Pics and Vids: You Know What I Hate/Like?

This is re-posted from here. Wow. Just, wow.

When I’m dancing like



And some creep comes up behind me and dances like



And I turn around like



And he’s like



And I’m like



And I walk away like



And he plays it off like



And then I see a fine shawdy dancing like



And I’m like



And I go over to him and we start dancing like



and then a bad ass song comes on, and we’re like



And the rejected guy looks at me like



And I’m like



And he’s like



And I’m like

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Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: Guys Who Were Stagehands In Their High School Theater Productions

I've as surprised as anyone that being a stagehand in high school isn't a total turn-off for me. I want it to be. Boy, do I want it to be. You honestly have NO IDEA how much of a turn-off it is to picture a younger, chubbier version of this guy wearing a black turtleneck, shuffling around backstage pulling ropes and pushing set props around in the dark. It's probably the dorkiest thing I can think of as far as high school extracurricular activities go.

By all means, this should be a bonerkiller, but it's not. I look at the guy now and he knows which wine to pair with which proteins at dinner. He plays NPR when he gets dressed for work in the morning. He's smart, funny, and well-educated. I mean, he's practically perfect!

When I grill him about the stagehand thing, he just shrugs and says that he wasn't into sports so it was a way for him to be part of a team without the whole competitive angle.

"Did you have to wear a turtleneck?"
"Yeah."
"Was it black?"
"Yes."
"Did you have to pull ropes?"
"Sometimes."
"Did you push set pieces around between acts?"
"Sometimes. Why are you asking about this? It was so long ago!"

Here's the thing: In high school, I never would've hooked up with him. I'd gravitate toward the mouthy punks, not the quiet, sensitive peripheral theater help. But, what can I say? As adults, those guys rule as boyfriends! I've come to terms with it. I gotta give high school stagehands props and not the kind they'd move around behind a heavy curtain during intermission.

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Pics and Vids: A Wondering Woman

Listening to him prattle on about his crazy ex-girlfriend makes me feel like I Wonder What-The-Fuck-He's-Thinking-By-Telling-Me-About-Her Woman. My superpowers are to lasso guys who clearly have no idea what to talk about on a first date, the ability to not care about this topic at the speed of light, and x-ray vision to see that this is going nowhere.

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Burt Reynolds Is In My House, Naked On A Bear Rug: What Would Shmitten Kitten Do

"Hey, Anna."
"Hello, Mr. Reynolds."
"Call me Burt."
"Um, okay."
"C'mere."
"Actually, I'm good over here. Mr. Reynolds--I mean--Burt, do you mind if I ask how you got into my house?"
"I found the spare key under a potted plant out front. Now tell me: Have you felt this rug on your naked skin? It feels like a grizzly bear whispering a secret to your body."
"Oh, wow. You brought a bear rug with you?"
"Why are we still talking? Come join me."
"I just got home. I'm not even wearing concealer. My eyes look dark and puffy, like Oreo Cakesters."
"Who cares? COME OVER HERE!"
"Dude, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I haven't shaved my armpits in two weeks and I'm wearing an unflattering hi-cut brief."
"You're so silly. I don't care. Get over here. Now."
"Burt, there's no way that I can just join you on that thing. I think I have coffee breath. I'm gonna need to brush my teeth or something. Maybe swish some Scope. Besides, I don't think that there's room for two people on there."
"There is if one goes on top."

I'm not sure how I would react if I came home and found a young Burt Reynolds in my living room naked on a bear rug propositioning me. I imagine that I would spend my time trying to talk him out of it.

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Story Time: What's Your Doorbuster?

I just came back from Target which was a totally fun, non-stressful way to spend my Black Friday afternoon. As I walked inside, I was slammed with doorbuster deals from all sides. A 21 Jumpstreet DVD for $1.99? A long-sleeved t-shirt for $5? A bag of Hershey Kisses for $2? I WOULD TOTALLY BUST A DOOR FOR THAT!

