Quick Rant: Go Away, I'm Macking

I'm not sure if he has some kind of premium iPhone app for showing up when I'd least like to see him, but without fail, my ex crash lands on my fun planet at the worst times.

I'll be giggling up a storm with a dude I just met, and just when he takes my hand and asks me to dance, I'll see my ex's face staring at me through the crowd looking at me all wounded like I just ran over his cat.

Or, I'll be yelling my phone number in another guy's ear and I'll look up to see my ex leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, shaking his head. My new guy won't even notice it, but I'll feel his stony stare searing into my skull like a shitty laser.

Why does he always have to magically appear when I try to get my swerve on? Did he affix a tracking tag under my skin when I wasn't looking? Did Scotty beam him in to this club? Is he a bloodhound, following my scent around the city? (For what it's worth, I do smell pretty good.) Sometimes, this town just feels too small.

Quick Rant: Go Away, I'm Macking

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Quick Rant: Stop Fucking Up Your Phone, Dude

From our reader Michelle, who doesn't understand why he can't just be a responsible cell phone owner:

I was on Facebook recently and received an "I Lost My Phone, Send Me Your Numbers" message for the bajillionth time. I can't tell you how many guys I've dated who have had their phone lost, stolen, or destroyed while drunk.

My phone is my connection with the world; calls, text, email, and alarm clock are all possible thanks to my cell and without it I'm lonely and miserable. No matter how wasted I get, my phone cannot be pried from my clutches. I've never dropped it in a toilet, jumped into a pool with it in my pocket, or left it in a cab.

So when my former boyfriends give me the aforementioned excuses for not having a phone, I question not just their priorities, but their integrity as human beings because what kind of person can function without a phone? So after I roll my eyes, I spell out my phone number in text and in all CAPS so they know I'm mad. Ruuuuuude.

It's funny that you seem to take it as a personal insult if a guy loses his phone. I picture you making a face like Michelle Tanner, mouthing, "How rude!" when you get his lost phone notification.

I understand getting annoyed if he's always breaking shit like the Hulk, but guys do stupid shit all the time. Afterall, this is the demographic that has paid money to watch Transformers movies in the theater. I'd argue that this is more of a lifestyle issue than a gender issue. I have a few wild child girlfriends who get new phones every season because they're constantly busting 'em up.

As anyone who's hung out with me for two seconds knows, I always keep my phone in my bra on vibrate. It's like incubating a baby chick: I keep it somewhere warm, soft, and safe. I always know where it is so I never miss a call. The only time things get dicey is if I forget it's there at the end of the night so when I whip off my bra, it can take a tumble to the floor. But, my bedroom is carpeted so no problems yet. *fingers crossed*

Quick Rant: Stop Fucking Up Your Phone, Dude

7 Comments

Quick Rant: Please Don't Ruin This Otherwise Smooth Financial Transaction By Hitting On Me

Hey, how YOU doin'?

For the past few months, I've enjoyed a friendly relationship with the coffee shop employee by my house. He looks like a shaggy version of Aladdin: thick black hair, beard stubble and big brown eyes. I really have no clue how old he is. Maybe he's in his mid-20s, if I had to guess. But, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that he has a kid that's a teenager. Who knows.

We have this thing where he says, "How are you?" Then I reply, "Great! How are you?" He counters with, "Good. How are you?" My smile evaporates then I say, slightly concerned, "We've already covered this, right?"

I swear, that happens every time I see him. He asks me how I'm doing TWICE. I can't tell if he's kidding or if he just loses track of our conversation easily. And, he's a low-talking mumbler so I can barely hear what else he says after our initial hellos. I just nod and smile at whatever he goes on about. I wait until he stops talking then say, "Have a great day!"

Well, yesterday he RUINED our schtick by deviating from the script and asking if I had a boyfriend. I wasn't sure what to say. I pretended I didn't hear him. So, he asked again. "Do you have a boyfriend?" (He must have a PhD in asking shit more than once.)

