Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Ah, it's about that time of year...Ladies and Gentlemen - introducing your NYE 3 a.m. Girl. If you're new and don't know what a 3 a.m. Girl is, here's a refresher... Okay, now that you're caught up. Let's continue. It’s important to note that a 3 a.m. Girl is a mindset, not a timeline. You can spot a 3 a.m. Girl at 11 p.m. or 2 at in the afternoon.

Some of the most responsible women you know have 3 a.m. Girl moments…like say, dancing on a bar at your birthday party…), but a 3 a.m. Girl is always a 3 a.m. Girl.

On the 31st, it might be hard for you to differ one from the other, so here's your cheat sheet to tell the difference between a Girl Partying 'til 3 a.m. (PT3AM) and a 3 a.m. Girl (3AG)





PT3AM

Wears a sexy little black dress, a wristlet and high-heeled boots to the club. Drinks champagne and is carrying her phone/pda, cash, debit card, ID, and lip gloss. If so inclined, she has her room key and condoms safely tucked away in the compartment of the wristlet.

3AG

Wears sexy LBD sans panties, a clutch that she’ll misplace, open toed shoes to show off the pedicure she got at the chop shop that afternoon. In the compartment of her clutch she has her birth control pill dosage for the next 24 hours, and she’s holding her (soon to be lost) phone because her clutch is too small; her BFF has the key to the room…

PT3AG

Will hit a couple of house parties before the main event and drink a lot of champagne (that way she’ll have a nice buzz before said event). She may even skip the club and stay at rooftop condo party with friends because the music’s good, she’s chipped in for pizza and everyone loves her dress; that way she can enjoy being the most fabulous girl in the room.

3AG

She will be pre-drinking in the hotel room she's rented with her BFF (with an open invite to a few select people) for the night. She can’t remember why she hasn’t had a hotel party since prom, but she’s looking forward to it. She’ll drink whatever is at bottle service because the promoter who invited her said it was free for her all night. She will enjoy the attention she gets by showing off her pole dancing skills to everyone in “VIP”

PT3AG

Can’t believe she let her friends convince her to buy the dress that cuts down to there. But she’s got more double sided tape on than J-Lo at the Grammys and has been going to the gym all year. She remembers the trick her makeup artist friend taught her and throws a little extra bronzer in that area just in case she’s photographed.

3AG
Her friends convince her that you can totally see the panty line of her thong under her white dress, so she goes without. She sprays a little extra perfume in the area, just in case, and tries to remember to stand just in case she’s photographed.


PT3AG

Her circle of friends call all night to get her coordinates (she is party hopping after all). Her ringtone them is “Paper Planes”, because it reminds her of the time they went to that random party in the summer.

3AG

Her ex calls all night because he wants to be with her at midnight (and knows that she has a room). Her ringtone for him is Sexy Bitch because he dedicated it to her when they heard it at Ultra in the summer.

The PT3AG can be found at 6 a.m. at an all night diner with friends or asleep in her bed.


By 1 p.m. New Year’s Day, she’s having brunch with friends, sans makeup, (with big black sunglasses of course) and enjoying a mimosa with her pancakes. She’s dreading going back to work on Monday but it was a good night…she can’t wait to see the pictures…


The 3AG can be found at 6 a.m. locked out of her hotel room because her so called BFF is acting like a c*nt and won’t open the door. She can’t call because she lost her phone and she had to share a cab with the asshole “promoter” because the limo service ended at 2:30.


By 1 p.m. you can find her at the Eaton Centre (with a wicked hangover), finally reunited with her shit from the room, getting a new phone from the Rogers store.


She doesn’t program her ex-BFF’s number because when she checked facebook after updating the app, she saw that the c*nt posted the picture of her where you can see her coochie…



See you in the New Year darlings…

Sunday, December 27, 2009

This question was posed to me the other day and I was actually stumped for a moment. Why do people…specifically women have dealbreakers? Does this not mean that instead of focusing on the positive attributes in a man, you only are focusing on the negative? I looked deep within my soul, took a deep breath and replied: Well, would you date a fat chick?

