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April 29, 2007

The Supreme Court Sucks

We're too depressed to write in detail about the recent Supreme Court decision to uphold a ban on "partial-birth abortion" without a health exception for pregnant women. But we did put together a list of some of the links that we found the most useful.

  • An overview of the decision from SCOTUSblog. The full decision can be read here. Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote the dissenting opinion (it begins on page 49), which is absolutely worth reading. We love her and owe her: "Today'’s decision is alarming. It refuses to take Casey and Stenberg seriously. It tolerates, indeed applauds, federal intervention to ban nationwide a procedure found necessary and proper in certain cases by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG). It blurs the line, firmly drawn in Casey, between previability and postviability abortions. And, for the first time since Roe, the Court blesses a prohibition with no exception safeguarding a woman’s health."
  • Katha Pollitt writes an awesome rant: "So now you know. It really does matter who's President and which party controls Congress. A Democratic-controlled Congress would never have passed the Partial-Birth Abortion Act, which banned intact dilation and extraction abortions and, in flagrant violation of Roe v. Wade, lacked an exception to preserve the health of the woman. A Democratic President would never have signed such a bill. Nor would he have nominated the extremely conservative antichoicers John Roberts and Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court, which on April 18 upheld, in Gonzales v. Carhart by a 5-to-4 vote (Roberts, Alito, Kennedy, Scalia, Thomas--all GOP nominees), a ban essentially identical to one rejected 5 to 4 in Stenberg v. Carhart seven years ago, when Sandra Day O'Connor was on the bench."
Tell us again why women put up with this? According to the old white men who run our government, women are either manipulative, cold-hearted whores or feeble-minded, weak little flowers. In both cases we need the help of our loving and protective government to prevent us from making the wrong (and also evil) decision. Aren't we lucky?

In addition to ranting and bitching and complaining (which we are excellent at), we'll keep writing about opportunities to get involved, like Back Up Your Birth Control Day and other actions involving reproductive choice and freedom. And we're always open to suggestions about what we should write about or get involved in, so email us: evilslutopia@yahoo.com

April 25, 2007


I am a self-proclaimed MILF. For anyone out there who is socially retarded, a MILF is a “Mom I’d Like to Fuck” or more generally, a hot mom. I know you must think that it is somewhat conceited (okay it is very conceited) to call myself hot, but that is not what I’m doing. I’m not hotter than your average hot girl, not by far. What I am, is (maybe) hotter than your average mom. I’m a good ten years younger (and often ten pounds thinner) than the average mom in my local PTA. This isn’t to say that they are all old, fat, ugly ladies, but simply that I am the "young, hot one". I’m not necessarily hotter than your average MILF, but I do qualify.

I am a self-proclaimed MILF, but so far this claim has not been refuted.

More than just being “hot”, what makes me a real MILF is that people want to fuck me. Now there is a big difference between being hot and being fuckable. That’s not to say that they’re mutually exclusive, but simply that they are not necessarily synonymous.

I love sex. I’m not saying I’m a nympho or freak or anything, just that I enjoy sex. Most of you are thinking, “well doesn’t everyone enjoy sex?” No. Sadly enough not everyone enjoys sex. Many women do not like it (or want it) at all and while I find that to be both puzzling and tragic, it is a fact of life. I love sex. Not just that I am willing to have it, but I want it, I seek it out, and I enjoy the hell out of it. And that is what makes me so fuckable (and in turn, so “hot” I suppose). I am a mom that you would likely want to fuck, whether you were into MILFs or not.

In case it hasn’t already been assumed, I am also a single mom. I have never been married; I have a “baby daddy”. It’s hard being single and a mom, especially when you love sex. I don’t get to have it quite as often as I’d like. I don't always have the time necessary to devote to good sex.

A lot of men are scared to date mothers. I am not looking for a “father figure” for my daughter, but a lot of guys refuse to believe that and therefore won’t consider dating me. Other guys assume that since I had a child once, that I am against abortion (for the record, I’m pro-choice) and therefore won’t consider fucking me. Or even worse, they assume that I am looking to rope them into marriage/child support by getting pregnant again. This is so far from the truth. Sometimes, I even use three forms of birth control at one time! I have heard horror stories about evil, manipulative women and they have given all single mothers a bad name.

