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Advice My 30’s Self Would Give To My 20’s Self

January 29, 2016 2 comments

I often think about how awesome it would be if I were able to get advice from myself in the future. Future-me could tell present-day me that new job I  left my old, comfortable job for was a smart choice, or whether or not “planking” for pictures will stick around as a trend. (Do you guys remember planking? What hipster bullshit was that?)

In life, the only way to gain insight is to live through challenging situations that create character. But as an anxiety-prone person I just want to know:

Am I doing life right?

That being said, now that I’ve left my 20’s behind, survived them really, and I’ve reflected on some choices that if I had the ability I’d go back and advise about I would. Some serious, and some not.

I’d have a productive little chat with my sweet, dumb 20’s self:

1. Hey girl, just tell your friends you don’t like nightclubs

I cannot tell you how many mind-numbingly loud, smoky, dance floors you will be dragged across, but it will be a lot. There will be $20 vodka-crans, men with frosted tip hair and Ed Hardy clothing. My God the Ed Hardy. This isn’t your scene and you should just simply tell your friends that.

club

You’ll smile for pictures and dance but you’re faking it. You will witness a woman wearing an Ann Taylor pantsuit hump the face of her companion so hard she breaks his nose on stage at Opera Nightclub, and that will still not be the end of your night. Those girls you met while waiting in the bathroom line are not your new best friends. Go home, old soul.

2.Hey girl, if you have a good boss and job, appreciate how rare that is

There will be an opportunity for you to leave a good job, and a boss who had your best interest at heart, for one that is more exciting. You won’t fit the new company, and the company won’t fit you. You’ll be laid off and it will break your heart.

The injury of this time in your life will change you forever. You’ll doubt your abilities and you’ll flounder in self-hate, but you’ll recover. You will be ok. Know you are not alone in experiencing something like this as a young person, and remember you’re still valuable.

3. Hey girl, strangers should always be a little strange

If you meet someone and they instantly call you his or her best friend: that is a crazy person walk away. If you don’t, you’ll be at a dinner party where Crazy tells you they paid to have research done on you on the internet, and you’ll have to Irish goodbye the hell out of there.

82381-AW-HELL-NO-meme-Wonder-Woman-zaGp

4. Hey girl, be careful about the water in the Dominican Republic

This should go without saying ya idiot, but don’t brush your teeth with water from the sink. Things will happen to your digestive system, horrible things. It’ll eventually get so bad you’ll yell “Avenge me!” to your friends on the other side of the bathroom door. Bottled.Water.ONLY.

5. Hey girl, stop comparing yourself to others around you

You’re not on their path and their not on yours. Especially stop comparing your life to the “lives” you’re seeing on social media. That shit isn’t real. What’s real is you Comet scrubbing your bathtub while you listen to embarrassing music choices on your secret Cranberries Pandora station you hope no one knows about. That’s real and no one posts stuff like it, because everyone is curating a life online.

6. Hey girl, put aside money just for Bridesmaid dresses/duties/bachelorette penis straws

At this time in your life you’ll be a part of several weddings. It will be fun, and it will be costly. On average a bridesmaid today spends approximately $1,500-1,800 dollars per wedding*. That’s a lot of bones. In 2013, you will be in 7 different nuptials.

Learn to be more firm and say no sometimes. Yes, you will love the weddings and it’s the bride’s day, but she won’t have to live in a box because she’s broke after the wedding you will. Also no, you will never wear the dresses again.

7. Hey girl, write often, write more

Persue this because of the simple fact that it’s your favorite thing to do. See where it goes. Write even if it’s hypothetical advice to yourself.

8. Hey girl, don’t worry about being single

Dating in your 20’s is a tumultuous, boiling pit of trying to force things to work. Trust your gut, and don’t let being single or what label you think people affix to you because of that status means. If someone truly judges you because of it, they’re a dick. When you’re on a date and someone gives you a “No” feeling, you’re right. Do you own thing, and in time the right fella that it just works with will come along and you can’t control when that will happen. Stay open and positive. Be selfish about yourself because you can.

do-no-harm

9. Hey girl, try out meditation sooner

This is a tool you’ll scoff at, but it’ll help you to observe your thoughts and emotions and not be hijacked by them. Sitting on the sidelines of what’s going on in your head will put you at peace, and it’s not something you should put off. Maybe grab a kombucha after you’re done, ya hippy.

