My Apologies, Susan B. Anthony

I was struck by something rather disturbing (and stupid) on Yahoo news, as per usual. I will admit that basically anything relating to Taylor Swift is enough to get my panties in a full on pretzel twist, but this article struck me as especially annoying.

http://shine.yahoo.com/fashion/exclusive-taylor-swift-39-cute-keds-campaign-girl-184100579.html

I have heard whispers, ok not even whispers, full on YELLS about Taylor Swift being considered a "feminist" for some time now. Being, ya know, a woman and all, this sentiment really burns my biscuits.

Taylor Swift is the new face of the feminist movement? Well, we might as well all shoot ourselves in the cunts right now and save ourselves the misery.

For so long "feminist" women have scolded other women who are skeptical about being related to the word "feminist." I, myself, find that I have practically avoided the label like the plague. I even make sure to fill a daily quota of misogynist jokes as to avoid being called the f-word.

What is the only thing worse than a chauvinist pig?

A woman who doesn't do what she's told.

Phew, okay, daily quota officially filled for the day. But I think this Taylor Swift nonsense is a very good example of why I refuse to subscribe to what the feminist movement has become.

Don't do that, T, I know it hurts too much.

But when you think about it, it is rather disturbing. Why do people associate the word feminist with a girl who has built her whole career off of complaining about boys dumping her? I mean why has "feminism" evolved into this bullshit movement where women just complain about how men have burned them and "broken" their weak little hearts. Why is it that songs like "I Knew You Were Trouble" or "Picture to Burn" have become new anthems for girl power?

Yes, please complain to me more about how a guy who you always knew was a douche bag, turned out to be, well, a douche bag! What a fucking twist! Now let me write a song about it... GIRL POWER!!!!

And the whole bit in "Picture to Burn" when she says, "go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy, that's fine I'll tell mine you're gay." If he is not into you, Ms. Swift, than he MUST be gay. This is a fair approach. Instead of outting Joe Jonas as the dipshit that he is, let's out him as a homosexual. Come to think of it, every guy that I have ever been involved with must be gay as well! It all makes sense now.

To be the proper feminist, it is crucial that you tear his house apart. Burn your fucking bra in his fireplace while you are at it because, yeah, that is what being an empowered woman means! Look at her, stalking her ex-boyfriend's house and drinking his mouthwash... you go girl! Besides, we women have absolutely nothing better to do anyways, apparently. We don't have jobs or lives or anything.

I was listening to the radio the other day and heard the DJ talking about how Taylor Swift was continuing to speak about who she lost her virginity to. There has been widespread speculation about whether or not Taylor Swift lost it to John Mayer or Jake Gylenhaal. For years we have waited with bated breath to find just WHO popped this girl's cherry. It just means everything.

Does this fixation on female virginity sound a little familiar to you? Sound like the good ol' days when we had things like dowries? When women's virginity was not just cute little thing ("aw, cute, she waited for marriage!") but an absolute non-negotiable if she planned on getting married. If a woman had lost it before marriage, she was considered damaged goods. And for those who know about Japanese culture (or for those, like me, who took the shortcut and read Memoirs of a Geisha) know about how young virgin women in Japan's bodies were sold, and their John would collect their blood as a keepsake (now that is one for the mantle!) The question is, who holds the vile of blood that is T-swifts virginity? John Mayer? Jake Gylenhaal? Harry Styles? Jesus Christ himself? So many possibilities.

So many questions left unanswered.

Her songs, her words and her whole personality that she has created encourage this speculation and fixation on something that is the opposite of progressive. In fact, she is literally preaching the oldest fucking shit in the book. You do not hear Hillary Clinton or Gloria Steinem go on and on to the public about who they lost it to. Lameskis.

For as long as people continue to insist that Taylor Swift is a feminist, I will keep at my role of being a avid misogynist, picket signs and all.

XOXO,
Jules

The February Blues

Am I the only person on this Earth who absolutely hates the month of February? It seems that every year during this fateful month I get blown a new asshole--sometimes multiple new assholes. By the time the month is over, my body is basically covered with pustules, oozing with poop. Okay, maybe I took that joke a little too far but you get the idea.