In a strange twist, I became the mumbler! I mumbled something about, "Who knows what I do?" Then I nervously laughed. It was a total non-answer to his very pointed question. I scooped up my coffee cup and told him to have a nice day.

Frankly, I wasn't interested in taking our customer/ coffee pourer relationship any further. I couldn't imagine going on a date with him. He'd just ask me how I was a dozen times then he'd mumble and then I'd nod, agreeing to God knows what. Maybe I'd agree that PCs are better than Macs. Maybe I'd agree to cancel my Netflix and start renting movies at Blockbuster. Maybe I'd accept a marriage proposal unwittingly! Who knows?

I liked how things were; I liked chatting with him for up to two minutes on a semi-weekly basis. That was our thing. UGH! Why'd he have to ruin it by putting me on the spot and asking about my personal life? I probably sound bitchy, but you girls out there can relate, right?

Quick Rant: Please Don't Ruin This Otherwise Smooth Financial Transaction By Hitting On Me

27 Comments

Quick Rant: Loud Snackers Must Die!

From our reader Clarissa who wants to watch loud snackers die a slow, tortured death (I assume, I didn't ask her or anything):

Have you ever encountered a loud midnight snacker? It's the worst. I had one and he woke me up two nights in a row with his frantic cereal eating. I don't understand. I just don't. At 3am I heard the kitchen cabinet clanging shut, spoons banging, cereal pouring into the bowl, and then my refrigerator door slamming shut. It sounds like children are trying to start a pot and pan band in my kitchen!

How can one man make that much noise while preparing a bowl of cereal for consumption? For the love of god, he is right next to the kitchen so couldn't he at east try to buffer the noise by shutting the door to my bedroom?

On the second night, he actually brought the cereal bowl into MY bed. I don't even do that and I'm in my bed 8-10 hours a night! I couldn't believe how this joker was eating food in my bed. Does he think I want to sleep in crumbs and soy milk? Arrrgghhhh!!!!

He has disrupted my beauty sleep with his midnight snacking as well as brought Raisin Bran into my bed at the ass crack of dawn. It's just gross. I have never heard anyone make some much noise while eating a bowl of cereal. There is a reason the Princess in the Princess and the Pea couldn't sleep: It was because food was in her bed.

You poor thing! This has never happened to me. Instead, I get guys who love to pour themselves a drink with my fancy vodka before we go to bed but then they pass out before they finish their night-cap so then I have to toss it out in the morning. It's not loud or disruptive, it's just annoying. BUT, it happens in/near my bed so I thought you could maybe relate? Maybe? Not really? Forget about it.

Anything gettin' your goat? Tell me at hi@shmittenkitten.com. Let's hear it.

Quick Rant: Loud Snackers Must Die!

1 comments

Quick Rant: Men's Summertime Fashion

I've decided not to go on any dates this summer. Why, you ask? Here you go: I don't know how to go on a date without looking like a complete idiot. When the hot humid months of summer arrive, I can't leave the house in the daytime without looking like a total fashion disaster.

In the winter months, I'm golden. I can whip together a classy jeans/jacket/scarf combo that will leave you thinking I fell right out of a photo spread on The Sartorialist. But once the weather forecast starts heading into the 80s, I'm done for.

I realize the catalogs you get in the mail show dudes looking oh-so-comfortable and classy wearing boat shoes and lounging on the decks of yachts, but those are male models. For the rest of us normal-looking dudes, we just look ridiculous.

You see, in the summer I have only four options:

• Sacrifice comfort for fashion and wear jeans and my normal clothes, which is doable during an evening date. However, if the sun is still out, you're going to be looking at one hot sweaty mess of a date. Gross. Nobody wants a sweaty date.
  
  
• Go for comfort and wear shorts and a t-shirt, which inevitably makes me look like a bearded 15-year-old skater kid version of myself.
  
  
• Try to class it up and wear shorts and a button-up or a polo, which makes me look like some weird fast-forward awkward dad version of myself.
  
  
• Go for total comfort and wear no pants at all. This is just...awkward.

As you can see, none of these options are appealing.