Okay then, moving on…

Basically, we all have dealbreakers. It’s in our nature. But, I will say that I have heard of a lot more dealbreakers from women than I do from men. Basically guys just want a girl who doesn’t have a lot of baggage and doesn’t weigh so much that he can’t carry her out in case of a fire (thank my boss for that scenario).

If you remember the game show Let’s Make a Deal with good ol’ Monty, you know that people only had a few moments to decide if they were going to take what was behind door number 1 or door number 2. The same goes when she’s checking you out. Your outward appearance, demeanour, aura, (i.e. the stuff she can see) is that door. Just like the show, she can trade you in if she doesn’t think you’re of value. Why would she trade you in so soon? Here’s a list of some popular dealbreakers. Remember, these aren’t the heavy, relationship-type dealbreakers; this is the first impression type stuff.

Do you have a mirror?

Yes. Good. Did you take a good long look at yourself before leaving to go out? If you are over the age of oh…20, please stop wearing baggy jeans. Skinny hipster jeans are also a no-no; I’ve yet to meet a woman who finds them attractive.

Can I offer you some gum?
You have approximately 30 seconds to introduce yourself and get her name in return. If she can smell what you had for lunch or, as one girl put it to me “what you just threw up”, then you’re getting at best a pained smile and a fake name. Altoids, piece of gum, hell, even a Listerine strip will go a long way.

(Her) Love don’t cost a thing…
A woman of substance (i.e. non-gold digging princess types, y’know the ones you say are so hard to find) will not care if you have bottle service; it only proves that you can buy a bottle and not much more. Flashy clothes, jewels, teeth (ick, yeah I said it) etc etc blind us to whatever good qualities you may have.

Dress nice…
Let me clear up this misconception: “nice” doesn’t have to mean “expensive”. An average looking guy who is put together well, will do much better than a gorgeous guy who has no sense of style. Don’t know what “put together” means? Hire a stylist or invite a trusted female (who can be honest) to go through your closet and make some recommendations. “Nice” does not mean a suit and tie…clean kicks, a fresh smelling tee and jeans that don’t have mould growing on them will do just fine, provided that is your style. If you have any “Beer is better than…” or Ed Hardy t-shirts, just burn them.

Smell inviting…
If you wear a cable knit sweater in a club and wonder why you can’t get a girl to talk to you past midnight, I’d like to point out one little thing: you stink This also means that we should not be able to smell you five minutes before you come over to us and 10 minutes after you leave. Pick a fragrance that works with your body chemistry and smells inviting…that’s when we lean close to talk directly in your ear.

Go hard…then go home.
This is especially true if you’re in a club. Honey, you are there to have a good time. Could you crack a little bit of smile? You don’t think that we don’t see you before you approach do you? We watch that behaviour as well. And the arrogant, insulting “I don’t give a fuck” attitude guarantees that you won’t get a fuck either.

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Thursday, December 24, 2009

So tonight, some of you are still scrambling to buy a present... my thoughts are with you.

Tomorrow (or the day after or in a few hours if she's eager), she'll be opening the present you so painstakingly (or rushed) to buy. The question will be: will you be on the nice or naughty list after she sees it?

How to get on the NAUGHTY list:

Gift Cards.
Seriously? That's what you buy friends, family, your child's teacher. When the girlfriends commune in the days to come and talk about what they got, picture her holding up a gift card to Future Shop and saying with a big smile "THIS!"

Yeah, doesn't work.
Anything Domestic
Unless she's a domestic goddess who goes by the names Nigella, Rachael or Martha, do NOT attempt this. Unless she says specifically that for Christmas she wants new cookware, baking supplies or a vacuum, do not attempt this.

