Great Ways to Confuse the SHIT Out Of Women

This is probably the tenth time I have attempted to write a new blog post in the last few weeks but I’m confident that this one will make it past the initial stages of me reading it, rereading it, hating it, and exiling it to the darker part of my Google Drive folders. This time I have purpose. And honestly, this one tags directly off my last post “The Games Men Play.” It’s a hybrid of a lot of different things I have written about, inspired by my personal experiences as well as the experiences of my close girlfriends.

Let’s talk about the different ways you, as a man, can confuse the shit out of a girl you are dating, banging, texting, friend-zoning, or otherwise interacting with. Because nothing can just be easy and fun these days, let’s analyze things.

1.) Ask her if you can “take her to dinner” (because you did something that annoyed the shit out of her) then make no motion to offer to pay when the bill comes.

I’m sorry, I’m all for ~equality~, but if you are the asker in this situation, and you make the specific language “take you to dinner” the assumption is that you’re paying. I don’t care if I’m a feminist who feels highly uncomfortable at all mentions of money and formalities… If you are going to “take me” out to dinner I am assuming that you are going to pay. Because otherwise I might have suggested we go do something else. The devil is in the details, dumbass… Now I’m sitting here thinking you’re a poorly adjusted dick-stick who potentially isn’t even trying to date me? Chivalry is not dead, and holding the door for me when I’m easily 30 pounds stronger than you doesn’t count.

2.) Make absolutely no physical contact with her unless she initiates it.

You know what a great way to tell a girl you like her is? Refuse to touch her. Even if you’ve been on a few dates before and sacked up enough courage to kiss her (ON THE LIPS!!!), make sure to not ever hug her or greet her in any way on the subsequent dates. She will definitely NOT be wondering if that weird joke about animals mating at the zoo she made yesterday has changed your opinion of her… She will NOT be thinking that you felt how hairy her legs are and are appalled by her physically… She will not be mentally running through all of the reasons why she is undateable. Once you have initiated physical contact with a girl on a date, you should probably continue to do so on later dates or she is going to think something went wrong. And if something DID go wrong, how about you let her know and then you can stop seeing her and confusing the shit out of her?

3.) Text her a question, then when she sufficiently answers it… Wait about an hour to respond then give a short, curt response as if you’re annoyed she’s talking to you.

I will never understand this. If you want to chit chat via text, then just fucking do it. Don’t half ass it, don’t be weird about it. I don’t have the flexibility in my work environment to sit here for 3 hours staring at my phone wondering why the fuck you responded the way you did. And guess what? I’ll probably be screenshotting whatever weird shit you said and sending it to the panel of my weirdo friends who will also offer their analysis OR just tell me I’m being crazy and overthinking it. Either way, if you would just be fucking conversationally coherent and not make me feel like the biggest DOTA playing neckbeard ever… That’d BE SWEET.

4.) Tell her you’re too tired to “get intimate” within the first month of dating (when she’s laying barely clothed next to you in bed.)

No. I will accept a lot of excuses for turning down fun times, but being “too tired” is probably the pussiest of them all. I think I was at least close to a year into my last relationship before I started using the “too tired” excuse. If you’re “too tired” and it has been less than a month, something is wrong. Something is missing. That is a red flag if I’ve ever seen one. Head for the fucking hills. Every man I’ve ever known with a healthy appetite for fun will go to extreme lengths to have that fun. Even if it means being a half awake uncoordinated, poor excuse for a sexual zombie. Even if it means putting off a couple minutes of precious beauty sleep. You little bitch.

5.) Reach out to her and let her know you’d like to meet up, then make it really impossible to ever meet up with you OR just flake on the agreed upon time.

There’s nothing I love more than difficult communication surrounding plans. Especially in this city where it’s so easy to get from place to place on time/efficiently. I never have to plan ahead of time anyway, so when you flake at the last second it’s super convenient for me! Please, if you want me to remain interested in you as a human being… Cancel plans with me as often as possible and make even the easiest coordination a nightmare for me. You’re a dude, you’re supposed to be simple to plan with. You give me a time, I show up. I give you a time, you show up. I find the typical Los Angeles man needs to make it this complicated song and dance (of course, all you aspiring singers and artists) which makes me, once again, want to put on a steel plated chastity belt and close down shop for eternity.


I didn’t realize until recently how much I value directness in a man. I value the man who refuses to let me be a stupid head case of a human being. I value when someone won’t deal with petty mind games, says what they mean and sticks to their word. I value the guy who quite literally tells me to stop overthinking everything because he’s being completely honest with me. 

I’m sick of playing the game constantly, expecting a different outcome, and being repeatedly disappointed. We’re all tired of it. We’re all exhausted by it, frankly. I hear other women having this conversation regularly, I have this conversation regularly, the world is having this conversation at every imaginable moment.

