Wassup? Long Time No Talk

Hello! *waves*

Anna here. Since we last talked, a lot has changed.

The first major thing is I'm no longer on the dating scene. I've been rollin' with the same fella for almost four years and we live together in South Philly with our jalapeño plant, Boomer.

Look how goddamn cute we are
(even though my eyes look super beady for some reason)

I still write a ton. Aside from a steady gig writing about food and culture for The Kitchn, I've penned pieces for The Washington Post, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Refinery 29 and more. I also send out a newsletter where I talk about things I adore (TV shows, apps, articles, and makeup) and things I want to kick in the dick (Ben Affleck's forehead, seasonal allergies, Farrah Abraham's entire existence).

Thanks for reading Shmitten Kitten even though it's no longer active. I hope you get some chuckles looking over these posts.

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Where Have All My Guy Friends Gone?

As I'm cruising into my mid-thirties, certain patterns have shifted. For instance, I no longer spend my Saturday nights sweating off my eyeliner dancing with my best friends in a packed club. I've basically turned into a nervous lizard because I can’t eat heavy meals after 8pm. And I don’t stalk my exes on Facebook anymore. There's no point. They're all puffy, balding and look well-fed and happy so what used to feel like a forbidden thrill now feels as exciting as watching a rerun of "Parks & Recreation" while I'm cooking dinner.

But my least favorite trend about growing older is that it is no longer cool for me to hang out with my guy friends one-on-one if they are in a serious relationship. If they have a girlfriend, I'm out. The other stuff I expected. But this, this took me by sad surprise.

Apparently, I missed that entry in my Encyclopedia Britannica

Like a lot of girls, I had a steady stream of guy friends in my twenties. We'd grab beers and gab about well, everything. Work, crazy dates, wild hookups, drama with friends--we'd talk about it all. I've never had brothers, so this is what I imagine it'd feel like. I loved my guy friends.

But as they've each entered long-term relationships, our solo hang time has dwindled rapidly. It's almost like our friendship can't exist if he's close with another woman. It sucks. Over the past few years, my band of brothers has steadily dissolved. Our friendships, which used to be so casual and fun, are pushed aside. It sucks extra hard because I know it isn't this way for his male friends.

"Let's grab a drink, old buddy!" "I can't. I have a girlfriend now."

Now our interactions are limited to hearting Instagrams of his cat and liking his Facebook post about how there's a Game of Thrones beer. That's it. That's what years of friendship has boiled down to. It's pathetic.

Don't get me wrong. I understand why it's happening. I know that kickin' it with women who aren't his girlfriend is not an acceptable way to spend his spare time once he reaches a certain age. And I know that a lot of girlfriends can be threatened by the bond we share. And that sucks. It feels like a wall has been erected, slicing me out of his inner circle. I'm now a relic of his single life, one that doesn't translate to his new reality.

So, yeah, I get it. But, I miss my guy friends. I miss the make-believe family I cobbled together with these loose sibling bonds, which made me feel so rich but now feel hollow.

I'm so emotional about this!!!!! Scott Stapp knows what I'm talking about!

I never thought I'd say this, but I guess having best dude friends is something I need to relegate to my twenties, like rockin' short skirts and wearing pigtails in public. As much as it stings, I've learned to let go. But I mourn the loss in little ways. I'll hover over his name on my phone, debating whether I should try to arrange plans to grab a drink like the old times, but I know our moment has passed. I respect his decision.

Is this just me or have you experienced the same thing? Do certain friendships have a shelf life because your buddy is the opposite sex? Tell me in the comments.

Get The Memo: I Keep My Relationship Offline

Hey guys!

I wrote an essay for the Washington Post about why I keep my relationship offline. In doing research for the piece, I found out that if you post too much about your significant other, people will think you suck. That totally makes sense which is why I don't do it!

Read the article here and let me know what you think. Do you post pics with your boo with two middle fingers in the air not giving a fuck, or do you keep it close to your chest and off your newsfeed? Let me know in the comments.

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I Have A Newsletter, Yo!

Me, basically

Hey guys! I haven't posted on here in a while, as I've been too busy slurping ice coffee now that the weather is above 75 degrees. 

As a head's up, I started a weekly newsletter as a fun way to talk about whatever I'm obsessed with. Things I love. Things I wish I could set on fire. Movies, TV shows, beauty products, phone apps, maxi dresses; they're all fair game. You can read the first missive here and you can sign up to receive updates delivered to your inbox below.

