Unscientific Poll: Invite Confusion

Guys, bros, men: I have a question for you. When you invite a girl to your dj night/ show/ concert/ house party are you inviting them because you specifically want them there or because you just want as many bodies there as you can get?

Personally, I can never tell. If a guy I like invites me to hear his band play, I usually don't go because I don't want to seem like a groupie. In fact, I avoided this one guy's band for FOUR YEARS because I thought about how ridiculous I'd feel if I showed up and he had a line of girls waiting to talk to him after his "gig." What. am I gonna wait in line to talk to him like I'm in a Mr. Big song? Fuck that!

Is this flawed logic? Am I totally misreading it? Weigh in!

Quick Rant: Creepy Winkers

A knowing wink can be cute, when it's from the right guy. Today a strange bearded man on a motorcycle thought he was being super suave and winked at me. I easily made the worst face on the planet at him. NOT COOL. It's the same face I make when I smell the women's restroom at Macy's on Black Friday. Sorry for that mental image, but I couldn't help it! A wink from a stranger almost always comes off as creepy. Not a new skool kind of creepy--like he's going to lurk on your blog and riddle your page with inane comments--but an old timey kind of creepy, like the last time that wink worked was when a cup of coffee cost a nickel.

Men of Philadelphia: if you aren't somehow comparable in looks to the Fonz, please do us a favor and keep both eyes open or closed simultaneously. When you wink at me, I don't feel a flutter; I reach for my mace.

Things We Tell Boys We Hate But Secretly Don't: Getting A Hickey

What we tell you:

Great. Now I have to go to work with this huge welt on my neck. Didn't you listen? I have an important meeting with my boss tomorrow. No, dabbing concealer on it won't help. It looks like I'm in the beginning stages of leprosy. What kind of woman goes to work with a goddamn hickey on her neck? It's the summer; I can't even wear a turtleneck. Why did you do this to me? What are we, in sixth grade here? Stop laughing. It's not funny. Ugh! *huff and puff around his room as I collect my things*

What we really think as soon as we step outside of your apartment:

Smile smile smile smile smile high-five. I HAVE A HICKEY, BITCHES! It kinda looks like I got bit by a vampire or something. I'm like a True Blood outtake. I never use the word vixen because I think it's kinda corny, but I totally feel like a vixen right now. Oh man. I think I'm gonna stop and grab some ice cream to celebrate my hickeyhood. Hickeyhood! I think I just made up a word. Haha. I can't wait to check it out when I get home.

Bonerkiller: Philly Sports Phanatic

Remember when the Phillies won the World Series? Of course you do! It will likely go down as one of the most thrilling moments in the lives of all Philadelphians. But there comes a point when you have to realize that a dream has been fulfilled and life goes back to normal. It's okay to move on, well at least until the next season (and this season is great, btdubs).

I was at Bishops Collar the other weekend and they had a rerun of Game 5 on the television. It was fun to watch and everyone cheered at their favorite moments. It was almost like watching your favorite movie for the trillionth time. Except for one group of guys. They were SOOOO into it that you would have thought they had lived under a rock for the past year and were watching the game for the first time. I mean, they were pounding their beer on the tables and kicking stuff and screaming expletives at one moment, and then going rip-roaring crazy with excitement at the next. Um, you do know the outcome, right guys? Spoiler alert: THEY WIN.

After getting an entire beer doused on me from these dudes' frantic celebration at the final pitch--complete with chest bumps and fist pumps and jumping and howling like rabid wolves--I realized that no matter how much I love the Phils, I would never want to date a die-hard fan because that takes some serious guts. And I'm not just talking about stomaching warm beers and dollar hot dogs on your "dates."

When quality time is equated with tailgating by the romantic warmth of a collapsible bbq grill and his idea of a great birthday present for you is a Chase Utley bobble head, it's time to call it quits. This is the type of guy that knows all the RBI stats since 1980, but can never remember your birthday (or your anniversary if you last long enough to have one.) He can also rattle off rosters from the past three decades, but can't remember your sister's name. Becky? Beth? Beatrice?

Oh, and your sex life? It only exists after the game...if they win...only after celebrating the win...only after he sobers up from celebrating the win. If they lose, forget about it. Besides, it's kind of hard to put the moves on a grown man who is pouting about a sports team's loss.