Bottom line, fellas, we’re people just like you. We have insecurities, we have depth, we have fears, we have needs. We’re not just going to be there to entertain you when it’s convenient for you, we’re not just going to agree with everything you say. We’re distinct and complicated and that’s what makes us dope as shit. If you think finding the “perfect woman” means finding someone who will stand by and be endlessly supportive while you enjoy your life the way you see fit… Good luck, it ain’t gonna be me and it ain’t gonna be any of the amazing women I associate with.


The Games Men Play

I’m playing in an all women contact football tournament this weekend, so if you don’t hear from me at all next week it’s because I’m dead. I’ve never played contact football but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get my shit tossed around. Fun life updates ❤

Anyway. We all talk vaguely about how people play “games” when dating, but have we ever really got into the nitty gritty of what those games are? I thought to point of a game was to be mildly enjoyable. Let me tell you, I enjoy none of these games. I’d rather live in the 1500s where the “games” were as complicated as giving yourself a sponge bath, rubbing a bit of baking soda under your hairy armpits, and standing close to a potential mate to express interest.

So what “games” are us ladies ambiguously referring to when we say single dudes in their 20s play stupid games? See below:

The Inconsistent and Unclear Communication Game.

My favorite thing ever is when a guy texts me then I respond and he hits me with a “haha” or something else conversation ending that leaves me wondering if he even wanted to talk in the first place. I’m super down to shoot the shit over text, I sit at a desk for most of my workday and am really good at multitasking. But when you pull shit like this you’ve now sidetracked all of my productivity and I’m trying to figure out why the fuck you reached out to me.

What we also don’t understand is when you are gung-ho about texting us one week, keeping conversation every day… Then you fall off the face of the earth the next, only to reemerge at an arbitrary time (weeks or even months later) that correlates with exactly ZERO events in our lives. The best is when we send you a text or two that go completely unacknowledged. Why the fuck do YOU think we’re confused?

If you are pursuing someone, I don’t care if you’re a “shitty texter” you can figure your shittiness out enough to not be weirdly evasive and inconsistent.

Making Plans Chess Match.

If you want to meet up, rather than carry on pointless banter via text//Tinder//fuckall app… Ask us to hang out. If we aren’t available right at the precise moment that you ask, then let’s fucking find a time that works for both of us. The chance of you catching a self respecting woman available at a random moment on a Saturday afternoon is miniscule. Even if she is just laying in bed listening to the Spotify playlist “Move On and Don’t Look Back” on loop, she’ll pretend she’s doing something worthwhile. Here are a few lines to try out with a woman in order to ask her to hang out:

“Hey, what are you up to this weekend?”

“Hey, are you free any night this week to meet up?”

“What are your plans this week? Would love to hang out.”

“Let’s find a time to hang out!”

As you can see, you have some options. And if plans don’t work out and one of you has to cancel? Social etiquette requires the canceller to reach out to set up the new encounter. This is because cancelling plans could be a sign of disinterest, in order to refute that assumption you must be the one to reinitiate.

But before we even get to that point, we’d need to get to the baseline of you getting your dick out of your hand and making plans for once in your life. I don’t care if you’re “not a planner” be a considerate human being, because some of us enjoy having our shit together.

The End of Date Ultimatum Game

Sort of like Deal or No Deal but more awkward and less shiny bald Howie Mandel head. On the first date, you have to make a decision at the end of the date. Either you had fun and you’d like to see this person again, or you are pretty certain you’re better off not meeting up again. You should make this decision clear. Here are some ways to show you DO want to see this person again:

  • Say: “This was fun, we should do it again sometime!”
  • Mention a specific event you’d like to invite your date to, then see if they might be available to go to that event with you. (Bonus points if the event includes a shared hobby!) 
  • If you’re pretty damn sure the date went well, go for a kiss.
  • Send a little follow-up text saying you had fun once both of you have headed home for the night. (Bonus points if you bring up something the two of you talked about.)

If you don’t want to see the person again, just be as polite as possible and initiate NO PHYSICAL CONTACT. I repeat… ZERO PHYSICAL CONTACT. Unless you wanna be a dickhead and go for the handshake. (Nothing says “fuck me” quite like a good firm handshake at the end of a date.) Here are a few things you can do to confuse the shit out of your date and leave her wondering if she’ll ever hear from you again.

  • Give her a weird diagonal armed hug, bonus points if you pat her on the back. Slap her on the back if you want to also make her choke on her own spit while you’re at it.
  • Mention something the two of you could do together, then don’t follow up on it at any point in the next week.
  • Remain radio silent for several days after the date, even if she reaches out.
  • Add her on Facebook, but still don’t text her or communicate in any other way. (Same idea with following on Insta, SnapChat… etc.)

Both parties are responsible for dropping stink-bombs (not the cutest title for it but let me have this one plz) at the end of the date that clue the other person into whether or not they’d like to hang out again. I personally like it if the dude makes the first move, because I am so far stuck in my own head that the tiny people from Inside Out went on strike and a team of mice have taken over for them. Literally my brain is crawling with mice, someone send help.

Actions Not Matching Up With Words- A Riddle.