Then, of course, there's the issue of shorts. I never know what's "cool." Do I go above the knee or below the knee? Cargo or plain? Khaki or grey? IT'S ALL SO OVERWHELMING. Don't even get me started on socks.

So, basically, I'm going into hiding. If you need me, I'll be enjoying the cool hum of my apartment's air conditioner and wearing whatever I want. I'll see you when the leaves start changing color; I'll be the one wearing pants.

Quick Rant: Men's Summertime Fashion

21 Comments

Quick Rant: Please Don't Interrupt My Conversation

From our reader, Heather, who doesn't like to be interr--what's that over there?

Guys, this is Harry Potter's butt

So I'm sitting at a bar, having a beer and a heart-to-heart with my best girlfriend. I've noticed you, because you've been sitting directly behind my friend and staring at me conspicuously for the past thirty minutes. I've politely disregarded your passive-aggressive advances by refusing to maintain eye contact with you for more than a second, making it quite obvious that I am more interested in talking to my friend than flirting with you.

Therefore, I am not going to respond warmly when you suddenly interrupt my friend in the middle of her sentence with some stupid line like, "So, are you students?" and "What are you guys studying?"

If you had been studying--my body language, that is--or listening while you were staring at me like a sad, hungry puppy, you would have noticed that my friend and I were engaged in a meaningful and personal conversation. You may have also noticed that it mostly involved the subject of our current boyfriends, and how much we adore them.

In that case, we probably wouldn't have been interested in talking to you anyway. But, if you've learned anything from your mother, or your third-grade teacher, or even the friends that you came here with, it's just plain rude and inappropriate to butt into a conversation, unless you're planning on offering us another round of drinks, or dying to tell us how incredibly beautiful we are before you leave and go somewhere else. If you're not doing either of those things, then please, butt out.

This happens to me ALL THE TIME! I've learned to just say, "Excuse me, but I came here to talk with my friend. I'm not interested in talking with you. Sorry." Guys get SO FREAKED OUT when I call them out on it, but what can I say? I'm direct. It's funny to watch his face register that he's just been publicly shot down. Them's the breaks, buddy.

You can't see me, but I'm blowing at the tops of my fingertips like they're freshly fired guns. Now, I just pretended to put them in an imaginary holster at my hips. Now, I just winked. Now, I just said, "Mess with the best, die like the rest." Not out loud; in my head. I'm basically an imaginary cowboy that quotes Hackers. That sums it up.

Quick Rant: Please Don't Interrupt My Conversation

12 Comments

Quick Rant: I Hate The Police

Fuck these guys in the fucking face

Oh my god, I hate this band. I would rather listen to a book on tape about tax law reform than listen to the Police. Seriously, I would rather listen to a symphony of chili farts than listen to Sting screech about a prostitute named Roxanne. It's like nails on a chalkboard for me! Their whole pseudo-rasta vibe makes me retch.

I mean, look at them over there. They look like poncy hairdressers who take themselves way too seriously. They look like I just told them that I think that dolphins SHOULD be extinct. I'm kidding, guys. Relax. Dolphins are clearly our friends.

They probably wouldn't even laugh at any of my jokes. Fuck 'em. I'd crank up some Diamond Dave in a second over these irritating tossers.
 
I generally like guys who are Police fans, which is bit of a conundrum. I'll just turn the other way to his fandom, as long as he doesn't subject me to it. It's like having his back shaved; it's fine if he does it, but I don't wanna be in the room when it happens. 

As an aside, I worked at a record label in college and, as you can imagine, being the judgmental music nerds we were, we all had strong opinions about which bands were played over the office stereo. We worked out a system where everyone had a turn to pick a CD to play in an effort to be democratic. However, my boss was a total dick and insisted on the entire Police box set as his one pick. It was torture for me. I quit shortly thereafter. THE POLICE HAVE ADVERSELY AFFECTED MY WORK HISTORY! They're just the worst.

Quick Rant: I Hate The Police

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Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Text Me And I'll Text Ya Back

From our reader, Lizzie, who could commiserate with our other reader submission earlier in the week, except in this case, the guy who takes forever to respond to her texts is someone she's already hung out with IRL. 