Even when I can find men that aren’t afraid of the mom thing, there are still problems. I am a single mom, I work, I volunteer, I write, I do lots of stuff! It’s not always easy to juggle all that and still find time for a social life at all, let alone time to date and/or fuck. Babysitters are expensive and not always available. It's not easy being a single mom if you still want to go out and drink and fuck and basically have a life (without neglecting your child or going on welfare). I'm just trying to figure things out for myself, like everyone else is and I make mistakes along the way.

Today I read an article in New York magazine about MILFs that kinda pissed me off. It was written by Em and Lo, neither of whom have children. I've always rather liked Em and Lo; in fact, we have been compared to them on more than one occasion. (Not by anyone that matters, but we did appreciate the comparison). So imagine my joy when I saw they had written an article entitled "Of MILF and Men". Then imagine my disappointment when I read it.

Just a few key lines that irked me:

The MILF is Stacy's Mom. She's the lady in the Strippercize class. She dresses like a Jersey mob wife, her eye titled into a perpetual wink...

...Maybe it's a looks thing, given that women can -- with the aid of Pilates and a discreet tuck -- turn back time to a sometimes disturbing degree...

...There's the good MILF: the one who is basically just a happy-go-lucky flirt with a lot of sexual confidence. She's the aforementioned Stacy's Mom, the subject of the Fountains of Wayne anthem of MILFhood -- is it her fault that her daughter's boyfriend has a crush? She's just got it going on! Then there are the MILFs who edge over into the MILF sister-category: the cougar. The punitive term implies an older woman as predator, a showy, sharp-clawed figure who turns the MILF hunter into the hunted. Think of it as a grown-up variant of the Girls Gone Wild phenomenon, except that while we may forgive an 18-year-old her lack of decorum -- she was drunk, Joe Francis is a manipulating jackhole, she wanted that baseball hat real bad -- her mom is supposed to know better...

...in the end we're suckers for the MILF: She may be glossy, she may be goofy, yet we can't help but cheer for her.

Read the entire article here

The article seems to focus on older women who sleep with men in their twenties (not that there's anything wrong with that - if you can swing it, more power to ya). Their stereotypical image of the MILF is that of Stifler's mom from the American Pie movies or Mrs. Robinson from The Graduate, but that's not the truth.

MILFs can be all ages and all types (we don't all look like "Jersey mob wives" -- a term which is itself another overused stereotype -- or have the need for a "discreet tuck"). I'm a single mother under thirty, who has mostly dated men my age or older (although, yeah there are always exceptions, hee). I'm a MILF because men want to fuck me. That's all. It has no bearing on my behavior or my state of mind. The term doesn't necessarily indicate any intention on my part to "stay young" or "stay sexy" despite motherhood. Who decided that the two were mutually exclusive in the first place?

There's something disarming about an archetype that lets the ladies take back the negligee, an image that suggests that motherhood is more than the death of desirability and the birth of bad haircuts.
Describing the idea that motherhood isn't the death of desirability as "disarming" is a sexist, outdated opinion in the first place.

I'm sure Em and Lo think they're embracing the idea of mothers who maintain their sexiness (even though they simultaneously applaud them and accuse them of giving in to objectification and a "self-destructive form of female-chauvinist piggery"). What they're really doing is perpetuating a myth about mothers: they're either old and unsexy; or they're "afraid of seeming past their prime" and therefore act/look ridiculous to avoid this.

How bout this: Mothers are people, not caricatures. Some people are sexy, some aren't. Period. If you're a mom and people want to fuck you -- you're a MILF. That's all it takes. It's a compliment, not a character flaw.

The hilarious Jennifer Coolidge as one of our generation's
most famous fictitious MILFs, "Stifler's Mom" (American Pie 2)

April 22, 2007

Jezebel & Lilith go to a wedding; hijinks ensue.

We're baaaaaaaaack.

