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?)

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Drunk Chick--

—who fought her way to the front of the stage after The Strange Boys were told by the person running the show that they had time for two more songs and yelled for them to GET THE FUCK OFF WE WANT THE REIGNING SOUND:

I hope you woke up this morning in a pile of someone else’s vomit.

Love,

Nina

*Last night’s line up at Alex’s Bar 12 Anniversary was amazing. While I was just there to see the headliner (Reigning Sound), all of the bands rocked my face off and The Strange Boys specifically.

I wasn’t certain from the first song, but the second or third song in The Strange Boys’ set where Will and I turned to each other with that YES YES THIS IS IT.

I don’t get out to shows much anymore, and I rarely have the patience to sit through three opening acts because there’s always at least one that I don’t care for.  Even if they’re not my thing, I sit in the back and clap politely. Because whoeever’s up there is playing their heart out and trying to make their dreams a reality. How can you not respect that?

So to summarize: STFU.

 

 

(originally posted on my Tumblr.)

PLEASE DON'T BURN YOUR PENIS!

Sometimes, I use a flat iron my hair. This probably comes as no shock to you all, although the times I mess about with my hair are few and far between. I have two looks: ponytail and non-ponytail.

"GREAT PONYTAIL!" - no, one ever*

Every time I turn on the flat iron - every single time - I tell Will that it's on, and careful not to burn himself.

This is even though:

1. The flat iron is on my vanity.
2. Will has never expressed any interest in touching anything on my vanity.
3. Will has never touched my flat iron, ever.

It's akin to yelling at him to look both ways before crossing the street. Or to stop at stop signs. Or not to gamble away half of all of the money we have in the world ($1000) the night before our wedding.

A few years ago, he asked me why I did this.A reasonable question. Which demanded my reasonable answer:

When I'm flat ironing my hair, it's usually because we're getting to go somewhere. Which means you're getting ready to go somewhere. Which means that you're just out of the shower. Which means you're naked. Which means you could burn your penis on the flat iron and hey if that's what you want to do, fine, but what kind of wife would I be if I didn't at least warn you?

Please don't burn your penis on the flat iron, kids.

What are your random acts of nonsensical advice?

 

 

 

 

 

 

*I stole this from someone on Twitter but I don't remember who and I can't find it. If you can recall, please send me the link so I'm not a dirty stealerpants.

One to Grow On.

 

Hey Nina, Can I Pick Your Brain for Free?

If you want to pick my brain for free, ask yourself these three questions:

1. Am I having sex with you?
2. Am I related to you?
3. Are we BFFs?

If you answered "yes" to any of those questions, then feel free to hit me up.  Otherwise, please ask about my rates.

Internet Rule.

1. That looks disgusting, I shouldn't click on that.
2. ::Click on that::
   
3. AAAAAAAHHHHHHH WHY DID I CLICK ON THAT?!?!

 

A Letter to the Guy Reading War & Peace While Walking His Dog.

Hey There Dude Reading War & Peace While Walking Your Dog,

Most people are content to demonstrate their smartness by walking and chewing gum at the same time, but you, sir, you took that challenge and turned it up to eleven! First I thought perhaps you were working out your biceps with Tolstoy's giant tome of the effect of the Napoleonic Wars on Russian Aristocrats, but you made sure to crack the spine into submission as I walked by to show me that you were as serious as...well, War & Peace.

I can only imagine the conversations you have with your dog - who I imagine is ironically named Lenin because he likes his dog bed extra cold - at home. While Daisy and my most frequent conversation goes something like "HEY! GET OUT OF YOUR BUTT!" you must be discussing the cultural ramifications of Tsarist Upper Class Problems. (I got 99 problems but a Tsar ain't one.)

In the meantime, my hat is off to you, sir, in your quest to multitask your education with pet care. Just look where you're going, because Lenin just shit right in the middle of the sidewalk.

 

Love,

The Slackmistress
(Who is vaguely related to some Russian Aristocrats way back when.)

Things I Learned While Watching Pretty in Pink.

• That first outfit that Andie wears was my dream outfit that I attempted to recreate (poorly.) I don't think there re pictures, although I rocked the vest CONSTANTLY and did a lot of boxy jackets with pins.


• If you didn't want to be Annie Potts character Iona in Pretty in Pink when you grew up, then we wouldn't have been friends in High School.


• Iona talks about her friend missing Prom... "She realized nothing was missing...it was side effects from missing the Prom." WHICH IS WHY I WENT TO PROM STAG.


• I coveted that pink Kharmann Ghia. I now drive a pink Mini Cooper.


• I met director Howard Deutch at a party a couple of weeks ago. I tried not to fan out, so I turned to talk to the person he was with. His wife.


• Watching Andie listen to her messages from Duckie reminded me what a big deal it was to get a phone in my room. The phone jack was there...I just wasn't allowed a phone of my own until I was in 8th grade.

• I modded my gym suit my freshman year. I think there were boxer shorts with a ruffle that I wore under my gym shorts.


• I'm still a Duckie girl. (I married mine.)

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?)

 

 

 

 

 

CATS ARE EVIL, or How I Twitter Through Anything

If you think you've broken your ankle*, I suggest you do it on Twitter.

 

 

Thanks to everyone who kept me company (and kept me laughing): Virginia, Caissie, Gene George, Nutcase, John, Miss Grace, LateandSoon, Mocoddle and finally NOVYSAN for realizing he was closer to me than Will was and picking me up and taking me to the ER.

 

*It was only a bad sprain. The nurse was shocked. I HAVE BONES OF STEEL.