10. Hey girl, you’re ok

You’re doing fine, and you’re making mistakes. Your 20’s are a huge juxtaposition of major successes and failures. It’s a time of fun, pain, peace and chaos. Use it as a time to figure out what you’re about, and stop beating yourself up. Eat all the French fries your metabolism is so fast right now, and try to stop worrying so much you’re doing life right.

** Facts from USNews.com

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65 Thoughts I Had While In Barre Class

July 17, 2015 3 comments

{To the tune of Livin’ on a Prayer}

Ohhhhh I’m halfway thereee, Ohhh-Ohh tryna not look like a pear

I’ve finished half the Pure Barre July Challenge.

photo (11)

Last night was my 10th class, it was an 80’s themed class, and I was doing well in the challenge until Tuesday’s little battle sesh. I was slowly murdered by my Pure Barre instructor whilst wearing a side-pony and Ninja Turtles t-shirt.

I’ve compiled a list of 65 thoughts I had

  1. Class number 10: I’m going to crush this
  2. How does this place smell good even if it’s a gym?
  3. All this 80’s workout clothes doesn’t look too different than our normal gear wtf
  4. I like leg warmers I don’t care what anybody thinks
  5. Oh good my spot on the floor isn’t taken.
  6. I see a bunch of girls that I feel like I kind of know, but haven’t talked to in class
  7. We’re like battle buddies in here
  8. Oh shit, I stared at her too long. I’m so awkward
  9. Look.At.Cuticles
  10. Ok instructor is putting on her mic
  11. It’s go time
  12. Knee lifts alright not so bad
  13. Omigod I’m way more tired than I thought my muscles literally feel like bags of SAND
  14. 90 second plank time- just push through this shitty shitty temporary pain
  15. Got a compliment from the instructor. Banking it now.
  16. Hurtssss so much
  17. Already sweating. Looks like I’m just going to be gross right out of the gate
  18. Why do I feel so taxed already??
  19. Moving on to arms
  20. Hey I can see tiny biceps in the mirror
  21. I should just always hold my arms like this
  22. Shoulders are burning. Not a slow burn either, these mofos on are fireeeee
  23. These 2 pound weights feel like a 1000. They are tiny and all cute. Little shits
  24. Oh thank God, streeeeeetch
  25. To the barre ya’ll
  26. Thighs all day
  27. Look at me doing this thigh work like a BOSS
  28. Spoke to soon this is LITERALLY the most painful thing I’ve ever done
  29. Don’t break don’t break don’t break
  30. I broke form
  31. I’m back in, no one saw be cool be cool be cool
  32. Please say this is the final 10 reps PLEAAAASSSE
  33. THIS IS THE LONGEST 10 SECONDS EVER
  34. Moving on! What’s that? More thighs bish
  35. Is everyone else going through the inner turmoil that I am?
  36. Goddamn I want a taco
  37. And streeeeetch yasssss
  38. Omigod I’m doing the splits, haven’t been able to do this since I was 12
  39. I’m sweating so much I think all my fluid from inside is now outside
  40. Ok, girl next to me merely glowing. Not the Swamp Thing like me
  41. Seat work now
  42. I guess that’s what real ladies call butts
  43. I’m awesome at this, lifting and lifting
  44. Instructor corrected my form and this is now actually hard as hell
  45. Ass-is-going-to-pop-off
  46. Is everyone else looking at their butts in the mirror?
  47. Just me. Typical.
  48. Oh yes, this is the one where we lay on the floor
  49. “Go somewhere else in your mind” Instructor says—My mind is focused on the pain in my ass
  50. Excuse me “Pain in my seat”
  51. Hates it
  52. Streeeetch sweet mother of
  53. Grabbing a mat for some ab work yeaah
  54. Ok I’m calling this move the wind breaker, because your girl needs to fart
  55. This class is in very close quarters. Don’t fart don’t fart don’t fart
  56. My abs are shaking— from effort hopefully
  57. Say FINAL TEN PLEASE GOD
  58. Yassss queeeen cobra stretch
  59. I forgot the final sprint- I always forget it DAMMIT
  60. Just gotta get through this last floor bridge
  61. They are playing a remix of Berlin’s Take My Breath Away and the irony is not lost on me
  62. It looks like we’re all humping the air
  63. Seriously how is the instructor not laughing
  64. FINAL FUCKING STRETCHES
  65. Omigod I love this shit

Halfway there guys, let’s see if I can push it through to the end. Also, I stand by my love of leg warmers.

Pure Barre Challenge: This May Kill Me

June 27, 2015 Leave a comment

Guess who’s back? Back again. My blog’s back. Tell a friend.