If you tell me that you had fun with me and want to hang out again, then are consistently flakey and weird about making plans… I’m gonna get confused. If you’re just swamped with work and need a few weeks to really focus… JUST TELL ME THAT. I won’t be personally offended if your work life is interfering with your social life, I just wanna be kept in the loop so I don’t reread our text conversation 500 times looking for something weird I said.

This riddle is especially relevant when clarifying a purely physical relationship versus an actual dating relationship. Don’t tell your parents about me, make “we” statements that are weirdly far into the calendar year, and exclaim to me that you “deleted all of your dating apps,” then be weirdly withdrawn and bitchy to me two days later. What the fuck am I supposed to make of that? Whether or not I shared the excitement in the first place is irrelevant, you’re sending MIXED SIGNALS.

Ghosts n Pussies (Same Thing, Different Game.)

If you can tell a girl is super into you but you’re not really moving in the same direction, just tell her. I know every woman says this but then reacts poorly when it happens, but honestly…I’d way rather just know that you’re not feelin it than guess for weeks why you suddenly dropped off conversation. There are several guys I have “dated” where I still have no idea what happened because communication just died after 4+ dates. If we’ve gotten past the 3 date mark, you should probably not ghost me if you are a decent human being in any capacity.

On the other end of the spectrum, if you’re super into a woman and she continues to say yes to (and show up for) dates, she hasn’t mercilessly friendzoned you, and she returns your attempts at affection… PROBABLY A SAFE BET THAT YOU CAN TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL WITHOUT DYING. I’m a forward person and I’m not afraid to admit when I like someone. I know it doesn’t come as naturally for guys to express feelings like that, but if you really want a woman to know you’re interested… Tell her.

Ladies get a bad rap for being overly analytical and hypersensitive, but men have to admit their part in our fucked up communication. At the end of the day all we want is to be told the truth and treated with respect. Dating is terrifying, it would be a hell of a lot easier if we could all get on the same page.  


Being a Single Lady in Los Angeles

Sorry I had to take a break from this for a bit because I started a new job. Fun fact, I got this job even though my (at the time, future) boss pulled up this blog in the middle of my interview and started reading a few of my posts, including my fake cover letter. The world works in mysterious ways. 

I don’t feel like I need to reiterate the fact that I am single, but for anyone who just started reading, that’s the waaaaaaay the news goes. I’m off the apps, so I’m as close to “off the grid” as you can get in 2016. Dating culture is an unsightly beast in Los Angeles, one that would have to wear a bag over its head because it would make children cry due to the sheer magnitude of its physical deformities. Why? Let’s explore:

Single women are not a hot commodity

There are plenty of us. In fact, we come in droves. I’ve met so many women I would want to date if I were a straight guy that I’ve relegated myself to a third party category of women called “Trolls named Wanda.” If you are an eligible bachelor in Los Angeles your options are limitless. You can be picky because there are a lot of amazing, badass, beautiful women out here. I would like to say I am one of them, but if you see my feet you will agree with my aforementioned categorization.

Almost any guy you meet who you might be remotely attracted to will possess one of the below major flaws:

  • Has a girlfriend: This is the most common one, tbh. You meet a guy who seems cool and fun and down to clown then you stalk him on Facebook for two seconds only to discover he’s been FBO with some beautiful model, who doesn’t even know how beautiful she truly is, for like 5 years and is on the brink of getting married to her. Yeah, nothing turns me off more than someone who is unavailable. Unless you’re unavailable AND love Dave Matthews Band. Then you’re scum.
  • Socially inept: This applies frequently to men you meet on the dating apps. They hide behind their dating profile because in reality they have no idea how to treat a woman or function in daily adult life. I dated a guy who didn’t even know how to ride a bike. And when I told him I would teach him, he was a little bitch about it. He was kind of a little bitch about everything though, so no surprise there. LA is a city full of man children with strange relationships with their mother.
  • Actor/Model/Comedian: THIS is actually the most common one. I’ll meet a guy who I’m attracted to (a tall beautiful douchebag) and then find him on Facebook where his entire page is littered with links to his personal website, inaccurate headshots, and mediocre YouTube clips from all the student films he has credits in. (AKA his ‘reel.’) I think I would be ok dating an actor if he wasn’t terrible, but I have yet to meet an “actor” who isn’t terrible. Also my ears already hurt at the idea of me dating a comedian. No one would be able to stand being around us and I probably wouldn’t think he was funny.
  • Works in some financial field: Guys who work with money are kind of the worst (sorry Will.) Especially in LA because they have a huge complex about not being in the Entertainment Industry. They make 4 times your yearly salary in a matter of months and they still make you pay for drinks on the first date. Because they are doing YOU a favor by taking you out. One of my favorites said to me “Yeah I make good money but I also work really hard for it!” Bro what do you think I do to make the SHIT money I (used to) make? Sit on my own thumb for 10 hours per day? Just because you work hard and get paid to do it doesn’t mean other people don’t also work hard and get paid in ‘experience’ and executive’s spare turds… You hairy sack of shit.

You start to wonder if you should change something drastically about yourself.

