Philly, Come Over Here For A Second: We Are Having A Dance Party Tomorrow Night

As someone who honestly doesn't give a fuck about Valentine's Day this year, I'm pretty much jumping up and down every second because I am so excited for this party. People ask me, "Anna, why throw a Valentine's Day party? Why now? Why you?"

Once I push the mic out of my face, I tell them that YES, we certainly need more parties because I've already hooked up with everyone at the other parties around town. I need a NEW party. One with radical people who are quick to give me high-fives and buy me Kenzingers with no expectation of conversation afterwards, and the ability to spell my name correctly in their cell phones after I slur my number into their ear. Nay, I DEMAND it!

Hence, our party was born. I'll be deejaying along with my two homies and we'll be playing the music that we've always wanted to hear when we go out dancing; Creed, Staind, Nickelback and Limp Bizkit.

Just kidding.

Seriously, I'm going to play music that will flip your lid. As a bonus, I'm going to play the two songs that I would dance to if I ever entered an amateur stripping contest like Liv Tyler did in that Aerosmith video (btw, how creepy was that? That's her DAD's band!) What two songs? Well, you'll just have to show up to find out!

Ugh, I'm terrible with secrets. Fuck it. They're "Hot for Teacher" and "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Well, the amateur stripping cat is out of the amateur stripping bag, I guess. I will play these songs, as well as dozens of other ones that you will love.

We will also have special presents for everyone that comes to thank them for being the best readers/ dancers/ radical humans on the planet. As always, our party is free and everyone is invited. Facebook info is here.

One more thing: after you shake the glitter from your clothes and wiped the sweat off your face, WhirtWhirl.com is the official place we've designated to post any missed connections from the party. Act like you know!

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Let's Have A Serious Chat About Male Tushies And What We Can Do To Get Them To Our Mix Tape Speed Dating Parties

After a little break, we've been working together to set up some more mix tape speed dating parties in the coming months. There still seems to be interest in having them so we are certainly happy to throw them. However, most of the interest seems to be coming from our lady readers. Beautiful, smart, amazing lady readers, to be more specific.

Our question: what can we do to attract more guys to this event? Is there a certain kind of music we should play that you'd like to hear? Are Thursday nights not a good time for you to attend? Is there a better time we should throw the party? Are you just nervous about the entire endeavor? What can we do to get your tushies in those seats? Should we refrain from ever saying the word "tushies" to you from now on? Consider it done!

Leave your ideas in the comments or just email me directly at anna@shmittenkitten.com. I know that our parties have been successful in the past and have created a lot of love around the city, so I want to make it a great time for everyone involved. Thanks!

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Reader Submission: I Wish They All Could Be Philadelphia Girls

Imagine my surprise when I saw this love letter to Philly girls pop up in our inbox this morning! It caught us off-guard, like a marriage proposal from a high school boyfriend we haven't thought about in six years. He asked that we call him The Eternal Summer of Hobeaux, which we will. So, ESH, let the love lettering begin:

I miss Northern girls in large coats. I miss seeing them on the snow-covered streets of Center City when it's 10 degrees out--and that's before factoring the windchill in. Watching you all bundled up in a flurry of scarves and gloves makes me understand how Dostoevsky became mentally unstable. I miss Northern girls who play lacrosse--the worst sport in the world--and major in subjects like economics, political science or journalism.

I live in the South now. It's not like I particularly cared about Northern girls before. My level of women-caring was pretty much equal to Axl's desire to release a new album between 1993 and 2008. Then, I moved to the South, and Axl released the--unsurprisingly--underwhelming "Chinese Democracy." I soon realized that even though I've never cared about girls one way or the other (it's not that I'm gay, rather that I think of girls kind of like how I think of The Yeah Yeah Yeah's, i.e. an inevitability one encounters but doesn't actively care about), I miss ones from above the Mason-Dixon Line.

Now, I know what you're gonna say. "There are plenty of girls down there from above the Mason-Dixon. In fact, I'm pretty sure 1/4 of New Orleans are girls from the North who never moved home after they graduated from Tulane." Well yes, that's true. But they don't count. Northern girls are ambitious. They want to be successful. They dream of one day having a husband whose balls they own and they say "OMG," "Fabulous." And, for the record, it's hot as shit.

But the Northern girls down here? They all majored in liberal arts--which is a total fraud--since any self-respecting journalism, econ or poly sci major has read 3/4 of the assigned books, understood them better and probably hated half the ones they were supposed to "love." They debate things like whether or not they are being good people. They dance around and smoke Camel Lights when they're out at a bar. Which would be great, except well, they're not Northern girls.

They laugh. A lot. About anything. I don't hate laughter or dancing, but when someone laughs--especially if it's a female--it better be at a joke I made. See, the girls down here are the girls a guy pursues when he "wants to find himself" but realizes that ultimately, he's a moron.

So please, Philly girls, I'm pleading with you. Come down here! Bring your confidence. Bring your swagger. Bring your desire to be my boss and then use your powerful position to crush me. There are guys down here who worship what you are: smart, funny, sexy career-women who can drink Bourbon and talk about Hunter S. Thompson whilst wearing heels and a cocktail dress. Or maybe it's just me, the ultimate Yankee in the heart of the South. I miss ya'll.

Aaaand, now we know what exactly those brooding types at the corner cafe have been scribbling in their journals: love letters to us! There's so much love in here that they should print this out and display it in Love Park. Fellas, what else do you appreciate about Philly girls? Our ability to jam on water ice? How we can name at least three Phillies players if you ask us? How cute we look when we chant E-A-G-L-E-S? Let us know!

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You're Looking Good, Philly!

Hey, Philly. Come over here for a second. We want to talk to you.

We've been walking around the past few days and we gotta say, you're looking damn good. We're not sure if you did something new with your hair or if you're wearing a new outfit, but we've been flippin' our shades all Dwayne Wayne-style at you. We're doin' more double takes than William Zabka. Don't blush; we're totally serious!

Yesterday, we saw you revving your motorcycle and when you brushed your hair out of your eyes, our hearts fluttered. We thought about asking if you'd give us a ride around the block as an excuse to twist our arms around your waist and give a little squeeze. We bet your hair smells earthy, like moss. But, we'll never know: we were too shy so we kept walking. We looked back over our shoulder to get one last glimpse of you but, by then, you'd already sped away.

Today we saw you with your dog in the park and we considered cold steppin'. Unfortunately, we were too flustered. I mean, what would we say? "Hi! My name is Shmitten Kitten. What's yours?" Or maybe, "What kind of dog is that? I think my sister has the same one. We're Shmitten Kitten. What's your name?" Oh God, that sounds stupid, right? I don't know. We'll just continue to admire you from afar. Besides, you probably have a girlfriend and she's probably a Tumblr. *kick at the dirt, cross arms and frown*

Philly, we just wanted you to know that we noticed you. Maybe we'll work up the courage to say "hi" next time. We'll keep an emergency flask of Jack Daniels on our person at all times, should such an occasion arise. You can't ever be too prepared.

*In case you noticed us too, we'll be checking the Missed Connections while we are on our lunch break. We can see it already: "You: A blog about dating. Me: The hot City of Brotherly Love on the bike. Us: Drinks?"

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