Enter your email address, darlin'


powered by TinyLetter

And, I'm still writing a weekly advice column for the Frisky called "Make It Stop!" where I nip some shit in the bud. If you have any questions you want me to answer, email 'em to me at anna@shmittenkitten.com. I usually tweet out links when it's up, so keep an eye on my Twitterfeed for it.

Happy weekend, everyone!

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If You Wanna Be My Lover, You Gotta Get With My Guy Friends: The Three Rules of Dude Besties

While the stomach may be the fabled way to a man’s heart, everyone knows that a bestie is (and always will be) the fast track to a woman’s weak, melting knees.

You know that awkward first group hang, during which a girl manically hawk-eyes all interaction between her new beau and her bestie? It’s a pass-fail exam. To quote from the lady-killin’ wise man himself (Will Smith), “A woman's best friend has to sign off on all big relationship decisions.” And if my best friend loves ya, our relationship will happily proceed.

(Need not apply)

That rule applies to dude besties, too. Even straight ones. And you're gonna need to accept and respect his valued place in my life.

My dude bestie and I do everything best friends are supposed to do. I show up at his house uninvited. I drink beer with him. We play video games. I crush him in Mario Kart. We go out on weekends. We fall asleep in the living room watching The Office and we keep track of one another’s best jokes, quotes and misfires.

If opposites attract in relationships, weirdness unites in friends. My bestie and I are bonded for life by iron steel welded from too much cheap beer, shoving matches and one too many misadventures. His stamp of approval is not optional.

So, there are several examinations to undergo when a new guy I'm dating meets my dude bestie. He has to meet all Three Holy Tolerances:

1. Tolerant of (excessive) awkward touching.
Dude besties are really good at acting like big brothers. That means you will be witness to a lot of bizarre face touching and noogies. These horrifying caresses have one purpose: to annoy the $#^% out of me. Not you.

2. Tolerant of (excessive) bickering.
See aforementioned bestie forte.

3. Tolerant of (excessive) reminiscing. 
My bestie and I are closing in on about 18 years of friendship. There is a deep and humiliating well of stories to tell you about. The more I like you, the more embarrassing and lengthy these stories will become.

The truth is that most guys aren't phased by dude besties. He's another guy to catch the game with on Sunday (when I’m visibly not paying attention) and that’s a win-win for everyone involved.

Besides, there are plenty of other advantages to your girl being best friends with a male. He's both my Dr. Phil and my Fox Mulder. He knows when guys I date are being shady or when I’m just being overly anxious. He tells me to calm down about texting guys exactly two days later or when to back off and give the guy some space. He helps you.

But god help you if the words “jealous” and my bestie’s name ever wind up in the same sentence.

That's grounds for excommunication. 

I'm Leaving You And I'm Taking the Dive Bar With Me

I live in a city that’s all about its corner bars. I hang out with a lot of guys at corner bars. It’s what I like to do. Go on a date? Forget it. Throw this lady a beer and shot and we can bypass the rest of that pointless charade.

But when the dream is over, who takes the coveted favorite dive bar?

The answer is me.

I take the dive bar. The dive bar is mine.

I don’t mean to be selfish or immature but like all semi-shared assets in a fleeting romance, bars need to be split according to basic breakup etiquette. They know my name at the dive bar. They make my drinks the way I like them. This is where I go to dish juicy gossip over a cheap martini. I need that particular freedom of speech.

Just like toothbrushes, pets and spare keys, custody should be agreed upon upfront. Really, you’re doing each other a favor by divvying up the bar scene. You can skip awkwardly running into one another on dates. You don’t have to make small talk or fruitlessly attempt to ignore one another. You can simply just go to different bars.

But how do you divvy up the rest of the bar scene?

1. Margarita bars go to the gal pal. 
That’s just, like, the rules of feminism. Margaritas bars are a place where females go to laugh about their sexual misadventures and make eyes at the buttoned up mistake at the end of the bar. (Really, what kind of guys are you meeting at a tiki bar?) It’s only right to award this place to the gals.

2. Corner bars are divided territorially.
Whoever lives closer, gets the dive. No one should have to walk more than three blocks to “their” corner bar. It’s called a corner bar because it’s on the corner. People who live on that block go there. End of story.

"I came here to murder you!"

