Thursday, September 6, 2012

Disguising the Nerd Inside

I'm of two schools of thought on this subject. On the one hand I think it's important to cover the more nerdy aspects of your personality with a veneer of cultural acceptability just to do everyday life stuff like get a job/ go to said job (taking into a account having a job where physically expressing said nerdiness is not encouraged). However, I also firmly believe in being true to oneself and that includes letting your nerd flag fly. Why be ashamed of this great part of yourself? I'M NOT! BOOM. Again though, I am a huge nerd but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be able to tell from meeting me or from having a casual conversation with me for the first time. This is partially because I am awkward as fuck and I don't like talking to new people (no offense world, I'm sure you're all great...maybe) but it's also because I know the importance (to a degree) of social acceptance. That being said, nerds are the best and what follows are just a few tips on how to blend in with the "normals" for want of a better word so you can fool them into thinking you are lame like them, also tips on how to be a nice person which everyone needs sometimes.

John Green may be the best person ever. 

Now when I say it's a good idea to cover that nerd costume with a normal facade I'm not talking about people who walk around with like clever t-shirts what I'm talking about is THIS character. The person who uses his/her nerdiness as a sort of defense mechanism. You think talking to people is awkward and you'll fail so you by pass all that gunk by appearing inaccessible as fuck and wearing all the trappings of a full-fledged nerdling. This person is not taking a healthy approach to being a nerd. He/she is using the stereotype to hide from society NOT HEALTHY AND NOT A GOOD IDEA! I personally am not a huge fan of society as a whole, it is imperfect and full of douchebags but it is a necessary evil, for the most part. However, I'm not here to talk about the problems I have with society THAT'S A DIFFERENT BLOG POST ALL TOGETHER I'm here to offer some solutions to those struggling nerds who want to present a more palatable picture to the world.

Step one: Personal Hygiene

These kids know what's up
Take a shower, take a whole boat load of showers! This may seem obvious but I'm sorry to say that it is not. Several nerd boys in high school could have benefited from this advice and I'm sure they still could. SHOWERS, SOAP AND DEODERANT are your best friends. BEST FRIENDS. you all should have sleep overs and discuss your new card expansion packs all night long with them. Deoderant is really great at Magic the Gathering, did you know? Also people will treat you so much better if they don't have to hold their breathes in your presence.
No one wants to stand near this guy

I'm also going to include luandry in this step as well. Think of this as a cleansing. Literally you are cleaning everything. Everything that will be exposed to the outside world should be clean. You can wear your nerd boy t-shirts that's fine, major points if they are witty, but PLEASE make sure they are clean. NOT "oh I just febreezed them they're fine" clean but you put them through a cycle in the washing machine and used detergent clean. FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR DEITY OF CHOICE PLEASE!

Step Two: Social Niceties

I am right here with you with this, I hate small talk. It is annoying and most of the time I'd rather be reading my book. There is nothing more annoying then being in the break room during one of my small short painfully limited breaks and having to put down my book because some asshole wants to talk during his/her break. I'm all for being social but for crying out loud, I'M READING A BOOK. Maybe I said hi to you when you first walked in but notice how I went right back to my book, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO DO. However, all that being said, it is mad important to at least know how to hold a causal conversation about literally nothing of substance. The less substance you can pack into the conversation the better.

It may sound trite but talk about the weather. Sometimes that's all it takes. They'll accept your social offering and let you continue on with whatever it was you really want to do. If they demand more ask about how their day is going. As a rule, people generally speaking, love talking about themselves, especially the social butterflies of the world. So ask them about their day, comment on their new haircut or outfit. If you're a man and you feel awkward noticing stuff like that ask them about their lunch or something. Literally just give them some indication you notice they are a human being occupying space in your vicinity.

Once you have established that you are not an agent of evil or a social outcast people are generally more forgiving of your need for some quiet during breaks. It also doesn't hurt to just look up and smile at people when they walk in. It's nice to be noticed and it's a nice thing to do to notice them.

Step Three: Learn Some Social Consciousness

That would be, illogical
When I say social consciousness what I am referring to is how you sound to other people when you are conversing with them. There is a stereotypical hint of condescension that lurks around every nerdy person's tone and just sets other people on edge. It's great that you know every single aspect of the original Star Trek and you can quote verbatim every argument between Spock and McCoy, but that does NOT mean that any one else has to care and/or be impressed by that. It's awesome when people are excited about what they're into, I love to talk to people about their passions when they are sharing in an open and friendly way. What I hate is when some know it all decided to "educate" me on the differences between the original and the remake of Battlestar Galactica. We can have an intellectual conversation about it and I will be more than happy to listen to your theories about what happened with Starbuck in the last episode but please don't talk down to me about it. I will just walk away and I will never talk to you in a warm way again. Never.

If you do not mean to talk down to your acquaintances or co-workers but that is just how things are coming out then you need to pay better attention to how you are coming across. Instead of jumping on a mistake someone makes perhaps let it slide or jokingly correct it. "Dude no way, Starbuck was so not a cylon, though I really thought she was one of the final five too!" or something along those lines. Try to employ some empathy. EMPATHY MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND.

Step Four: Realizing that Being a Nerd is AWESOME

Guess what guys?!?! I am a nerd and I've stopped caring that other people know. I don't necessarily look like a nerd, other than my glasses but I am not afraid to let my nerd flag fly. If someone brings us SciFi books I'll jump right in on that conversation. If Battlestar Galactica comes up I will sing my Battlestar Galactica song which I created to celebrate new episodes. I am not even joking. But the biggest thing you need to realize is that everyone is nerdy about something. Being a nerd just means you are super into one specific thing. You just got to find a common thread with someone else, something you are both nerdy about and let the nerd party COMMENCE!

Wednesday, September 5, 2012


Good afternoon my precious snartfucks. The tirade for the day is directed towards the lowliest and most wretched subculture of human beings, COLLEGE STUDENTS. But Shaggsie, you went to college! Yeah duh, that’s how I know how terrible this batch of numbnuts are. The sad thing is, I barely noticed how awful everyone was while I was “in the mix,” either do to overuse of cannabis or that type of denial your brain does automatically in order to not implode. Only with a safe padding of time can I glance back at the Sodom and Gomorrah I left behind and shudder with the true knowledge of OH MY GOD SO SHITTY. Never look back my turdlings. Never.

1. Freshman Enthusiasm

We’ll start with the least offensive and most forgivable trait, FRESHMAN ENTHUSIASM. When the hordes of little freshman babies stop shitting their pants from anxiety and realize that they are free of parental tyranny in their pitiful hovels, also known as DORMS, they start shitting their pants with ECSTASY. Not the cool smiley-face pill kind, the natural surge of endorphins that fuel Freshman Year make-overs for months at a time. You will never stop thrift shopping. Or slutty-costume shopping. Same diffs. 