I didn't really bust any doors for that. But, it did get me thinking about what I would bust a door for. Then I started thinking about dudes because I always think about dudes and I wondered what kind of guy I would bust a door for. It goes without saying that he'd have to dress well, smell good, and be funny. But, what would put him over the top? Well, here are the top three things I would bust a door for, dude-wise.

1. A guy who has a rad family.
2. A guy who likes to drink fancy beers.
3. A guy who watches British sit-coms. 

I would bust down so many doors, it'd be like a demolition derby. What about you? What are the doorbuster qualities you'd want in a guy? Tell me in the comments.

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Pics and Vids: The Higher The Leg, The Closer To God

I've already watched this highlight reel of Diamond Dave doing kicks like, 30 times. True story: I had a crush on this guy a while back because he could do kicks just like David Lee Roth. He used to whip them out all the time on the dance floor and I'd just stand there, transfixed. My high-kicking Romeo definitely kickstarted my heart with his limber limbs. Oh yeah!

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Good News! I've Decided to Look The Other Way When It Comes To His Flagrant Misuse Of Ellipses

Don Draper, Litterer

"Hey lady......"
"You look pretty......"
"What are you doing later......."

Not to complain too much, but my text inbox looks like a gumball machine because there are so many random dots scattered throughout. What's the deal with all these ellipses he types after every sentence? Is he falling asleep on the "." button? Does he have a nervous twitch? Typing dot dot dot after every thought he transmits is like talking with a stoner: "We could grab ice cream...or make brownies...or maybe order a taco from somewhere?" There are more periods than a menstruation convention!

I don't know if he thinks it's flirty to litter dots on my screen like they're picnic trash in the early '60s, but he should put a little more effort into ending sentences properly. That's all I'm saying. Ellipses should be used to indicate omitted words in a quote, not to give the appearance of an unfinished thought or playful musing, which is what I think he's doing. Either way, it's getting on my nerves.

However, I've decided to overlook his flagrant misuse of ellipses because I'm open-minded. Just kidding. I'm overlooking it because he had a nice smile and a cool job so this ellipses issue is going to have to take the grammatical backseat for now. Congrats on your victory, duder.

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Happy Thanksgiving And All That

I'm thankful for dudes who get nervous when they ask for my phone number and I'm thankful for guys who tell me that they like the way my perfume smells. Now, give me some turkey.

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Things In His House That Make Me Sad: His Ex-Girlfriend's Tampons That Are Still In His Closet

Pic taken from TamponCrafts.com

From Erin, who doesn't need to see the tampons from girlfriends past.

I'm extremely pleased that he doesn't get that icky feeling when the words "tampon" or "cramps" are introduced into our dinner conversation. Maybe he grew up with cool sisters or has a politically active mother or maybe he read the Feminine Mystique once in college. However, he crossed the line from an being an open-minded gentlemen to a slightly-odd punk when I found an old box of tampons in his junk drawer. They were nestled in amongst his scotch tape and dental floss. Great.

Your ex-girlfriend is gone, buddy, and so is her Aunt Flow. He either doesn't do much spring cleaning, or he is convinced that if the funsticks stay, she'll somehow come back, retrieve them, and give him another shot. Either that or he is trying to send a message to any woman who enters his bedroom: this is a no-babymaking lair.

I do him the courtesy of not wearing my ex-boyfriends' t-shirts when he's around, I would think that courtesy would extend both ways.

It's funny; this happened to me once. I found a crusty, corroded box of Tampax waaaay in the back of my dude's bathroom closet. I fished 'em out and said something like, "You planning on making some vampire tea later?" He said, "Ew, gross. Those are like, a million years old. Toss that shit away." So I did, with relish. Ya hear me? WITH RELISH!

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Bonerkiller: Guys Who Give A Fuck About Four Loko Being Banned

Just between us, I'm not entirely sure what Four Loko is, but I can tell already that I'll hate guys who are stockpiling it in case it gets banned. Does anyone know what this shit is? I don't feel like looking it up and I'm pretty sure if I did, it wouldn't change my opinion about guys who care about it. Is it like an alcoholic energy drink? Like, a Red Bull with booze or something? BFD.