But seriously! In what should be a month full of beauty and delight always turns into a month of doom and destruction. You would think that the shortest month of the year would have less of a chance of fucking it up... but let me tell you, these are 28 days of doom. And if it is a leap year, you better fucking forget it. Sleep that one out like the fuckin' groundhogs. They know what's up.

For starters, your significant other always, always, always fucks up your shit during this month. You get cheated on, you get dumped or you find out they want their annual sex change.

What can ya do? Shit happens.

Regardless, they are fucking you over in some way, shape or form. Plus, after you are kicked to the curb, it is a lot harder to rebound because it is the fucking DEAD of winter and therefore you have little motivation to even put on pants during the weekend--let alone get your ass to da club. So basically, it is just you, your thoughts and your shower nozzle. Oh and your tears too because you are probably heartbroken or some crap.

So that brings me to my next point. The fucking weather. What is this nonsense? I did not sign up for this. I get it, I live in the Northeast, there will be some snow from time to time but two snow storms a week? I left Ithaca, New York to escape from the darkness. I supposed the darkness followed me...

AHhhhhHhhHhh!

Okay, back to me and MY problems. Last snowstorm, I spent nearly 4 hours shoveling my driveway and let me tell you something very important, something very disturbing that I have learned... shoveling is never cute. You usually have snot coming out of your nose by the time you are ten minutes in and by the time you are finished it is frozen to your face. Oh, and those cute, pink, fluffy ear muffs that you put on beforehand? Yeah those things are long-gone because you realize how fucking annoying they actually are and project the exact opposite of what you are feeling, which is death.

So you rip them off in disgust, throw yourself in the snow and cry for a half and hour or so. Standard shoveling tantrums, if you will.

So yeah, when you are done shoveling, you get to flop yourself down on your couch like a beached whale and dream of a beautiful place where there are rainbows and sunshine and sexy leprechauns---oh wait, nope, you DON'T, because guess what? Your ass needs to go to work now.

It is such a shame because I feel like every February I can never enjoy Black History Month to the fullest extent. I am always worrying and fretting over shit that is irritating and disgusting in nature. Black History Month should be officially changed to the month of September. September is an excellent month full of hope, promise and foliage. Nothing is more beautiful than foliage, nothing.

For those of you who are struggling during this dark month, you must know that you are not alone. Every morning I wake up wishing for something better, something more March-like. Until then, we must make the most of it.

For one thing, pretty yourself up.

You aren't gonna get anyone with that attitude... or without brushing your teeth.

Secondly, pay for a fucking snow plow. No human should be subjected to shoveling a driveway. I would not wish that on my worst enemies (okay, maybe on SOME of my worst enemies...Okay, actually I would wish it on all of them).

Muhahaha!

Hang in there. At least we still have each other...LOLOL!!

XOXO,
Jules

I Could Stay Awake Just to Hear Ya Breathin'

Everyone knows that Aerosmith song where Steven Tyler is staring at his significant other sleeping ("I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing"). In reality, the chick is probably just some random ass biddy he found lying around somewhere with her legs open. However, he acts like it is so much more than that. He sings candidly, poetically and rape-ly about how he enjoys hearing her breathe and watching her sleep.

Somehow this rapey act is seen as "cute" and "romantic." Last time I tried this move, I wound up with a black eye and a restraining order.

I think the overwhelming consensus was that what I did was considered "inappropriate" and "socially ill."This gesture apparently is only acceptable when Steven Tyler does it. I find this rather perplexing because Steven Tyler could easily pass as the wicked witch of the west.

You are telling me that if you did not wake up to THAT staring at you, you would not shit your footy pajamas? Puh-freakin-lease.