I am unsure of the appropriate word for the situation I was in with this guy, but basically for three months we had a strictly hook up situation going on. It was very casual; we would hang out maybe twice a week, most likely drink, and--ahem--hit it. I was fine with this situation; it was ideal for the lifestyle I was into at the time. What I was not into was his annoying habit of not responding to texts in a timely manner. This is an example of how the majority of our text conversations would go:

"Hey, how has your week been?" he says.
"Pretty good. Yours?"
About an hour later, I finally hear back: "Busy as hell. Doing anything fun this weekend?"
"Party on Saturday night but I'm free Friday"
Then, it would be another excruciating couple of hours spent checking and rechecking my phone before he tells me that he'll have friends in town Friday and could we hang out tonight instead.

Seriously, dudes? I know FOR A FACT that you carry your phones on you at all times. And this guy had a job with very little supervision. How hard is it to tell me this information in the span of five minutes?

This dude would drag the conversation out over the course of my already stressful workday and make me feel like a crazy person when he was the one that texted ME, not the other way around. This is a mutual booty call situation, we both know how this conversation is going to end, why pussyfoot around it for six hours?!

Anyway, when I started seeing the guy I'm now happily in a relationship with (and who texts back in a reasonable amount of time), I gave this dude his comeuppance: I dragged out the reason why we couldn't hang out IN THAT WAY anymore via text for about four hours. Serves him right.

I don't have anything to add, but did any of you get the reference in the title? It was supposed to be a riff on the Digital Underground song "Kiss You Back." Anyone? Anyone? Aww, fuck it.

Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Text Me And I'll Text Ya Back

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Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Answer Your Damn Phone, Woman!

From our reader Jai, who is fed up with girls using our phones like total dickheads (those are my words, not his):

I appreciate new technology as much as the next guy, but for heaven's sake, answer your phone! We’ve been texting back and forth constantly to occupy our boring work days. A few weeks go on and we continually make plans via text to see each other in a non-digital /more than 160 characters realm.

So the day comes for our hangout, a weekend afternoon; perfect. You think that'd be simple enough? Oh, we haven't even gotten started. Buckle up because figuring out what you want to do is going to be a drawn out into a three hour conversation. That's a minimum! Here is the way the conversation goes:

“What would you want to do?”

“How about the park, it’s a beautiful day. We can people watch.”

“Nah, I’m not in the mood to sit around and stare at people.”

“Okay, how about getting some dinner and drinks?”

“After last night, alcohol is not friendly.”

“What did you have in mind for the afternoon?”

“I don’t know, something fun with you.”

That's the jist. At this point, I’ve had enough. This more than two hour texversation is bringing me to wit's end. So after your last message, I decided to call you. Guess what, you don’t answer and it goes to voicemail. I left a message. Three minutes later, you wrote me a text answering my voicemail. FINE! I'll continue to help your crackberry addiction.

I know there are situations where you may have been busy for those three minutes I tried to call. But we both know you weren’t. I have tried this calling feature on my phone with you a few times and it always seems to fail. Hmmm. Maybe you’re hoarding your free minutes for that phone call to American Idol. Oh, you can do that with text too!

Is it really that hard to call and have a five minute conversation to make a plan so I can SEE YOU, like you wanted? Why must we constantly go through this dance? I don’t want to be in the corner texting away. Don’t put me in that corner!

I'm happy to report that this is something that I never do. In fact, I'd always prefer a phone call to make plans over text unless I know the person really well. I guess I'm just old-fashioned that way. Actually, I'm so old fashioned, that I'd prefer the ol' carrier pigeon to texting. I mean, can a cell phone wear a little helmet and goggles? I didn't think so.

Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Answer Your Damn Phone, Woman!

5 Comments

Ugh! There Is Nowhere In My Internet Life That I Can Complain About You!

We're Facebook friends, you follow me on Twitter, and you subscribe to my blog updates in your RSS reader. You are stalking my entire Internet life! Where am I supposed to make thinly-veiled complaints about you?