Omg super creative totez original omg

Immediately upon grasping this shiny new concept of FREEDOM, freshmen plunge headfirst into FINDING ACCEPTANCE. This is not difficult as long as one is not burdened with self-awareness of any kind. College babies zip with incredible speed to any person thing or group that offers a glimmer of validation for whatever remnant of identity they have retained post-high school. If one has no identity, that is even better. Start fresh. Oh you weren’t sporty at St. Bonehead High? Well now your floor is filled with lady jocks so you FUCKING LOVE ROWING AND WILL WAKE UP AT 5:30AM TO CHURN THE LOCAL RIVER WITH A PADDLE YOU CAN BARELY LIFT. Oh you are socially incompetent? NO BIGZ NOW YOU ARE WATCHING FIGHT CLUB WITH FIFTY PEOPLE YOU DON’T KNOW AND THEY ARE NOW YOUR BESTIES.

I was certainly not immune to this flurry of identity-adjustment and fervor for people I barely knew. I ate lunch with twenty fuckheads I would never see again and lost mad weight because I was so focused on conversing normally that I only ate three bites of corndog per day. I was in abject terror of eating alone. Surely everyone would stare at me and think LOOOOOSER as they shoveled ten pounds of fruit loops into a salad bowl HAHA NO PARENTS. 

No... moms.... YEAH....

I also joined as many fucking clubs as I could muster. CLUBS= FRIENDS?! I assumed as I noticed my adorable asian friends migrating to an all-asian charity group far beyond my reach. I foolishly pursued clubs that pertained to my actual interests, such as Atheism and Satirical Writing. No. Bad idea. Atheist Club was full of socially defunct, balding bitter nerds. For the ice-breaker, everyone named their favorite mythical creature, and one particularly suave mulleted gentleman sang out “THE PERFECT WOMAN!” Me and the only other girl in the room sighed deeply. (My answer was “Sasquatch, so we could be roommates and have a zany sitcom” which was pretty funny and shit but NO ONE LAUGHED CUZ THEY SUCK) The Satirical Newspaper club was definitely better but still upsetting. At one meeting an article idea was suggested describing the mentally challenged workers on campus from the point of someone who mistook them for Orcs from Lord of the Rings. My indignation was met with mild confusion until I barked MY BROTHER IS AUTISTIC YOU PIECES OF SHIT. Then it was all “oooooh okay.” NO. NO.

My group-finding was a fail, but many were successful in their scrapping of sincerity in favor of belonging. Everyone was in love except they were actually in hate. The best part was watching the illusionary walls crumble down as the first year swept by. I came to avidly hate so many people that I initially LOVED as I discovered they were pieces of shit and we had absolutely nothing in common, morally or otherwise. I’ve only retained one friend from my batch of freshmen buddies, and that I believe is the statistical average. 


I came to fully realize my intense hatred for overly-enthused freshmen when I was taking the Amtrak to visit my parent’s in cowsville last year, and stupidly forgot my headphones. Usually the train is quiet with the occasional wave of loud ladytalk. But on that special day there was a bushel of UCSD freshies chattering at the speed of caffeinated squirrels in the seats adjacent to my self-made cave. (I am not social on the train.) Their talk, their personalities, everything about them was 100% unendurable. I resorted to liveblogging their abysmal conversation topics on facebook in order to keep myself from giving them a long and bitter tongue-lashing. “How can some people like not even care about global warming?!” Oh good, you’ve taken Enviro Science 101. And what you’ve taken from it was an inflated sense of self-importance instead of I DON’T KNOW ACTUAL FACTS AND SCIENCE?! Please, harangue the tired woman behind you about the melting polar bears, I’m sure she will appreciate it during her DAILY THREE HOUR COMMUTE.

Another choice bit was “Do you think they should use all the money in the world to solve hunger or the environment?” Ah, our nation’s future leaders, always stickin’ to the most important issues. In what direction shall we toss the Big Bag o’ World Money? To the ice caps or STARVING PEOPLE EVERYWHERE? Come on guys we gotta decide before we start signin’ da checks. HOW MANY ENVELOPES YOU TINK WE NEED? WHAT IS ADDRESS FOR ICE CAPS AGAIN?

The best part by far was when an especially loquacious young woman wearing New Balances with skinny jeans tried to bond with another girl but fucked up her name, and Oddly Named girl was super pissed and had to conceal her rage for the sake of social niceties. AWESOME. Passive Aggression is the true theme of any dorm, not Disney Jungle or Degrassi. I forget what our theme was, but it was undoubtedly dumb to the point of insult and infantilizing. 


Yes, freshman enthusiasm dies a cold hard death in everyone’s heart as they realize no, college is not that exciting. You swap out your annoying parents for annoying roommates, and you live in a space smaller than most North Korean detainment cells. Yes, you can eat as much as you want at the dining hall, but the food is so shitty you will cry tears of frustration trying to decide what is more appetizing, another grilled cheese or the worst “wet” burrito in history. You will live in a hive of dumbshits, and they are fake dumb not even real dumb which is so much worse. When I see freshmen creaming their pants with excitement nowadays, I smile a cruel cynical smile with full knowledge that they are all going to fuck each other and hate each other, (the order is not important) within like two weeks and that shiny look in their eyes will EXTINGUISH FOREVER.

2. Hotness Realization

Hotness Realization spreads like cholera in a Victorian boarding house in that first wave of college excitement, and is equally debilitating to those that perceive it and can do nothing to impede it’s TERRIBLE FLOW. God, it is the most trite fucking shit. Here is the scenario, my pets. Little Johnny Wonderbread was nerdy and awkward in high school. No shot at pussy ever. Boohoohoo wah wah wah. Maybe he should have washed his hair once in a while. Also goddam everyone is miserable in high school okay?!?!?! Anyway. Here comes freshman year at Dipshit State. Little Johnny trades in his wire-frames for some Buddy Holly’s, his cargo pants for fitted corduroys, starts gabbing about Catcher in the Rye like it’s his job (he doesn’t have a job), and the pussy rains down like FLOOD SEASON IN MISSISSIPPI. The thing is, Johnny Fuckin Wonderbread is just as much of a douche bag as he was in nerd state now in hipster state. And he realizes none of that. Instead of being mean to girls by deriding their flaws to his fellow bitter v-card boastin’ geeks, he is mean to them by not valuing the sex gift they give him and instead treating them like shiny tin medals on his jacket o’ jerkdom, notches on the bed post, you know the drill. 