This January I decided to do what everyone does, and GET IN SHAPE dammit! I’ve been a casual runner for years, but it was never anything that was super serious. Mostly I did it for the post-race free t-shirts baby! (And also I did it to be able to describe myself smugly as ‘a runner.’) I loved it, but I’ve had to take a temporary sabbatical from running because I’ve sustained a weird injury.

I’ve been healing from a periscapular strain on the fifth vertebrae of my neck. Which I got from throwing up. Seriously.  I wish it was a cooler story, but it was from a stomach virus. This bug was so intense I was sure that I’d be discovered dead on my bathroom floor. Some years-worn detective would probably have to let my parents and boyfriend know “In all my years I’ve never seen something so embarrassing” and then he’d flick out a half-smoked cigarette. (I’m just guessing at the details.)

During the course of this sickness I heaved so hard that I damaged my neck. I’m assured by my orthopedic doctor that this is more common than I think. I’m skeptical.  I’m pretty sure he’s lumping me in with his geriatric patients. He advised that I needed to find a low exercise intense workout that wouldn’t bother my neck, and this is where Pure Barre comes in.

SHP-PureBarre-2
My first class was January 9, 2015 and thus began my love affair. Pure Barre describes itself as “Utlizing the ballet barre to perform small isometric movements, it is a total body workout that targets your seat, tones your thighs and burns fat in record-breaking time.”  I would describe it as “Torture that you come to crave and is low impact on your joints. Perfect for you if you’ve somehow hurt yourself by barfing”

I’ve been at it for 6 months now, and I.CANNOT.STOP. Each class is insanely hard. During each class there is a time when I say to myself “I hate this” but somehow at the end of each class I have a moment where I AM BEYONCE.

This summer there is a challenge that my Pure Barre studio has put out that simply “Complete 20 classes in the month of July” I’m going to attempt this challenge. I will say I’m a bit concerned considering how sore I am after each class. I’m going to document my progress here, and keep you all along for the ride.  And guys, there is a free t-shirt at the end of this I can feel it.

They look so angry... please don't hurt me.

They look so angry… please don’t hurt me.

Dissecting Frat Boy Style

October 5, 2012 2 comments

I had hoped that this would have been a thing of the past by now, but my recent walk on a college campus has proved me wrong. I was on Georgia Tech’s campus, on my way to a restaurant when I saw it. Frat boy style is alive and well. I was hoping that this particular style of clothes, and frankly the attitude that typically accompanies them, would be safely only a blip in douchebag history, but there before me was a pink shirted, boat shoed row of dudes that I irrationally didn’t like as soon as I laid eyes on them.

There is a certain look that distinguishes the fratsters from the rest of the coeds. I would mostly describe it as “Country Club mixed with Yacht club with a side of rophenol.” College-wear style changes almost by the second, but this particular jam has been worn and is still worn consistently.

Let’s break it down:

Pastels

I don’t know why this color palette was chosen, but it seems to be Step One in acquiring the look. I suppose it has to do with the color scheme that was donned by people at country clubs, or as the frattiest of frat dudes refer to it just “the club.” For bros that have traditionally been known to be misogynistic they sure like to rock the hell out of some pink.

Croakies

In keeping with the whole “I have a boat” scheme you will almost never see one of these bros without croakies. (The little foam thing that keeps your sunglasses around your neck) The croakies must be well worn and nasty looking; they cannot be in pristine ‘never seen ocean time’ condition. There must also be dried sweat on them from that time you played 18 holes on the golf course or 18 holes with a goth chick you’re secretly banging and hiding from the brotherhood.

Boat shoes

Wear these shoes at all times. Winter. Rain. Church. Gay Club. Wait no, not there…. One thing though, never, ever wear socks along with these shoes. They must be disgusting and you must be able to smell them at all times otherwise they don’t count. They must look like you’ve actually worn them on a nautical vessel, even though the closest you’ve been to a yacht is pontoon rental you chipped in 25 bucks for last summer.

Hair:

The swoopier (I don’t know exactly how to describe it I guess swoopy fits?) the better; if you can flick your hair around and have most of it in your eyes, awesome. This will actually help you out when you’re hungover in class and need to sleep undetected.  It has to look like you didn’t spend any time on it, but in actuality you spend an inordinate time getting it to look perfectly undone. If it doesn’t look a certain way your day is JUST RUINED.

