the slack daily

Crap Women Don't Want For Valentine's Day.

(Previously published.)

If you’re someone who buys stock in the once-a-year-blowjob economy, then you know that this Tuesday is Valentine’s Day.

I'm not a fan of Valentine’s Day.

I’ve always hated Valentine’s Day, whether I was single or otherwise coupled.  I recently found myself in a greeting card store purchasing a wedding card for a friend of mine when I passed the Valentine’s Day display, which looked like they split Cupid open and shook his red-heart-shaped entrails all over the place.

I realize that I’m not the typical female in some ways. When I say I don’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day don’t buy me anything to my husband, what I mean is don’t buy me anything for Valentine’s Day.

I don’t mean when I say don’t buy me anything I mean don’t buy me anything typical, so I am expecting a hot air balloon ride followed by dinner at that restaurant where we will feast on baby panda, and then maybe, just maybe I’ll let you touch my boobs, and if you don’t I will sulk and withhold sex for an undetermined amount of time until you ask what’s wrong but I’ll say nothing’s wrong because you should just know. 

Don’t get me wrong – I love presents, and I even love days that people are obligated to buy me presents (my birthday is October 8, for anyone who’s wondering.) But Valentine’s Day is the fire sale of holidays, where unoriginality is rewarded.

Will and I have already had the talk: screw Valentine’s Day. However, for you guys who do choose to celebrate (and if you do, I hope you celebrate Steak and Blowjob Day, too!), I’ve compiled a list of Crap Women Don’t Want for Valentine’s Day.

The Vermont Teddy Bear

The Love Bandit will set you back $69.95 (ahem) and isn’t wearing pants.

Is your girlfriend in the seventh grade? Wait, don't answer that.

The last time a grown man gave her a pantless stuffed animal and used the phrase “Love Bandit” she ended up having to testify in open court.  And don’t believe the commercials, guys.

Anyone that excited over a teddy bear is probably a closet furry.

 
 

Flowers

I’ll admit it: I love flowers. (I may not be a typical female, but I still do possess a vagina.) However, would you go to a restaurant advertising their best meal at double the price for half the portion? ‘Cause that’s what you’re getting on Valentine’s Day, my friends.

And I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret: women like to get flowers at the office to make their female co-workers jealous.  You’re not getting them for your girlfriend, you’re getting them for Janice in Accounting.  However, if you want to bang Janice in Accounting, this might be a good way to open that door.  (But it also makes you a scumbag.)

 

Lingerie

A lot of women – myself included – love the idea of lingerie. But most guys have zero idea how to shop for it. Cheap lingerie is scratchy - imagine wearing a jockstrap made of sandpaper – it doesn’t exactly get you in the mood.  The fit has to be exactly right for a lot of lingerie to look good, unless you’re a Victoria’s Secret Model. 

If you’re reading this, you’re not dating a Victoria’s Secret Model.  And even on the off chance that you are, it’s like getting her a work uniform for a gift. (The same goes for nurses, catholic schoolgirls, and nuns.)

Hot? Yes. Your girlfriend? No.

Candy

If you’re going to get her candy, get her good candy. But be prepared for her to bitch you out that she was suddenly forced to eat the entire box and now she’s fat and no one will ever want to have sex with her again and if you loved her you’d know that but you are clearly blind.

But if she really likes candy, get it on February 15^th. Then you can get her twice as much candy for the same price. That’s love.

 

Herpes

Imagine the Vermont Teddy Bear commercial. Now substitute this adorable herpes doll.

My name is herpes..and I love you!

 

The true secret to gift giving can be unlocked with these three little words:

 

Listen.
Remember.
Buy.

 

And with those three little words, every day can be Valentine’s Day.

(Which means every day can be Steak and Blowjob Day.  You dig?)

 

 

 

 

 

One to Grow On.

 

#Oscars

Miss me? You won't soon, because you are about to have so much slackmistress shoved down your throat you're gonna choke on it. That's right! CHOKE ON IT, BITCHES!

Wait, where were we?

Oh, yes: The Oscars. You might have put on a fancy dress and walked the red carpet. Me, I put on jeans and a t-shirt and drank beer while hanging out on Twitter. Here are some of my favorites from my Oscars live-tweet.

 

Crap Women Don't Want For Valentine's Day

(Previously published by me on the now-defunct PointlessBanter.com.)

If you’re someone who buys stock in the once-a-year-blowjob economy, then you know that this Monday is Valentine’s Day.

I hate Valentine’s Day.

I’ve always hated Valentine’s Day, whether I was single or otherwise coupled.  I recently found myself in a greeting card store purchasing a wedding card for a friend of mine when I passed the Valentine’s Day display, which looked like they split Cupid open and shook his red-heart-shaped entrails all over the place.