Yesterday I spent a good 4 minutes contemplating whether or not I should dye my hair blond. Of course, the answer is unequivocally HELL NO…(My skin tone is totally wrong for it.) But I feel like if I were a true “tall blond” then I could trick some guy into listening to what I have to say.

Nah, that’s not how it works. The only way a guy will listen to what you have to say is if you pretend you don’t care if he hears.

You decide you’re not going to care about it anymore, then accidentally care about it for a few minutes each day.

As much as I enjoy falling asleep to my stupid cat sleeping under my covers digging his claws into my legs, I really resent the fact that I’ve become the cat lady stereotype that everyone expected I’d be. I decide to stop giving a fuck, but then I realize something trivial, like the fact that the only person who I can look forward to cooking protein pancakes for on Saturday morning is Mary. And my cousin Nick. Both of them are better cooks than me anyway so it’ll just be like back in the day when I’d whip out the Easy Bake Oven for my family over Christmas break and they’d pity-eat my shitty Devil’s Food Cake.

Pretty sure my mom JUST threw out my Easy Bake Oven last year. We kept it around for an uncomfortably long time as a joke, then a few Christmas’s back from college I would still cook with it. I think we finally realized the entire situation was a little sad so we trashed it. I might be wrong, we might still have it.

The fortunate result of it all: you decide to work on yourself.

After fighting the good fight for the last 6 months, I have finally thrown in the towel. I am legitimately going to work on bettering myself. So many times I have told myself I would do it, but this time I really mean it: I am going to read a lot of books. I am going to become that montage in the movie where some Girl Power anthem like “Fight Song” plays and the lead reads tons of books about being a woman, works out so hard that she barfs, throws her full Kirkland wine bottles in the trash can (what a waste, at least gift them), braids her best girlfriend’s hair, and somehow becomes infinitely sexier.

A good example of this:

Please excuse the subtitles, not sure what language they are in.

Before the 3 people who read this jump down my throat for all the sweeping generalizations and stereotypes I just threw at you- I’m mostly kidding. Obviously in this city of a million something people I can’t possibly speak for the entire population. I am speaking from a set of exaggerated anecdotes and personal testimony. Because if I wrote any differently it wouldn’t be entertaining, would it?


(my mom’s favorite movie ever.)

You Don’t Reciprocate Questions

I hate when I’m inspired to write because of an episode of the Bachelor. I hate it even more when I’m inspired to write because of an episode of Bachelor in Paradise.

To be fair- it was a combination of things. One of my best friends came over last night and we laid in my bed for an hour or so and chatted. She mentioned that at one point she went on nearly four dates with a guy before she realized that she knew TONS about him but that he hardly knew anything about her. He didn’t even know she played piano (she owns a piano and was classically trained for many years…a simple question about her childhood probably would have elicited this answer.)

What the fuck does this have to do with Bachelor in Paradise? Well I watched the premiere today. I don’t have enough words in my brain to address all of the things wrong with the show, but I’m going to try to address at least a fraction.

Early on in the episode Lace and Grant are sitting at the bar getting drinks. For those of you not familiar with the franchise, Lace is known for being a “crazy bitch” because she got too drunk during Ben’s season and over-analyzed everything. Grant, on the other hand, is known for dumping his fiancé to go on JoJo’s season of The Bachelorette. Not even his first fiancé- she was his second and he has a tattoo of the flight they met on on his arm. (He was engaged to the other fiancé when they met on said flight.)


(Grant also looks like weird buff Squidward)

Immediately when Grant sees Lace he makes an off-camera comment about how much of a crazy bitch she is and how he’d never want to date her. But once all of the girls are introduced, it becomes clear that Lace is among the top percentile of attractiveness in the group. So Grant changes his tune.

“I did hear Lace was really crazy, but she’s really pretty… she’s really fun… I mean why not make things interesting? I like a complicated woman”

Yeah. Anyway, they’re sitting at the bar and he starts to talk about how much he likes her. She calls him out:

“I’m gonna tell you something about yourself: you don’t reciprocate questions.”

He starts to protest and she says:

“You don’t ask me about me, I’m just letting you know.”

He offers: “I wanna know something about you that a lot of your friends don’t know.”

“Ask me a question, I’ll answer it.” She says

When he can’t even come up with anything- she takes a shot of tequila and leaves him in her dust.

I wish that was the end of their story right there, but unfortunately it’s not. I won’t spoil anything, but Lace does not continue to be the royal badass she proved she could be, in that moment.

I wish we ALL walked away in these situations. It happens so often that we don’t even notice it anymore. We’re becoming almost accustomed to the glazed over look a guy gets when you’re explaining something or telling a story. He’s just sitting there staring blankly with no interest, while you get a little more insecure with every word. Half the time you just give up on whatever you’re saying because the disinterest is almost palpable.

Yet- somehow it’s so easy to talk about yourself when we ask questions. I’m not trying to be a bitch about it, but a conversation is sort of exhausting to keep up when there’s no exchange of information. The information flows one way, and the struggle is to constantly elicit more information without any reciprocation. I find myself constantly grasping for follow-up questions because my input doesn’t feel necessary.