3. Venues and party bars are neutral territory.
You both have friends and interests here. This one is Switzerland. You’re less likely to be forced to interact with one another here. The more crowded, the better, and the easier to duck out if need be.

4. Date bars and BYOBs are at your discretion.
Hit up the Italian joint at your own risk. While I always advise against double dipping at the olive oil bowl, it’s not totally unheard of for you to want to return to a special date spot. Just remember: you do not want to be stuck at the communal four top, together.

5. “Your” bar is your bar. 
If either of you introduced the other to a particularly great bar, it belongs to the founder. It’s only fair.

Respecting your Ex-SO’s bar scene is respecting their space. The bar is a place of reflection. This is what we mean when we say that we need to respect one another’s “boundaries.” Me? I just need some space. And that space is specifically located on a corner near my house.

And if he does trample all over my triple sec parade…

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Want to Become BFFs With Your Ex? READ THIS POST!

I wrote a piece for Thought Catalog about How to Become Best Friends with your ex in 9 Easy-ish Steps. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it shows.

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The Perks of Being in a Dry Spell

Real talk: I am absolutely wallowing in my dry spell.

My nails have been chipped to the point of no return. I bought more shirts covered in sequins than even I can stand and I recently got legitimately drunk in the bathtub. Like, “Friday night” drunk. I'm an animal!

You may say, “Don’t give in to spinsterhood!” but fear not, I know this is a temporary fix for a temporary problem. When you enter the honeymoon stage of loneliness, you tread a fine line. On one hand, it’s easy to enjoy the pleasure of your newfound freedom. And on the other hand, it’s also easy to slip into an unforgivable spiral of devouring self-help books and watching reality television in your granny panties. Don’t watch reality television in your granny panties.

For those of you who can keep your eye on the prize (ending the dry spell), here are a couple perks that you should definitely enjoy while it lasts:

1. Your diet goes out the window. I’m not just talking ice cream and Netflix when you’re “sad.” I mean deli sandwiches for lunch and Chinese food takeout for dinner every night. If you’re dating, you might even indulge in some pornographic grilled cheese to prove how down to earth you are to your new side beau. You’ll start your new diet tomorrow, right?

Wrong. The very idea of a diet during a dry spell is like when BuzzFeed editors reminisce about their mid-twenties. It’s funny to make lists about but unrealistic to attempt again.

2. Conversely, you might exercise more often to compensate for the $5 footlong-sized guilt hanging out in your stomach. With all of your new spare time, you might even call your slightly overbearing running friends and convince them that you’re really serious about putting in some distance this time (you’re not).

3. You can take care of your shit again. Knock off a few outstanding to-do list items. Crossing off those domestic pipe dreams is like opening presents on Christmas morning. I imagine that an angel gets its wings every time I actually fold my laundry or work on my resume. I'm on top of my errands for once

4. You can get back in touch with your favorite guilty pleasures. We all know a good man should indulge you in a "Hills" marathon from time to time but, realistically speaking, it’s a rare treat. Your dry spell is a good time to gorge on your favorite celebrity obsessions and start preparing yourself for the inevitable withdraw cycle that comes with your new couch buddy.

5. You stop looking for reasons to get out of hanging out with your friends and potential guys.
 

Since you’ve stopped worrying about striking out, you’re going to be a little more open to new experiences. For better or for worse, you can throw caution to the wind and stay for that nightcap. No one is waiting for you to get home, so why not? You may even tell that potential guy what you really think about his stance on Obamacare.

Knowing that dry spell perks are temporary (read: I stepped on the scale yesterday), I’d like to dedicate a moment of silence for these fleeting pleasures. You’ll have to wake up eventually; you’ll have to start running and you’ll have to stop calling everyone “betch.” But for now, enjoy the mirage.

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Cancel My Plans: I'm Obsessed With a New Dating App For Women Called Lulu

My best friend told me about Lulu yesterday and I haven't been able to pry my eyes away since I've downloaded it. Here's how it works: you grab the free app from the Apple store, sign in with your Facebook info and sit back and watch as your dude friends are anonymously rated for their dating behavior. It's hilarious. It's addictive. It's hilarictive!

Oooh, a logo that looks like a sugary cocktail. I'm in!

For the most part, I'd say that the anonymous reviews I've seen have been on-point. They call out the players, the party hounds, and the drunks. They also give tons of love to popular dudebros who've been on the scene since the '90s so they know everyone in town and they're basically like everyone's older brother. And the best part? Guys can't see the ratings on their profiles! It's for ladies' eyes (er, phone screens) only! Is he a cheater? Or a slob? Or a cool guy that'll cook you breakfast in the morning? This app will let you know.