I realize that I’m not the typical female in some ways. When I say I don’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day don’t buy me anything to my husband, what I mean is don’t buy me anything for Valentine’s Day.

I don’t mean when I say don’t buy me anything I mean don’t buy me anything typical, so I am expecting a hot air balloon ride followed by dinner at that restaurant where we will feast on baby panda, and then maybe, just maybe I’ll let you touch my boobs, and if you don’t I will sulk and withhold sex for an undetermined amount of time until you ask what’s wrong but I’ll say nothing’s wrong because you should just know. 

Don’t get me wrong – I love presents, and I even love days that people are obligated to buy me presents (my birthday is October 8, for anyone who’s wondering.) But Valentine’s Day is the fire sale of holidays, where unoriginality is rewarded.

Will and I have already had the talk: screw Valentine’s Day. However, for you guys who do choose to celebrate (and if you do, I hope you celebrate Steak and Blowjob Day, too!), I’ve compiled a list of Crap Women Don’t Want for Valentine’s Day.

The Vermont Teddy Bear

The Love Bandit will set you back $69.95 (ahem) and isn’t wearing pants.

Is your girlfriend in the seventh grade? Wait, don't answer that.

The last time a grown man gave her a pantless stuffed animal and used the phrase “Love Bandit” she ended up having to testify in open court.  And don’t believe the commercials, guys.

Anyone that excited over a teddy bear is probably a closet furry.

 
 

Flowers

I’ll admit it: I love flowers. (I may not be a typical female, but I still do possess a vagina.) However, would you go to a restaurant advertising their best meal at double the price for half the portion? ‘Cause that’s what you’re getting on Valentine’s Day, my friends.

And I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret: women like to get flowers at the office to make their female co-workers jealous.  You’re not getting them for your girlfriend, you’re getting them for Janice in Accounting.  However, if you want to bang Janice in Accounting, this might be a good way to open that door.  (But it also makes you a scumbag.)

 

Lingerie

A lot of women – myself included – love the idea of lingerie. But most guys have zero idea how to shop for it. Cheap lingerie is scratchy - imagine wearing a jockstrap made of sandpaper – it doesn’t exactly get you in the mood.  The fit has to be exactly right for a lot of lingerie to look good, unless you’re a Victoria’s Secret Model. 

If you’re reading this, you’re not dating a Victoria’s Secret Model.  And even on the off chance that you are, it’s like getting her a work uniform for a gift. (The same goes for nurses, catholic schoolgirls, and nuns.)

Hot? Yes. Your girlfriend? No.

Candy

If you’re going to get her candy, get her good candy. But be prepared for her to bitch you out that she was suddenly forced to eat the entire box and now she’s fat and no one will ever want to have sex with her again and if you loved her you’d know that but you are clearly blind.

But if she really likes candy, get it on February 15^th. Then you can get her twice as much candy for the same price. That’s love.

 

Herpes

Imagine the Vermont Teddy Bear commercial. Now substitute this adorable herpes doll.

My name is herpes..and I love you!

 

The true secret to gift giving can be unlocked with these three little words:

 

Listen.
Remember.
Buy.

 

And with those three little words, every day can be Valentine’s Day.

(Which means every day can be Steak and Blowjob Day.  You dig?)

 

 

 

 

 

Conversations Today Have Led Me to Create This Handy Venn Diagram

Does Context Matter?

 

There's been a lot of talk lately - on both sides of the equation, about the TSA's new security measures - Backscatter machines, which take photo of you, but sans clothes or pat-downs, which involve a TSA employee touching you - palms facing forward (it used to be backwards), reaching up the legs, around the genital area, and inside the waistband.

I do not intend (ha ha HA) for this blog post for people on either side of the argument (if you know me, you're well aware of where I fall) but to I asked this question on Jessica's blog and no one answered.

So I'm asking here.

1. Would you let a stranger touch your child's* private areas**?

*Child = boy or girl, less than 13 years of age.
**Using this term because I don't want certain search terms to end up on my blog.

2. What if that stranger was a TSA agent?

 

Does context matter to you?

 

Feel free to disagree but keep it civilized - the only person allowed to call people names on my blog is me. I have a delete button and I'm not afraid to use it.

 

 

 

WHEREUPON I COME TO THE DEFENSE OF LINDSAY LOHAN.

I cannot believe that I am blogging about this.

For the record:

I am neither pro or anti Lindsay Lohan.  I don't follow her on Twitter. I have never written anything for her. The only thought I have about the Lohans in general is how did they manage to make their reality show SO BORING?

But you can't swing a dead cat without running smack into TMZ, her "fuck you" nails, and her crying at sentencing.