Lingerie (especially in the wrong size)
We know you're visual creatures...that's why WE buy the stuff. Do not buy unless you've been together for a while. If you need to figure out what her size is, instead of going into the store and saying to the (hot) salesgirl "she's about your size", try this: remember when you oh so expertly removed her bra when you were getting it on? There's a size tag. Usually by the clasp. Check it out. Most importantly: do NOT buy any of the Xmas themed stuff at the front of the store. You will be dateless on New Year's Eve if she finds that under the tree.
Random Perfume
Avoid this at Valentine's as well. She has a favourite fragrance (or three or four), and if you don't know the exact name, don't try sniffing a bunch of bottles and thinking, "that's about right".
Anything Practical
Yes, of course it makes complete sense to buy her a back up flashlight/smoke detector/emergency kit for her car. But unless she's a gadget girl...practical gifts are best saved for, nothing. Let her parents buy that shit. Again, imagine her holding it up a flashlight to her girlfriends and saying: "THIS!"

How to get on the NICE list

Pampering
Hmmm. This would be the ONE time a gift card is acceptable. Treating her to a massage and/or pedicure? Especially if you say it's because you see she works hard (in or out of the home)? Genius.

Listen out for these words:
"I LOVE this..."
"I like this..."
"I've always wanted..."
"I adore..."
"I really should get..."

I'm not one of those women who drops hints around November at what I want in hopes that he'll remember, but I do talk about stuff I like. Some women hint straight out; others will hand you a typewritten list in Excel cross referenced with stores and prices as well as directions to the mall.

Guys, you don't understand how excited we get when we realize that you are LISTENING and retaining shit we say. You know the phrase "it's the thought that counts"? Well, the very thought of you remembering that she coveted something makes the present that much more special.

Because then the scenario goes like this: she gets together with the girls post holiday. They compare gifts. She's asked "what did He get you?" She flashes the item AND talks about how she only mentioned it in passing, like, ONCE, way back when and that you must've written it down or remembered or something and there it was under the tree and blah blah blah blah...

The other ladies swoon. They chime "awww! That's so sweet! He's such a great guy!" The one who got the present off the naughty list (and there's always one...) will go home and give her honey the "why can't you be more like that?" look, without explaining why and plug in her new state of the art vacuum.

Merry Xmas to all and to all a good night...

xoxo
HLBB

Sunday, December 13, 2009

1 – Don’t.

2 – Okay, if you really must: wear protection.
This would be one of those times where sharing is NOT caring.

3 – Okay, if you really must. Be discreet and keep it simple.
If you are to have a jump-off, make sure that they have something to lose and not something to gain. Also, stick to one jump-off at a time, I mean, c’mon now, you’re in a committed relationship already! How much more sex can you need? Don’t you have a job? A paper route? A hobby?

4 – DON’T lie to the jump off.
As Yvonne of heydoyou.com tweeted the other day “two timing guys get caught twice”.
You are already lying to one person; why complicate matters more? I don’t even think that they’ve made an app to help you keep track of lies; if they did, I’d know even more people with iPhones.

Wait – stops to check App Store – nope. Just lie detector apps.

Look at Letterman. Did any of his affairs go running to Life & Style Magazine to tell “their side” of the story? Nope. Wow. Look what honesty gets you. Remember, it wasn’t even one of the exes that outed him! She wanted it kept private. Why? So as not to be accused of sleeping her way to the top. Why? Because she had something to lose.

But Tiger? Oh Tiger, you probably told each of your lucky 13 that they were the only one(s). I’m NOT sorry, but cocktail waitresses with dreams of becoming models at the age of 24 don’t have anything to lose.They knew you had a wife, but when one jump-off came out, each realized you had lied to them. Hell hath no fury like a jump-off lied to.

5 – Set the terms.
No overnights. No calls to the house (really, a smart cheater has more than one phone, GoogleVoice anyone?) No pictures (and if you’re even contemplating for a moment nekkid pics, don’t). Set up a separate email account. Always use condoms. Don’t have sex in your car. No time together on holidays. Do not go out in public or to any of the places you go to with your beloved.

Hey you know what? Sucks to be them, but if they’re willing to agree to those terms – and yes, I know people who have – then that’s their lot in life to accept. They made their bed, so they can sleep in it alone.

Oh, if all the above seems like too much work for you, then you shouldn’t be cheating in the first fucking place. Dumbass.

6 – Don’t fall in love.
It’s a “transgression” remember? Falling in love is what you did with the person you're cheating on.