In my head, I'll bet it tastes like some kind of fruity Sparks-esque concoction, but again I'm not sure. I definitely know what a Smirnoff Ice is and I hated guys who went bonkers over the whole Bros Icing Bros thing. I'm gonna assume that this colorful, obnoxious Four Loko bullshit is hitting the same demographic of party robot frat dorks. That's a safe assumption, right?

Don't tell me the flavors Four Loko comes in. I don't need to know. I'm telling you, it won't change my half-informed opinion about this matter. The one thing I'm certain about when it comes to Four Loko is that I don't care for guys who care about it. The end.

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Fuck You. That's The Best Winter Coat I've Ever Seen On A Guy

Fuck him in his fucking face because I have never seen a guy look so fucking handsome all bundled up in a winter coat before. He's hustling down the sidewalk like a warm pimp and I'm like, WHAT THE FUCK, HOMIE? Is he Captain Winter? Because this is an outfit Captain Winter would totally wear.

The brass buttons and upturned wool collar are making winter seem like a good idea and I HATE winter so I hate him for making it look good. Did he pluck the coat from Inspector Javert's wardrobe? Fuck, he's the one that should be arrested for looking so goddam bangabale in a black winter coat. I wanna have his baby (after I bite him in the taint).

Plus, his scarf is a fucking perfect red plaid which makes me want to roundhouse kick him in the testes satchel. It doesn't help matters that his black Beatle boots came to the party and are the perfect ending to his winter coat sundae. I wanna pop that winter coat off him and give him a once-over with my tongue. Fuuuuuuck!

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Pics and Vids: Fuck It. It's Friday And This Is Cute

By Gemma Correll

1 comments

I Love Love Love Guys Who Plant Gardens

When he asked if I wanted to see his garden, I thought it was just a ploy to get me to go back to his house. I expected to find a few ratty, dehydrated plants in crummy, cracked pots. So, imagine my surprise when I stepped into his backyard and saw several patches of herbs growing all over the place. 

He proudly pointed out his plants: basil, oregano, cilantro, rosemary, thyme, and the nub of a tomato plant. He excitedly talked about what he wants to grow next year, like some chili peppers and zucchinis. This fella's got a green thumb! Who knew?

The cutest part was how organized his garden was; little markers in the ground told me which herbs were which. The second cutest part was when he knelt down on his knee and tenderly touched a budding mint leaf, saying, "This little guy is gonna be ten times as big next time you see him." He clearly put a lot of love into this.

I gotta say, it was pretty adorable that he cared about his garden so much. He still put the moves on me, but who doesn't want to be kissed in a garden? That's some fairytale shit right there.

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Pics and Vids: How to Lose A Guy In Ten Seconds

This is hilarious.

Aaaaaaaaand, THAT'S how you lose a guy in ten seconds.

via Boobs Radley

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Tonight We're Gonna Rock You Tonight!

Tonight, Jenna and I will be taking over Rocktits!. Behold: ROCKTITTEN! It's all going down at the POPE in South Philly. Look out, because engines WILL be revved.

This radical pic was taken by Scott Pommier for Gnarlitude

Hope to see you there!

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I Love Love Love Guys In Plaid Shirts

Best look on a guy EVER. I wanna pull the shirt to the side and kiss his collarbone. I wanna pop off those buttons with my teeth. I wanna lick maple syrup off his chest. I wanna kick my high heel into a fishtank. I wanna spill red wine on my white shirt. I wanna do a split on a king sized bed. And, I wanna crawl through a hallway with feathers in my hair. Two thumbs way the fuck up for this one.

[Ed. note - Half of this post was inspired by Billy Idol's "Cradle of Love" video.]

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Things I'm Terrible At: Keeping Movie Promises

"You've already seen the new Jackass movie? I thought you said that you'd see it with me. What the hell?"

Spoiler alert: I'm gonna forget that I promised to see the movie with him. I'm like a deadbeat dad about it. Honestly, as soon as I promised to see a movie with him, I immediately forgot. The exact second the words left my mouth, they also left my brain.

When I said, "We should see that movie together," it was more of a suggestion than definite plans etched in stone. Dude, I can't be bothered to keep that kind of shit straight! It's just a movie! Get over it.