Our friend Chiquita just got married, so of course we flew across the country to be there! I guess she felt sorry that we were coming from so far away, because she made up a job for us to do in the wedding. We were her "candlelighters" (more on that later).

We spent the very long plane ride so bored out of our minds that we actually watched the entire countdown of E!'s It's So Over: 50 Biggest Celebrity Breakups. (Number one was Brad and Jen, what a surprise. Barbie and Ken also made the list, but we have to ask "what's the difference between Barbie/Ken and Jen/Brad anyway?") Delta only gives you 14 channels, most of which were news stations showing the Imus controversy on a loop. That left us E!, BBC America, HGTV, and about four different ESPNs.

First the lovely Chiquita picked us up at the airport and took us to buy flowers, munchies, and a sheep lawn ornament (one of our wedding gifts to her - she intends to paint it pink - it's a long story we'll tell another time). Then she dropped us at the hotel where we obsessed for an hour over what one wears to a "fiesta". Yes, her rehearsal dinner was a Mexican fiesta and the invitation said we should wear our "brightest fiesta colored clothing". Of course, practically everything we own is black so we had a little trouble there. Hey, we're from New York. (That's our excuse for everything).

Then for the next 12 hours we obsessed over being the candlelighters. Or more specifically, we obsessed over the fear that we might set something on fire other than the candles - like our dresses, or the bride's parents, or the whole damn building. The wedding coordinator told us, "don't worry, a ten year old could do it". (That didn't help at all).

We also obsessed over meeting the bride's parents. They hated us instantly. Why? There are a few reasons:
  • We are loud, outspoken, evil sluts with strong personalities from New York.
  • We were there when Chiquita first met the man who would become Se├▒or Chiquita - Lord Ludwig von Lederhosen - therefore we inadvertently caused this wedding. (Did we forget to mention that they were against the wedding?)
  • We love and support Chiquita 100% in everything she does, including getting married. All we want is for her to be happy (another thing they're apparently against)
In the word's of Chiquita herself: I'm sorry my mom's a bitch.

When we told her father that we were there the night they met...

Dad: You must have really pushed her.
Lilith: Yeah, well we did encourage her to talk to him.
Dad: No, I bet you had to push her.
Lilith: Well we didn't have to push her that much.
Dad: No, I think you did.
Lilith: Um...

What the fuck? What does that even mean? (And in case you think it was all a joke, you missed his tone of voice - it reeked of attitude). Is he implying that his sweet innocent daughter would never talk to a guy like that in a bar, unless her slutty obnoxious friends from out of town forced her to? We can't help it if we're excellent wing women.

And if you want the honest to God truth (sorry Chiquita), they didn't even meet that way. Technically they met at a bar, but the reason they were both at that bar was because they "met" on myspace. When we say we "encouraged her to talk to him", that means we encouraged her to invite him out with us that evening.

We looked at it this way: it was our last night in town the last time we visited her, so it was a perfect excuse to invite him out. It was also safer than if she was to meet him on her own (and who else, but her crazy New York friends would be willing to go with her to meet a cute guy from myspace anyway?)

We decided we would be:
  • her bodyguards (don't let the petite statures fool you, we are hard as nails)
  • her excuse to invite him out ("I'm taking my friends-from-New-York to a bar")
  • her excuse to leave if she hated him ("I have to take my friends-from-New-York to their hotel")
  • her wing women if she didn't hate him...
As you can probably guess by now, she didn't hate him. Only fourteen months later they were "living in sin" and getting ready to walk down the aisle.

Of course none of her family members (or friends for that matter) would quite understand the way they met, so we were responsible for telling the edited version of the story in which we were evil "pushers". But I digress. Her parents hate us... Throughout the evening we'd look up to find them giving us the evil eye. Now part of the reason why anybody's parents might hate us is that we're... well... evil sluts. We're always the ones who make the inappropriate comment or naughty pun or push the joke too far. Usually people find this to be quite entertaining, but her parents did not.