Not to mention the face that Steven Tyler looks like walking gonorrhea. Why all these women want to sleep with walking gonorrhea is beyond me. To add insult to injury, people play this song at their WEDDING. Their fucking wedding. Fuck that, I am either going with "The Thong Song" by Sisquo or "Every Girl" by Lil Wayne. These two gentlemen know how to treat a lady. Two old souls just looking for that special someone

#feminism. Lil Wayne keeps pussy runnin' like a faucet.

The reason why I bring up this creepy song is because Valentine's Day is right around the corner and I will bet you any amount of conversation hearts that loser dudes near and far will be pairing that song with a bed full of rose petals in order to convince a girl to allow them to either:

A) skull fuck them
B) have a threesome
C) do butt stuff
or
D) play a round of bananagrams with them

The last one seems pretty unlikely but I figured I would add it in for the sake of hopeful thinking. No one plays that wonderful game anymore.

There are two main Facebook burdens that all sane biddies must bear on Valentine's day. The first burden of the Facebook community are the biddies who have boyfriends.  This day, for them, is solely dedicated to making Facebook posts about about how much they LOVEEEEEE their significant other. If it is not written on Facebook, the love might as well not exist.

If you're a bird, then I'm a bird, baby.

Anyone who is in any kind of relationship makes it their number one duty to let everyone know they are getting it in. They post nauseating couple picture after nauseating couple picture, to make sure each and every last friend has slit at least one wrist before they are done with your profile.

The second burden and, actually, the worse of the two burdens are the biddies who do not have boyfriends. Ugh, the ones who insist on writing "SINGLE AWARENESS DAY!!!!!!!" Were they not aware that they were single before February 14th? I mean, if this is the case, I can totally identify with this confusion. Some days I forget that my imaginary boyfriend that buys me flowers (and even proposed to me last week! Thanks for all of your well wishes!) is not actually real. That was all me buying flowers, chocolates and, yes, even the engagement ring (I am very progressive!) Just, ya know, pretending to be loved. Don't mind me.

It should be mentioned that Valentine's Day motivates overeating for those of us who need to be staying fit to lure a man in. The only people who get to enjoy this chocolate deliciousness are those who already have their biddy on the lock-down. Hey, they aren't love handles if no one loves ya. You remember that!

So that is all I am going to say on the subject of Valentine's Day (and trust me, I have already said enough). I would like all of you to think twice about what you post on Facebook or what you say on this day because in reality Valentine's Day is just February 14th. It is just another day in your miserable, mundane life-- no more, no less.

Do not make a spectacle of yourself.

XOXO,
Jules

Too Legit to Not Quit

I was going to avoid writing yet another post on Sir Justin Bieber but I truly believe in teachable moments. Therefore, it would be a shame to not point out the beauty of his recent "retirement." I promise that this will be the final time that I will mention the Biebster for as long as this biddy blog shall live.

I think we all have something to learn from Bieber's plan to retire from the music business. There are numb nuts who stick around for a littttttttttle too long. I mean, just think about it, the man accomplished all of the important things in life, there was no need to keep this nonsense going any longer.

For starters, he banged Selena Gomez. They loved each other like a love song for years. Their love came naturally, it came naturally. This is a task that even I, biddy queen, will never complete. This is an accomplishment to be admired, to be honored and... to be kind of perplexed by. I mean, really Selena? Justin Bieber? Have you no self-esteem? Have you no mirror? Perhaps you should re-listen to your own single "Who Says." Inspiring words from such an hypocritical young biddy.

The second "most important" thing the Great Bieber accomplished was not just walking over The Great Wall of China like all of the other plebeians of the world, but he was CARRIED over instead (like a G). I wrote an entire post about this great accomplishment a few months back. God gave The Great Bieber legs so he can NOT use them as far as I am concerned.

The third "most important" thing that Justin accomplished was winning a bunch of pointless awards that in no way, shape or form reflect his "artistic" or "musical" "abilities."

But truth be told, none of these stupid award shows reflect any sort of substance or ability anyways. I mean, not to harp on this like basically every other person in the blogosphere but... Katy Perry being nominated for a Grammy? Macklemore winning MULTIPLE Grammies? Jonah Hill being nominated for, yet again, another Oscar? Maybe all of you award show snobs should take a closer look at what you consider an "honor" these days. They are basically handing these little trinkets out for free these days. Come to think of it, I am hoping that one day I can get my hands on one of thosee suckers. There's a spot on my dresser with its name on it, right next to my town swim team participation trophies.