Of course when I tell him that I already saw the movie last week, he'll frown and cross his arms, acting like I forgot to pick him up from his Little League game. Sorry to break your heart, bud, but it's not the end of the world that I didn't sit next to you for two hours and watch a shitty movie that will be on Pay-Per-View in like, two weeks. Don't pout. Don't get mad. FUCK. I hate when he gets mad at me about this.

If it's any consolation, I have no qualms about seeing movies twice in a theater but mostly likely, that won't make it better. He'll still get bitchy that I'm not a film virgin. 

And, usually, this comes up with the most braindead movies to watch, like a Will Ferrell jawn or some shit. It'll be on DVD in three months! What's the big deal? I break movie promises ALL THE TIME! That's just how I roll. Don't hate me!

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Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Dude, Quit Grossing Me Out

From Emily, who wishes guys would just shut their piehole when they divulge icky stories right off the bat.

Recently, I've been running into a recurring problem: Within minutes of meeting me, men start discussing the scatological.

Now, to be fair, the guys who do this are in always in the medical profession. Yes, being a doctor/physical therapist/nurse/whatever is impressive. He's--miracle of miracles--gainfully employed. He will have to TRY to fuck this up. So, when he brings up something disgusting, I die inside. Dude, we just met. I don't want to hear about anyone's body fluids when the goal is to exchange some of our own.

The other day, I was trying to get some work done at a cafe. I had my nose planted in my textbook when this attractive man asked if the seat next to me was taken. "Hell no, it is all yours," I said. Then he pulled out some crazy medical textbook. Oh, lord. We started chatting and then we got to the topic of his residency. He's on the OB/GYN rotation and he said that he hated it. Ok, that's fair. But then I made the stupid mistake of asking why. He answered that he doesn't like dealing with discharge all day. "Every woman comes in with some funky discharge. it just gets old." GROSS!

And, the other night I was hanging out with friends. I saw a hot guy across the bar and did the whole smile/look away/smile look away thing until he came over to introduce himself. We started talking about what he does for a living and he told me that he's a physical therapist. Nice, he's employed. Beautiful. Then he started bitching about his patients because they, "always shit themselves." He proceeded to explain how that sort of situation is handled. I tried not to puke my expensive beer onto his shoes.

So that is my issue: cute men who kill the very real chance they had with me by talking about the grossest things ever.

Yuck would be the understatement of the year here. I feel like I need to squirt Purell on my brain after reading that entry. Anything else you wanna rant about? Tell me at hi@shmittenkitten.com.

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Bonerkiller: His Seasonally Inappropriate Clothing

I really wish that there was a law addressing his flagrant garment abuse. You'd think that figuring out which clothes to wear would be a straightforward process, but he looks like he rolled around in a dirty laundry pile from six months ago and tossed on the first dozen items he touched. It's clothing anarchy! There are rules, my dear.

• Don't wear anything made of wool in summer
• Don't wear shorts in winter if we can see our breath outside
• Don't wear a winter coat in spring

Keep it straight! If he breaks any of these sensible rules, I'll badger him about his stupid outfit the whole date. "Aren't you cold? It's freezing outside. Shorts? In this weather? Really? You're serious about this?"

It's not even like he's on his own with this: look around at other people on the street and see what the general public has deemed appropriate for that day. If they're wearing sweaters, don't whip out a tank top. If everyone's wearing t-shirts, don't wear a fucking scarf.

The absolute worst for me is if a guy is overdressed for the weather. I hate staring at his bulky parka when it's 70 degrees outside. I wanna strip it off him and leave the coat on the street as a fluffy reminder of my zero tolerance policy for seasonally inappropriate dressers.

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Behold: ROCKTITTEN!

Shmitten Kitten, the world's best blog about dating for people who probably wouldn't ever read a blog about dating, and Rocktits!, the world's best weekly rock 'n' roll party night, are having a baby and she has a need for speed. Behold: ROCKTITTEN! It's all going down next Wednesday, Nov. 17th at the POPE in South Philly.