Luckily for us, Chiquita does find it entertaining. And so does
Lord Ludwig. What we found rather entertaining was gazing longingly at Lord Ludwig's handsome friends. The groomsmen and other "friends-of-the-groom" were all good looking guys. Even the ones who probably weren't actually that "hot", seemed hot-by-association as part of the group. Unfortunately most of them had girlfriends (as super hot guys usually tend to have) and none of them seemed even remotely interested in us anyway. Of course that tiny insignificant little detail didn't stop us from making inappropriate statements about joining them on the bachelor party (we offered to jump out of a cake) and joking about inviting them back to the hotel's hot tub.
The fiesta was decorated with random Mexican-themed items including colored animals. At one point while standing next to a group of the hottie-groomsmen, Chiquita gestures in their direction...

Chiquita: That's the sexy fox.
Lilith: Huh? Which one?
Jezebel: They're right behind you, they'll hear you.
Chiquita: No... the fox.

At that point she gestures to a fox figurine on a table next to the boys, that is stretched out in a sex-kitten type pose. It was literally a sexy fox, but of course you know where our minds were! We also had a lot of fun filling out "Marriage and Life Advice for the Couple" cards. Ours were mostly stick figure illustrations.

We spent quite a bit of time at the fiesta talking to people about New York. People who are not from the East Coast always seem to be fascinated with New York. Especially 9/11, which isn't exactly what you'd call cheerful wedding conversation.

Guest: Oh, you work in New York City? That's so interesting... tell me all about September 11th! Where were you when it happened? Where you in the city? What did you do? How did you feel?
Jezebel: Um...

In addition to all of the questions we had to answer about 9/11, Broadway plays, hot dog vendors, the subway, and knockoff handbags, we also kept getting questions about how we knew Chiquita (since we had come from so far away, yet nobody else knew us). The real story of how we met her is long and complicated and a little strange (naturally), so we had to resort to being vague and confusing and then immediately changing the subject.

Here's a typical example:

Minister: So you girls live in New York? How did you happen to become friends with Chiquita then, did you live out here before or go to college here?
Jezebel: Oh, not exactly, we had a mutual friend who was our friend and then she came here and became Chiquita's friend and then we met Chiquita through her, but we're not really friends with her anymore and neither is Chiquita but we're still friends with Chiquita and it's kind of a long story but we've all lost touch with the friend and isn't it funny how that happens sometimes? So anyway, we became friends with Chiquita that way, which is so great because she's so great and we're so lucky to be friends with her and we were there when she met Ludwig and he's so great too, don't you think? Hey, look at that really distracting thing over there! [runs away]

After the fiesta, the guys went off to booze it up and the girls went to go do facials and stuff. Since we were incredibly exhausted and out of it (due to the time change and the amount of hours we had been awake thanks to our early morning flight) we opted to skip the bachelorette. We did stop by (mostly because Chiquita got confused - "I think I misunderstood the assignment"- and took us back to her place instead of our hotel). We hung out a few minutes with the bridesmaids and then the groom's cousin (also the "guestbook officiant" - we so love these titles) drove us back. Side note: We love her too. In fact, everyone on the groom's side of the family was fucking awesome, especially his mother (the Baroness von Lederhosen).

The next day no matter how much we tried to sleep late, we were up and at it (well not so much at it, but we were up) super early. Damn that time change! We indulged in a huge (free!) breakfast courtesy of the hotel and then lounged around the room for a bit watching America's Next Top Model, a Behind-the-Scenes special on America's Next Top Model, and The Tyra Banks E! True Hollywood Story. Yeah pitiful, it was an all-Tyra-morning. (Look forward to a future ranting entry on Tyra Banks, so-called "feminist icon", pfft). Then we showered, dressed in our black and white dresses (we really didn't plan to match, we just share a brain... good thing too because we inadvertently dressed in Chiquita's wedding colors anyway! Yay us) and got ready to go.

Lilith: Is this too much cleavage for a daytime wedding?
Jezebel: There's no such thing as too much cleavage.