Note that this behavior is common in both genders, mkaaay. Little Sarah Squeezlepants is definitely up to the same shit when she realizes she was mistaken in her horrible high school self-esteem, and looks damn good in a vinyl mini skirt or whatever the fuck. Let’s also add that her high school boyfriend was a dickhead to her, just for that extra nudge into assholery. She is just as cruel to the guys that follow her around now, and treats them like lil sad puppy dogs, magnetized against their will to her PILLAR OF SEXXXXY.

She'll blow you if you take her shopping. JK LOL.

What these dumbfucks are not realizing is that PHYSICAL ATTRACTIVENESS DOES NOT MAKE YOU WORTHIER AS A PERSON. You are who you are with or without it. If you are a morally defunct shitbag deep down, you will be that way whether people are lavishing sexual attention on you or not. It doesn’t make you better. It is the laziest way to try to love yourself. If I can’t love me, I’ll use other people to love me for me! Naw naw naw. Maybe if Johnny Punderhead pushed his bitterness aside and realized he is a smart funny guy, he would be way happier than he is relying the girls (or guys) he dupes into thinking he is cool. This is just the worst trap to fall into and it is incredibly irritating to observe. It takes a lot of work to love yourself, you must undo all the negative messages you have absorbed in your short life (millions and billions), but god dammit just get it done or you will fuck around forever.

I was mad nerdy in high school and went on three awkward dates total, definitely keepin that v-card secured tightly in my wallet o’ LONELINESS. I spent hours contrasting the fuck out of pictures of my face in Photoshop trying to determine if I was pretty or not. By now I have learned to not give a fuck. I was pretty surprised in college when at the very end of freshman year I found the correct subculture (radio station art kids/HIPSTERMANIA) and began gettin some male attention. I responded by drunkenly spooning but refusing to have sex but also trying to get them to fall in love with me. When this failed I got all sad and my dad was like calm down you are twenty. Tru dat pops, tru dat. The lesson I am intending to pass on is hey man, hey man. COLLEGE STUDENTS ARE FUCKING DICKS AND NO ONE CARES IF YOU ARE THE HOTTIE OR THE NOTTIE. Oh my god, it is so painful to watch one’s previously sweet and sensitive friend eyefuck themselves in the mirror. Ah mah gah I am sewww hawt NO ONE CARES BLARGH.

3. Gross

College life is fucking disgusting. That is all there is to it. Never again in your life, unless you plan on inhabiting a crack den, will you live in such a decrepit state of squalor. Even if you are neat or your roommate is neat, someone’s bound to fuck it up. Moms everywhere expend barrels of energy attempting to get their kids to CLEAN UP AFTER THEMSELVES, and their kids respond with slothful confusion. Oh Mom you’re so funny. Then they go to college and rejoice over no-moms, until they are smothered to death by their own refuse.

Yes. It is all true.

I openly admit that I engaged in such remiss behavior. I let the snack debris pile up like a leaning tower of SHAME. My room devolved into a cave of dirty fabrics. I wore ripped tights with a ripped shirt and cut-off high waisted denim shorts and oh wait also ripped Keds. I stank always of cannabis. And I relished this refusal to adhere to the expectations of the first world population. Some sort of neo-hippie nonsense. I realize pretty much every clothing item I purchased from a thrift store during this pitiful period of time did not fit me. Wait no- I think I had some 90’s little boys’ sweaters that sort of fit. Oh yeah.

My mom was lost in a tide of panic each time she had the misfortune of viewing my living quarters. I could see her mind racing, what to clean first? She bought me at least a hundred “survival” cook books during this time that I never cracked open, choosing instead to feast on mozzarella cheese “planks” and other greasy appetizers for dinner-times. Truly a lifestyle of luxury.

Mmmmm. "Cheese."

All of my friends were the same way- always on the verge of suffocation under our own MESS. I had one super tidy friend, male but with an intriguing streak of persnicketiness. He decorated his apartment with seashell boxes and those weird squiggly twigs from IKEA. All the rest were hipster lazypantses. Oh man I couldn’t find my rainbow elephant-shaped pipe under all my Fugazi records NOOOO. One of my friends literally did an art project on making friends with the steady stream of ants in his apartment. It was fucking genius.

I almost forgot to mention the disgustingness that accompanies alcoholism, which runs rampant in universities that are not BYU, as everyone knows. Drunk people are incredibly gross. They do not care if the products of their bodily functions end up all over you or your stuff. My friend once asked a man peeing on her welcome mat, “What are you doing?” and he responded by calling her a bitch. Chivalry lives on. This sort of behavior is considered normal, even expected, within the college sphere. Being a hard partier is like some perverse badge of honor, and students often try to one-up one another because whoever binge-drinks more wins. What do they win? Perhaps a golden beer bong encrusted with rare gems so that they may continue to drink but now with added bling. Outside of the college sphere, one’s alcoholism is rewarded with eviction, homelessness, and general societal disapproval.


The only good thing about college grossery is that once you emerge from your den of SIN and dust bunny monsters, it is like coming up for fresh air after being stuffed into a trash can for several days. (Hollywood would lead me to believe this is a common occurrence in high school.) I have recently left my college apartment, and I am drowning in relief. My boyfriend and I have officially barred Grime and Mess from our spankin’ new abode in Koreatown, choosing instead to act like human beings by taking the trash out regularly and wiping the counters when they are dirty. “That sounds terrible,” you may say, College Baby, but someday you will understand.

2. Privilege

Every American college student is privileged as fuck. BUT I DIDN’T GET INTO MY FIRST CHOICE IVY LEAGUE! Shut UP, you are in a first world country receiving an expensive-as-fuck education, that is called being privileged. That doesn’t mean you or your family didn’t bust ass to get you there. But shit definitely qualifies as a gift most souls only dream of.

The problem lies with those who do not realize their privilege. I’m sure some kids soak their pillows with tears of gratitude every night, thank god I never have to go back to the asbestos factory again. But most are probably shamelessly tweeting a string of white-whines. “GUESS I’LL BE ALONE FOREVZ JOHNNY DIDN’T EMAIL ME BACK.” “CAN’T AFFORD TO GO TO 300 DOLLAR CONCERT BOO HOO I M POOR.” During Coachella times, the pleas for pity hail down like tiny chunks of WAHHH from privilege-heaven. It is enough to make you want to transmit some sort of super-irritating yet non-lethal disease over social media platforms, like scabies or crabs.

It wants a hug!