Do I have to start some secret, password-protected blog where I can vent about all the stupid things you do, like how you still have a Hotmail email address and you drive like an asshole? It's killing me!

I just want to complain about you to the anonymous masses in a place you'll never see it. Is that too much to ask? Maybe I gotta take this complaining business underground. I need a Fight Club situation where me and a bunch of people can all go and complain about people without them ever finding out who did it.

Well, the site Ex-Boyfriend Dead Letter Office is a good start. It's basically a complainers anonymous meeting. You can anonymously submit letters you'd write to your exes. It's really fun. And cathartic. Try it out!

Ugh! There Is Nowhere In My Internet Life That I Can Complain About You!

4 Comments

Quick Rant: I Don't Want To See You With Your Ex In Your Profile Pictures

I'm not sure why guys seem to think that their profile pictures on Facebook are a free-for-all. They have all sorts of weird shit in there; random Internet memes, sports photos, sometimes even random images that they've tagged all their friends in as an inside joke. Whatever.

The WORST thing that they do is to post pictures of them with their ex. Hello! This is Facebook, not your desk drawer! I don't want to see you relaxed with your arm around her, smiling like two goofballs. As I understand it, you are trying to date me. I enjoy imagining us in situations where we are relaxed and smiling like goofballs. To see you do it with another woman you dated is...strange. It's definitely not hot.

Guys, why do you do this? I don't want to compare myself to anyone, but how can I not with her snuggled up in the crook of your armpit? The whole thing makes me feel weird. The last thing I want to do is confront you about it because it'll make me seem insecure, which I'm not. I just don't like being reminded of my place in your conveyor belt of girlfriends.

And, don't tell me that they only reason you have it posted is because you like the way you look in it. Sometimes you'll even crop her out in an attempt to salvage the picture. Sorry, but the ghost hand floating around your waist is a dead giveaway that some girl was obviously there. You are not Osama bin Laden; you have access to cameras to take lots of other pictures.

I'm just letting you know that unless you crack me up at about two chuckles per minute, the fact that you still have pictures of your ex makes you 90% less desirable in my eyes.

Quick Rant: I Don't Want To See You With Your Ex In Your Profile Pictures

12 Comments

Quick Rant: Yo, Stop Hating Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is rapidly approaching. While I think most of us can agree that we cringe slightly upon seeing our madly-in-love friends go crazy for this holiday, it pales in comparison to what I consider to be a far worse problem: Valentine's Day haters.

I don't mean to put this all on the female population, but let's be honest here: I don't hear too many guys talking about "gouging their eyes out" on this holiday or trying to stay home from work because they can't handle seeing all the flowers and balloons and god-knows-what-else getting delivered. I don't know if it's years of built-up single rage or if it was ruined forever by that first high-school boyfriend, but we all gotta CHILL OUT on that shit!

Every year, I hear the same tired thing from every girl I talk to who hates Valentine's Day: "I think it's bullshit that we pick one day a year to celebrate love. I want a guy who will bring me flowers and take me out to a fancy dinner on a random Wednesday, not some cheesy corporate holiday."

I get what you're saying here, but here's the thing: if you're dating a great dude, he will buy you flowers and take you out to a nice dinner on that random Wednesday AND on Valentine's Day. If your boyfriend is dialing it in 364 days a year and only treating you like a lady on Valentine's Day, the problem ISN'T Valentine's Day... it's your idiot BOYFRIEND.

As single people, I think we just need to embrace Valentine's Day for what it is. It's a sappy holiday. If you're single, that's cool! Call up some friends and watch a John Cusack movie. If you're in Philly, swing by our V-Day Dance Party and shake a tail feather. It doesn't have to be a pity party - just have fun! There's nothing more unattractive than someone seething with hatred at a holiday that celebrates all that mushy love stuff that ultimately everyone deep down is looking for.

So have a little heart this Valentine's Day. Keep the hate to a minimum and just enjoy it for what it is. In a short 24 hours, it will be Presidents Day, and who could possibly hate that?!