Don't get me wrong: I looove the Phillies. But love and batshit crazy obsession are entirely different things. On the plus side, these dudes are really easy to shop for (tickets/jerseys=love.) They have excellent commitment skills, even through the tough times and dry spells. One thing's for sure though: stick with this dude and there's a 99% chance you'll get proposed to on the Jumbotron at the ballpark. Here he is, drawn in all of his glory:

Yay or Nay: Shmitten Kitten Monthly Speed Dating Party aka ShPeed Dating

So, we've been kicking around this idea to start a monthly speed dating party, except we'd call it ShPeed dating 'cause we'd be doing it (har har.) Each month we'd feature a different band to speed date to, like Black Sabbath, The Smiths, Lifetime, Minor Threat, the Descendents, The Cure, etc. Basically, you'd have to chat with a person for one whole song then switch. It'll be like musical chairs but with dating undertones. We'd try to organize it in different bars around the city and kick it in different neighborhoods. So, if you are opposed to dating Fishtowners, we'd be in South Philly the next month.

You could bring your friends and they can just hang out by the bar. We'd like to play hostess, but we imagine that we could rotate host duties with other Philly personalities. My question: would people be into this? Personally, I think it sounds like a ton of fun. Maybe I can have my own pool of suitors and they can all charm me in the time it takes to listen to "Rodeo Clown." At the very least, you'd meet some cool people who are into the same music as you. And, how awesome would it be to hear these bands in a bar? If we weren't running it, we'd probably show up just for that part alone. Email me your thoughts to anna@shmittenkitten.com or leave your ideas in the comments. Thanks, guys!

Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: You Live In Delaware

Normally I dislike Delaware the same way I dislike guys who wear dad jeans: unconditionally. It might be because every trip I've ever taken to our nation's first state has been an absolute disaster. *Cough--remember that time I got lost in Newark at midnight by myself?--*cough. It also could have something to do with the fact that it seems like the entire state is always under construction.

As a general rule, I often steer clear of boys who don't live or work in the city. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I ditched my car for a SEPTA pass some time ago, or maybe because I found that out-of-city dating cramped my style. But you, Mr. Delawarean, you are makin' this happen. I met a nice boy finishing his master's degree at UDel, and I'm suddenly feeling less and less disdain for our nation's second smallest state.

My apologies, Delaware: you may have the longest red lights on the planet and are only the size of South Jersey, but you've somehow managed to eliminate sales tax at the Apple store and currently house, educate and employ the boy I like. So, let's take the R2 and hang the eff out.

Things I’m Terrible At: Turning Down A Date With A Really Nice Guy I Have No Interest In

Normally, I think of myself as a pretty direct and honest lady. For the most part, I know what I want. This decisiveness usually applies where dudes are concerned too. But every now and then, a really nice guy comes along. Not just a nice guy, but a bonafide sweetheart: he opens doors, he pulls out chairs, he magically pops up at your job just to say "hi,” and he even calls his mom on the regular. This guy is a dreamboat of niceness.

But despite his sweet nature, you’re just not attracted to him. When you glance his way, instead of butterflies in your stomach and fireworks going off in your chest, you’re overcome with, well nothing. You just can’t get into Mr. Nice Guy despite your best efforts trying to convince yourself of his desirability. You look like a crazy person as you debate his finer points to yourself. "He's great with kids and he'd make a great dad," you reason. "Yeah, but for someone else's kids," you mutter under your breath.

Aaaaand right around then is when he usually asks me out on a date. Logically, my answer should always be a cut and dry, “No,” a “Sorry, I can’t” or a “Golly, I’m busy forever!” But instead, I panic. How can I turn down someone THAT nice?! Mistakenly, I think, going out with him once won’t do any harm and instead of handing out a short but sweet rejection, I say, “Sure, why not!” I end up regretting it faster than when I chug a city-wide Philly special--PBR and a shot of Jim Beam for all of you out-of-towners--on a Friday night.

Why do I feel compelled to say yes to guys who ask me out simply because they are nice? There must be some part of my brain that agrees with the backwards logic that thinks going out with him once is not leading anybody on; if anything, it's just being courteous. Once the influx of texts, calls, and Facebook messages begins after that “harmless” first (and only, I hope) date, I kick myself. I am not good at turning down dates with nice guys. In fact, I'm terrible at it.