Lord Ludwig picked us up and drove us to the hall. We decided we wanted to go early with the actual wedding party (we were kind of like the "B-squad") because:
  • we wanted to check out the candle situation and practice (I know it sounds crazy, but dude, these were some huge candle sticks we had to carry and the candles in the candelabra kept falling over, so we were kinda terrified)
  • we wanted to help set up because the set-up crew totally bailed, leaving a stressed Chiquita and a lot of little details to tie up
  • we wanted to piss off Chiquita's parents even more, just from our mere existence (both at the wedding and on the planet at all).
So we hung out with the wedding coordinator and took care of last minute stuff like unwrapping tablecloths, peeling the price tags off napkins, and setting up flowers and candle votives. We also got even more dirty looks from the parents of the bride. We realized we were starting to enjoy it and may have been subconsciously egging them on. Okay so maybe we were consciously egging them on.

Mom: Are the groomsmen finished getting dressed?
Lilith: I volunteer to go check on them!
Mom: [look of death]

Bridesmaid: I want to take a picture. Ladies, look up!
Jezebel: [to Lilith] Look up, she's taking a picture.
Lilith: Oh! I didn't realize she meant me too.
Bridesmaid: I want to get all of you!
Lilith: You said "ladies", I'm not used to people calling me that [chuckle]
Mom: Oh surprise, surprise. Someone actually called you a lady. [walks out]
Lilith: [stunned look]
Jezebel: [look of "what the fuck?"]
[to Jezebel] Um, it was a joke when I said it.

The wedding ceremony itself was wonderful and Chiquita looked flawless. We made our way down the processional with our huge candlestick-things (hey, this was a concept completely foreign to us Godless heathens).

This obviously is not a photograph of us, but you can get the idea of what our
"candle lighting experience" was like. (We had never seen anything like it before)

There were no fatalities, although both of our flames went out as we were walking to the altar. Then in a bonafide act-of-God miracle, Jezebel's flame reignited (giving Lilith somewhere to re-light hers). We lit a total of 18 candles and then rushed to the back of the room to watch the ceremony. The wedding of Lord and Lady von Lederhosen was quite lovely and despite threats from Chiquita's parents (that they would pull an embarrassing stunt) everything went along flawlessly.

Afterwards, there was a dessert reception with two cakes (one chocolate, one banana) and the most glorious thing we've ever seen... a chocolate fountain (we just wanted to put our whole faces in it, mmmmmmm, chocolate fountain). While on line for delicious chocolately goodness, Chiquita's mother cornered us.

Mom: [grabbing Lilith by the arm] You know we're all here today because of you girls!
Lilith: Aw, well we just...
Mom: It's all your doing. This is all your fault. [grip tightens]
Lilith: Oh... um...
Mom: [death grip] This is all your fault!
Lilith: I'm... sorry?
Jezebel: Wow. We've never been blamed for a wedding before.

Yeah. At that point we really needed a drink. Alas, there was only sparkling cider (read: non-alcoholic). Yikes! At one point one her bridesmaids asked the bride if there would be dancing (which common sense should have told her no, since there wasn't room for dancing).

Lilith: If there's no alcohol, then there can't be dancing... because with this crowd they'd have to go hand in hand.
Bridesmaid: Well some people require that I guess.
Jezebel: Yes, Lilith... some people require that.
Lilith: Oh well... I'm certainly not one of those people.

Of course, even the bride was one of those people apparently!

Jezebel: [to Chiquita and Lord Ludwig] You guys are married!!
Chiquita: I need...
Jezebel: What do you need? We'll get it for you...
Chiquita: ...hard liquor.

We decided at one point during the reception to compliment the groom's mother on what a great son she has and what a lovely family... and just how happy we were that Chiquita now had them in her life. She looked like she was about to tear up and told us about how much she loves Chiquita and how she couldn't believe that having been raised by her family she still ended up such a wonderful, sweet, caring young woman. At that point, we almost started to tear up (hey, we don't have hearts of complete stone!) Then she invited us to dinner. (Later when talking to Lord and Lady, they also invited us - or rather, they just assumed we already knew we were invited and said "you're coming right?")

Apparently it was a dinner for the von Lederhosen family, the bridal party, and the immediate members of Chiquita's family - hosted by the Baroness. We were ready to order pizza and chill out in the hotel room, but we couldn't resist another opportunity to piss off Chiquita's parents! Why?

