General

Grant says he has to get his “Hollywood body” back, but I don’t remember him ever having one. I’ve been to Hollywood with him plenty of times and he didn’t look any different then than he does now. But he says everyone in Hollywood is beautiful, and you’d think he was exaggerating, but he’s not. Just the waitress who served us our eggs in the coffee shop attached to our motel was so pretty it was hard not to stare. She had big fake knockers that looked like they’d been built with a bicycle pump, too, and that didn’t help.

“Bitch,” he said to me at the time, “you should get yourself a pair of those.”

I would have slapped his huge head if I didn’t know he was joking. Grant is aware that I am an opponent of the fake-tit militia, mainly because I’m too noncommittal for all the care and polishing that go into a shiny new set of artificial boobs. But otherwise I am seriously considering getting my own Hollywood body back ever since my hot-ass high-school boyfriend heard I was coming back to California and tracked me down to threaten to have sex with me once again. At present I can’t bare the thought, because the person I am now is so different from the 17-year-old girl he must be expecting to see that I’d rather just let him live with his memories than shatter them with reality.

“How did you two break up?” Grant asked.

“The usual,” I said, and I don’t have to say any more. Grant has seen it before, when someone wins you over by courting the qualities that distinguish you from all the others, only to immediately set about pasteurizing the very attributes that attracted them to you. In the end it’s up to you to decide what to let go and what to keep. [Read more…] about How do you make it in Hollywood without joining the fake tit militia?

You’re a finalist for a great job that requires reserve and diplomacy. You find out your phone called the HR director nineteen times in the past 24 hours. Or rather, your butt did, because every time the phone rustled in your back pocket your sphincter went on a drunk dialing binge. And probably farted a few times so it sounded like your ass was making obscene phone calls.

You’re at a dinner party with someone you’ve been dating. He’s clearly in love; you’re killing time. The host buys a block of silence when she says, “Hey, your date changed his status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship;’ how come you haven’t?”

You wake up one morning, after being knee-walking drunk the night before, to find out you sent that shy hottie–the one you had half a chance with if you’d have played it cool– a text that said, “I wanna pound the dust out of your rug.”

It’s gotten to the point that I can’t buy new technology or sign up for a new social media service without asking myself, “In what satanic way will this thing humiliate me?”

[Read more…] about Butt Dialing, drunk texting & other ways technology ruins our relationships

Using Facebook to break up a friend’s relationship:

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Very funny take on Google Earth run amok:

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What if Facebook could be played out in real life?

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Comedian Louis CK on the traps of technology:

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And oddly, what is considered by techies to be the video that best exemplifies how technology  humiliates us (18 million views!):

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“I love you” are important words to say or hear. But, what if you were “told” this the very first time in your newly developing relationship via a text message, or e-mail? Then, a few months later you’re told, also by the same modern-day digital technology, “I’m completely finished with you.”

Are these examples of emotional disconnect or just another luxury of today’s digital technology – where you don’t have to lose any shut eye or have a good enough sense of character to mull over the reactions or consequences of your technology-based behavior?

It’s a well publicized rumored that even Britney Spears broke-up with her now famously ex-husband Kevin Federline with a text message. Here, look:

As I researched more about dating, digital technology and its effects on our behavior, relationships and potential love, I found an online site that will send an e-card to one of your sexual conquests notifying them of your pre-existing STD. Imagine opening your e-mail to this: “Good morning Mr. Smith, you are now infected with Herpes.” http://www.digg.com/tech_news/STD_e-cards

The last time I used the Internet to send a birthday greeting; contagious sore notifications were not included in my card options along with the singing e-card balloons.

The Internet isn’t the only technology doing our dirty work. I also discovered services that will end a relationship for you via voicemail, such as the Breakup Butler and Breakup Bitch.

I called the site’s four message numbers, and with the Breakup Butler the voicemail selections were “nice,” and “not so nice.” On the Breakup Bitch, the message choices were “mean,” and “no more booty calls.” Interestingly, there is no option with the Breakup Bitch to be…

[Read more…] about Why break up with him if BreakupBitch.com will do it for you?

I’m SO attracted to my boyfriend but much to my horror, we’re having less and less sex.  It’s like he just doesn’t want to do it anymore.  We’ve only been together for a year!  I thought this shit happened after like, 5 years.  I feel like he’s not attracted to me anymore.  When I finally asked him why he keeps rejecting me in bed he said, “Did you ever think it’s because I love you now?”  Can falling in love with someone make you less attracted to him sexually?  Or is he cheating on me with someone else?

— Don’t Get It

Dear Don’t Get It:

Your sex life should be getting better, not rarer.  Your boyfriend is suffering from a modified Madonna/Whore complex.  And no, it has nothing to do with the Material Girl or Paris Hilton.   Originally, Freud theorized that men with cold, distant mothers seek out women with their mother’s qualities so they could re-enact the intimacy they never got.  Soon they start seeing their wives as their mothers—a Madonna figure—somebody they DO NOT want to have sex with.  Hence, men with the Madonna/Whore complex can’t mix love and sex because they subconsciously see it as a form of incest.

So how does this hetero theory apply to you two ‘mos? Think of it as an Adonis/Whore complex.  He can’t love guys that sexually satisfy him and he can’t get sexually satisfied by guys he loves.

Meaning:  YOU’RE FUCKED.

The more he falls in love with you, the less he wants to have sex.  This phenomenon is more common than you think.  There are lots of guys who can’t mix lust with love.  That’s why they say donkey-crazy things like,

[Read more…] about Can love ruin sex?