Bonus Round:

For extra points you must always have on you: a coozie, a pot of skoal that has been in your khakis so long there’s a ring on your back pocket, and a tattoo on your side that is supposed to mean ‘strength’ but in fact means picnic table. If you can also pull off a sport coat jacket with plaid or sear sucker shorts you will be a god among frat men.

Can we all agree this guy looks a little date rapey?

I have witnessed and heard about this Greek man uniform on campuses all over.  It’s interesting that so many guys would subscribe to such a strange style and seemingly stick with it no matter how they dressed when they first started matriculating at their universities.

I equate their clothes to the camouflage technique that zebras use when they are in the wild.

The technique is called dazzling, and means confusing the predator or enemy by moving a conspicuous pattern. The prey or target is visible, but hard to hit. So if you’re somewhat insecure, here’s a good way to cloak your feelings. Join the herd and subscribe to the lifestyle. It will be harder for everyone to figure out you’re a jerk…. Perhaps this whole pastel disaster is just some sort of coping mechanism?

Are you coming to the mixer? It’s gonna be a rager!!

At an institution like college that is purposed specifically for ‘higher learning’ you’d think one of these bros would look around and be like “Hey, we all look like idiots.” I would imagine because of the pack mentality no one ever deviates from the preexisting norm, and if one does he’s quickly sent out into the wild away from the herd. Usually out to take office in the Student Council which they try and make cool, but it never really happens.

I think I was more aware of the fratsters this time on GT’s campus due to the news out recently about the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity at the University of Tennessee. It was indefinitely suspended and their charter was revoked for giving their pledges alcohol enemas sending one to the hospital in critical condition with a .4 BAC. What pray tell, is an alcohol enema? Apparently it’s all the rage these days and is commonly called “Butt Chugging” In the Pike’s case; they had taken boxed wine and had their pledges ingest the alcohol via their rectums by inserting a tube into their anus. Sounds gross, yes, and it is also be lethal.

I’m hoping this is an isolated case, but I get the feeling that this flavor of hazing is not unprecedented.  It goes without saying that any organization that forces you to risk your life by consuming alcohol with your ass is not worth the implicated price they are asking. I would assume that with a national news story getting out about this ‘Butt Chugging’ should become a thing of the past, and like shark bite news, but I think once there is one story out about something this weird there’s usually, at least, 3 more on the cusp of breaking.

Please don’t give me a Franzia enema

I find that within fraternities, the thought process that seeps through all of the members tends to be one homogenous agenda. With very few exceptions (yes I have in fact met and befriended fratsters), frats follow a pack mentality and any individuality including one’s own moral compass is forgone for a personality that has been predestined for its members. BUT  your  new personality may come with a nickname like “Laser” so at least there’s that.

College should be an awesome time where you feel free to be exactly who you are. I find that most fraternities don’t allow that kind of hippy talk, but know this: If you’re thinking for yourself, and creating your own style you won’t have to worry about some dude who doesn’t have your best interest at heart and is putting you at risk. I’m going to venture a guess that you’ll always be happier drinking beverages using the hole on your face than being forced to use the one in your ass.

4 Personality Quirks That Might Make You A Douche

September 7, 2012 5 comments

In my experience, your twenties can be a bit of an abyss in terms of personality types that you’ll meet.  They can range from awesome to mind-blowingly awful. These days this  personality spectrum is becoming exponentially larger because there is no set archetype young people are now obligated to fulfill. The traditional family can wait, and different pathways are being taken. This isn’t a bad thing, it just means that the varied personality types you can come into contact with are going to be markedly different than they used to be.  They will have different levels of intensity in terms of having amazing quirks or having terrible ones.

There are four particular personality quirks that I think need to be eradicated.

These quirks aren’t always just found in acquaintances or in ‘friends of friends’ sometimes you can find them nestled inside the personality of your close pals. Like any parasitic entity, these quirks are harder to get rid of and are more sensitive to examination if they have been hosted there for a long time. People use quirks that seem to work for them, but be forewarned, the adoption of any unseemly quirks to get by have immense potential to take over your whole persona and turn you into a douche.

The One Upper

Hey!  You know that marathon you ran/promotion you got/new car you bought? It doesn’t matter. The One Upper has done it better, they did it faster, and they probably did it while they were still in utero.  We all probably know a One Upper: they always have to have the last word, they shamelessly tell stories where they are the hero, and yes, they did save to whole damn world. You’re welcome.  This quirk is dangerous because it makes anyone else who is involved in the conversation feel like a non-entity. It’s like you’re stuck in a real life version of Jay and Silent Bob except probably without a trench coat.