Yes, it is enough to turn me into a horrible grumpy bitch. For example, the other day I boarded a local bus in order to traverse to the nearest art store for some crayons or whatever. The bus is usually relatively silent, as everyone is tired and grumpy because they are on the bus. But on this particular day a raucous wave of noise assaulted my ears. WHAT THE FUCK COULD THAT BE, I thought, suspecting a hobo-fight. No, it was a bunch of Enthused Freshmen, shouting to one another at the top of their lungs. I’m sure they were en route to the Santa Monica Pier or some tourist bullshit, and were spinning at the thought of seeing one another in BATHING SUITS. I gave the woman next to me a “IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?” look, and she said “yes, yes it is mija,” with her sad eyes. I was overcome with indignation. Poor motherfuckers just want to ride the bus to their thankless job in PEACE. They don’t need a bunch of dimwits with spiked hair jizzing all over each other. So I yelled “SHUT. UP!” The bus was silent for a moment as they recoiled in shame, but some dummy sang out “Blehhhh!” in defiance of my command, and picked up where they left off. “ZOMGZ COLLEGE ZOMGZ BOOBIES.”

I am basically a gramma, not even the nice kind, but I just can’t stand it when fuckers rub their privilege in the face of the not-so-privileged. That is the main activity of college students when they emerge from the safety of their campus into the real world. HA HA LOOK AT ME NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD BESIDES WORLD POLITICS 202. Look at the AWESOME UNIVERSITY SWEATSHIRT my parents bought me. Isn’t it nice. Where did you go to school? OH WAIT YOU’RE POOR SO YOU DIDN’T HA HA. 


Universities are like enormous god-forsaken bubbles. Yes, the Supreme Deity has abandoned these twits due to their insufferable nature, and has left them with the ultimate biblical plagues, studying and non-brand coffee. Instead of manna, the students subsist solely on shared complaints of “why must I read things” and only the most educated of guffaws HAW HAW TERM PAPERS HAW HAW. Outside the bubble is a strange and terrible world of actual problems and responsibility, which many students regard as a myth concocted by grad students to frighten them into finishing their reading JUST FINISH IT. Nothing is better than overhearing sorority girls relay horrific tales of the World Outside the Bubble, in which they took a wrong exit and ended up in the movie Training Day. In reality a hobo approached their car and the window-closing button in their dad’s Jetta jammed for half a second. Mmmmm yes tell me more of your wild adventures in Not-College, it is surely a miracle you survived with all your limbs and hair extensions still attached.

The most common and repugnant bi-product of privilege is our NUMBER ONE REASON WHY COLLEGE KIDS SUCK....

1. Smug

So. Fucking. Smug. The only living being more smug than a college student is one of those 9 year old dweebs wearing a tweed jacket on Jeopardy’s dreaded “Kid’s Week” who has just sang out “WHAT IS THE MAGNA CARTA” to stirring applause just kidding no one cares.

There is so much smug, I will have to break it down into categories to make it palatable. The first wave of smug sweeps over the freshman class after the haze of Enthusiasm has been extinguished by reality and actual course work. The expectation of work is bewildering to the young shitheads-- don’t they know if I study tonight I can’t play Magic the Gathering in the hallway with New Nerd Gang and my social life will die?! Callous knaves. Once they emerge from the Pit of Despair and confront said work, they see a glimmering light in the horizon, just beyond the clouds of Alcoholism and the valley of Freshman Fifteen-shall-we-say-thirty. It is the light of BIG WORDS and KNOWLEDGE. Freshmen derplings realize they can utilize this pestersome work shit to climb the Ladder o’ Assholery by shoving their superior knowledge into everyone’s face whenever possible.

Yes. THAT guy.

“MMM YES DESCARTES DID DEBATE THAT POINT IN HIS BLRUBLGHSNICKERSNUMZ,” is how it goes. Yes, if you have the opportunity to overhear such a conversation, your brain will cut out halfway through their first Pulitzer-winning thought because dear Lord you don’t give a shit. If you want to feed the Smugling, perhaps to see if its ego can swell to the point of bursting, appear clueless and stammer a bastardization of one of the choice terms they have flung into the air, “Day Kurtz, is that a band?!” The Smuglings will share a cold laugh, their sense of self-importance expanding to dangerous proportions. Push them far enough, and they may be vaporized by their own aura of impenetrable satisfaction. Motherfucker doesn’t even know about Descartes. You probably made their lives. Resist the urge to immediately burrow underground and start a new race of humble mole-people.

In order to prick the ego bubble and shatter the Smugling’s illusions, dress up like a tacky tourist, preferably replete with a fanny pack and elastic waistband Hawaiian shorts, and stake out a couple douchenozzles. When their conversation in the coffee line reaches peak levels of self-assurance, drop a bomb on those fucks. “Actually, Bergman’s cinematographer for his early noir-esque films was Goran Strindberg, not Iversen. He only started working with Iversen after To Joy.” You will be met with an especially chilly brand of secret rage that will render your victims immobile for several months. During this time you may have the pleasure of borrowing their iPhones to send a lengthy string of Anchorman quotes to their professors and benefactors.


If you have no insider knowledge on whatever subject they are undoubtedly ripping to shreds with mistaken confidence, make some shit up because they don’t fucking know either. “Ah yes I believe that theory was inspired by a childhood friend’s comment on the rotation of psyches. I read it in a journal I happened to unearth outside his home in Napoli. Fascinating, right?!” Simply raise the stakes of esotericism and watch them drown like rats in the tepid cesspool they call a brain. Maintaining optimum levels of Midwestern cheeriness and good nature will only sweeten the victory.

Yes, these kids think they know everything because they skimmed their Post-Modern Art reading packets while running from Save Everything Club to Intramural Whiffleball. Smuggery only worsens as the semesters sweep by and more scraps of knowledge are attained. The discovery of Causes is yet another nail in the coffin. “Have you heard about the Invisible Children? Don’t you care?!” What the fuck are you talking about!? “Yeah, we’re hiking to the edge of the known universe to raise money for disfigured orphans in the Ukraine, if you don’t want to come that’s cool, you heartless piece of shit ORPHANS!” True life story, they only joined that fucking club to make friends and find a hapless mate. I watched it happen a thousand times. If only the Invisible Children knew their existence serves as a dating service for co-eds, I’m sure their pain would be lessened. But they are making a difference for those vets in Kyrgyzstan. Probably not. I passed out needles in West Hollywood for my AIDS class and there is no doubt I made no difference whatsoever. Had I not been there, someone else would have passed out the baggies. You only need one fucking person for that shit. Stop stroking your own dicks, college meatheads. A huge part of “making a difference” and “being a good person” is never bragging about it ever. Because if you need to see your “difference” reflected off an unsuspecting listening ear, you’re doing it all for yourself, and thus you are a shithead.