Facebook has been bitch-smacking me with severe bouts of nostalgia. A recent blast from my past came from Bobby, best friend to my ex when I lived in L.A. another lifetime ago. It’s been at least eight years and BAM! here he shows up on my virtual doorstep, requesting my permission to become friends, again. After we got through the routine Q&A exchanges to somehow pick up where we left off, Bobby and I have re-established a friendship of surprising substance and depth. This online reunion was for me a shot at redemption.

I know it sounds like trite, throwaway sentiment to say that I wish Bobby and I had kept in better touch after I left my relationship all those years ago. Expressing regret can sound so fucking pathetic, especially when you know you could have done something to avoid it. Looking back I’m kinda pissed with myself for giving up on our friendship and for giving in to those stupid Rules about proprietary friendships — that unspoken but understood pre-nuptial social agreement between couples.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT WITH YOUR PARTNER’S/BOYFRIEND’S/GIRLFRIEND’S FRIENDS:

• Friends of your partner may become your friends, just so long as you don’t spend more time with them than your partner does. Especially if you’re mildly attracted to them. Hear that calling in the distance? That’s Trouble whistling.  [Read more…] about Who gets custody of the friends when you break up?

A lot smaller than you think.

The six inch myth started with Kinsey’s famous study in the 50’s that asked two thousand guys to self-report the size of their prize.  Yes, SELF-REPORT.   Two objections, as I see it: 

1)  Starting with maps, men believe that an inch equals a mile.  Did Kinsey really believe that guys would tell the truth?

2)  Would you believe anything a man says when he’s holding his penis?

Researchers, unfazed by male hallucinations, decided to take matters into their own hands and do the measuring themselves.  And the results?  Study after study shows the average erect penis size is about 5.2 inches.   

I swear if men were born with business cards, they’d read, “Professional Liar.”

Of course, most of this lying covers up a widespread insecurity, so we can have a little pity.  Every guy feels like he’s got the smallest tool in the lockers. The penis enlargement emails that seem to be targeted specifically at us don’t help–especially the ones from our moms.

If you’re going to compare yourself to other guys at least level the playing field. You’re seeing their junk at a forty-five degree angle but looking straight down at yours, which makes it look tiny. So, don’t look down; look in the mirror.

But if you really want to compare there’s only one way to do it–Measure yourself.  Here’s how contemporary researchers suggest you do it:   [Read more…] about Studies show the average penis size is…

I don’t take it personally when I get accused of inventing my friends Grant and Lary, because sometimes my own biggest wish is that they were imaginary, too, especially given their penchant lately for “keeping things real.” That was their excuse last month when they tried to kidnap a visiting colleague of mine, tie him to a tree and try to talk him out of collaborating with me on a television project.

“Are those guys for real?” he yelled at me once he was safely back in California. I’ve been hearing that question a lot lately. So to put everybody’s doubt to rest, the following is an ACTUAL CONVERSATION that is absolutely without a doubt practically verbatim that occurred between the three of us at Java Vino coffee house at 10:30 a.m. on August 13, 2008. If you drove by you would have seen the three of us out there, me with my laptop pecking away as these two demented dicksacks bloviated about life in general and being professional characters in particular:

Lary: I just figured out how I’m going to win the Nobel prize for solving two world problems, the global food deficit and the overcrowded prison system. Here’s the solution: We eat the convicts.

Grant: In other parts of the world cannibalism is common, so somewhere it’s already an accepted practice. It would just be a matter of opening your mind. But it would take a long time to get people comfortable eating people.

Lary: Two meals. It would take missing two meals. I conducted a study in my basement.

Grant: Lary, I would love to have the time – or the drugs — you have on your hands.

Lary: It’s a delicate balance.

[Read more…] about Would you date a cannibal if he picked up the tab?

Getting Ready at Home

I can’t wear this shirt– It’s so gay it practically lisps. Wardrobe change!

Ahh, better. But wait! This one doesn’t bring out the green in my eyes. Though it does bring out the red. Christ, where’s the Visine?

Okay, here’s the perfect shirt. Tight enough to show my pecs, loose enough to look like I didn’t wear it to show off my pecs.

Bathroom

Oh, my God! Look at that hair! I shouldn’t have straightened it. It looks like James Brown’s hair: “Fried, dyed, and laid to the side.”

What am I going to do? Wait. Got it. There. Not bad. The place is casual anyway. A baseball cap won’t look too bad.

Living Room

I better do some push-ups and sit-ups before I get there. Okay, on three: “We Must, We Must, We Must Increase Our Bust. The-Bigger-The-Better-The-Tighter –The-Sweater, The More The Boys Will Look At Us.”

Car

Oh, crap! I can’t wear these shoes! Look how scuffed they are!

Back to House

Better. Okay, check the mirror one more time. Damn, why couldn’t I have been born with two eyebrows like everyone else? I better shave the middle part so I don’t look like I’ve got a caterpillar crawling across my forehead.

Back to Car

Man, I hope that guy Bobby isn’t there.  An hour after meeting him at the bar, the voltage was so high a surge protector wouldn’t have helped. “Come home with me,” I whispered. That’s when I got “ambivalented.” You know, when a guy mentally works out the pros and cons of going home with you while you’re standing in front of him.

“Let me think about it,” he said.   I felt like a cattle rustler trotted me out and the buyer couldn’t decide whether he liked my hooves. So back into the pen I went.

I swear, being single is so painful. I can’t believe I just stood there while he did the math in his head.

Parking Lot

Okay, I’m here. Forget about Bobby. Last chance to check my look and bait the hook. Damn, I freakin’ pulled the rear-view mirror off the windshield!  Calm down! It’s not like the world’s going to end if I don’t meet someone. [Read more…] about I get so anxious when I get ready to go out I make my coffee nervous