So far my favorite hashtags to rate boys' best qualities are:

• #SexualPanther
• #DancesLikeMJ
• #DoesHisOwnLaundry
• #PerfectGrammar
• #Manscaped
• #CanBuildFires
• #WillSeeRomComs

And my favorite for his worst qualities:

• #FartMachine
• #GoneByMorning
• #TemperTantrums
• #World'sWorstMassages
• #ManChild
• #OwnsCrocs
• #CheaperThanABigMac
• #AirGuitarist

Do you use Lulu? What do you think of it? Tell me in the comments!

 *Please note: This is NOT a sponsored post. I wasn't paid for promoting this app in any way. I thought you guys would get a kick out of it and I hope you do.

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Laziest Online Dater Ever Seeks "Pretty, Thin" Woman To Review Profiles on His Behalf

Well, this is lovely. Only $100/week to scan through this douchebag's matches. What a fantastic opportunity for an aspiring writer/editor who is "pretty, thin, educated and in her 20s or 30s." *inserts rolling of eyes*

Click on the image to make it bigger

Maybe he'll outsource his shitty, non-committal texts too. Pretty, thin writers and editors can only hope!

via Alan Hanson

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Get Out of My Face, Movie Dates as a First Date

From Sam, the kind of guy who'd much rather make first-date nervous small talk when apps and zerts are involved:

I’m not exactly sure how going to the movies became first-date fodder. Third date? Sure. Couple in a committed relationship? Great. I would be happy to be the shoulder to cry on when she finds out Mufasa isn’t just taking a post-stampede snooze in The Lion King. I’d even be willing to sit through the adventures of Sarah Jessica Parker and her non-equine counterparts traveling the world in search of the perfect pair of shoes.  

Just not on the first date.   

Getting to know someone is what a first date is all about. Not just the typical job/family/future questions, either. I need to know that she will be there with a pity laugh when I make a bad joke. I need to be sure that her reaction to seeing my tattoos isn’t, “I’m surprised you have a job.” Perhaps most importantly, I need to gauge her reaction to my borderline obsession with my awesome cat. None of these things are possible if we are both watching Angelina Jolie make her male co-star uncomfortable with a post-coital one-liner.  

If I were writing this post as a freshman in high school, I might have a different perspective. After all, going to the movies is one of the only times two awkward teenagers can swap saliva without worrying about mom coming around the corner. As an adult with a readily accessible private place for shenanigans, I’d much rather pass on a first date at the movies in favor of something that would allow my companion and me to determine if we are, in fact, the same kind of crazy.

You can't see me, but I just initiated a slow-clap while nodding my head in agreement.

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Picnic Dates, Fuck Yeah!

By Kelly, who loves picnic dates more than Dance Moms love bickering:

Spring has finally sprung! Although there are many things I enjoy about the onset of this season (daffodils, baseball, stuffing myself with Easter candy), my number one favorite thing about warm weather is the return of the picnic date.

This cute as hell

If you’ve never been on a picnic date, you’ve been robbed, my friend. A picnic date is one of the most romantic, yet simplest date ideas that exist. Done right, a picnic date can make you feel like you live in a Jane Austen novel, only way better because you don’t have to wear a corset or marry a guy for his money. Here are my five steps to the perfect picnic date:

1. Find a big ass blanket that you don’t mind getting dirty to be your picnic blanket. Offer to carry it even though you know your date will end up carrying it, because men have this thing about always carrying stuff (not that I’m complaining). Also bring a Frisbee and whatever books you and he are reading at the moment. 


2. Walk to the local market to pick out what you want to eat for lunch. Society dictates that you MUST buy a baguette, because what kind of picnic would it be without a baguette? You also need to buy the most expensive type of brie, because if you’re going to blow a week’s worth of saturated fat on one item of food, it had better be the tastiest you can get. 


3. Find a local park that isn’t overrun by children. Spread out your blanket and get to noshing. Don’t feed each other, because we’re trying to be romantic here, not act like we’re toddlers. 


4. When you’re done with eating, there is no limit to what to do next. Throw a Frisbee? Kick a ball around? Swing on the swings? The warm weather will make you giddy enough to actually enjoy exercise. (Strange concept, I know!) 


