cigarette pants, airport romance, and other grievances: #whitegirlproblems, part deux.

My life now is very different than it was 11 months ago…  I have less time to tell jokes on stage, work out for three hours at a time, or flirt with haut bois at the bar because I’m in law school (lame excuse, I know). But regardless of my ridiculous life choice to go back to school, I am still surprisingly stressed about the same things:


Grievance #1: Cigarette pants: WHY ARE THEY CALLED CIGARETTE PANTS?! WHY?! I know why. Because you have to stop eating and only smoke cigarettes in order to fit into them. They SHOULD call them, “coffee, unsweetened and no treats” pants. I know, i know… it’s a lengthy name, but it shortens to a quick and easy acronym… C.U.N… you get the idea. The only benefit of stuffing myself like two slabs of salami into those damn pants last night? I didn’t need to unbutton the fly. I just had to breathe too much and the pants unbuttoned on their own! How convenient.


Grievance # 2: Updating your Facebook status about how busy you are: If you are actually that busy, you wouldn’t have time to update how busy you actually are. Sorry that your part-time shift at the mall and that one community college class are keepin’ ya down, 22 year-old who I am friends with on Facebook for some reason, but I couldn’t care less. Riddle me this, if you are so “busy”, how do you have the time to re-post all those sweet Drake lyrics, and post e-cards with phrases like, “If you don’t want me, you obviously don’t know how fabulous I am.” Really? You know what? You obviously don’t know how ridiculous you sound.  But, the delicious silver lining in the clusterfuck that is your internet personality? It makes me laugh when I’m having a bad day. So you stay busy.


Grievance #3: Not even making an effort when you hit on me: I know I am incredibly attractive, and I know you agree. But make some effort, ladies and brosephs, when you attempt to hit on me. It’s rude and shows a general lack of initiative when you don’t.  On a flight from Chicago to Columbus Sunday night, I sat next to a young man who observed the large law book I was attempting to read and said, “You a lawyer?” I responded that no, I was in law school, and he said, “Cool! My brother is a lawyer. That’s way intense.” I finally found a way to let the conversation die down, and then another young woman promptly sat down in the aisle seat beside him.

“Hey, what do you do?”

“I’m a CPA, heading to the midwest on business,” the woman replied.

“Oh, cool! MY brother is a CPA. That’s super hard stuff.”

REALLY, BRA?! I’M STILL HERE. I understand that my sweatpants and my matted down combover probably isn’t your fetish, but at least TRY to not blatantly lie.  How many brothers does this asshole have? Even worse than that, he then leaned over to me after the other woman was annoyed with him, and started rambling on about how much he LOVED books. “I love books so much, I had to check another bag full of books because I love them so much.” Really, genius? Guess I missed the gem you are reading, Elvenblood, on Oprah’s Book List. Maybe it’s on Gandalph’s Book List…?

Maybe the girl on the other side of you was more your type, and my girlfriend was waiting for me at the airport with a bouquet of flowers and a fountain Diet Coke (swoon), but still…  make some fucking effort.


Grievance #4:   Oversharing about your juice cleanse: I get it, you want accountability for your January resolutions. Who doesn’t? But grossly oversharing of bodily functions on social media is not appropriate, and frankly, downright nauseating. Step 1 in avoiding this? Don’t broadcast ridiculous goals. My favorite goal is people who never work out saying they will run “365 miles this year!!!!” What is this trend? You will need drugs stronger than Lance’s to get through that shit. (Too soon, I know.) More bowel movements now that you’ve been adding cayenne pepper to your mineral water? Nasty. I don’t care. Go buy some C.U.N.T. pants and get out of my face, skinny girls. My inner thighs could crush your trachea and your spirits, so shut up and let’s get brunch. We’ll wear spandex pants, because flys on pants are for losers… weight losers.


Don’t let me forget, I have to pick up a copy of Elvenblood this weekend. I am dying to get more into books like my new boyfriend from that fateful Sunday night flight.

9 thoughts on “cigarette pants, airport romance, and other grievances: #whitegirlproblems, part deux.

      • Thanks Brooke… you just killed my dream of being mentioned on here. I’m pretty sure the running thing was my first Facebook status of the new year. Felt kind of silly about it, but not I’m sure it was silly!

        • hahahahaha omg teddy Im sorry!
          ok i take it back. it was obviously about you. hahaha happy new year. Have you been running?

          • Hardly! I’ve been trying to to a different WOD everyday from the website. Unfortunately, my love of Loops is counteracting any progress. 😛 I’m getting my CrossFit Level 1 Cert in March!

  1. Hey, maybe that guy just had a ton of brothers. I got stuck next to someone equally talkative and stupid on my last flight. The guy had like seven baseball hats so he could be a douche each day of the week.

    Your posts are hillurrrious. Do you like WordPress? I actually just bought a domain with them a few weeks ago for all of my “memoirs” and such. This seemed better/more freedom of speech-ish than Google.

    • I love word press! it is super easy to manage and the sit stats section is really great.
      hahahahaha i just don’t have much luck on planes. it sounds like you don’t either.

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