Whether or not it’s intentional is irrelevant- the message is clear. If you don’t respect a person enough to learn about them or make a concerted effort to listen, then you shouldn’t be wasting their time.
Ladies, if you feel like you’re talking to a brick wall or you feel like you’re listening to a Ted Talk… Please for the love of Lace… Say something or just walk out.



How Much It Costs To Be a Proper Woman

The mirror at my workplace is like something stolen out of a funhouse from hell. Every time I look in it I look about five years older, twelve times more acne-ridden and infinitely more apathetic towards life. Every day I tell myself “You’re going to start trying harder, Katrina.” Then I go back to just removing the smudged eyeliner from the weekend before, little by little, with a Q-Tip, until I’m just naked faced with red splotches and despair.

Today I also realized that another toenail of mine is about to fall off. Promise I won’t SnapChat it to everyone again. I genuinely thought to myself “I should get a pedicure.” I’m not above it… Pedicures feel amazing. So do manicures. I’d love to do all that stuff regularly. But let me break down how much it would cost for me to be a proper woman in Los Angeles, if I wanted to be one.

For all of the below examples I pulled from pricing pages on Yelp, “Most Popular” product pricing on Sephora, and general Google search results. This is not meant to be a cut and dry guide to how much everything costs, but it’s to give you a rough range of beauty service//product costs. It’s slightly terrifying.


Better believe that flower is covering a massive bush.

HAIR REMOVAL: This is the bare minimum you need to do to be a proper woman in the United States. Depending on your preference you can either Wax, Thread, Laser or Sugar. Each method is extremely painful, just depends which your skin hates the least. We’re expected to remove hair  from our eyebrows, upper lip, chin (if needed), armpits, pubic region AND legs. You can remove other places too, but those are the necessities.

If I were to WAX all of these body parts at an average priced Los Angeles waxing salon, it would cost me:

Full Face: $49

Underarms: $18

Brazilian (naked vagina): $47

Legs: $68

Grand Total? $182

These hair removals need to be done at least once per month for a proper woman. I’m using waxing as an example because I know it’s the most commonly used technique. I prefer threading because it’s the cheapest, but you can only do that on your face. So the rest is up to me… Good times.


The way a blowout looks for about 10 seconds.

HAIR STYLING: Let’s say I actually wanted my hair to look awesome for a date or some other situation where I need to rely on my sexuality to make up for my shortcomings. There are a few options:

  • Blowout: For the record- this just means some chatty asshole will use a round brush and a hair drier to make my hair curly for about 2.5 hours MAXIMUM.
  • Color: Actually changing the color of my hair using dye. If you want your hair to not look like complete shit you HAVE to splurge on this.
  • Cut: If you try to go cheapo you will ruin your life.  I only do mine twice per year because I have a long hair complex as a result of trauma from my youth. (THANKS FOR THE BOWL CUT MOM)
  • Extensions: God forbid you fuck up your hair and need to get some extensions… Better pay so that it doesn’t look like a rat died on your head.

Ideally if I were to start trying to be a real woman- I’d cut and style my hair at least once per month. Let’s price that out…

Basic Blowout at Drybar: $40 (they usually charge extra for people with long hair though)

Basic Haircut: $50

Grand Total: $90

Running Total: $272


They look awesome until you fuck them up opening your car door.

NAILCARE: You can do a lot with your nails. You can get Acrylics, Gels, Airbrush or just paint. If you’re going to do your fingernails you should probably do your toenails too because it’s summer and people will be seeing them frequently. If they’re not painted you can’t (attempt to) disguise how truly ugly they are.

If I were to go do this, I’d get Gels because they last longest and look the least shitty. Even though these last longer we’re still probably going to need to get them filled at least once per month, if not more. Price that out?

Manicure: $35

Pedicure: $35

Grand Total: $70

Running Total: $342


They call this “natural look” but I think she’s a computer generated image.

MAKEUP: In order to hide your horrific face on a daily basis, you should invest in good makeup. You can cut corners if you want, but let’s just go through what it costs to round up the basics. Assuming you wear them every day and need to replace them occasionally… This adds up. Below is what I personally use.

Clarens Tinted Moisturizer: $60 (I splurge so that I don’t look like I did in high school…)

Buxom Mascara: $20 (I think you’re supposed to replace this monthly)

Covergirl Perfect Point Plus Eyeliner: $6 (I don’t wear this often and I still go through at least one every three months.)

Naked Palette Eyeshadow: $54 (should only need to buy once a year but you’re a loser if you don’t have this… That’s what the lady at the store told me.)

Physician’s Formula Pressed Powder: $15 (somehow I’ve still had this same powder since high school.)

That is my BARE MINIMUM for a night out.

Grand Total: $155

And if you want to actually be a REAL woman you’d also wear the following:

Concealer: $20 average

Face Primer (I don’t even really know what this is): $18 average

Blush: $30 average

Contour Palette: $40 average

Lipstick: $20 (that’s just for one shade, you need many)

Lipliner: $20 (also probably should have more than one)

Brush Set: $70 (you need brushes for all this shit and you don’t want them to suck)

Grander Total: $355

Running Total: $697


No one is this happy when they’re washing their stupid face.