I'm so vapid, it hurts.

So we have Knowledge Smuggery and Cause Smuggery, another ripe example is Experience Smuggery. This section comes into play when the college bonehead ventures home and lords their illustrious university-attending self over any and all people they know that are still in high school or never went to college. Every anecdote in the presence of an adult will begin with, “So I was talking with my film professor...” In the presence of minors, “So I was doing body shots off my Sociology TA at One-Eyed Billy’s...” The naive will listen with rapt attention and sparkling innocent eyes, while assholes like me will begin a journey into the hyperspace of the mind and begin wondering if I should construct yet another bridge-to-nowhere in Minecraft or instead build a chicken farm.

Of course I was once a pure-minded youngling easily impressed by anyone older than myself. When my sister went to college I thought it was the fucking coolest. I went to her lodgings once, a house o’ bratty bitches, and died of amazement at all the “cool” film and reggae posters. In retrospect, that place was a shithole and all my sister’s friends were petty-minded cunts that picked on her for having an attentive boyfriend, and I’m glad she made it out of there alive. I remember hearing they had a bat infestation and cannot fathom how that did not sully my vision of their paradise. In high school, my friends’ older siblings and such would bring back tales of beer pong and underground music. By then I could perceive the smug factor and refused to be impressed. My friend who went to UCR relayed his first sexual experience to me, in which he orally serviced a lesbian for several hours with no compensation of any kind, and needless to say this did not paint a pretty picture of college life in my mind. 


I have been on the other side of the experience fence as well. I have seen younglings look at me, dazzled by my existence as an older person, and it amuses me while also freaking me out. I just want to pet them and say “Don’t worry, you’ll be cool too, it’s not that hard.”

But Shaggsie, my readers may cry, haven’t you too fallen victim to the disease of Smug?! You took three Scandinavian film classes I saw your transcripts!

That is disturbing, I respond, but yes, all true, I have the makings of an especially abhorrent Smugling. The key to my evasion of this terrible affliction is bitterness. Just stay super mad and indignant towards everyone and everything and you won’t be able to manage that Smug. It will slide right off you like water off of an oily duck. Also, I am too socially sensitive and anxious to relay long boring stories to people who don’t give a shit. To rail on about the fourth wave of feminism to my Republican uncle would only bring forth rage and misunderstanding on all sides, a true social crime. Neither would I share the misadventures of my partying days, because that shit is embarrassing, and everyone has the same fucking stories. Ooooo I peed somewhere weird and threw up oooooo. Oooo I had sex with ten strangers in one night. Don’t tell people that shit, what the fuck?! Laugh about it occasionally with friends that were there, and that’s as far as you go. Because you must never forget: no one cares. 

Nope. Not caring. Not even a little.

Those namby-pamby youths who attend accredited universities are universally loathed for the reasons I have stated, not to mention they are young and often in shape, which are very detestable qualities. If you don’t believe me, just look at every horror movie ever. College kids prancing off to their rich uncle’s cabin only to be sliced and diced by anything from mutant hillbillies to vengeful oddly-named demons. They showcase their lesser qualities through cringe-worthy dialogue and gratuitous fornication, and the viewer is rewarded for sitting through that shit by seeing these ninnies get torn apart by a sexually impotent maniac. Horror is an industry built on everyone’s inherent hatred of college kids. I rest my case. 

You asked for it, world! 

If you wish to college and you want to escape the Smug, just keep a tight grip on your self-awareness, or you will go down down down the rabbit hole and wind up sitting on city benches smoking American Spirits and muttering snatches of your education, “Faust... New York... cocaine... Faust... neo-revivalist-renaissance...” to no one in particular. 


If you’re going to take something from your higher education, master critical thinking and then wield it like a Viking sledgehammer against every scenario, institution or experience that comes your way and beat that shit to death. Possibly in blog form. OOPS I AM THE PROFESSOR BEHIND THE CURTAIN GO AWAY TOTO. Anyway, no one will care, but at least you’ll keep up the illusion of productivity. And if you see Smuglings drifting around a local bar talking about French New Wave, make up some Frenchy-sounding names and hand their asses to them.


Thursday, July 26, 2012

S&M- Everyone loves it, and that's okay

Cheerio, turdmunchers. Another bright beautiful day to explore the HORRIBLE RECESSES OF THE HUMAN MIND!!!

Hennyway, I'm here to inform you, as my cohort El Dumpo did in 50 Shades of Racism, that S&M is nothing new and everyone has loved it forever so stop freaking out, shut the fuck up and just enjoy it.


Oh herrooooo!


Let's think about it. What percent of the population consists of serial killers/ porn stars?! Like 2% or something ridiculous like that. (Also being a porn star is NOT A CRIME, Judgey Mcjudgeyson.) Or if we generously broaden our horizons and say that S&M is only for sexual deviants, then we will be forced to conclude that EVERYONE is a sexual deviant, negating the whole deviant part.



Please madam, that is one small sliver of the world of possibilities that S&M offers us as sentient beings. Just because you don't want your boyfriend to literally scald you doesn't mean you are OFF THE HOOK. Since you are being so stubborn and narrow-minded, I will prove to you your own secret love of S&M.


YES it's true don't even deny it. And if you try to deny it, I have three words for you. S. V. U.


STFU Grampa, it is like only the most popular television show like ever.

Law and Order has a rich tradition of being on TV forever and spawning a million spin-offs, including "Trial by Jury" (duh what the fuck) and "Criminal Intent" (also what the fuck). But the SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT spin-off changed the game forever by scrapping all the boring plot lines not involving sex crime, thus making all the other series look about as vanilla as a sorority girl driving a pink-plaid hummer listening to Carly Rae Jepsen.

So SEX SEX SEX all the time. Horrible, violent, often non-consensual sex, in fact. Pretty much every episode starts with a bloody roughed up girl (an up-and-coming starlet perhaps) stumbling by accident into a cop or hot dog vendor and rasping out "I was raped!" before falling unconscious into said man's arms. Then sexy detectives OLIVIA BENSON and ELLIOT-SOMETHING rough up a bunch of pervs before finding the right one, and at various points Olivia is nurturing and motherly yet also tough, embodying the cool aunt we always wanted.

So this particular series totally clobbered all the boring L&O spinoffs, and even the original L&O-- SVU survived on network TV while Criminal Intent was banished to USA, and original L&O, the sad television afterlife.

Insurance commercials for you, bub!


