imboycrazy: from a concerned dad

This is so important for everyone to read, and so true. If you want to read the best part, here ya go:

The point of this awfully long monologue is this (Oh thank GOD! He is getting to his point!): in all the history of men and women, maybe THREE girls have ever “fixed” a boy. Unless God lights the shrubs on fire in the front yard, the only other person who can “fix” a broken boy, is that boy himself… and he needs to WANT to be “fixed” in the first place. I have seen too many girls, and now my daughter is one of them, who are attracted to a “bad boy”, but by the time they figure out that the only thing “bad” about them is that they are bad at life in general, they have wasted too many weeks-month-even-years on them. Only houses can be “fixer-uppers”, if a girl likes a boy and plan on changing him, she is in for a long, sad, frustrating, and many times, painful future. If your boyfriend would rather watch football than go to the park and have a picnic with you, and then you marry him, guess what he will still rather be doing in 20 years? If your boyfriend is a pot-head, the love of a woman is not going to clean him up, etc, etc. Girls need to be smarter, and start with a boy with similar interests and values and build from there, and let the bad boys hook up with girls who haven’t got a clue how life is supposed to work, either.

Thanks for posting this Alexi, so many girls have to learn the hard way!!!

Last Days as a Bachelorette

Boys, I just don't look at you anymore. Let me lament that I never sucked face with a French teenager with a horrible nose.

I think I did my best to kiss my way around the world. But I'm missing a few strays that I'd have liked to have rescued. Dear Donald, we never got the chance for you to give me Herpes.

I will regret that I was never old enough to be a Strokes groupie.

But somehow, it doesn't matter. I'll never lust over another dishwasher again. Nor will I covet my neighbor's hipster with weed baggies in his left skinny jeans pocket. Oh, dirt magnets and DJ's, how you got me through the worst of times! Oh, old man professors and cave man economists, how you saved me from an endless dinner with people who hated my guts!

Oh, disgusting, oh, drug-addicted. I loved you all so much it got me thru it all more than 55 lattes and bourbons put together!

I love my lover. I love cilantro and avocado and reliability and texts at 8 in the morning. There will always be new music and movies. There will never be a new guy. But here's to all the boys who came before him. Here's to the Crazy that will be crazy no more.

I Died a Little Bit Tonight

Sean Penn, I'm sorry it took me this long to realize how much I adore you. You're so weird. And talented. And gorge.

time is on my side

February, with its snowstorms and Valentines' Day gloom, may be raging (I fell flat on my ass thanks to Greenpoint ice on the way home tonight), but summer creeps up slowly, and sometimes with so much promise and vibrating-phone-in-my-stomach desirable anxiousness that I can find it tough to keep my mind on the moment at hand. The overwhelming yearning for hot sun and hotter bodies can put a damper on the daily routine in NYC at this stage in the year's game. But, I just kick back with a Corona, turn up the volume on Mick's cocksure waaaah-waaaaaah vocals and scream, "Tiiiiiiiiiiime is on my side, yes it is!"

Because it is, pendejos. It is.