The only thing I fear is that the Grammy will cheapen the whole look. I mean, I worked many a 50 yard butterfly to get those fuckers. Each of those flip turns took a little bit out of me, each dive off of the block took a little bit of my soul.

The fourth "most important" Bieber accomplishment was banging a prostitute. Forget everything you heard in health class. I like to live my life by the Pokemon philosophy: "Gotta catch em all" and contracting STDs is no exception. The more, the merrier. 

So, think about it...

Bieber is quitting before his pill problem comes to light and his dick rots off. That is the very definition of quitting while you are ahead. Not so silly when you put it that way, huh?

I hope this message reaches certain "important" people. Watching the State of the Union last week made me think that perhaps, President Obama and all of the other presidents that came before him (and will come after him) should have taken a note from the old Biebsters ways. Madonna, you should ponder these words as well. Also, Taylor Swift, I am looking at you too (per usual).

And to those who have made the puzzling decision to "un-retire" after making grand announcements of retiring, you are absurd and selfish. Amanda Bynes and Jay-Z,  un-retirement is a big, big no-no. Please re-retire as soon as you get this message.

As for you, my good biddies, there is an important message you must take away from all of this. Know when you have overstayed your welcome, know when it is time to get the fuck out and know when it is time for you to shut the fuck up.

On that note...

XOXO,

Jules

Textiety: A Not So Silent Killer

Hear that clicking sound? That is the sound of the purest form of vulnerability, the musical stylings of pre-rejection and the reason why I, and most likely every other millennial, has high blood pressure. That, my good biddies, is the sound of text-messaging. Or, as the kids these days like to call it: "texting."

Yeah, I bet you are all down with the lingo. All kidding aside, texting has become part of my daily life and has claimed a large part of my sanity.

A whole texting culture was created within the past ten years. This conception has happened right before my very eyes. It was kind of similar to the conception that I witnessed in my friend's basement Sophomore year of college. The one where I saw a friend of a friend LITERALLY get impregnated in front of me. That was the first time I saw, in the flesh (and not in the pornos), how babies were made. Staring into the darkness I saw two naked figures doggy styling it. With "Shots" playing in the background, the couple made sweet, passionate love and I for the fucking life of me could not look away.

Texting and texting culture has doggy styled its way into our lives, if you will. And I can tell you this now, it is not doggy styling its way out anytime soon. We have created one raging cunt of a monster that just will not quit.

Texting is now being used by evil biddies everywhere as a method of punishment and degradation. For starters, iPhone created the "read message" feature to bust MY personal imaginary balls. People who use this feature want innocent biddies like me and you to know that it is not that they did not read your text message, it is that they do not give two shits about answering it. They want you to KNOW that you are too insignificant to respond to and they want you to FEEL your insignificance to the fullest extent.

They do not even have the decency to pretend that they are doing more "important" things other than answering your paramount (to put it delicately...) text message about what your boyfriend's sister's friend posted on Facebook three hours ago about their dinner last night. We know that they read your text message. We can not even fool ourselves for a minute into thinking that these people give a shit about us and our deep-seeded problems.

Ultimately, however, the "read messages" feature does not really matter because even if the person's "read messages" are off, I think we all know that everybody checks their phone every one to five seconds. What could be keeping these people from responding to us? Hm? Which "pressing" matters are more "pressing" than our text messages? What are these so-called "important" activities all of these people are doing instead of responding to ME? Oh yeah, allegedly you are "working," "sleeping" or getting a "colonoscopy." These are the usual excuses for a lying sack of shit.

Spare me the lame lies. You ignored my text message, and you are not even biddy enough to admit that you did. The only legitimate excuse for not responding to me is if you are lying dead in a ditch somewhere... and even then it is debatable depending on how important MY problem was.