I mean, I guess you could take it that way, but that doesn't really make sense. The sexual crimes themselves are never played in full, because that would garner an NC-17 rating and tons of people vomiting/sobbing onto their TV dinners. The viewers see the aftermath, bleeding victim/ravaged dead body, and sometimes not even that. At most the detectives will watch a fuzzy recorded video of the crime, and it pans away so that we only hear dialogue such as "It's okay Johnny, don't be scared," or something equally bone-chilling.

There is a scene where Olivia is almost raped by a prison guard, and the scene is given the appropriate amount of emotional weight (a lot), and the show focuses on the resulting psychological effects on our favorite heroine. Never have they ever or would they, I believe, have a scene such as that with a young person or child, because they know people would lose their shit.

Anyway, if people really wanted to watch rape scenes, they probly just would. But not many people actually want to watch a rapist squirming on top of his victim as she cries bitterly for like half an hour. Even typing that out is upsetting. Such scenes are only ever used to portray the awfulness and reality of rape- Irreversible, Salo, etc. If everyone really dug that shit, that's what kind of tv and movies we'd be seeing, and not in the independent artsy zone.

The rape-iest movie ever :(

SVU may seem to exploit the intensity of emotion inherent in rape and sex crimes, but the show does not align itself with its psychologically fascinating perpetrators. The rapists are not the heroes. Hell NO. They are portrayed as either demented sadists so detached with reality that it makes you vom, or sniveling, pathetic weirdos you find yourself feeling bad for because they are that fucking pathetic. No one wants to be them. NO, we want to be OLIVIA AND ELLIOT, taking up the cause of the vulnerable and the innocent in the name of all that is bad-ass and just, yet also having the failings and weak points of normal humans.

SVU is popular because the stakes are higher- if we're projecting ourselves onto our fallible heroes, there is no greater justice than bringing down a rapist, except maybe bringing down a rapist/MURDERER. The stakes are not as high if it's some rich ho killing her dick husband because he cheated on her. BORING, ALL THOSE PEOPLE ARE EVIL BUT NOT IN AN EXCITING WAY.

Plus, we all have intense hang-ups and guilt about sexuality from being threatened with eternal hellfire by our Sunday school teachers. We see these intricate issues being played out through our dynamic duo. Elliot is pretty much AFLAME with sexual energy.



No one's dad is like that! Elliot is always moments away from BLOWING UP violently, which to my (and most people's) brain means he is a tiger in the bedroom. I want him to blow up all over me, amirite!??! Plus he is rough-around-the-edges yet good-at-heart= EQUATION FOR LADY BONER.

Olivia is similarly MAD HOT. She is just gorgeous and never ages. Every other minute in the show an extra comments on her irrepressible ATTRACTIVENESS. When I type in Mariska Hargitay on google, hot is the first fill-in option. And then "mom." HAHA. 

So we have two super sexually charged characters- AND NO SEX SCENES FOR THEM EVER!!! Seriously. Olivia goes on like two dates and maybe gets a make-out or two. HEAVY-PETTING, perhaps. Elliot gets a weird sexy scene with his separated wife that no one wanted. And he makes out with the chick from Gladiator for like five minutes. It wasn't until that scene that I realized that this show is depriving of us of sex on purpose. Because I watched it and my vagina exploded. All that tension built up OVER FUCKING YEARS OF SHOW and hundreds of fucking episodes... holy god, they have created a monster. They have our genitals right where they want them. Super repressed and begging for some on screen action.


As a comparison, think about the L&O's slutty and embarrassing cousin, CSI. Or any other detective show. All of the hot detectives/lab motherfuckers bone constantly and have loads of romantic dramz. "People like sex right?!?" say the producers. Well sometimes, but even more they like BEING DENIED SEX!

Yes, they have us all curled around their finger, waiting for Elliot to whip it out and bang some hot witness in the interrogation room. (A specific fantasy of mine? BE QUIET DON'T TELL.) This denying of sex is also a main component of the S&M dynamic. Because denying is sort of like punishment, and people want to be punished, because they want to feel guilty, because it's a feeling they have always associated with sex. This goes back to the whole Sunday school teacher admonitions.

In the same manner, whenever we watch the scenarios played out in SVU, we feel guilty for being so fascinated because we know rape and such is morally wrong, and we feel somehow complicit in these unfolding events just by watching them. And remember, guilt feeling = sexy feeling.

So watching SVU for the average American= LOTS OF SEXY GUILT FEELING FROM ALL DIRECTIONS!!!  When you really think about it, it's pretty stupid to feel guilty for appreciating something that exists 100% in the fantasy zone of TV. Watching a rape or murder scene is nowhere near being complicit in the actual act of rape/murder! Not even fucking close. Like zillions of universes away. Just like if the dominant-submissive component of S&M is played out in reality, like someone actually dominating you without your permission, it is 0% sexy and 100% traumatizing. S&M is cool and harmless because it also exists in the fantasy zone! I know that my boyfriend is not, in fact, a sexy professor who spanks his students for "being bad." Played out in reality, that would be a horrifying sex crime. But in the safe fantasy zone, it is all fun and games, literally.


What's up with this fantasy zone, you may ask. Well, it is a safe environment for one to explore their sexual hang-ups most likely caused by organized religion or mean authority figures. To deny that these curiosities exist is silly and harmful. To label them as immoral is even more damaging, and inaccurate.


Only outliers, buddy! People who are extremely mentally disturbed, or have their powers of perception ruined by drugs. Society rightfully does not condone the violation of the fantasy space. When a violent act occurs due to some whackjob projecting his insecurities on innocent people, society freaks out! Because it's horrific. No one considers that acceptable, and if they do, they are bound to be SOCIAL OUTCASTS. We shouldn't apply some outliers' weaknesses to the entirety of society.

ANYWAY. People love S&M because they want to be punished and shit because they have been feeling secretly guilty about sex forever for probably no good reason. Or they want to explore the other side of the punishment dynamic and be the punisher for once. Or they are aware of all of the complexities involved in their own sexuality, and are using S&M as a tool to further unravel the mystery. Or whyever the fuck WHO CARES just do it.

If you are not yet convinced, my next post will supply MORE EXAMPLES of how popular culture reflects mankind's love of the dominant-submissive realm of SEXXX. It's not weird, it's not new, so haterz stop hatin'!

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Fifty Shades of Racism

Good evening, children.   On my Facebook page, one of my quotes is as follows:

"Good question Baxter. Is love by its very nature fleeting? Hmm. I think it was Aristotle who said, 'Come, children...let me tell you a tale about ships and whales.' That has nothing to do with love, but he meant it when he said it."