Quick Rant: Yo, Stop Hating Valentine's Day

5 Comments

Quick Rant: I'm Getting The Feeling That You Think I'm Your Backup

I don't need to be Col. Mustard to figure out this mystery:

1. You called me up out of the blue despite the fact that we haven't talked in months, even years.

2. You divulge that you just broke up with your girlfriend almost immediately when I ask how you've been. Boohoo, I know.

3. You ask to meet me for a drink. Soon.

I'm like the breakdown in the song, "Shout!" Now, waaaaaaaaait a minute. You think that I'm your back-up, don't you? I'll bet you think I'm just hanging out in your back pocket waiting to be called to service, like a reserve marine or a gift card to California Pizza Kitchen.

I'M NOT YOUR BACKUP! I guess I'm flattered that you'd keep me in your rolodex/ black book/ spank bank, but I'm honestly not interested.

Quick Rant: I'm Getting The Feeling That You Think I'm Your Backup

7 Comments

Quick Rant: Facebook Chatterboxes

Chatting on Facebook is the worrrrrst. On the totem pole of flirting behavior, FB chatting hovers around the bottom near "whistling at me from across the street" and "putting the moves on me two minutes after my friend turned you down."

The site is too bright so awkwardly chatting with him is like he's trying to hit on me while I'm in line at Target. It's hard to feel sexy when there are pictures of my sister's baby and my Mom's Scrabble score streaming in the background. So, when I hear that little thud pingy sound in my browser alerting me to a new message, I brace myself. For a split second, I consider the possibilities here: Is it the guy I like? Or my best friend stopping by to say hi? Nope, most likely it's a dude. Who has a girlfriend. And is bored and wants my attention. Refer to the chart:

Seriously, the only guys who ever want to talk to me are shady dudes. I don't know why; I'm not particularly that exciting. They always breathlessly ask what I'm up to. Uh, sitting on the damn computer like you, my dear. This is what your do when your girlfriend is away/ asleep/ in the next room? Bother girls like me with boring, unfunny questions? 

I know I can turn the chat feature off, but I have to say that I secretly enjoy the mixed bag of dudes I hear from. I'm a glutton for punishment, obviously. Whatever. Honestly, I NEVER look at the list to see who's available to chat. However, these shadeball supersleuth chatterboxes somehow know the exact minute I pop in to check out the event details for my friend's house party next week. Who has time to monitor that? I know I'm wasting time being on the site in the first place, but even I have some standards about the extent of my time wasting, you know?

Quick Rant: Facebook Chatterboxes

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Quick Rant: Great, I Can Add Tightrope Walker To My Resume Now

We've been hanging out for a few weeks. You take me to dinner. I buy your drinks. We make out--in public even!--but you are soooo not my boyfriend. We are in the no man's land between hanging out casually and being in a full-on relationship; it's too early to have the DTR conversation and too late not to be a little attached. For this, I hate you. It's not a rage-y hate either, just a slow-burning resentment because, hello, you should ALREADY know you like me already.

I wish we could just skip over this soupy middle part where maybe you like me and maybe I like you, and get to the good stuff: an actual, non-stressful relationship where we hit it all the time. Let's skip the Double Jeopardy round and get to Final Jeopardy, okay?

But that's so not how this is going to go down. Instead, I will meticulously measure out my correspondence with you, careful to balance between aloofness and total infatuation. I'll make myself busy scheduling back-to-back happy hours with my buds to not appear too available. Hell, I'll even date other dudes in a concerted effort to not put my dating eggs in one dating basket (your lovely, radical, dating basket).

I'm like Johnny Cash over here walkin' the line. Damn you for doing this to me! On the plus side, with all this mental energy you're making me expend on the issue, I suppose I can now add tightrope walker to my resume now. That's something, right?