I don’t recommend trying to convey a serious story to a One Upper because they are so busy trying to best you that it will always leave you lacking in support. While they may say they are there for you when you’re in the thick of it, this quirk tends to cloak their ability to show real empathy that can sustain a friendship.

You:  “So my Grandma died last week and I’m having a rough time of it”

OU:  “Well last year, my Grandma was on the brink of death and medically died two times so I went through the grieving process twice. Also, the first time she died she saw Jesus and He told her to tell me ‘Sup Bra’”

Sup Bra

 

Mr/Ms Anger Management Problem

This quirk lies in wait until you are out in public with the person who is infected with it. It’s possible that you agreed to be seen in public with them because you thought that the last time they got into a screaming match it was because of a legitimate reason. You’re wrong. You’re wrong every time you assume this. Next thing you know you’re in Target and they are screaming:

“Is that baby crying? Why are his PARENTS LETTING HIM CRY?? WE’RE IN A TARGET HAVE SOME RESPECT FOR OTHER SHOPPERS! YOU! YEAH YOU, SHUT YOUR KID UP YOU’RE RUINING EVERYONES TARGETTING EXPERIENCE!!”

These people will Hulk out at any given chance, and no, they have no idea how ridiculous they sound. Nor do they realize how many social norms they’re breaking. I find this quirk the most exhausting because there is no way to predict when it will strike, and frankly I find eschewing that much anger on asinine things a giant waste of time.

So you successfully got a free plate of jalapeno poppers by screaming at your waiter, but you know what you’ve just insured for yourself: a burger that has had unspeakable things done to it by the kitchen staff. And you deserve it.

Some people find Mr./Ms. Anger Management to be funny, but I’ve never been able to see the fun in someone randomly going off on a poor bystander. I think at the end of the day Mr/Ms Anger Management is doing more damage to themselves than anyone who has been in their pathway of pain.

Like Mark Twain says:

Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which is it poured.

The Judge

You know that friend that you have to edit yourself around? That’s the Judge. It’s a strange conundrum being in the presence of the Judge because they will be the first to encourage you to open up. Then they strike you down in cobra-like speed with an opinion about your choices that is far harsher than is warranted. Don’t be fooled by their insistence that their opinions are “right.” They are stuck in some sort of weird time-warpy mindset where juvenile opinions that were dictated solely by parents’ thoughts about what is ‘right’ still exists.  If after every story you share you hear

“Oh. My. God. When are you going to grow up? You can’t just get drunk and put tiny waterskies on a squirrel”

Yes, yes you can Judge. And I don’t understand how you don’t see the awesomeness in this. Hope you enjoy your garden party you’re going to later.

The weird thing is the Judge always wants you to spill your guts, but it’s rare that they will reciprocate. Either this is because they are so boring they have no stories of their own OR they are simply gathering information about you they think they need to keep; throwing it in your face at any moment when you have fucked up a situation in life. This quirk has usually manifested to give its host a sense of control.  Don’t feel bad about yourself if you come into contact with someone like this, their opinion is less important than any squirrel who doesn’t want to be marketed for their water skiing abilities. So go on with your bad self. It’s 2012 for fuck’s sake.

Tell me your weekend stories and I’ll tell you how your whole life is wrong.

The Oversharer

I can’t just call other people out and not throw myself under the bus. *Deep breath* I am an Oversharer. (Yes, I understand the irony of declaring this on a blog that lives on the interwebs for the world to see.)

An Oversharer will delve into any subject way too prematurely with people who can be just barely acquaintances. I know I have quirk because of the shock that I see register on people’s faces when I go into detail my most recent physical after they ask me simple questions like “How is your day?”  Alcohol exacerbates this quirk; when an Oversharer is drinking his or her life is an open book. I know it can be off-putting, but after a few glasses of wine it’s like I don’t even want to get better.

The insanely annoying part about this quirk is often people don’t want to know the details I’ve presented up. In fact it would be better most times if Oversharers stuck to safer subjects instead of divulging the graphic details of their latest sex dream featuring the Muppets. Along with the annoying bit, there is also a risk that comes along with this quirk. You essentially are offering yourself up to be gossip fodder when you blab things to people who don’t have your best interest at heart. You can victimize yourself by letting the wrong people throw around intimate details of your life. It’s your fault too, so shut the hell up.

You should probably go to therapy you repressed Muppet fucker.

As everyone gets older these quirks should naturally mellow out of your system; however, everyone should take a step back and really think about our conversations objectively. Did you really listen to what your friend had said to you? Or, were you so amped about your discovery of Gangnam Style on YouTube that you glossed over their coming out story?