If you even have to ask me who said that, you should consider other ways to be an idiot.  Corn fritter hand jobs. Watching Fox NewsHating Tom Hanks.

I'm going to tell you a tale about ships and whales.  Actually, I'm going to take a pathetic Twilight fanfiction that has become a best selling smutbook and turn it into something you'd actually read.  But first, a few things about 50 Shades of Grey:

  1. Everybody and their mother (gross) loves some form of BDSM.  Bondage.  Whatever, I don't know the terms.  Seriously.  How do I know this?  Have you ever seen a sexy scene in a movie where someone is restrained or blindfolded or held down or anything like that? Yeah, you have.  Why? Because its so mainstream its in feature films.  So this whole "OMG, WHAT? PEOPLE LIKE WEIRD SEX SHIT?" fake bullshit outrage needs to stop. 
  2. If you read this book, and you broadcast that act to your entire social network, or tell your friends, it's basically like telling people you watched porn.  I mean, there isn't anything wrong with that (see above), but it is kind of odd.  Like, if your grandmother asks you what books you've been reading lately, do NOT tell her about this one.  Mumble something about Dan Brown and change the subject.  That's what any decent person would do.  Please do not cop to reading this book, even if you have.  It's like admitting that you're a total goofball who gets really into smutty romantic novels, or that you're just a tool that follows whatever bullshit trends America pumps out for you.

So one day Maggie and I were verbally taking a dump on this book.  To my knowledge, neither of us have read it (and it WILL stay that way, madam), so we can't REALLY make an accurate assessment of how bad this book is.  But that won't stop us.

Look into her face and KNOW THE TRUTH.

But let's get started.  Here goes:

On March 21, 2012 11:44:34 AM PDT, Anna wrote:

OMG OMG omg, don't get me started on the fifty shades of grey nonsense.
On March 21, 2012 11:44:47 AM PDT, Maggie wrote:

Anna wrote:

They've been talking about it on this blog I read a lot
Maggie wrote:

A wrote:

First of all, a hot 21 year old being a virgin?
WHy does she need to be a virgin?
And anyone named "ANASTASIA STEELE"
needs to get punched in the face

 And we're off: This KILLS me in movies.  You're telling me someone who looks like THIS

Though, the name "Imogen Poots" isn't really a turn on.

 could even POSSIBLY have never had a penis in her? Or another vagina all up in it? WRONG-O.  From what I can tell, people like to get it on. And that's great (actually, it's disgusting).  Especially young people, because they're idiots and have hormones and hate themselves.  The average age for getting your v-card punched is 17, so a super hot 21 year old being a virgin? Pretty sure Anastasia has been getting it in the back door, or doesn't think bj's count as sex.  (Hint: 'Sex' is oral sex's last name.)  Now that I've said all this, I'm REALLY hoping homegirl in the book is actually a virgin.  Considering 50 Shades of Grey started out as a Twilight fanfiction, I'm gonna bet on it.

Monday, July 16, 2012

You Call That A Cocktail...

Okay, it's time to SHINE. Due to the SWELTERING summer months, I am to write an account of cocktails and drinks in all forms. Now, as I am of AGE and MATURITY to talk of such things, I advise you to use this as your informal yet completely accurate and original guide throughout the adult beverage world.
The Yellow Brick Road to Cocktail Land
Because of such a HIGH VOLUME of drinks being created by the THIRSTY, mostly high school to college aged kids who feel it necessary to fill their BELLIES with the burning sensation of Vodka, versus a lovely V8 VEGETABLE SMOOTHIE of sorts, I cannot cover each and every alcoholic beverage of choice. HOWEVER, I HAVE SOME FAVORITES as well as some HATED drinks that just might SERVE you well...

"Come taste my drinks. I guarantee they are shaken AND stirred"
LET US BEGIN with a discussion of the base of alcoholic beverages, the ALCOHOL. Now, in my mind, there are two main types of alchy...and yes, that's alcohol's cute beverage nickname! TEQUILA (the Queen and King and Princess and Prince of all things wonderful in the drink world), and everything else. The many types of Tequila will forever astound me, and as FANCY PANTS drinking types will tell you, a SILVER (un-aged) Tequila is DELICIOUS. I beg to differ. It is bracing, thinly flavored, and basically tastes like rubbing alcohol being thrown down your gullet. Now, let's be honest...this is how I think Vodka tastes, and would gladly take a shot of un-aged TEQUILA over even one drop of plain Vodka...however, there are similarities in the taste, and my sheltered mouth does not enjoy wrapping itself around even a mini shot glass of this. As we move into the discussion of THE GOOD STUFF, we must remember that I am in no way a drink or alchy connoisseur. I simply enjoy the mixed beverages as well as the plain tastes of such wonderful Tequila. So, what is my favorite type of TEQ!? I would say that a nice shot of aged Patron beats EVERYTHING except maybe the margarita mix it is paired well as a basket of salty chips and a seaside VIEW of the lovely waiter presented above. (I must admit that while researching information regarding Tequila, I found conflicting information...but this is what I found most POPUlAR).

This is truly the exact representation of "THE GOOD STUFF" noted above.
So, now that we've discussed how much better Tequila is than EVERYTHING else, I will move on to other types of straight ALCOHOL that people generally like to drink...Let's get Vodka over with first. How many times did we, in our college years, see the young lady in the too-tight jeans and flip flops at a house party handling a HANDLE of Vodka by her lonesome...a sad sight to see, indeed. Her hair misshapen and fluffed from the heat of 100 sweaty boys shouting and crowding around her, she makes her way to the backdoor of the find an unlit and smoky backyard deck with 10% less crowding. Here she staggers, with her handle of Vodka, lifting it up to the bright MOON (because, of course it is 2 am), and chugging what looks to be rubbing alcohol...oh wait, that's Vodka. Her poor body has been ruined because of this probably weekly occurrence... SUCH A MISTAKE. AT LEAST mix it with something sweet and fruity, to avoid complete inner body burns from it. However, in her state, she knows no better. Now...let's be honest. I have tried Vodka before, and have even had it straight. And while I do not consider myself anything more than a casual, light drinker, I DO have the authority to judge and observe all those that do we all. So far, a recap...TEQUILA = AMAZING, VODKA = THE WORST.

There's a weird lady in my glass. And it's still better than Vodka. 
Now onto things besides the best and the worst...EVERYTHING ELSE. Whisky (especially Irish Whisky) can be DELICIOUS when sipped very slowly in a warm room...Scotch (which I do not understand) is also absolutely, terrifyingly strong yet delicious. All other types of alcohol, while some of them yummy, confuse me. What is the difference between a gin and a scotch and a whisky and a rum? No one knows...except probably everyone besides me. HOWEVER, I like to point my finger at those who say they "understand" the simplistic yet complicated art of alcohol tasting and "understanding". Whatever, you're all lying. No one UNDERSTANDS how Whisky and Scotch and Gin are all different yet all burn my mouth in the same awkward fashion...RUBBING ALCOHOL I TELL YOU.