Dear Shmitten Kitten: He Moved Home and I'm (Surprisingly) Moved

Dear Shmitten Kitten,

I met a great guy this weekend and thought of you! It was one of those Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller moments. We were chatting about the usual bar conversation topics and everything was going swimmingly. Then, he let it slip that he had moved back in with his parents. While this normally would have had me moving off my stool faster than a cat dropped in a full bathtub, I found myself sticking around to hear the full story. I don't know if it was his blue eyes or knowledge of early punk rock that propelled me to stay, but either way, I'm glad I did!

He recently got laid off and had to settle with a job making half of what he was before the economy tanked like a bad date. Deciding to move back home to save money for a year seemed better than ranking up some serious debt. With the economy hitting everyone hard, I would rather have a guy with who possess the capacity for forward thought then one who has big debts down the road. As long as you have actual plans and an EMOD (Estimated Move Out Day), I'll give you some leeway. Hey, everyone needs a helping hand every once in a while. Down due to the economy dudes, I'll happily give you mine. The strapped for cash cutie even sprung for a round! If you're willing to dish out some of your saved dollars for my beer, I'll gladly return the favor; preferably on date number two.

Love love love,
Ok with PBRs As Long As There Is An EMOD

We totally agree that this dude sounds radical. You kind of made us jealous that he's an old skool punk rocker because that's our soft-spot too. [As a side note, we've been meaning to do a Tip Our Hats to old skool punk rockers and you, my dear, just reminded us to get on that ASAP.] That's great that you are so understanding about his situation. It seems that he's the lucky one here.

Additionally, you make a terrific point: If the guy is watching his dollars and still buys you a beer, it means more than if he were rolling in cash and took you out to Le Bec Fin. We give him two thumbs up. Thanks for the awesome letter. Oh, and let us know if he has any hot, single ex-punk friends. We could use someone to serenade us with Descendents songs on command.

Bonerkiller: Your Giant, Uncaged Iguana

Two minutes into this, I can tell that this isn't going to work out. You have a lot going for you: You have a cool job, we hang out at the same places and we even have some friends in common. But, I cannot overlook the fact that you have a giant iguana just chillin' on the windowsill of your living room. Dude, it's staring at us!

It's like you have a scaly, slow roommate who's shit you have to pick up around the apartment, literally. It smells like a mixture of woodchips and dried skin in here. *gag* It's just walking around the place like it's re-enacting scenes from Jurassic Park in slow motion. Why on earth is this thing not in a cage?

Next time I open a door and see this reptilian moodkiller, I'm gonna make like the Kool-Aid Man and bust out the side of the wall. Just kidding; there won't be a next time. Consider my boner murdered.

[Btdubs, this post is not one long, elaborate euphemism. There really was a freakin' lizard just hanging out like it was trying to sell me a Budweiser.]

Flippin' Our Shades: Joe Stakun

Hubba hubba. We see a lot of rad guys around Philly. Usually we just flip our shades at 'em, all Diamond Dave-style to let 'em know that we are feelin' it. Well, we decided that we should spotlight our faves and let other girls know about them too. We know, we're nice like that. So, for our first Shade Flipper, we think that it's fitting to profile Joe Stakun. We're pretty sure if you checked his diet, he must eat 100% awesome things because they say you are what you eat and this guy is totally awesome. Did that even make sense?

When not making videos and movies, he can be found zipping around town on his bike. In fact, he just released his first feature length documentary about the BMX bike culture called I Love My Bicycle. It also helps that he's incredibly handsome. That's kind of a big part of being a Shades Flipper. Let's meet the man behind the camera.

SK: So, Joe, what have you been up to?
Ummm. I am on the tail end of a feature length documentary I've been making for the past two and a half years. It just premiered in NYC and Philadelphia. At this point, I'm looking around for distro and fine tuning the film. Hopefully it will be out on DVD before 2010. After that, I'm just going to take it easy and go back to doing more music videos.

SK: What bums you out that girls do?
Hmmm. I'm not a big fan of make-up and when girls dress up fancy every time they leave the house.

SK: What do you love that girls do?
When they are funny, cute, original, and talented.

SK: What would you wear on a first date?
Probably just jeans and a t-shirt or flannel. I'm not sure the typical first date really exists.

SK: What would you put on a mix tape for a girl that you liked?
Depends on the girl.

SK: Tell us a secret.
No secrets here.

SK: Oh man, not even one?
I don't have any secrets; I'm a pretty open book for the most part. Is this photo alright? It's quite a metro posture.

SK: Yup, this photo is just great.