I wish I did not care about matters of the iPhone. I wish I was not a slave to technology. I wish I could break out of this prison of emojis and LOLs. I wish that one day I can be a person again who picks up the phone to talk to a person, or better yet, actually sits *gasp* FACE TO FACE WITH THEM.

THE HORROR! THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING HORROR!

The invention of texting and social media can also be blamed for the creation of a whole new type of bullying that young children have adopted. Children can hide behind their phones like pussies, calling each other whatever the fuck they want and not have to be faced with the other person's reaction on the other end of the phone. These little fucking shits are being deprived of learning basic fucking human traits like fucking empathy and compassion.

Now, I am a self-aware biddy and I, myself am guilty of some of this. I am willing to admit that I use social media and the internet to talk madddddddddd shit. Let's face it, some of the shit I say on here, I would never say in person. In fact, one may even call me a sweetheart!

Some of my most badass fights have happened over texting. Er, actually, correction... ALL of my badass fights have happened over texting. It is just so easy to call bitches out on their twattery if I have, like, ten miles between us and I am locked safely in my house, in my room,... under my strawberry shortcake down comforter...

Text fighting is bad, but text ignoring is straight up evil. I will never take part in any of that. It is just plain heartless. There is not a worse feeling in the world than waiting for someone to answer your well-thought out, well-punctuated, well-emojii'd text message. There you were, putting your heart and soul on the line only to have it trampled on, blended up, eaten, shat out and probably eaten again by some dumbass, scum-bag biddy.

Bad things happen to good biddies everyday.

So next time you get a text-message, take it fucking seriously. A biddies' feelings are on the line here. Read the fucking text and fucking respond you pieces of shit.

XOXO,
Jules

I Want the News, Not the Weather

Can we go back to our self-promoting, self-serving ways, Facebook friends of the world? I have grown so accostummed to people insisting on themselves that one may even say I am a little dependent on it. I need people to continue talking about how great their lives are. I need all of my fellow nepotism-forgetting Westchester friends to brag about their imaginary "self-made" successes.

Lately, I have been getting none of that. All these ignorant hoes have been talking about on Facebook is the goddamn weather.

Have people completely lost their fucking minds? When has the weather ever been an interesting topic to talk about? Is it not the first rule of dating that if the person you are with is completely bored and out of interesting things to talk about that they refer back to the temperature? Pretty sure it is the universal sign of boredom. So, I ask you, when did this fact go out the window? And more importantly, when did so many dumb biddies become meteorologists?

Questions, I pose them.

Quite frankly, my dears, I only need to be told that it is currently snowing outside once, not over and over by the same people. As a matter of fact, I do not need to be told at all. My house came fully equipped with these cute little things they call windows. At any given moment, on any given day, I have free range to look out these nifty little tools and see for myself what the weather is like outside.

There is no reason why girls who take duck face car selfies or boys who bring backpacks filled with Natty Ices to da club should be using "polar vortex" in a sentence, let alone in a Facebook status. Stick to what you know. I will rough it and look at my Weather dashboard, poop breath. Or maybe I can just FEEL that it is cold on my way into work that morning.

The only thing worse than the biddy meteorologists, are the fear mongering meteorologists. I will have you know that not every snowstorm is an apocalypse, not every drop of rain is a monsoon and we are actually very rarely in any kind of REAL danger when it comes to weather. I feel so numb to the fear that I do not even get scared anymore.

...okay, maybe you guys scare me a little. So, please, do me a solid and shut the fuck up?

There are better things to talk about on Facebook than the weather. Need some ideas? I have a few.

1) What you ate for breakfast.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I welcome conversation about bagels and orange juice any time. Perhaps we can compare and contrast our cereal choices of the day. Maybe you prefer Honey Bunches of Oats but I am really down for some Kix action. This can be a safe, productive meeting of the cereal minds.

Do not get it twisted though. Things can get a little heated. They DO say the three things you should not talk about at parties are: politics, religion and cereal. Frosted Flake enthusiasts, please see yourself out.