Toxicity levels RISING. 

"Hey, girl...You forgot your handle. Woops, I mean your plastic bottle of Rite Aid Brand Rubbing Alchy."
NOW ONTO MIXED DRINKS. In this segment, I will label the mixed drinks/cocktails with my own MADE UP NAME, as well as the typical drinker we can all observe drinking this...

Also, SIDENOTE...while researching this TOPIC, I decided that I was in over my head, and that it was too tough for me to pick and choose specific cocktails or alcohols or mixed drinks...However, in pretty much every section of mixed drinks, I found a drink labeled "Orgasm" or other sexual might INQUIRE as to how the burning, awkward sensation of rubbing alcohol cascading through your mouth area might be compared to sex...but I digress, again. Unfortunately, I do not have all the answers.


Margarita (the-better-than-orgasms-and-sex-drink) - either blended or "on the rocks", rimmed with salt or sugar (or my personal favorite, a mixture of both), filled hopefully to the brim with fruity citrus-y filled GOODNESS. I find that everyone I know enjoys a margarita, EVEN MEN. So I take that to mean it is a non-judgmental alcohol that enjoys LONG SIPS ON THE BEACH, small swimsuits that aren't actually flattering but that prevent awkward tan lines, and LOTS AND LOTS OF SNACKING. Tequila, mixed with strawberries, a bit of ice and sugar and salt, as well as some sweet and sour mix/limeade and some strawberry preserve, IS THE BEST THING ON THE PLANET. Good thing they didn't call this an's BETTER. Sweet, a bit tangy, the small crunch from the salt/sugared rim...PERFECT on a warm day, especially at the beach or near the water...HOWEVER. BE WARNED. Tequila strips the clothes and the dignity right off of people. Without even asking nicely. Why have so MANY of my friends, and even my ENEMIES, said they can't do tequila?? I HAVE NO CLUE! I guess a bad experience or something...but I've just never had one...Now Vodka, that's another story. But I find Tequila tastes so wonderful, even on its own, that I do in fact drink it because of the taste, instead of the DRUNK EFFECT when one has 10 shots and 3 margaritas TO BOOT.

One ticket to PARADISE.

Truly offensive. Alcohol of ALL kinds lowers EVERYONE'S standards...
Long Island Iced Tea (the-worst-thing-ever-for-your-body-and-throat-drink-that-knocks-you-on-your-BUM-before-you've-even-gotten-up-to-order-it drink) - Vodka, Tequila, Rum, Gin, and sometimes even a bunch of weird colored fake-sweet mixes to mask the death liquid in your fruity looking probably plastic glass. These LEVEL me, and that's the truth. Try a FOUR LOKO? NO THANKS I ALREADY ALMOST DIED DRINKING a Long Island Iced Tea...The usual suspects drinking Long Island Iced Teas by choice? The same girl holding that handle of Vodka on the smoky back porch of a classmate's house...Now, I am not from California originally. Although I've lived here basically my whole life, I was born in MAINE, the great state of TREES and SNOW. When I was first told about moving to California, as a child, I was like OMG ICED TEA...that is one GREAT PART ABOUT CALIFORNIA...however, when I became of AGE to drink, the Long Island Iced Tea confused me...why is it LONG ISLAND. Why do you need to add iced tea when there are already a thousand types of alcohol in it...why do you use ice...Then I became aware of the fact that nothing means anything anymore, and that they should have labeled this drink the garbage disposal of all alcoholic drinks, used primarily to watch people fall down and pass out, never to wake up...(at least for the night). Needless to say, this drink is too intense for me, although I love Iced Tea with a passion. I support and encourage those who can stomach this concoction to go ahead and have a couple for me, because I will never drink them again...

Mojito (the-weird-almost-like-a-garden-drink-that-makes-you-think-you're-a-rabit-eating-leaves-off-plants-in-the-backyard drink...unless you're at Dave and Busters, in which case you should DEFINITELY order the Cherry Berry MOJITO, because it's the best thing on the PLANET...) - This simple mix of fresh mint leaves, rum, lime juice, simple syrup, and at times berry purees, can be delicious but also gross. My favorite version includes strawberry and cherry puree, as well as fresh lime juice, mint leaves, a lime, as well as ICE. 'Twas INTOXICATINGLY delicious...much like an In-n-Out hamburger... The usual order-er of the Mojito? I haven't actually discovered one yet. I have seen both men and women drink them, in cities and on islands, near LAND AND NEAR WATER...So what have I observed? Mostly, that they are never served strong enough for me to call them LEVELERS (they type of drinks that knock me out of my shoes and onto the floor for a nap). So, I haven't observed one type of person drinking them at an astounding rate. But I should guess that anything involving fresh herbs is dedicated a "Health Food" name by many.

Which is stronger...the drink, or her red lipstick and choker necklace?
Irish Coffee (the-best-after-diner-before-dinner-rain-or-shine-kind-of-drink-that-lets-you-relax-but-also-remember-the-good-times drink) - Created with Coffee, Cream, Brown Sugar/regular sugar and Whisky (although sometimes concocted with Whisky, Bailey's, Coffee, and a touch of brown sugar), this is a phenomenal beverage choice...The irish got it right, and I am thankful. Warm, creamy, strong yet relaxing, I would almost put the word SENSUAL in front of the name of this drink. It treats you right, regardless of who you are or when you are drinking it. Simple, calm, and delicious, Irish Coffee takes the cake. Literally, it sometimes tastes like an alcoholic coffee cake. IT IS SO GOOD, everyone should try it at least once! And guess what...the Whisky in it is not STRONG ENOUGH to push away frightened onlookers. Frequently observed drinkers of the Irish Coffee? EVERYONE WHO IS EVERYONE. The best drink should be in the hands of every of-age individual who likes to have a good time and feel good about their choices. SO THERE.

Warming countless people's love caves. 

Hi regular, boring coffee. I'd like you to meet the best new thing you've ever tasted. It's called IRISH. 
I would like to conclude with a list of drink names that I looked up, but had less interest in reporting on...

Mountain Dew Me
Bend Over Shirley
Buttery Nipple
Suck, Bang, Blow

After reviewing the aforementioned cocktails, please create your own names in response. We could be enjoying a Shirley's Buttery Nipple in no time...