He has really nice abs. But I only know because he’s shirtless in four of his seven profile pictures.
Why deny ourselves a chance to draw hearts with arrows through them and eat prix fixe meals for two at restaurants that are otherwise outrageously expensive? A holiday’s a holiday, just enjoy it for what it is.
The following are several hairstyles I wish I had tried out when I had a full head of hair.
Tia and Tamera come to grips with the realization that their twinship is not a playful flourish from the idiosyncratic hand of God, but merely a production error from the mechanized assembly chain of creation.
Welcome to “A Complete Idiot’s Guide” where you will be guided by me, a complete idiot. This week? Valentine’s Day. Or as we Americans call it, “The big dance.”
So, you’re in your 30s, you’re a straight woman, and you’re single. You’re out there looking for a nice, mature man, one who longs to put his hand on your knee under the bar on Saturday night and lay his head in your lap to watch HBO dramas on Sunday while soup bubbles on the stove. One who has a job and a healthy relationship with his mother. One with a cute butt.
Life is full of frightening transitions — adolescence, parenthood, those god-awful bifocals that morph into sunglasses when you’re outdoors — but perhaps the most overrated metamorphosis occurs when you ‘enter the real world.’
It’s embarrassing to be affected by this holiday. It’s embarrassing to even be writing this blog post and giving it more attention. Throughout the years, celebrating Valentine’s Day has become so lame in the eyes of the masses that even couples don’t celebrate it. It’s a joke, a symbol of consumerism rather than real love.
This weekend, when one of your friends texts you with promises of glory, of true love, and the possibility of dollar domestics — you say no. You say no, you gather up the scraps of your dignity, and you order a pizza.
It looked something like this: we’d been in the city a few days already, and woken up early to head to our favorite café. We were sitting on the patio and my palm was resting on his leg while we read books and wrote and laughed. By noon we were tired, and ready to head back to the apartment we’d rented.
She concluded, without much deliberation, that he’s a bit of a megalomaniac. I recalled the lyrics to an Incubus song on the subject and concurred. She added: “He’s kind of a sociopath, too.”
The following are three completely true facts about the Land of the Rising Sun that will make you say, “Huh, well I don’t about all that but they sure make a heckuvah a sedan.”
I’ll accept that somewhere on earth, there’s a dyslexic, song writing (curious dynamic, there) Calvin Klein model who still shows up for school even though ~13 years passed before anyone noticed he couldn’t read.
Introducing Ask A Princess, Thought Catalog’s new advice column. Every Thursday, Chelsea will be taking your questions and bestowing upon the peasants her diamond-encrusted words of wisdom.
Another one I like is called the Latent Savant Paradox. Well, that’s what I call it anyway. Everybody is really good at something. It doesn’t matter what it is, they are better than almost anyone else at doing one thing.
Unspeakable Assault. Braving the Elements. Elite Units. SuperPAC. Deep-pocketed Donors. Like-minded Colleagues. Steadfast Dog. Corrections. Still Defiant.
If possible, the iPod is turned on, or a CD is played, and once Bon Iver or The National are on again you’re reminded that you’re a socially aware, farmer’s-market-shopping 20-something who reads good literature and only buys fair trade.
Sometimes, when in situations like these, you find yourself in a conversation where the rules are that you have to keep making up these clever little witticisms to stay in the conversation. It is like a verbal game of ping pong.
There I ate bacon cheeseburgers and drank no fewer than thirteen PBRs a night. I became what they call a regular and the other regulars and the bartenders pushed Jaeger and Strega shots my way.
Dubstep, I believe, is a genre of music. Right? My impression is that it’s like robot reggae. But we already have reggaeton, so that should be covered. How many varieties of reggae do we need?
But where is Jared? The room is full of Jared. I keep hoping he’ll come stumbling from the back, drunk on meat and triangle cheeses, raising up his arms.
The listing didn’t have an exorbitant number of exclamation points or asterisks, which was a pretty good sign. I mean, it wasn’t my first choice. But when you have no choice, last choice starts to look pretty good.
It’s not just the deletion of social media fluff, of someone that never had bearing on your life and never will, it’s truly burning a bridge.
I know Jersey Shore is super played out at this point but I will always have a half-erect penis for Snooki’s antics. What I find most endearing about this pint-size wastoid is that she’s unabashedly herself. In fact, she’s obsessed with her lifestyle choices which, in this age of cold calculation, is rare and admirable.
The decadence of yesteryear no longer glitters with either promise or romance. We are always already watched, always already judged. Throughout Somewhere, Dorff screws beautiful women simply because he can. It is neither depraved nor decadent.
For awhile I swore by the mantra “we’re all exactly where we’re supposed to be.” It’s a comforting idea, and if you repeat it until you believe it you can use it to quiet down your restlessness. But it only really works when you’re actually satisfied. I don’t believe it consistently. We don’t always make the best choices for ourselves.