5. When you’re finally tuckered out from all of your physical activity, pull out your books and read together on your picnic blanket. Enjoy your break from the computer/cell phone/TV screen. Head home when both of you reach a lull in your books’ plotlines. 

And there you have it: the perfect mix of vitamin D, endorphins, and oozy French cheese to put the romance back into your relationship, or at least back into the idea of spending time outside. 

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Get Excited: Shmitten Kitten is Looking for New Writers!

Hey homies. As you may have noticed, I haven't been writing as much on this site. I've been focusing on nailing down a concept for my next book, working on some other freelance projects, and playing classical music for my cat Danny because it makes him look especially peaceful when he naps. I secretly hope it will make him more intelligent because I feel like listening to classical music helps babies' brains develop so maybe it will help him? In short: science.

He's probably dreaming about string theory or how to cure cancer

Longtime readers will remember my other writers. Phil and Lauren married EACH OTHER so they had to move on and Lora moved up to Maine to be with her dude. I'm looking around at my contributors and I'm like this:

So, I'm looking for more writers. Guys or girls. Gay or straight. "Dr. Who" fans or "Sherlock" diehards. Whatever. Get in touch. As long as you're funny and have something to either complain or rave about related to dating, I'm interested in hearing from you.

Send an email to anna @ shmittenkitten.com and tell me your three favorite things dudes or chicks do and three things you'd flip out if he or she did.

Examples: 

• I love when he doesn't mind walking to the restaurant across town if it's nice out
• I love when he introduces me to his co-workers
• I love when busts out a great Larry David impression out of nowhere

Conversely, I hate it when:

• He uses a cartoon image as his Twitter icon
• He refuses to take off his heavy coat once we get indoors
• He Instagrams mundane shit like a wet leaf on a sidewalk or a blurry photo taken at a concert

If I'm amused by anything you write and I haven't already covered it on the site yet, I'll give you a go ahead to take a crack at it. I can't wait to see what you come up with! *does little dance in my seat*

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How It Feels When He Leaves His Phone At Home During Our Date

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Guest Post: 5 Things I Wish My Crushes Would Stop Posting on Facebook

I'm lucky to have the lovely Jo Pincushion pen her very first Shmitten Kitten post for us today. She helms the popular all-female podcast, The Pincushion, (here's the episode I was on!) and writes for a bunch of blogs around town. And she had it up to HERE *holds hand above head* with the dumb shit her crushes post. Take it away, Jo.

Oh Facebook, what would we do without you? How would we know what underground bar with overpriced drinks is hosting which trendy event, or when to be jealous of our former high school classmates and when to hide their updates from our feed altogether? Yes Facebook, you serve many purposes, but there is only one that I find particularly entertaining: flirting with dudes. I have to say, it streamlines the process when it comes to launching an amateur online investigation of your potential mate. But sometimes I see things on his page that I can’t unsee. Hey crushes, here are the five things I wish you would stop posting on Facebook.  

1. Your love of Harlem Shake videos. I get it. That meme is addictive, and you can’t wait to see which awkward group of white nerds creates one next, BUT STOP. Your Internet prowess used to give me a total lady boner, but once you posted The Simpson’s version with the status “OmgZ! ToTTally ThE BeST 1!” it deflated faster than Brett Michael's chances of winning "Celebrity Apprentice."   

2. Your extensive photoshoots. Look, I know you have photographer friends who “need to practice their art,” but seriously, step away from the "upload photo" button. Not because the pictures don’t look good, but because they look too good. I’m bound to find myself drunkenly ogling them at 2:30 in the morning wondering whether or not to sext you.  

3. Your enthusiasm over guns. Nothing says “I have really small dick” more to me than the constant stream of statuses praising the 2nd Amendment. If you need a semi-automatic weapon in order to feel like a man then I’ll probably end up nicknaming your penis “The Little Pistol That Couldn’t.”  

4. Your mustache. I don’t care how ironic it is, shave that fucker off. A mustache like that doesn’t belong on your beautiful face. Hurry! The longer that thing stays above your lip, the faster you slink into my “creepy uncle” psyche of sexual confusion.  

5. Your girlfriends. I mean seriously. Does she have to be in your profile picture EVERY TIME? Come on dude, stop being one half of that adorable couple I wish I was in. Oh, and why does she have to be so pretty and nice? Damn you both!