HAIR CARE//BODY CARE//FACIAL CARE: In order to wear any of this stuff effectively you have to be a clean human being. I thought this was a given, until I realized some people still don’t brush their teeth…

I don’t even have very shitty skin and I have to splurge on facial products because NOTHING works the way it’s supposed to. Not to mention your hair adapts to your shampoo and rejects it (I’m not going to provide a link to support this, it’s true, we all know it.) I use BAR SOAP instead of body wash because I went through like a container a week. Let’s break this down as if I wanted to take GOOD care of my hair and skin…

First Aid Beauty Skin Kit: $50

Bumble and Bumble Shampoo + Conditioner: $50

Philosophy Body wash: $25

So those three products are the BARE MINIMUM for being fancy with your Hair Care//Body Care// Facial Care… You’d have to replace all of these things monthly if used daily.

Grand Total: $75

But if I wanted to be a proper woman… I’d also need the following:

Chanel Perfume: $78

Hair Styling Treatment: $27

Face Mask: $65

Acne Gel: $40 (pay for the quality, Clean n Clear just makes things worse.)

Philosophy Firming Body Lotion: $37

Foot Cream: $28

Self Tanner: $38

Grander Total: $388


I’ll leave it at that- but I want to acknowledge that this doesn’t even scratch the surface of clothing, shoes, purses, bras etc. This also doesn’t include all the other products out there we’re told we need. Like waist trainers, weight loss drinks, and injections of Botox. I just included things I’ve heard of and have actually considered using at one time or another.

What I want people to realize is that it isn’t laziness that prevents many of us (myself included) from “trying harder.” I don’t wake up excited to go to work looking tired and bland. But I also don’t have an extra hour to spend doing my makeup and hair until it looks the way I want it to look. I wish I could wait until I feel one hundred percent confident before I walk out the door every morning, but I have about a half hour to squeeze EVERYTHING into and I’d way rather spend that time making my lunch.

Obviously cost is the other huge factor. It’s a little embarrassing when there’s an implied standard that you can’t meet. Especially in this city where a lot of people CAN afford to keep up with the maintenance and there is such a high importance placed on our appearance. It’s almost a currency.

People aren’t shy about the implied standard either. I’ve been called sloppy more than a few times for not wearing makeup to work. Every woman has been told she looks “tired” when she wears less makeup than usual. We also get complimented, and even told that we should “do our makeup more often” when we wear more than usual. Who would have ever thought that looking the same way every day would be a challenge? You set a standard for yourself and when you are visibly different you feel insecure.

I’m not saying that all of us should stop wearing makeup or even stop doing ANY of these beauty practices. I just want people to be slightly aware of the time and energy that goes into looking presentable day after day. I don’t show up to work without makeup on because I’m a militant feminist, I don’t show up to work with wet hair because I’m lazy… I just don’t have twenty minutes free to stand under a blow drier and sweat my ass off.

Can we just make it slightly easier to be beautiful? I don’t want to pay someone $182 to rip every single hair off of my body once per month. I’d rather jump into a fire. Would probably get the same result anyway.









Things I Hate Almost as Much as Finding Dory

I know that it’s Thursday and technically this post should fall under Talk Shit Tuesday. But I’m going to do what I have done a few times before, and pretend that I’m posting this on the correct day and wait until someone calls me out for it. First person to call me out gets a slap on the face, a slap so hard that I’ll leave red finger marks across your cheek AND you’ll have to get your face removed.

No other introduction needed, here’s a list of things I hate. Things I hate almost as much as Finding Dory. And guess what? I’ll even tell you why I hate Finding Dory so much, but I’ll leave it for the grand finale.