2) Who you are sleeping with.
Not going to lie, I am always interested. I find it fascinating who people decide to have sex with, how they have sex, where they have sex and WHY they have sex. Spare me no details about your sexual endeavors. Think of Facebook as your own personal diary for me to make fun and talk shit about with everyone I know.

Coming out of the closet? I find there to be no better forum for such an occasion. Facebook is an intimate space for you to share your life with people who you probably have not spoken to since high school.

3. Which drugs you are taking.
Drugs are totally chill. Which ones are you taking? I wanna know where you got them, where you are doing them and who your current employer is. If possible, I would also like pictorial evidence of you taking part in the drug festivities. After all, I will only believe it in your badassery if I can see it with my own two eyes!!!

4. How cute your dog is.
How cute is he or she? Scale it from 1-10. Then talk about the dog non-stop, posting pictures of them in various costumes and in various poses. If your dog is ugly, do not even bother. No one wants to see that mangy little fuck.

So basically you get the idea. Talk about absolutely anything but the weather. Fuck, I would rather be talking about Afghanistan than this nonsense.

Text or call if you need ideas. That is what I am here for.

XOXO,
Jules

New Year, New Jules

New Year's Resolutions are cute, I guess.

Every year, as the end of December approaches, we come up with some really deep, insightful goals for the promising new year. The most important thing about New Year's resolutions is that we MUST share them with everybody and anybody we know. What is the point of a deep, thought-provoking New Year's resolution other than flaunting it to the entire world? We want everyone to be under the delusion that we are growing, changing and self-improving human beings! The grander the lie, the better the resolution.

Many promise others that they will stop being a fat ass. Gym memberships skyrocket during the month of January as people pretend that they are going to get off their lazy, bacon-double-cheeseburger-eating asses and venture onto the elliptical. This will last for, at most, a month, and for the people who are truly dedicated to bullshitting their peers, maybe until Valentine's Day.

I am guilty of making this specific ambitious resolution myself. In reality, the only time I have ever set foot in a gym was in college. However, once I got in there, I beelined straight to a table full of free pizza. (WHY THE FUCK DO THEY GIVE OUT PIZZA IN A FUCKING GYM?!) Hey but do not judge me, I polished off my second piece while walking it off on the treadmill. Multitasking, I do it.

Another common lie that we tell ourselves and others at the beginning of the new year is that we are going to "nicer people." Wah, wah, wah. Embrace your badness because you sure as hell are not going to change your ways because the year has changed. You are not gonna stop lying, cheating or fucking your best friend's ex on the sly. These are simple facts of life.

I remember my senior year of high school, I made a New Year's resolution to stop talking shit about people. Five minutes into the New Year I already was saying how fucking annoying all of my friends were. The best laid plans of mice and biddies...

There are few things worth striving for in the New Year but with some careful thought and consideration I came up with a few goals that I see both fit and logical. Goals and resolutions that we should all strive for as biddies of the world. Step into my office, my loyal biddy subjects.

1) I resolve to be hotter.
For too long I have accepted my fate as a basic biddy. In this ripe, new year I will strive to offend less people with my below average looks. Proactiv, facials, nose jobs and even brown paper bags are some options to choose from as the 2014 year begins! I mean, I am 23, which basically means I am somewhat over the hill. Next stop is the nursing home, so I better improve this situation sooner rather than later.

2) I resolve to be dumber.
I am way too smart for my own good. I would rather not know about shit. I would have less to worry about. Think about it! Basic bitches are always so fucking happy. Don't they get it? People are starving in Africa, dogs are being abused in Tennessee and rich kids in Connecticut did not get the Gucci sunglasses they wanted for Christmas! I want to think about these tragedies less. Ignorance is bliss, if you will.

3) I resolve to stop watching trash television.
Okay, this one is a complete joke. I just started watching Shah's of Sunset and I am not gonna stop anytime soon.

4) I resolve to make no real resolutions.
It is fucking stupid. And I am absofuckinglutely perfect the way I am.

XOXO,
Jules