A quirk can develop in your high school years or younger, and it may have worked ‘back in the day’ but that does not mean it should still be in use. You should not have the same communication skills you had when you were 16. Also, if you have a good friend who has any of the above quirks it’s best to just tell them. Any of the aforementioned quirks are damaging, and your pal will eventually be kicked in the balls (metaphorical or otherwise) by life itself.

 Friends don’t let friends act like douchebags.

 

 

Gingers: The Legends, The Science

August 27, 2012 1 comment

Gingers. We all know one, maybe fear one, or in my case, are one.  The term ginger has been commonplace in the UK for a long time, but has only just picked up steam here in the US and,  I think I can pin point the exact point in time when that happened. It would be November 9, 2005. Or the original air date of South Park’s Ginger Kids episode.  For anyone who hasn’t seen this episode, this will explain everything:

It’s #6

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNJDbZD7q7g

This particular episode was hilarious to me, although it did illuminate certain stereotypes and phobias that had originated in Western Europe where the highest concentrations of red heads can be found. The more I looked into the different myths and facts about gingers the more awesomely weird things I stumbled upon so I thought I’d share only the weirdest of my findings.

The Legends

Ancient Gingers

In ancient Egypt having red hair was thought to be a sign of being a vampire, and no one wants those sparkly things around so what did they do? Many red heads were sacrificed to the gods. So it was kind of a two-fer. The Egyptians got rid of their pesky vampire problem AND they appeased the gods.  I think this is sick, although I find it interesting that gingers were ever found in a desert. Did they get lost? Surely people that pale wouldn’t choose to be there.  At this time period I assume that someone with my coloring or similar, should be in Ireland guarding a tiny pot of gold.

Medieval Gingers

Being a red head in the Middle Ages wasn’t a lot better than the ancient times in terms of stigma. Red hair was thought to be a mark of insatiable sexual desire and loose morals.  But wait, there’s more!  Gingers were still thought to be vampires, and now, if you have red hair and green eyes that was a dead giveaway for a witch. The red hair was thought to be a sign that you had made a pact with the devil himself.  Witch and Vampire stuff aside, insatiable sexual desire? I’m not sure how that one got started, I don’t particularly think my desires or other gingers’ is out of control. Unless I saw that guy who played new-kid Michael from Salute Your Shorts. He would GET IT.  One more odd fact, it was thought that the fat from a red headed man was the key for an ointment that warded off plague. So you know, gross.

Nope. Not Real.

Post-Revolutionary War Gingers

This is where it starts to get weirdly specific. It was thought that the act of a ginger breathing on your skin was enough to raise blisters. This was because of the whole witch/ vampire thing and making a pact with the devil. You know the old “selling your soul for eternal life’ bit. It was also thought that gingers  had a particular smell that was described as “Foxy.” Now I have never actually picked up a fox and sniffed it, but I would imagine that considering the twice annual bathing habits of people at that time, we all smelled a little musty. It was also said that if you had one child with red hair and then one with brown there was ‘bad blood’ in the family. I think they were just jealous; being ginger takes a lot of getting used to, to be so god-damn good looking.

The Science: We’re Mutants, kind of

The gene causing red hair was discovered in 1997, and was called gene MC1R. This is huge because the Ginger gene could now be traced, identified and showed that if you have it, parts of you are different from the Normals without it.

Science-y bit: The MC1R gene is occurs when there is a mutation on Chromosome 16 in a DNA sequence. The mutation is caused when both of the recessive alleles for red hair are present in both parents.

You didn’t skip the science part right? Bill will know!

It hurts being ginger

It’s only recently become apparent that MC1R has influence over other aspects of features besides just hair. MC1R also affects the way your brain responds to pain and pain killers. According to numerous studies, gingers have a higher pain threshold than people lacking the MC1R gene. This was proven through putting gingers and Normies through a series of electric shocks. Scientists claim the tolerance is different because of the protein strands that dictate how pain is managed that the ginger genes affect. (I could get into it but it’s super boring) The same studies show that gingers feel a broader spectrum of pain, so I don’t know if having a higher threshold is all that great. It also takes about 20% more noxious stimuli (laughing gas) to knock us out.  So essentially we are like really mediocre X-Men. OR The second lamest of the Street Fighter characters you could choose from. I say second lamest because no one ever chooses Chun-Li. Am I right?

Florence Welch is kind of a superhero

Are we going extinct?

