I went out with a guy once. On our first date we went to dinner, and things were going so well that when he took me home I invited him in.

At which point he asked me if he could borrow a book while he “dealt with all the dairy” he had just eaten.

True story. And it ended right there; I never called him again.

I have no problem with talking about farts and poop, but I do have a problem doing so on date #1. I just don’t understand why guys feel the need to bring up the bowels when we haven’t even locked lips yet. And then there is the whole double standard; why can he fart in the car and lock the windows but I can’t even mention the fact that I poop without him cringing and curling up in the fetal position?

I asked my guy friends to break it all down for me - apparently farting is a sign of endearment. Read on… Read More »

I. Love. Plaid.

I don’t know what it is about that winsome pattern, but I can’t get enough.

I suspect it has something to do with the years I spent looking at fashion magazines with my mother. Every September, from the time I was 11 until I was 17, my mom would come home with a copy of the Seventeen: Back To School issue. And we devoured that sh*t.

And for some reason, every September without fail, that magazine would be busting at the seams with plaid. Plaid dresses, plaid shirts, plaid fricking socks–is plaid in every fall? The answer, my friends, is yes.

I don’t read Seventeen’s Back to School issue anymore (although my mother still does), but plaid don’t fade and neither do my love.

So here, for your viewing pleasure, is the creme of the crop of this season’s fall plaids. Pair with otherwise simple pieces, a smile, and a nostalgia that time will never defeat. Ahhhh. Plaid. Read More »

There are famous scenes from movies depicting it. There are Facebook bumper stickers dedicated to it. There are songs that shout the praises of it. There are how to articles and, hell, it even has search results on Wikipedia. Yet for the entirety of my life, the closest I’d come to Sex on the Beach was double fisting them on Friday nights. This had to change.

With the advent of summer upon us, I decided it was high time I was no longer a sex on the beach virgin. I grabbed my manfriend (chuckle chuckle, Carrie Bradshaw) and headed to the shore.

It was a perfect night for just being at the beach, let alone hooking up. Full moon, light breeze and crashing waves. Very romance novel. So boyfriend and I wandered along the beach until we found a secluded(ish) spot.

When we got there, however, I found that I could have done with some good advice before embarking on this adventure. So for all you beach bunny virgins out there contemplating some sea-side action, here is what I wish my experienced girlfriends had told me:

Bring a Flashlight: Luckily for us, the moon was enormous and lit our way pretty well. I happen to be completely blind in the smallest amount of darkness, though, and was petrified of stepping on baby sea turtles. If it’s even semi-cloudy out, a small light should help you navigate. Read More »