Occasionally, she leans in to try and kiss me, but I recoil, saying, “No! Does not want!”
Have a weird, random dream job that would only exist in a Hollywood script. You’re a product tester of… products, or a “GLAMOROUS” dog walker, or a super chic editor of Chic Magazine located in Loveless Metropolitan City, U.S.A.
At its core, probably, Jupiter consists of a diamond that is the size of the planet Earth. …Allow me to repeat that: …A DIAMOND. THE SIZE OF. THE PLANET EARTH. This fact has always haunted me for some reason. Well, not for “some reason.” The thing is, I want to have that diamond! Could I assemble a team of men to steal it, Nicholas-Cage-movie-style?
Your body mass index is a little high. But that’s really fine so long as you still look good. Keeping your proportions in a regular state of expansion is a good way to ensure you have high clothing turnover, do you understand?
An impossible-to-maintain feverish feeling that will fade, even though you don’t listen when everyone tells you that the impossible-to-maintain feverish feeling you feel will fade.
Just because you can squeeze tenuous meaning out of a symbol, a gesture, a word, a sentence, a picture or a grunt does not mean that the meaning is absolute. If meaning were absolute in a piece of art, it ceases to have a necessary element of art. It does not give a person the chance to decide for themselves.
Thank god I actually went because it turned out to be an amazing time. White Girl Problems took the usual model of a book release party (stuffy old white people with drinking problems sitting around and talking about other stuffy old white people with drinking problems) and dipped it in couture and cocaine.
What would we do without the internet? Realistically, probably go to libraries and get regular vitamin D, but it’s really a moot point.
Isolate yourself until you’re lonely and not just alone, until you can’t stand to stay away any longer, until you begin to wonder why you holed up in this jail cell in the first place. Everything, everywhere will feel like a jail cell.
A sporting event is possibly the least appropriate time to unleash mayhem across a city. The Patriots lost. You’re mad. I get it. I’m mad too. But let’s not act like a bunch of dumb, emotionally stunted husbands from yogurt commercials about it.
I wouldn’t say I was ever particularly interested in how you met my mother in the first place. But if it was a quick, funny little story I guess it would be good to know. Maybe I could tell my kids one day, or get a crappy college essay out of it or something. But this is ridiculous.
I think that’s a major source of the problem actually. People are choosing to not respect boundaries and continue to be aggressive instead. Why do they do this though? Do they think I’m going to magically change my mind when you fondle me a 7th time?
For every bubble that came up, a thought bubble came up in my head. What am I doing here? I envy people who seem able to place themselves inside a jacuzzi and have their problems melt away; where my problems, it seems, just brew.
But I just now found this out and so was immediately compelled to share with likeminded Gosling lovers who may not be aware of this exciting situation, which is that Ryan Gosling has a band. Ryan Gosling singing, in a band. Ryan Gosling… in a band.
I care more about the weird dream you had last night than I do about the Super Bowl. No, seriously. Tell me about your weird dream. I’m dying to know! So you were being chased by an octopus at a carnival and I was there with your ex-boyfriend? Riveting stuff.
What’s that? Oh, please don’t worry about getting me flowers or the aforementioned heart-shaped chocolates — obviously, only someone who cares about another person would bother with such mainstream forms of affection…
There are even those that go so far as to deliver the exact same speech about how they are “not a dessert person” every single time they take a bite of a cookie. Who are they convincing?! We all love cookies!
You start by swimming. You swim because most of the other swimmers are septuagenarians and older, and it’s unlikely you’ll see anyone you know. Swimming is also likely the one sport you enjoyed doing as a kid, not because of the speedos but because you didn’t have to talk to anyone…
I thought I would be instantly smashed to pieces, but somehow the train went straight over me, and except for the noise, it didn’t hurt a bit. I was really just embarrassed. Everybody was screaming and freaking out and I didn’t know what to do, so to avoid the awkward situation, I decided I would just pretend to be dead.
The universe becomes uncanny at its core, always shifting and realigning depending on how you look at it.
Taraka and Nimai Larson can’t wait to meet you. Most artists will hide behind a shield of press contacts and merchandise movers, but Taraka and Nimai do everything themselves…
I’m going to hate you one day. I’m going to despise every fiber of your being. I’ll wince when you touch me in the foyer after a long day at work. I’ll lose desire for your penis, your arms, your teeth, your earlobes. I’m going to stop believing everything you tell me. I’m going to draw the blinds, take a nap, and never wake up again.
On first dates, you usually say something neutral but deeply insecure, like, “Yeah, all of my friends work at startups,” or “Remember Duke Nukem? Great game. Never played it, but great game.”
As confident and crisp as this how-to title sounds, what I impart below is not boastful advice based on personal success, but rather lessons learned from a less than stellar start with my wife’s mother.