As it stands now, red hair is the rarest type hair color. Gingers make up only about 1-2% of the world population. Several geneticists are speculating that red hair is likely to die out in the near future. However, several others are dismissing those theories as bogus. All I know is that I have a new pick-up line I’m using “Did you know that gingers are an endangered species? No? Well, want to be a hero?”  Too scary, right? It’s not all gold.

Suffice to say there are plenty of bad things that people have said about gingers in the past and current day. In fact, the term ‘Ginger’ is considered derogatory and has inspired many bouts of Anti-gingerism all over the world. One notable incident happened in November of 2008 when a 14 year old in Vancouver started an event called National Kick a Ginger Day which amassed about 5,000 members. The group was then subjected to an investigation by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for possible hate crimes. That kid was probably a dick in the first place but I’m sure it was scary to be investigated; even if it was by the Canadian Mounted Police.

Don’t be afraid of us because we’re different. Also, don’t kick us, we bruise easily.

There is one last thing I’d like to address about gingers and that is that we are often times portrayed as lame or not tough. Perhaps some of us are, but while I was looking into who was a famous ginger I found this out. One of the most notable and charismatic military men of World War II was a ginger. They called him “Copperknob” (HAHAHA) in England and he was Winston Fucking Churchill.

“The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is”

Gingers are lame?  We are awesome, your argument is invalid.

  1.  Garreau, Joel (March 19, 2002). “Red Alert! An Often Misunderstood Minority Finds It’s Become a Mane Attraction”. Washington Post: p. C1. http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn?pagename=article&node=&contentId=A47332-2002Mar18. Retrieved 2011-02-15.
  2. National Geographic, September 2007
  3. “redhead, n. and adj.”. OED Online. Oxford University Press. June 2011. http://oed.com/view/Entry/160309. Retrieved 2011-08-07.
  4. ^ a b Valverde P, Healy E, Jackson I, Rees JL, Thody AJ (1995). “Variants of the melanocyte-stimulating hormone receptor gene are associated with red hair and fair skin in humans”. Nature Genetics 11 (3): 328–30. doi:10.1038/ng1195-328. PMID 7581459. http://www.nature.com/ng/journal/v11/n3/abs/ng1195-328.html.
  5. “Men make gods in their own image; those of the Ethiopians are black and snub-nosed, those of the Thracians have blue eyes and red hair.” Xenophanes of Colophon: Fragments, Xenophanes, J. H. Lesher, University of Toronto Press, 2001, ISBN 0-8020-8508-3, p. 90.
  6. The Life of Agricola, Ch. 11

7.             Harding, Rosalind M. et al. (April 2000). “Evidence for Variable Selective Pressures at MC1R”. American Journal of Human Genetics 66 (4): 1351–1361. doi:10.1086/302863. PMC 1288200. PMID 10733465. http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?tool=pmcentrez&artid=1288200.

8. HGNC Symbol Report:HCL2

Car Flirting will F**king Kill You

August 6, 2012 2 comments

Disclaimer: If you are already a terrible driver or are newly licensed, the following tips are NOT intended for your use on the roadways. You would probably clip or kill someone like me and that would suck.

So I live in Atlanta (as the title of this blog asserts.)  Atlanta is known for its terrible traffic. Every year this city lands itself in the top ten for being the worst in congestion, and by and far I’d say that’s accurate. Although when I bring that up to anyone who lives in ANY other city, they will always argue how their city is the actually worst.  As if it’s some sort of traffic-penis measuring contest. Here’s a truth bomb: I don’t care about how you got stuck on the I 85 for 2 hours, I’m pissed you interrupted my story about how I thought I saw Jason Bateman sitting in traffic next to me . I suppose what this pissing contest indicates is that we live in a world where traffic and long commutes are more common than not.  They can be stressful and something must be done to alleviate this terrible dilemma we now find ourselves in.

This would have been an awesome story

Never fear, I have created a list of 5 techniques you can use in your own car to ease your traffic woes:

  1. The Somber Music Video

This particular technique works the best if it is raining, but it doesn’t have to be. The idea is to put on a serious or sad song and pretend like you’re in a music video whilst looking out your window. Hand gestures are particularly important, I like to take the back of my hand and slowly slide it down my driver’s side window for effect. If you can do this while sitting at a stoplight and staring directly at the person stopped next to you, extra points.

Suggested Songs:

Kiss From a Rose, Seal

Everybody Hurts, R.E.M.

Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth, Primitive Radio Gods

*Any song by the Weepies*

Do not smile. It will kill this moment

2. The Celebrity Interview

In my city there are a number of morning radio shows to choose from. (I don’t suggest listening to one unless you are forced to by someone sitting in your car with a white hot cow brander pointed at your temple) I’ll say with the utmost certainty that the people who host these shows are the most obnoxious type of person you can encounter. There is one particular morning show here that is massively popular, and the people that host it are terrible garbage people who pander to their audience by spouting off opinions (most likely not theirs at all) that are meant to drum up shouting phone calls.  I want to kick them in their faces. However, they do get some good celebs on the show.

For this tip, all you have to do is answer the questions the morning DJ’s ask the celeb they have in studio. The more boring the celeb the better. Here’s an example of how this becomes fun:

Awful Morning DJ to Simon Cowell: So Simon, what are you up in your free time when X factor isn’t filming?

Your doctored Simon Cowell answer:  Well I’m trying to stage a comeback for roller blading, so I held an event in London last week called the Roller Balls. No one showed up except for Paula Abdul, so we decided to do whip-it’s in a dumpster nearby.

See, isn’t he much more interesting now? Suddenly, you have a new source of gossip!

Suggested boring celebs to answer for:

Gwenyth Paltrow

Tobey Maguire

January Jones

Spice it up people.

3.The Song Writer

With music becoming more homogenized these days, listening to new songs can become confusing. Are you listening to the same songs over and over again? Kind of.  The differences between modern day manufactured artists are minimal, so I say mix it up and put in your own flare with new song lyrics!

Example

My Version of Carly Rae Jensen’s, Call Me Maybe chorus:

Hey I just met you

And this is crazy

But the number you gave me at the bar didn’t work

So I followed you home

And climbed in your window

Wow. Who knew Carly was so fucked up?  I did. I knew she was.

Monster!

4. The Car Dancer

Here is where my disclaimer at the top really comes into play, because this tip requires the most movement.  This one is a dance. First you must select awesome tunes to shake your thang to.

The dance starts in your shoulders, to the beat: Up down Up down

Then get a chin nod going. (Beware of duckface so keep those lips in control)

Now is where it gets sexual. Throw an occasional belly roll in the mix. If you can’t do a belly roll just hump your seat, it basically looks the same.

There, now you’re having fun AND you’re burning calories! One thing though, do not dance with your right leg. You need it to push the accelerated and more importantly the brakes. Never forget this!

Suggested Dance music:

Good Vibrations, Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch

Loud Pipes, Ratatat

1940, The Submarines

*Anything song off of the original Jock Jams CD*

5. The Pale Thigh Driver

This final tip is only for use when you have an exceptionally terrible commute or road trip ahead of you.

Drive. Without. Pants.

That’s right, take off those britches/jeans/jeggings (weirdo) and get comfortable, it is going to be a long ride. The no-pants technique works because of all the extra sensation you get that you normally do not feel when you’re constricted to the social norm of lower body garments. It works best if you have a leather interior. Puttin’ skin on skin baby!

So there you have it, those are my tips for staying sane on the road. I’m not saying these tricks are the definitive way to keep yourself amused, but they certainly work for me.

I will leave you with one final nugget of car wisdom that I feel very passionate about. Do not car flirt.  By this I mean making eyes, blowing kisses, or air humping to other vehicles around you. I never condone this and don’t do it because of this:

I have a friend Polly* who is a serial car-flirter. I was riding in her car one day, and we were stopped next to a fellow in a rust bucket that looked like it was a Buick and Cadillac welded together. She turned to me and said, “Watch this” and proceeded to blow kisses and yell things like “Heeeey.” (She somehow made ‘Hey’ three syllables.)  This elicited an excited bunch of whistles and engine revving from the rust bucket driver who looked like Sling blade. I freaked the fuck out! Sure, in Polly’s mind this was all in fun, but that dude was probably a serial-killer-rapist-baby puncher. I knew he was going to kill us. He was going to follow us home and make a quilt with our hides. The car flirting continued on for what seemed like 30 minutes, I don’t really know I think I blacked out, and yes he did follow her car for 17 agonizing miles.

French Fried Pertaters

And then he killed Polly.

Ok no he didn’t, but don’t do that people. You’ll get yourself killed!

Also car flirting puts out a whore-y vibe from your car and no amount of sage burning gets rid of that.

Happy driving folks!

**Name changed to protect the insane

If you think of other somber songs, dancing songs, or celebs you want included tweet me @OdetoFunny

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