Quick Rant: Great, I Can Add Tightrope Walker To My Resume Now

4 Comments

Quick Rant: You're Tweeting Too Hard

I know it's hard to keep up: one minute we're all updating our MySpace profiles and saying, "thanks for the add!" And then next thing you know, everyone's packed up and moved to greener, less glittery .giffed pastures. The newest bandwagon social media site, of course, is Twitter. It's not exactly new, but it's reached that weird mainstream point where if the O.C. was still on (R.I.P.), Seth Cohen would have definitely namedropped it ad nauseum already.

So you'd think the 140-character limit would naturally impose some limitations in ways you could annoy people, but Twitter seems to be doing quite well in that regard. So, let's lay down some ground rules:

1. If you're replying to someone's tweet, keep the back-and-forth conversation to maybe two or three tweets tops, any more and you're just texting, EXCEPT WE ALL HAVE TO READ EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR TEXTS. Take it offline, Champ.

2. Stop auto-tweeting. The occasional "Hey, I posted a new blog" is a good reminder, but if your twitter goes off every single time you post another Formspring question on your tumblr page or every time you check into your own house on Foursquare, it's gonna get old real quick.

3. Stop complaining. If every third tweet is about how you had to stay late at work or your coffee wasn't made "just right," just know that all your followers are moments away from making their own complaint about making the decision to follow you.

4. If you're stuck in a really boring situation and the only solution is that you have to livetweet your way through it, it's not an ideal situation for your followers, but I understand. I've been there. Just make sure that every single thing you tweet is fucking hilarious or you're doing it wrong. If you can't deliver on that promise, you're not allowed to livetweet anything.

5. Whoa whoa whoa. Careful with that re-tweet button. I realize that YOU may find all the people you follow extremely interesting, but remember that's why you're the one following them. I'm not. I don't give a shit. Use discretion.

6. Right before you press send on that tweet, just remember that even though it seems like the dashboard is your little private universe, it's not. We're all reading your tweets and judging you for them. We can see your flirtatious tweets to that boy we all know you have a crush on and your boss can see that tweet you just wrote about needing tips on updating your resume. Always think before you tweet, "Is this something I'm comfortable standing up at my cubicle and shouting to everyone in earshot?" If so, tweet away!

Hopefully this makes our twitter lives all a little easier, so I don't have to secretly unfollow you and hope you never notice. With that said, are you following Shmitten Kitten? 'Cause you should.

Quick Rant: You're Tweeting Too Hard

4 Comments

Quick Rant: You're Married and You Can't Keep It In Your Pants

We saw you again this weekend. Your wife wasn't there (as usual), but you were, hitting on everything in the room with tits and a pulse. It makes us wanna throw your wedding album at your head! You're like a dog humping everyone's leg at a cocktail party. Down, boy!

We're not sure how you manage to constantly work this out, but despite being in a well-publicized long-term relationship, you still seem to think that anything and everybody is fair game. We're not sure how you get away with it and maybe you don't. Perhaps your wife knows all about your flagrant compulsions. Either way, we think your shenanigans are seriously nasty. Dude, your life is like a Zach Braff movie. That's not a good thing. 

One time, you actually had the nerve to try and justify your bad behavior to us. And after sobbing for an hour about how much you love your legally-bound better half, you tried to get us to go home with you. As if.

You think we don't hook up with you because you're married. Actually, we don't hook up with you because you suck. And, if we show up in the background shot when Joey Greco busts into this party to confront you about your cheating ways, we're gonna be seriously pissed.

Quick Rant: You're Married and You Can't Keep It In Your Pants

4 Comments

Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Switch Flippers Must Die

We got this submission from our reader Christine about when a guy acts superinterested then flips the switch and backs off. It's not a new thing in the dating world, but it's still entertaining to read about it.

I was out at a bar and it was my birthday, so I was nowhere close to sober. My friends and I were dancing and they started talking to this guy. He was good looking, had a great smile, and was really nice. Somehow we ended up talking too and then making out. Classy, I know, but it happens. The whole time we were talking/making out, he kept telling me that he really wanted to see me again and he wanted to take me out to dinner, blah blah blah.

