me, I don’t talk to him. That is, until our mutual friend “reminds” him that he slept with me. I did not ask her to do it but whatevs. Two seconds later he’s at my side apologizing for not saying hi to me sooner. I tell him, “No worries. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” And, I meant it. There was nothing special between us. We were both horny, knew the other was down for it, and went for it.
For some reason, guys in NY, probably American guys in general, all think that if a girl sleeps with you she wants more than that. Often that is the case, but fellas, if a girl tells you to your face that it was just about the sex, please, please, please believe her. Especially girls in their late 20s who’ve been around the block a couple of times. Chances are, if we like you, we probably wouldn’t sleep with you immediately anyway…or at least we’d try not to. And, if we do sleep with you immediately and have real feelings for you we probably will not wake up super early in the morning and peace out, never leaving you with our phone number. Ok, once again back to the party and the funny part of this story…Motor and I find ourselves alone together for a second and the following exchange takes place:
Motor: So, yeah, sorry again for not recognizing you.
Me: Again, no worries. I wasn’t sure that I would recognize you so it’s cool.
Motor: I just have a really, really bad memory.
Me: Me too. I totally know how it is. Don’t worry about it.
Motor: Actually, now that we’re here talking, flashes are coming back to me. We had a really good time, didn’t we?
Me: Sure, we did. We spent a very pleasant 6 hours together. That’s all it was so stop worrying about it. We’re cool.
Motor: Did I get your number?
Me: No, you didn’t ask and I didn’t offer.
Motor: Well, again, I’m really sorry for not recognizing you.
Me (again): It’s all good.
Motor: Cause you know, you are an attractive girl. I just want you to know that it’s not like you are the kind of girl I would try to forget having sex with. I would want to remember having sex with you. You’re hot. I just wanted you to know that, it’s not cause I think you are ugly or anything, I just have a really bad memory.
Me (after a pause): Thanks, I guess. Ok. Now that that is settled, I’m gonna head out. Bye.
Then I grabbed the closest homo I could find and went dancing…at another bar.
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