7 – Don’t feel guilty.
Huh? You’re cheating on the love of your life, the mother/father of your children, your best friend and soul mate? But, you feel guilty? Awwww. Then, you my friend are a Dumbass. That’s right, you must go through with your transgression feeling no guilt, no remorse; as if you have the best of both worlds. If you can’t feel that way, then you shouldn’t be cheating or be in a relationship. That’s right, choose one. Do not pass GO, do not collect another jump-off. Choose.

8 – Expect to get caught.
Expect to find panties stuffed under the car seat. Expect a voicemail on the home line (because you didn’t pay attention to tip #5). Expect to slip up on a name in a moment of anger or passion. Expect that your beloved will notice a change in behaviour both in and out of the bedroom. Expect that one day you will be walking down the street with your beloved and see your jump-off staring at you in shock because they thought you were single (ah, you ignored tip #4, didn’t cha?). Expect that once caught out, that there will be a swift and possibly violent reaction. Expect to be caught on camera. Expect that there will be evidence. Expect that one day Maury Povich will say “Dumbass, you ARE the father!” Expect one or both people to break up with your cheating ass.

Because you got away with a one night stand, you are not an expert cheater, so yes, expect to get caught.

Well, there you have it.

Before the emails of condemnation come in, I will disclose: yes, I’ve been cheated on. Yes, I’ve been the girl who followed all of rules in tip #5. I’m not casting stones. I personally believe that if you are the type of person to cheat then you just shouldn’t bother with relationships. But at least try to mitigate the damage you’re about to do (already doing), and if you can’t follow tip #1, then expect all of tip #8 to smack you upside the head like 9-iron.

xoxo

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Geneviève Bergeron, Hélène Colgan, Nathalie Croteau,

Barbara Daigneault

Anne-Marie Edward, Maud Haviernick, Maryse Laganière

Maryse Leclair, Anne-Marie Lemay

Sonia Pelletier, Michèle Richard, Annie St-Arneault, Annie Turcotte

Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz…


These are the names we know; these are the names we have been told about…


These are the names for the women who didn’t have names. These names and the image above should be all the information you need to know what this post is about. This is my memorial. This is my thank you to these women, these women who taught me at the tender age of 13 that violence is wrong.


But I was never taught the signs. Never given the clues to what leads to that kind of behaviour.


I was raised a feminist. I wasn’t given feminist literature, taken on marches or ever lit a bra on fire. I was raised to never see obstacles because of my gender (or race), with the knowledge that I would have to work 3 times as hard to be considered half as good, but was told by my Mother (who raised me), my Aunt (who inspired me, and a fine selection of men (Uncle, Cousins) who always taught me to go for mine.


Then I met him…and still no one taught me the signs.


I was 17, impressionable and just out of my first romance. I had switched schools for academic reasons and like the Type-A overachiever I was, was taking a bunch of specialty classes: Politics, Scriptwriting, and Psychology. He was in all my classes.


He said things like “I never knew that girls as pretty as you could be so smart”… “you have great legs”… you’re reading that book? Impressive…” Always with a smile, always flirting. I fell for it instantly. We started to date and the compliments stopped.


I, Miss Type A, also had a part-time job after school. This money gave me the freedom to go to movies, go shopping, buy make up, books, comics, film and photographic paper (I was also taking Photography). One day he complained that my time spent at work meant time away from him and building our relationship. My smart-ass response was “are you going to buy my Always? Because that’s what me working allows me to…” He thought my allowance should be enough. It was our first fight.


We fought about sex…actually, we negotiated it. Once, he told me “if I can’t get it from you, I’m going to have to go elsewhere…” and proceeded to flirt with a girl that he knew I thought was prettier than I.


I once made elaborate (for a 17 year old) plans for us to alleviate his complaints that I had no time for him. He stood me up and called 5 hours later to tell me he had “hung out with friends and fallen asleep. What’s the big deal?”