So, we continued talking, he kept telling me how he reallllly wants to see me again, how he never does this, rarely goes out, never hooks up with random girls etc. Fine, up to this point, who cares. The next day, I went to New York to see some friends. I got a text from him saying "Despite my behavior last night, I'm a good guy and I'd like to show you. Have fun in NY but text me when you get back so we can meet up." I was totally excited!  

When I got back from NY--less than one day later--I texted him to tell him I was back in town and to see if he wanted to hang out sometime that week. And...

NO REPLY. Really?!? What could possibly have changed his mind in ONE day?!

After texting him once more a couple days later and resigning myself to giving up if there was no response, I get a reply saying, "Hey, I'm going home for Thanksgiving tomorrow, but I'll def talk to you when I get back on Monday so we can hang out." I think we can all guess what happened here: no text on Monday. So, my hopes have been raised and then slammed back against the rocks again.  I  haven't heard from him since.

I realize this is a small example, but honestly, if you aren't interested, don't text me the next day and act like you are. Sheesh.

Guys are weird.

Reader Submitted Quick Rant: Switch Flippers Must Die

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Quick Rant: So, You Don't Want To Date Me But You Want To Add Me As A Contact On LinkedIn?

Not to be hyperbolic, but LinkedIn is the worst site on the Internet. It's like if Facebook had a lobotomy then tried to sort through your old paystubs and unearth anyone anywhere that might've had something to do with it's issuance. It's a lamer version of Friendster which is a lamer version of an office party in the breakroom. This site is geared towards middle managers in flyover states. It's MySpace for well-adjusted dads.

I'm not even sure why I have a profile on LinkedIn except it's something that I feel I should do, like shaving my armpits in winter. In both cases, no one is looking but I choose to tend to its upkeep regardless.

So, color me perplexed when an invite to "connect" pops up in my inbox from you. You'd like to add me to your "professional network." Hmm. I see.

WHAT THE FUCK?

We never worked together in a professional capacity whatsoever. We don't even work in the same industry. The only problem we solved together was the problem of how I really liked you and you wanted to date someone else. How well did that go? Do you want me to write a glowing testimony about your performance there, Champ? "He's really great at thinking outside of the box. Particularly my box. Like, when we dated, apparently, he was thinking about another girl's box the entire time." This is fucktarded. To paraphrase Wilson Philips, I'm gonna break free from these LinkedIn chains. Consider yourself LinkedOUT.

Quick Rant: So, You Don't Want To Date Me But You Want To Add Me As A Contact On LinkedIn?

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Oh No He Di'int: Hit On Me When I Look Like A Pile Of Dirty Laundry

Can I be frank? I'm honestly not sure why you're hitting on me. It's Sunday, which everyone knows is my ragged/ don't give a fuck/ recovery day.

I'm at the grocery store propping myself up on the shopping cart, dodging other customers. You can tell that I am feeling rough because I'm wearing a hoodie, black jeans and fake Uggs, aka fuggs, from Target. (Lay off me! They keep my feet warm.) Cleary, I am dressed for comfort. I'm avoiding eye contact with everyone and I'm just trying to power through this trip to the store as fast as possible.

I'm not even wearing make-up! There's not one swipe of concealer on this face. My puffy, tired eyes look like Oreo Cakesters. I look like a hungover, cranky, uncaffeinated vagrant. No, really, I look like a hamper. I look like Jewel's car that she had to live in before she got signed as a singer. I look like a Jr. high lost and found bin come to life. There is nothing hot about me right now.

So, forgive me if I seem dumbfounded when you strike up a conversation. I almost argue with you when you ask for my number. Hello! I look TERRIBLE! If you consult the chart below, you will see that today is not my optimal day to be hit on. Observe:

I don't even start wearing eyeliner until Tuesday. By Wednesday, I'll start wearing perfume again. By Thursday, I'll swipe on mascara. And, by Friday, I'll blow dry my hair AND wear blush. As Metallica sang, sad but true.

Honestly, I will think less of you if you hit on me at my lowest point in the week. Aim higher. You're better than that.

Oh No He Di'int: Hit On Me When I Look Like A Pile Of Dirty Laundry

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