  1. When people text me asking for a “HUGE FAVOR” then when I respond asking what it is, they don’t reply. Then I’m sitting there annoyingly curious what the favor was and why they suddenly don’t want ME to do it for them. Did they find someone better? Were they annoyed by my eagerness? JUST FUCKING TELL ME!
  2. A coworker comes to ask me questions while I’m very obviously in the middle of eating raw spinach. I might be able to forgive this when I’m eating other things, but you make me look like an idiot when I’m crunching on leaves like a fucking dinosaur and you stand there expectingly. At least this is slightly better than when my old boss used to purposefully wait until I started eating my own lunch to ask me to drive to get hers.
  3. I cut my nails too short now I’m in pain whenever I do anything. This is happening right now and it hurts to type.
  4. Someone tells me a story of something stupid I did. Seems like maybe they forgot it’s about me, and I’m super aware of it. And I don’t feel like awkwardly laughing along with them as they make me look like an ass clown.
  5. I don’t like it when people in my car don’t laugh sufficiently when I call other drivers “dick butts” on the road.
  6. I HATE that I have to be CPR certified in order to teach a kickboxing class. I really want to teach kickboxing to middle aged women and I’m super upset that I can’t bring that joy to both my life and their lives. I would totally teach them a sweet routine to Tik Tok by Ke$ha (I know she’s Kesha now)
  7. When a skirt is slightly too short and you have to pull it down with every single step you take because otherwise your vagina will flash to the planet earth.
  8. When I’m so tired that it’s really hard for me to breathe, and even harder for me to remind myself not to think about breathing because then I’ll just start obsessing over how difficult it is to breathe and then I’ll freak out like I am right now because I just wrote this.
  9. Street cleaning. In Los Angeles. Why? Why do you even pretend you’re cleaning anything? You’re just driving around with a giant toothbrush and forcing us to move our cars because you want to give us tickets. You fucking assholes. Nothing is getting cleaned.
  10. When someone drops something and you go to pick it up for them, but realize it’s way closer to them so they’re going to get it themselves and now you’re just crouched on the ground awkwardly and have to do a little dance to pretend you meant to be there.
  11. When someone tells me “You know nothing Jon Snow!” you’re not clever for using a Game of Thrones quote. In fact, I’m sure a million people say that line per day and think they’re just as clever as you, and are also wrong.
  12. I love when coworkers come up to me and ask me if I got their email. My question for them is, “Did you get a notification that the email didn’t send?” And if they say “No”  I tell them “Then yes, I got your email.” Nah, I don’t say that. But seriously, why do you need to ask me that? I obviously got your stupid email and I’ll handle it when it becomes important to me.
  13. I forget I’m wearing makeup and I rub my eyes like a sleepy old man then subsequently look like I’ve been crying and listening to “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance on repeat.
  14. My fingernails seriously hurt.
  15. The office is so cold that I have to drink tea to stay warm, meanwhile it’s like 103 degrees outside in this valley of hell.
  16. When old people get offended when you use the term “old” to describe something. Especially something that they frequently use. We get it, aging sucks and it makes everyone hypersensitive about their wrinkles.
  17. Gimmicky YouTube videos… like “How to Have Casual Sex as Explained By a Tea Party” Like… clearly the point is to get people to click because of ‘casual sex’ but then when we do click it’s a huge disappointment filled with nerdy folk (who probably never have casual sex because they can’t get any) beating around the bush, when honestly I’d LOVE an instructional video…
  18. People who whisper in my ear. Why are you whispering in my ear? It’s really creepy. Unless it’s like… a seductive situation there is no place for ear whispering. Even then, tread lightly because I am skittish and might punch you if I’m startled.
  19. People who want to tell me to do something, but instead of just telling me they casually ask passive questions until I come to the conclusion myself. How about you be direct? How about you just tell me the thing you want instead of making me play a mind puzzle with u?


Finding Dory. Finally, over the last few years I felt like people were finally getting over Finding Nemo. I’m not saying I didn’t like Finding Nemo, I really did enjoy it (when I was 11 years old.) But the only quote from it that didn’t become a fucking cliche because of how often people said it was “MIIIINE, MINE MIIIIINE” because those seagulls will never, ever stop being funny. Actually I take that back, that line DID get ruined. Because I’m pretty sure my least favorite coworker from Valley Fair liked to say it when she snatched up cookies in the cafeteria. Like a fucking cookie vacuum, that woman.

I want to stab Dory personally for all of the times over the last 13 years that people have said any of the following things to me:

Anything with “Grumpy Gills” in it. Bonus points if they attempt a “Dory” voice. AKA make themselves sound like a dumb idiot.

“Just keep swimming, Just keep swimming, Just keep swimming.” Bonus points if they say this when I’m really upset about something and am on the verge of tears.

“I shall call him squishy and he will be my squishy” Bonus points if the person names something stupid, like a pencil grip, ‘Squishy’ then says this line.

Anything with “Whale Speak.” Bonus points if the person does their own version of Dory’s whale speak, and continues to do it even when inevitably no one is laughing.

For the above reasons, and the fact that I hate Ellen Degeneres (and constantly hear horrible things about her as a human being, which justify my hatred), DESPITE my efforts to like her… Finding Dory is my personal nightmare. I truly look forward to the barrage of new quotes that will be cutely thrown my way as a result of this post.







Man at the Glass Store

In case you’ve never been to my new apartment, I live in between a glass repair shop and an old person’s home. (I smell a sitcom.) From the outside, my apartment complex looks like a place that middle class businessmen take their mistress to get their cheap thrills. Luckily, it’s great on the inside and I’m of the mindset that OUTER APPEARANCE DOESN’T MATTER. jk.

Anyway, we were told that we got one parking spot for our apartment. Totally fine, there is plenty of street parking. What we didn’t immediately realize is that there are only three LEGITIMATE covered parking spots and there are 4 units in the complex. In order to park a fourth car in that area, we need four spots… If you get what I’m saying.

I called the landlord and explained my predicament, and he told me that I was to park “where the trashcans usually are.” Granted, it’s not the first time someone has told me I belong with the trash, but I wasn’t sure my car could fit. After all, that spot was intended for the trashcans, not my Buick.