Lilith: Her parents think we're tramps!
[then realized Chiquita's sister was right behind us. Oh it's okay, I'm sure her sister already knew that her parents think we're tramps!]

After most of the guests started to filter out, the wedding party posed for a few more photographs. Chiquita insisted that we jump into a few pics (as the aforementioned bridal party "B-squad"). We went into a private room to take off our sweaters (it was cold, but we need maximum amounts of skin showing in all our photographs) and put on lipstick. We walked in on a tall, handsome groomsman zipping up his pants. (Apparently, he had started to change out of his suit and then heard they were wrangling the wedding party for photos).

Lilith: Oh sorry!
Groomsman: It's okay, I'm done.
Lilith: Well, then I'm really disappointed that we were too late to catch you changing.

After the photos were over, we accidentally walked in on him again, this time changing out of his suit for real.

Groomsman: Sorry, too late again!
Jezebel: Now that's terrible luck on our part.

We got a ride over to the restaurant with the "guestbook officiant" again. (She was our official chauffeur of the event). We sat with the Chiquita's brother and his wife and adorable (flower girl) daughter. She did a wonderful booty dance for us; clearly an evil slut in training. The tables filled up pretty quickly as there were over thirty people there. Finally the bride's parents walked in (very late) and glanced around the room. The mother asked a waiter, "there are no seats left?" and looks directly at us, as if by being there we had taken their rightful seats. (How bout you try to show up on time, huh? We were invited by the bride and groom themselves and the woman who organized the entire event... all of whom I'm sure would have been completely happy had they skipped the dinner altogether).

In a twist of fate that could only happen in Evil Slutopia, the waiter brings over some extra chairs for the other guests who were filtering in late. He sits one chair at the end of the table right next to us. She looked like she was going to die: the evil sluts on one side of her and her daughter-in-law on the other. I must say she lasted a lot longer than we expected. It took her at least four whole minutes before she got up and moved somewhere else, with the explanation "I'm going to be rude, sorry". We were hysterical laughing at that point.

We ate way too much food, drank a few beers and watched our lovely, dainty Chiquita chug an Irish car bomb (to which her mother commented "she must have learned this in college" and looked over at us again, even though we didn't go to college with Chiquita and don't particularly care for Irish carbombs anyway). Then all the guests got ready to leave. Lord and Lady von Lederhosen were spending their "wedding night" at the same hotel we were staying at, so they gave us a lift and we were lucky enough to witness Chiquita signing her new name for the first time ever! Wooh!

We were so tired the next day that we actually got to sleep "late" (think like 10am). We had some free breakfast and watched a few episodes of I Love New York, quite possibly the worst reality show ever (really, what can you expect from a spin-off of the second worst reality show ever Flavor of Love). Honestly that chick gives "New York" a bad name, but that's a whoooole other story for a whole other blog someday.

We decided we had to get out of the hotel and do something, so we walked to an outdoor mall and did a little shopping. We bought some cutesy gifts for the von Lederhosens and thank you cards for the "guestbook officiant" and the Baroness (for being so awesome). Then we went back to the hotel and watched another five episodes of I Love New York, including the reunion special. (Oh lord). Then we watched The Lake House. Yeah we were that bored. It wasn't terrible, although it dragged on a bit at one point where all we could think was "just say 'Woah' already Keanu!" It was also kind of predictable and the ending was just too implausible (even if you suspend your disbelief to accept the premise of the entire movie, the ending still didn't make sense). We won't give away the ending, except to say that we called it about an hour in.

After ordering pizza and being LAZY BUMS, we met Lord and Lady von Lederhosen (and the Baroness) for coffee and cake. We trash-talked Chiquita's parents and talked about the night we all met Lord Ludwig (the Baroness was the only other person who knew the true story - talk about a cool mom, right?)

The next morning we were on a plane back to normalcy.
The flight home was even worse than the flight in because it was American Airlines ("First Through the Towers") which doesn't give you any TV stations. The movie they were showing was Charlotte's Web. Enough said. On the cab ride home, our driver hit on us and drove like a madman.