I'd like to add a few to this list. Please stop posting pictures where you're digging your toes into a beach; it's too Stella Got Her Groove Back-y for my tastes. And stop posting pictures where you're at a sporting event and everyone is leaning into the frame smiling with their arms around each other. I just think that's a goofy picture to post, especially if everyone in the photo is over 21. He should be enjoying his beer and yelling at the field, not flashing his pearly whites for a goddamn FB photo. Anything else you wish your crush would stop posting? Tell us in the comments.  

Be sure to check out Jo's site JoPincushion.com and follow her on Twitter @JoPincushion.

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Shmitten Kitten's Recipe for the Perfect First Date

This recipe for the perfect first date has been passed down from generation to generation in my family. Just kidding; I figured this out myself like, two years ago. The secret: it's all about navigating the brows. No, not your eyebrows, although proper grooming is always a plus. No, I'm talking about going from high-brow to super high-brow, to low-brow. You know, the brows.

A word of caution: it's best to do this date with someone you are excited about. Like, someone you'd consider shaving your legs and curling your eyelashes for. If this is a blind date, proceed with caution as results may vary.

Rule #1: Start high brow.

High brow time

Go somewhere with tablecloths and dim lighting. There should be more than one fork on the table. It shouldn't be too loud because you don't want to cup your hand over your ear and scream "What?" for the duration of the meal. Share your food. Split and app and two entrees but don't get dessert. It'll just weigh you down.

Rule #2: Go someplace else that's even nicer.

Go SUPER high brow for this leg of the date

Put your coats on and keep things moving. Pop into a hotel bar or a high-end speakeasy. Order fancy cocktails that cost around $10 each. Taste each other's drinks and coo over how great they are. Take in the ambiance. Tell each other funny stories while you wonder if he or she is a good cook. Only get one drink here because you can't get too crunk; you still have one more place to go.

Rule #3: At the end of the night, stop off somewhere super low-brow.

This is basically the absence of brow

This is when you guys can finally loosen up. Now you're full from dinner, buzzed from the fancy drinks, and pumped with enough liquid courage to hold hands or brush knees under the table. The bar you choose should have a jukebox and a lively clientele. Order a beer or another no-fuss cocktail.

This formula works because it shows that you can go from proper adult date-y places to crushing a PBR while The Stooges play in the background. That's an irresistible combination. I guarantee that if you follow this first date recipe, by the time you two part ways, you'll be counting down the minutes until you see each other again.

And for those of you who don't drink or the date's on a weekday so you can't fly your freak flag too high, you can still hang with this first date model. Instead of stopping off at a place to grab a fancy drink in the second phase, go somewhere for a super fancy dessert since you didn't order one at the first spot. Go to a place with a dedicated pastry chef and try some shit out. For the last stop, instead of flopping into a dive bar, stop into a speakeasy-ish place and order virgin cocktails. They make them fresh and they're fantastic. The key is to go to at least three places with different vibes and keep things moving. Good luck!

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Stop The Presses: I've Found My Valentine!

Sure, he rates a little high on the wacky meter, but I can tell that at the very least he'll entertain me for a night out, even if he does try to fistbump our waiter and insists on ordering a bunch of random appetizers instead of an entree which not only messes up the flow of our meal but crowds our table with a dozen plates all at once. Fuck it. I'm in! I'll even think it's semi-cute that I have to give him a ride to the restaurant because he doesn't know how to drive.

Leonard, will you do me the honor of being my Valentine?


h/t to Andy Ross for posting this gem on FB

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Attention Philly Ladynerds: This Could Be You

THIS IS AWESOME! It made my heart happy to see my book just chillin' there on her Kindle like that. Thanks, Whitney Bender, for such a kickass rendering and thanks for including me in the fun. Click below to see the full version.

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No Big Whoop, But I Was Quoted In the New York Times

The New York Times did a piece on whether courtship is dead.

The gist of the article is that technology and hookup culture has made everyone into lazy, hyper-casual, clueless idiot zombies. Here's my two cents:

Yes, I had to invoke "Dance Moms." What can I say? Abby Lee is a compelling figure.

I've already shared my thoughts on the dreaded "Is anything fun going on tonight?" and the "Hey" texts so it was fun to gab about it to the Gray Lady. What do you guys think? Is courtship truly dead? Tell me in the comments!

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Here are the 10 New Year's Resolutions that I Promise to Actually Keep

I jotted these babies down for Huffington Post Women. Click on the picture below to read 'em.

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