In Politics class, he was the “star student” of the class and I, a novice. I had taken the class because I knew nothing about politics and wanted to learn. For our end of term paper (which he was supposed to help me with but bailed), I achieved an A+… he got a B (he wrote it the night before it was due). After comparing of our grades, he said the only reason I had gotten my A+ was because the teacher thought I was hot. In fact, he thought that I had achieved most of my grades on looks or charm because “(I) wasn’t as smart as (I) thought (I) was”. Actually, that year, I ranked in the 98th percentile for my district and the 95th percentile in Ontario. I had been reading at a 12th grade level since I was 6 years old. I got A’s without having to ever study for an exam. Yet, he constantly called me stupid, or silly or my favourite: uninformed. (But I had great legs).


We would argue, and I mistook it for passion. I thought we were having an "mature" relationship. But I was getting tired of it. Then I heard he made plans to go out with that “other girl” and I thought, “I’m done.”


I tried to break up with him over the phone. He’d change the subject. I tried in person after he dropped me home after school, he laughed it off. I finally wrote him a “Dear John” letter and placed it in his mailbox at school. He found me in the hall and ran up to me, grabbed me in a bear hug and said “Chiquita! What is this? You can’t be serious!” He laughed. He asked if I had met someone else. I said, “No. Everything I have tried to tell you is in that letter. We are done.”


Weeks went by and there was no contact. We broke for Christmas. One of his friends called me to invite me to a party and I declined, explaining that I didn’t want to see my ex at this party. He told me that my ex went to Blue Mountain with that other girl. I led his friend to believe that I had moved on as well, knowing that his call was not to invite me anywhere but to “report” back to my ex. School resumed. My ex and I kept respectful distances from each other. One day he came to me and said could we talk over coffee, clear the air. I accepted.


On the subway ride downtown, he mentioned the conversation I had with his friend in an off-hand manner. I laughed in his face and said “gotcha! I knew what he was doing, so I gave him something to report…” My ex was not amused that I had outsmarted him, again. He said instead of coffee, he wanted to go to the library and show me a documentary on Che that he thought would “open my eyes” I responded that I had no interest in Che and had agreed only to coffee. We began to argue. Publicly. At the corner of Yonge and Bloor. In the middle of rush hour. I realized that I didn’t need this and said so, turned on my heel and walked away…


He grabbed the hood of my coat and yanked me back so hard, I came off my feet.


No one stopped.


He grabbed my arm and said, “don’t you fucking walk away from me!”


I shoved him back and said, “Fuck off! Touch me again and I will call my boys!” (He hated that I had so many guy friends, by the way. The only reason they were friends with me was “because they wanted to fuck (me)”


No one stopped.


He took me to the library. I went to the phones and called my best friend (a guy), who wanted to know if I was okay. I was angry I said (I didn’t admit that I was scared) and on my way home. My best friend asked me to come to his house first so he could see that I was okay. I lied to my ex, saying I had to go home; it would be the only reason he’d let me go.


I looked at the bruise on my arm the next morning and thought “never again”. I realized that my spark had been diminished during my time with him, that my grades had suffered because I didn’t want to make him feel less smart, that my spunky sarcasm and my glam make-up had been muted. I thought “never again”. Friends who hadn’t heard from me as much were saying “welcome back”, I smiled a little more often. Those were the signs.


In Politics class, we did a module on feminism, and the teacher brought up those 14 names. I watched my ex’s face for signs. He said that they weren’t martyrs because they had simply been caught in the crossfire.


“Bullshit” I snapped. “He targeted them based on the simple criteria that they were women. Women who were smart, women who had achieved something, women who were more capable than he was. He was a limp-dicked wimp who couldn’t compete, so he committed a cowardly act and then killed himself!”


The class was silent. The teacher said nothing. I was shaking.


I looked at my ex and said “and it will never happen again...”



Resources:
http://www.whiteribbon.ca/
http://www.itstartswithyou.ca/home/

Wednesday, December 2, 2009


1 - Tiger, Tiger.. Tiger. If you are going to cheat, pick discreet women. Not the "hostesses" of the world who are passed around like blunts at a hippie reunion.

2 - Guys: if you're thinking of cheating (and NO we do not endorse cheating over here at HLBB)...look at Tiger Wood's Christmas Card on the right and think "there but for the grace of obscurity, goes I..."


That is all,

xoxox

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