Ah, it was great to be back in New York.

April 12, 2007


Evil Slutopia will be on hiatus for a few days, as the Evil Slut Clique is going on vacation to visit one of their favorite evil sluts, Chiquita. In honor of the momentous occasion, here is a Dumb Things Guys Say installment dedicated to her:

Background: Chiquita was asking a lot of random questions to test how dumb this guy was. He was very dumb apparently. The entire Q & A was hysterical, but I will never forget this one exchange...

Chiquita: Are you Finnish?
Dumb Guy: Please explain.

April 8, 2007

The Easter Bunny died for your sins...

Okay, so this week has been kind of exhausting for the Evil Slut Clique (although we did take a moment to go see Blades of Glory - highly recommended). So in lieu of our typical ho-liday suggestions... here's just some random Passover/Easter stuff for your viewing pleasure:

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic

Man, our Easter/Passover post was even worse than our Lent post. Eh I'm hungover, what more do you want from me?

April 6, 2007

Ground Rules for Exes

My ex-boyfriend and I wrote these last year in an attempt to remain friends without headtrips over our future sexual/dating partners. It has been exactly a year since we ended our relationship. We thought they might help us stay friends and help other people stay friends with their exes... or at least give you something to laugh at (namely, us for being dorks).

In hindsight, I can see how some of these rules were a little optimistic (while others were somewhat unnecessary, given basic common sense and common decency). Even though our "friendship" kind of faltered sometime after this list was made for other reasons, we still remain on good terms. I still think the rules were a good idea and I still try to follow them as best I can.

Ground Rules

1. As exes (and grown adults) we realize that we have given up the right to say whom the other can or cannot sleep with. However, as friends, we also realize that our actions do affect the other. Although neither of us will be expected to put the other's wellbeing ahead of our own, we do promise to consider each other's feelings and to never intentionally hurt the other.

2. No hooking up with each other's friends. In the case of mutual friends, a discussion is required. Acquaintances are fair game, but please use common sense and respect when making decisions such as these. (See rule #3).

3. Random hook-ups and booty-calls are nobody's business but our own and therefore should be kept to ourselves. Exceptions to this rule are: (a) anyone whom the other may see in a social setting (especially if that person knows of our past relationship); (b) anyone that disrespects or hurts the other; (c) anyone who is so much worse in bed than the other was, that it merits discussion and mockery; (d) anyone who has previously been discussed as being an "emotional trigger" for the other, for whatever reason.

4. Dating partners should also be kept private until that person becomes a prospect for exclusivity or until you will be making a public appearance with that person. (See rule #5).

5. If spotted out one night with another person (by the ex or a mutual acquaintance), all benefit of the doubt and opportunity for explanation will be given before feelings are hurt or wrath is incurred.

6. In the case of unexpected "ex-sex", any existence of other sexual partners should be made known, although no details shall be given (only whether other/s do exist at that time).

7. If our friendship is important enough to maintain, it is also important enough to defend. This means that any disrespect from whomever comes after for either of us will not stand. Also a "no pissing" policy should be strongly enforced (that is, no one should be allowed to "mark their territory" on either of us, especially not to spite the other).

8. These ground rules are guidelines. Although both parties promise to try to adhere to these rules as best they can, some leeway should be given according to our personal discretion. If either of us is not completely comfortable discussing something yet, the other should try to be somewhat understanding of that fact. However, dishonesty and malice shall not be tolerated.

9. As friends, we acknowledge that each other's happiness is important. This means that when one of us finally moves on and finds someone else, there will be no scorn, anger, or guilt-tripping of any kind from the other. Moving on is not an attack on the other person or a denigration of our relationship. It may hurt at first, but it is the ultimate goal for both of us to find happiness in our lives.

(c) April 2006

April 2, 2007

There's food on the menu!

Here's a little something new... a review of sorts. We rarely talk about stuff like this unless it was really good or really bad. Not too long ago we went to this bar for dinner and drinks. It was really bad.