This radical pic was taken by Scott Pommier for Gnarlitude

Shit's gonna get real VERY QUICK. Vroom vroom, boys.

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Things In His House That Make Me Sad: His Scratchy, Low-Quality Ikea Comforter

Great Scott, that's a shitty comforter!

To paraphrase the Aaron Nevile and Linda Rondstadt powerballad, I don't know much, but I know this shitty comforter. This bright color pattern, this cheap feel, this thin fabric: it's from Ikea, isn't it? IT IS. I knew it. I fucking called it.

For the record, my comforter is fluffy and light, like Doctor Emmett Brown's hair. It's a neutral color because, unlike this guy who invited me over, I don't need orange rectangles and burnt sienna ovals on my bedding. He's a design nerd, I get it. His bed doesn't have to rub it in my face every time I peek inside his room.

Since he's had the thing since freshman year, it's dotted with cigarette burns from almost a decade of late night gab fests with a parade of ex-girlfriends. It feels like I'm brushing up against a hobo's crusty nostril every time one of those burns scratch my skin. 

I'm not sure if they pass these shoddy bedspreads out to guys at their art school graduation or what, but they're as omnipresent in dudes' rooms as harsh overhead lighting. They go hand-in-hand, like an unpleasant peanut butter cup. Not to be dramatic, but the one-two punch of a shitty Ikea bedspread and crummy lighting is my own personal version of Guantanamo Bay. After five minutes, I'm heavily sighing as I keep a tally in chalk on his wall of how long I've been stuck in his room. And, that just makes me sad.

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Lurkers Will Nod Their Heads Knowingly At This

via Le Love. Thanks, Jenna!

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Duuuuuude

Shlooby Kitten knows.

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Who Else Thinks That The Huge Tattoo On His Back Looks Stupid? Raise Your Hand

Boom. It's a consensus. Sorry, buddy.

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Things In His House That Make Me Glad: His Fancy Cheeses

From Erin, who would like more cheese, please.

Yes, please!

When I was in college, nothing would have turned me on more than the out-of-work artist. Both his mommy-issue paintings leaning languidly up against the wall of his shitty loft and an off-hand mention that his semi-broken up band once opened for Snow Patrol would have me staying the night. But since I'm only a stone's throw away from the big 2-5, I try to be a little more particular with the company I keep.

HOWEVER, if I were to now find myself in that loft, I may be able to overlook the broken keyboard, the empty, cracked CD jewel cases littering the floor, and the ratty dog who hasn't been walked in a week once he starts speaking in cheese.

Whisper those sweet nothings of Gruyere and Camembert and I'm yours. Never mind his shitty zine publication; he is Baudelaire, he is Cocteau. His collection of fromage is what the Louvre's collection is to art. When he whips out the Whole Foods crackers and spreads some Port Wine or Boursin with his Sur Le Table knife on those suckers, I can pretend that his art collective is really meeting with Dia next week, or month. Whatever.

I don't even mind if he's baked, as long as the Brie is too. And I can ignore the random dude sleeping on his La-Z-Boy if the Pont-l'Évêque is paired with a nice, deep Bordeaux from the Trader Joe's Wine Shop his brother works at.

Honestly, his Bushwick loft may be Kraft, but we might as well be in Montmarte with the size of his Port Salut.

Yum a-freakin' LUM. This all sounds spectacular. It's a known fact that girls love an array of fancy cheeses; it's basically female crack.

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Bonerkiller: Leftover Refusers

I'll take it all...TO GO!

I'm not talking about sloppy seconds here. I'm talking about his downright refusal to take home leftover food from our meal.

We're out to a fun new restaurant on a super last minute date. The spontaneity of it all is romantic, but the thing is, I just stuffed a massive burrito in my face about an hour ago and planned to sit at home for the rest of the night recovering from my food coma by catching up on a few episodes of "Weeds," so I'm not hungry. Instead of saying no to the date, I happily agreed to meet up for some grub.

After a few bites, I forfeited. "I'll just take the rest home," I said.

His face scrunched up with disdain. "Oh, I don't DO leftovers. Here, let me help you eat it."

