The First Amendment: A Primer

I interrupt our quest through the five stages of a break-up because I have to get something off my chest. I promise to have the next stage to you shortly – I won’t even make you wait a week.


So, the Reddit Troll Violentacrez was outed last week. If you have no idea what I am talking about click here.

I am not going to get into just how disgusting, despicable and detestable I find this man’s online persona – mostly because as a troll, that is what he wants. I do, however, need to address his defenders. Those decrying Gawker for exposing his true identity. Folks flying the First Amendment flag in our faces.

Here’s the thing about the First Amendment (big fan, by the way). It gives every American citizen the right to speak his/her thoughts freely without having to fear persecution by their government.

That last part is the important part. So, I’m gonna say it again: by their government.

Stage Two: Let the Cleansing Begin

So, after a week of not showering, not changing your pajamas, sleeping on the couch, watching NCIS marathons and only eating meals that can be delivered, you smelled yourself, swallowed back vomit and ran to the bathroom where you saw your tear-stained, swollen, blotchy face. You grabbed either side of the vanity to steady yourself as you asked your reflection, “what the fuck happened?”


Please note shopaholics, you will experience a similar feeling when you see your email credit card alerts.

How To Be Dumped: Part One: Grossness

I'm not sure if it was the monster moon this past weekend,or the upcoming holidays, but a number of my friends have recently found themselves single again. And while I believe I clearly demonstrate on this blog that I am terrible when it comes to relationships, my friends are still coming to me for advice.


Maybe they don’t read the blog.

The last time I was dumped, I offered a very simplified road map to how I get over a guy. My plan – like another plan that you may have heard of – has five stages/steps: Grossness, Cleansing, Celebrating, Recovering, and then, finally, Moving on. Though, I only really talk about the first four in my old post.

The first stage, in my opinion, is the most important. The gross stage.

The John Mayer Problem

A while back ago the celebrity gossip world was abuzz that Katy Perry and John Mayer were a thing. Then, more recently, everyone was talking again, this time about how John dumped Katy.

I was less surprised that John Mayer dumped Katy Perry (isn’t that sort of his thing) than I was that she dated him in the first place. The guy's a jerk. And while I ‘m still not sure if sexual napalm is a compliment or an insult, I’m damn sure I don’t want any guy I’ve slept with to say it about me in a national magazine.

Though, in fairness, it might be nice to have a guy write a song comparing my body to a wonderland.

Still, as I do with almost all celebrity gossip I can quite fathom, I chalked it up to some anomaly inherent in the DNA of otherwise perfect people.

That is until I learned of a similar phenomenon plaguing a group of my friends.

Why Paul Ryan Lied – A Feminist’s Opinion

By now, even my parents know that Paul Ryan lied about his marathon time. What people don’t know is why he lied about it. Was it a simple mistake? No way. Was he just boasting? Maybe. Was he flat out lying because he didn’t want to admit a girl was faster than him? Well, that’s my theory.

Yes, as a recently reformed misogynist, I’m seeing misogyny everywhere. And sure, one could say I have developed this theory to get back on Gloria’s good side, but still, stay with me for a minute.

My Apologies to Women Everywhere (And Eli Manning)

 I have a confession to make. Sometimes I can be a bit of a misogynist. Now I don’t beat up women or call them stupid when they ask a question or suggest that they belong in the kitchen making me a sandwich. But on Sundays during football season I have been known to yell at my T.V. “What kind of bullsh*t arm tackle was that you effin’ p&ssy. Take your g.d. skirt off and man the eff up.”



One of my favorite t-shirts
now headed to the Goodwill pile.



The Games We Play

There is a game my mom and dad love to play with me. For lack of anything better, I call it the “Anything Else” game.


It dates back to middle school when guys were just starting to notice girls – and by that I mean guys were starting to notice other girls. I remained the girl they only noticed when they needed one more for a game of football.