Our waitress looked like a cross between:

She was about as smart as:

While looking at the menu, she informed us (pointing to the page we were already reading) "there's food on the menu". Thank you, we can read. And what a surprise to find food on the menu! It's not as though I was having trouble deciding between a mojito or a margarita... when I had already ordered a beer.

She was the type of waitress that asks you "is everything okay?" the second your food gets on the table - before you have a chance to even know if it's not okay - and then disappears for three hours when you actually need her. It took ages for her to bring us drinks every time we ordered another round (despite the fact that we ordered the same thing each time and all that was required of the bartender was to remove the top. He didn't even have to pour it in a glass!) At one point, she actually asked if we were ready for another round. We said, "we'll be ready in a few minutes". It took at least 30 minutes to get her over there again. No joke.

At least she was kind of nice though (even though she was completely incompetent). The hostess on the other hand was not.

Her personality was a mix between:

(Wow... they look a lot alike in those pics, don't they?
Totally unintentional).

When we first arrived it took forever for us to get someone to seat us. We asked the bartender who directed us to a waitress, who directed us to the hostess, who... continued to ignore us for a good ten minutes. And then seated the group that came in after us. (At a better table than ours, by the way).

Despite having reserved a table for 6-8, she gave us a table for 2-4. (She claimed you could fit more people there, but not if those people actually had plates... or bodies). When I complained about the size and placement of the table (we were right smack in the middle of the bar in front of the door - she actually moved it there on purpose) she responded by rolling her eyes. When I asked about moving to the empty table by the window (the actual table I had called about reserving) she said "oh well, that table is reserved". Yeah, by me you fucking bitch.

(Alleged "table for 4-6")

(Note the poor location: right in front of the door and the bar)

Of course as we sat at our shitty table... we watched the nice, big, roomy, comfortable, secluded "reserved" window table sit empty for hours until finally some people migrated from the bar with their cocktails to sit there. We were seriously pissed.

(the table we should have had... the "reserved" table that sat empty)

We had other friends meeting us later (hence the need for a larger table), so we had two extra chairs that weren't being used by us as we ate. We took great pleasure in forbidding the hostess (and repeated waitresses/guests) from taking them. When another dumb-but-friendly waitress asked, we said "no, sorry we're waiting for more people". When the hostess asked I gave her the stare of death, and simply said "No". Of course, little did they know that our plan was to leave shortly after our friends arrived. I refused to let them take away even more seats from our teeny table, despite the fact that we wouldn't actually be using them for long. There was no way I was jacking up that bill anymore and paying anymore money to that shithole of a place.

(Did I forget to mention that they tried to force us to use coatcheck... "We can't just have coats lying all over". Well then give us seats big enough to actually sit in and then I'll have room to sit on my coat instead of drape it on the chair behind me).

When the rest of our party arrived they squished around the teeny tiny table and ordered one drink (total, not each) while we finished ours and our food. Then we got the check and left a lousy tip. (Of course, since we're such stellar tippers, our "lousy" tip was still probably better than the average person's tip).

As for the food (since I suppose this wouldn't be a proper review if we didn't at least mention it): okay fries, decent calamari, forgettable dumplings, don't waste your time on the chicken skewers or pizza margherita (which arrived practically cold and not looking nearly as appealing as the photo on the website - below), overpriced drinks.

Conclusion: Skip it. The food wasn't terrible... but it wasn't nearly worth the trouble/attitude.

April 1, 2007

I Pity The Fool

We thought about posting an April Fool's Day prank for all of you, but realized that anything we did would be just too obvious...

We considered:

~posting Pro-Life propaganda
~posting that we've joined AA
~posting that we've found Jesus (he was hiding behind the couch the whole time!)
~posting that we've decide to abstain from sex for a while
~posting that we were ending the blog all together
~posting about the latest Britney Spears gossip
~posting endless photos of cute little fluffy bunnies and saying "awww how cute!"

(cute fluffy bunny courtesy of cuteoverload.com)

We knew none of you would be fooled, and honestly we were just too hungover today to come up with something really clever. Maybe next year.

So this is your April Fool's Day post:

Now I need an aspirin and a nap. Happy April Fool's Day. Praise Allah.