"No, it's cool! The waitress won't mind!" I said as I called her over to the table.

"I really don't like the idea of taking leftovers home," he explained. "It's prepared the way the chef wants it. If you reheat it it won't be the same. It's...it's gross."

It's friggin pasta, not fish or something that wouldn't keep, so I shrugged it off and grabbed my neatly wrapped to-go bag. I'm the one who has to eat it later, not him. But the rest of the night he kept staring at my bag sighing. He grunted with disapproval when I placed it on my lap during the car ride home. "I really wish you hadn't brought that to go," he complained.

What gives? Next time I'm going to over-order the shit outta the menu and get multiple to-go bags and parade down the street like Cher on a shopping spree just so I can smirk to myself when I reheat it for lunch for the next few days. Sheesh.

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Pics and Vids: Seriously?

This is his face when I tell him that I genuinely enjoy the Jackass movie franchise.

1 comments

I Love Love Love Her Cowgirl Boots

From Zack, who gets a kick out of her kicks.

I was in a small town in the middle of the state one evening. I'm honestly not even sure where this place was; God himself couldn't find this town. No stoplights, no stop signs, hell I'm not even sure this place has running water. My GPS thinks I'm in a field. All that's missing are a few tumbleweeds.

I found a restaurant that served food. Okay, so it was just a counter in the general store, but it sufficed. As I'm wolfing down a sandwich, I spied a lady walking in. Unlike the guy sitting next to me who is the spitting image of Cletus from The Simpsons, she had all her teeth, so I'm pretty sure she ain't from 'round here. But she wore cowboy boots. Soft brown leather, fringe, calf-length, nice stitching pattern with a pair of tight jeans tucked into them. Oh my. Cowgirl, you just made my night.

I may have been raised in the city, but I'm a country boy at heart. I have family that lives on a mountain right smack in the middle of the Appalachia region. My summers growing up consisted of visiting my redneck relatives: Square dances and flirting with Southern gals, so many oh-so-wonderful memories. Besides, cowgirl boots are just about the sexiest footwear I can think of.

Sure, she wasn't actually a cowgirl; she was from Boston and her accent was tragically missing a twang. But hey, slip on a pair of those boots, I'll grab my Stetson and we'll go play outlaw and tavern girl.

This is cute. I can appreciate a decent pair of cowboy boots, for sure. I also really like it when guys wear Beatle boots. It tickles my ear to hear him click-clacking on the kitchen tile looking for another beer in the fridge.

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Phrases We'd Like To Stab In The Face: "I Just Got Out Of A Relationship"

I will now illustrate how I feel about the phrase, "I just got out of a relationship" using images of the Kool-Aid Man.

"I just"--

Got a kitten? Got a new tattoo? Got a friend request from your 6th grade crush? Haha. 

"got out of"--

Got out of a speeding ticket? Got out of a tight pickle? Got out of a tight sweater? What? Tell me.

"a relationship."

Oh.

Stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Just run away from him as fast as you can, unless you like guys who have no idea what they want, what they're ready for, and/or how they feel about you. Then, by all means, stick around.

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I Am Submitting A Petition For My Ex To Get A Bad Haircut

Hey guys, will you sign this? It's a petition to force my ex to get a terrible haircut. I feel like if he had a fucked up 'do, it'd really help me get over him quicker. I'm almost there. I'm on the cusp of getting over him, but I feel that a bad haircut would totally decimate any lingering attraction I have to him.

Maybe he could get an Ashley Shaeffer-esque coif. It'd look like a slice of angel cake was giving his head a blowjay. Gross, right? 

If he had a furry flattop like Simon Cowell, it'd look like an angry badger was taking a dump on his skull. Ewwww.

Or, if he looked like the crazy evangelical guy in Contact, I'm sure I'd never daydream about smelling his neck again. If anything, I'd want a restraining order! He looks like Nelson's understudy. No thank you.

If I forced his barber to make his hair look like an onion loaf made out of cotton candy, I could finally tell him that he's fired from being in my brain.

 
See? A stupid haircut could really make all the difference here. It's up to you guys to make this happen.

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