So I awkwardly parked my car in front of the gate to the complex, leaving barely enough room for someone to squeeze in. I wasn’t cool with it, at all, but I figured if we were paying for this non parking spot then I might as well use it?

Later some dude sees me walking out to the car and goes “Nah, unit 4 parks like this” and gestured that I needed to park the car parallel with the front of the building. With the front end of my car facing the Glass Shop.

Okay, fine. It makes slightly more sense. So I move it.

The next day I’m walking out to my car to leave for work, and a small old man in a tasteful Hawaiian shirt runs out of the glass shop and directly up to me. He has clearly worked himself up into a tizzy over something, I’m too tired and dead inside to really inquire but since he’s in my face I don’t really have a choice.

“Is this your car?” He gestures to my rental Hyundai Sonata

“I mean, it’s technically a rental but I’m driving it, yeah.” I stutter awkwardly, drop my keys on the ground, and give up on the day before it even begins.

“When you park here I can’t open my gate in the morning!” He gestures to a rickety wooden gate that opens onto the eerily horror-movie-esque workshop section of the glass store (which my bedroom has a full view of.)

My brain shuts down at this point. I just want a spot to park my stupid car (which isn’t even my car and I still haven’t gotten the Buick back and my life is crumbling before my eyes.)

“I don’t know what to tell you, this is where I’m told to park.” I just want to leave for work at this point. You know it’s bad when you WANT to leave for work.

This frustrated old man and I reach a stalemate. Neither of us have the power, or the desire to forfeit our position. I stared at him while he shrugged his shoulders and gestured at my car, and shook his head. He grunted a few unintelligible words.

“I need to leave.” I said and got into my car.

When I came home, I made an effort to park my car as far as possible from the gate, while still not blocking the door to the complex OR boxing in the other cars squeezed into our tiny, sad excuse for a parking lot.

I got out of my car at least five times to analyze the situation, using geometry and a protractor to predict the radius at which the gate might open in relation to my vehicle. At a certain point I remembered I haven’t taken a math class since high school and I gave up.

A few days later, we have another similar encounter. This time he is past the point of being in a tizzy and instead is full on pissed. He has defiantly opened the gate door and shoved it up against my car in protest. Thanks bro, thanks for adding on another scratch fee to my rental!

“You CANT park here, I CANT get my truck in and out of the gate!” He shouts and throws his hands in the air at me.

I have a certain face for situations like this. One that I don’t like to use very often, but one that is very effective when used. A face that tells you, I’m not the person to spout your bullshit to. I am in fact, the WRONG person to spout any bullshit to at this hour, on this day. I’d already had my C4 preworkout, I’d been to the gym, my arms were shaking… If he was trying to start something I would end it. Just kidding. Maybe?

I gave him the face. It’s a scowl combined with slitted eyes and a slight grimace. Like, the kind where I’m clenching my jaw and gritting my teeth so that I don’t bite anyone or anything. Except myself. Like the kind they do in old western movies when they have chewing tobacco tucked under their lip and curled over their yellow rotting teeth as they utter some sort of mildly racist warning to their enemy.

“Sir. You need to talk to the property manager.” I said using some powerful hand gestures I learned in Mock Trial to show that I wasn’t kidding around.

He didn’t understand what I said, at all. He made no attempt. So instead of talking with me he kept gesturing, and babbling and shaking his head. I continued to make my cowboy face then got into the car and I drove off. It wasn’t until I got to work that I discovered the piece of paper (with his glass company insignia on it) tucked into my windshield wipers with a message written on it in all caps, in sharpie:


You might be thinking, Katrina, this is a pointless story. Maybe it is. But I think this is a huge lesson in modern communication. Both me and this man talked AT each other, and didn’t ever accomplish anything. I still don’t even think he fully understands that I live in the apartment complex next door. I think he is so caught up in the fact that his gate won’t open that he is blinded by his own rage and unable to take in external opinions.

On my end? Since I only have to deal with his incessant chatter in the early hours of the morning, I’m willing to be apathetic. A mild annoyance at best compared to the two goddamn cats who scream at me every morning even though they already ate. I’ll do my best to park where he isn’t impacted, but I’m not gonna go out of my way to find a solution.

But to be fair, he isn’t providing a solution either. He just yells at me every day, hoping to break me from my apathy. Which, sir, good luck… Not happening. I will continue to be apathetic about my shitty parking spot (and the rest of my life) for all of eternity if the world lets me. He could put up some marking that indicates the point which I shouldn’t park beyond, but instead he likes to leave me passive aggressive windshield notes.

Man at the glass store, I get that you are frustrated. We’re all frustrated by something in our lives. But be warned, my Buick is a lot bigger than this rental car and I can assure you we will have a whole new saga to start once the beast returns to its home.


(The above image is a sample of the type of work I imagine is completed at this repair shop.)



(Based on the appearance of the shop- this is also the type of work I could imagine being completed. If you didn’t know, this is from the movie Saw. I just explained my joke to you, in case you didn’t like it. Did you find that funny? Shoot me a message on Facebook/iMessage if you found it funny. I need to know how my jokes are landing.)