[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupididty of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone ettiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce. So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortuante road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

Hanson.

You guys were the opening act to my young and turbulent love life. Zac, you and I shared something so special (which you didn’t know about, but poor Robbie who sat next to me in second grade sure as hell did—my Mmm Bopping skills were not as advanced as yours, unfortunately.) You guys pretty much paved the way for one of my most important imaginary relationships with Lance, JC and Justin (obv) and I eliminated the need for my Mom’s Laura Ashley wallpaper using only creepy pictures of the three of you looking girlishly innocent (um, except for you Isaac; sorry you had to go through puberty in the midst of your stardom). Surely you all knew how important it was to uphold your fine musical talent and the pride you all brought to Tulsa, right? WRONG! A quick little ‘where they are now’: Taylor is married (has been since he was 19!) with three kids and expecting numero cuatro. My beloved Zac is also wifed up and became a Daddy last May . Isaac, ironically now the hottest by far, is also married, with children. While I am super upset that they haven’t maintained their pop idol status and never named a song after me (but managed to get around to Madeline and Lucy!), the boys are out doing good in the world nowadays; their Walk tour is to raise awareness about HIV/Aids and poverty in Africa so yes, Hanson you still make my heart melt (suck it JoBros!). Read More »

I have been a 34-C for about 5 years now. Oddly, but as I’m sure you will all - as women of a certain age - understand, I had come to really identify as such. I was a 34-C. I was of slightly-larger-than-average-but-nothing-unusual proportions. At 5′0″ (in shoes), I figured 34-C was more than adequate for my small frame.Cut to a few months ago when I start noticing that my bras don’t fit. The band is fine, but my breasts are literally spilling out of the cups. What gives?

I thought, well, my bras are all over a year old. Maybe they’re just…shrinking? Do bras do that? So I got myself to the store and lo and behold, none of the 34-Cs fit. Finally, I picked up a 34-D. Ha ha, I laughed. There is no way that 34-C me is suddenly a freaking D-cup. No way in hell.

And yet–I was. The 34-D fit perfectly.

I was hit with a weird and unexpected mini-identity crisis. I was…a 34-D? But I’m a 34-C! Or…I was. I called my boyfriend to complain, but as soon as I said the words 34-D, he cheered. I mean, he literally cheered. And then I hung up. Read More »

I’ve heard the woes from people with cup sizes that are hard to manage. I understand; nobody wants the back pain or the difficulty finding clothes that fit. I, on the other hand, am on the other end of the spectrum. I hit puberty early, was a head taller than everyone in my class for a while, but never got to enjoy the other benefits of those raging hormones. You know…like, breasts.

My mother continually assures me that I’m lucky. “Dresses fit you so well,” she tells me. That’s easy for her to say; I imagine most mothers, deep down, want to dress their daughters in conservative dresses that leave a lot to the imagination, but leave me looking like I’m wearing a sack on top.

Forget showing off cleavage; it’s pretty hard when you barely have cleavage. I don’t mind looking nice in the occasional baggy shirt for a job interview, but how is a flat-chested girl supposed to look Hott? Read More »

I was just rewatching an episode of Veronica Mars (which, if you don’t know, is my favorite show) that featured the fine acting stylings of one Jonathan Taylor Thomas, or JTT to those in the know. Needless to say, he hasn’t aged well. He’s not quite a Fred Savage but he is by no means a Jerry O’ Connell.In his episode of VM, he is sporting this strange post-apocalyptic lost in the cement jungle half-mullet that really sort of traumatized me.

This sad encounter made me want to remember a happier time in the mid-nineties when JTT was all dimples and dreams and, of course, my heart’s most fervent desire. Read More »