To be fair, I'd cry if I was being sentenced to jail, too. Of course, I'd probably comply with the terms of my probation. But that's neither here nor there.

Today the talk has been about the following tweet:

The backlash has been, well, predictable. Entitled has-been Hollywood actress living in an over-privileged coke-haze, etc. etc. Some sites, like Jezebel, even have "the whole rant." I've cut and pasted it for you below. Start at the bottom, and read up.

 

Insane, right? Entitled has-been Hollywood actress living in an over-privileged coke-haze....blah blah blah. You know the drill.

Now I'm gonna add one last tweet from her "rant." It was posted in the same time frame as what was posted above. Ready?

Clicking on that link takes you to a story about Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani, the Iranian mother of two who was condemned to death by stoning. (You can read the update to the story, and what you can do at Jessica Gottlieb's blog here.)

I don't even follow Lindsay Lohan on Twitter and I could figure out that she was talking about the stoning, not her sentencing, in 30 seconds or less.

Is she an entitled has-been Hollywood actress living in an over-privileged coke-haze? Yes. No. Maybe. I don't really care. She's not freaking Kim Jong-il. and she's never kicked my dog or called me asking if I wanted to hang out and then hung up the phone.

She screwed up, she's going to jail.

Isn't there enough material there with the hot lesbian prison hookups and 6126's jail-inspired orange leggings line without making shit up?

Listen, I understand that she's rife for tabloid fodder, but if you're gonna hoist someone by their own petard, make sure there's a petard to hoist.

Let's talk about the important questions instead....like what the hell is a petard?

EDITED TO ADD: How did I not include a link to HOW I HELPED START THE HILARY DUFF/LINDSAY LOHAN FEUD?!

Things I Learned From Superbowl Ads.

1. I shouldn't abort my child because one day she may have the chance to become a GoDaddy Girl.

2. The Lilly Ledbetter Act now extends to personal hygiene products! Men now get the opportunity to buy smelly products they don't need. FINALLY, equal opportunity! You've come a long way, baby.

3. Costumers on commercials have a secret stash of slight-used tidy-whiteys. (I can only hope they receive hazard pay.)

4. What was missing was the Robert Blake/OJ Simpson crossover ad where they meet at the Sbarro in the mall food court after being dragged shopping by their overbearing wives.

5. Mrs. Tebow might reassess her position on the right to choose if she was forced to sit in First Class with an E*Trade baby.

Winners? Anyone who got paid to create that violent, misogynistic, and most importantly UNFUNNY piece of crap. Viva mediocrity!

Also a winner? Willie Ames, who did a fabulous job singing at the halftime show. I think he's proved to Hollywood that he's finally ready for the way-overdue Pirate Movie 2.

Losers? All of us who didn't fast-forward through the commercials. I like my misogynists classy. (Looking at you, Don Draper.)

You can find the rest of my Livetweets from the Superbowl here. And while you're at it, check out Caissie St. Onge, Tom Scharpling, Paul F. Tompkins and Sara Benincasa.

A Girl Can Dream...

Last night, accepting a Golden Globe for Best Adapted Screenplay* for Up In the Air, Dave Grohl Jason Reitman said the reason that he writes women so well is thanks to his lovely wife,

Alas, I am married to a man. So I would have to get a divorce, change teams and secure the right to legally marry so that one day, I, too, can write rich, multifaceted female characters.

Dear Hollywood,

A good writer should be able to write anything. However, there's an easy way to improve the landscape of female characters in Hollywood, and writing in Hollywood in general.

Here's a hint: hire someone sans penis.

C'mon, just try it. Tina Fey is not a fluke.

Big love,

Nina Bargiel

My Golden Globes LiveTweet starts here (at the bottom.) Some of my personal favorites:

 

 

 

You can follow me on Twitter here.

*An interesting tidbit over writing credits for Up in the Air, here.

The Price is Right.

Tiger Woods is reportedly offering his wife, Elin Nordegren 80 million dollars to stay with him for seven years.

Regardless of what you think of the whole Tiger Woods brouhaha (and I wonder why haven't celebrities figured out by now that if you cheat you will get caught? It's not if you get caught...it's when) 80 million dollars is a serious chunk of change.

On our honeymoon (BTW, I seriously recommend honeymoons...I think we'll be taking one every couple of years, if not every year) Will asked me if I'd marry him again. 

This was a serious question to consider, now that I knew that the going rate for Elin was 80 million bucks over seven, I could figure my worth accordingly.

When I married Will, I got four crates of records, a box of Jo-Jos, and a three years' worth of podcasts from Scharpling's Best Show on WFMU.

I still came out ahead.