Archive for June, 2009

You are. My fire. My one. Desire. Believe. When I say.

You are. My fire. My one. Desire. Believe. When I say.

So there was an article somewhere in Slate reviewing a book called “A Vindication of Love.” The book is basically a rejection of today’s focus on dull but safe relationships, which while they may not be emotionally satisfying, at least don’t put you at the risk of wrenching heartbreak.

Nehring yearns for a revival of a messier ardor. In her view, we have domesticated love past all recognition, turning what is rightly leonine, destructive, and majestic into a yawning, chubby house cat. Hers is no modest project. She wants nothing less than to radicalize our framework for love, mainly by restoring its chaotic potential: “Romance in our day is a poor and shrunken thing,” she writes. “Among the many rights we must reclaim in love is the right to fail.” A Vindication of Love is not a book that will persuade every reader to jump off the couch and into the arms of a dark, smoky-eyed stranger, but it will rearrange your tidily laid out mental furniture while you’re not looking. For at its core is a well-taken point: With its emphasis on equitable marriage, “choice feminism” has endorsed a tyrannical habit of trying to subordinate passion to reason. And along the way it has demonized obsession. What, Nehring asks, is so wrong with being crazy in love?

What indeed? I remember being at a dinner party with a bunch of girls, and Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” was playing in the background. “You know”, one of the girls said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been dangerously in love.

I’ve had some dangerous ass sex, mind you.” To which the entire table erupted in laughter. But her point was well taken. Especially for our crowd, don’t we tend to subvert passion for reason? Isn’t “power couple-hood” the antithesis of romantic, wind at your back love? I know a couple women who’ve married because their now husbands seem like safe bets. White picket fences and stability and shit. I actually had an orgy with one of them right before she got engaged. My best friend fucked the shit out of her while her now-husband blew up her cell phone and her friend blew me. Good times. And what about me? Have I given up the dream of an artsy blue-haired girl with no formal education but mad talent and love so I could be with someone who would help advance my career? Not make waves at the company picnic?

I hope not. But I think it’s really easy to do. We look down on crazy love these days. If someone likes you too much, they’re “thirsty.” We’ll call someone a stalker in a heartbeat. Go to one of these “young professional” parties. What’s everyone doing? Working the wall. Not trying to look pressed. Or the lists that people have for how they meet someone. Refuse to meet someone in a club. They must be introduced by a mutual Point of Reference. etc. etc. Romeo would be considered a bug-a-boo today. Barack wouldn’t have asked out Michelle that second time because she’d have his as on blast on Twitter:

RT@MichyMich: Won’t that African-named bamma leave me alone? I mean, damn Hussein, go blow up an oil well or something.

Or let’s look at Mark Sanford. I mean, this dude rolled out to Argentina to be with his piece. Fuck the wife, fuck the kids, fuck the state assembly, I gots to be with my chica. Not to suggest that he wasn’t the slightest bit irresponsible, but when you read the emails, I mean, don’t you get a little tingle? When’s the last time you got this hot and bothered over email?

“This is ground I have never certainly never covered before – so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know,” Sanford wrote. “In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul.”

Ay Ay Ay, Mi Amor. Yes, I can play the John Mayer for you, my love.

Ay Ay Ay, Mi Amor. Yes, I can play the John Mayer for you, my love.

The relationship apparently also caused Maria conflicts.

“As I told you I shouldn’t have done this trip but I would have felt worst if I wouldn’t have come,” she wrote. “He is a very nice guy, great heart … but unfortunately I am not in love with him … You are my love.”

If you read that shit with an accent, it’s even better.

From Gov. Sanford, Date: Thursday, July 10, 2008, 12:24 a.m.

“Two, mutual feelings . . . You have a particular grace and calm that I adore. You have a level of sophistication that so fitting with your beauty. I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificent gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curve of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself (or two magnificent parts of yourself) in the faded glow of the night’s light – but hey, that would be going into sexual details …

“Three and finally, while all the things above are all too true – at the same time we are in a hopelessly – or as you put it impossible – or how about combine and simply say hopelessly impossible situation of love. How in the world this lightening strike snuck up on us I am still not quite sure. As I have said to you before I certainly had a special feeling about you from the first time we met, but these feelings were contained and I genuinely enjoyed our special friendship and the comparing of all too many personal notes …

“Lastly I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never certainly never covered before – so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know… In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul.”

Coke in the Ride was a UGK song? Shit, I thought it was just a lifestyle

"Coke in the Ride" was a UGK song? Shit, I thought it was just a lifestyle

From Maria, Wednesday, July 9, 2008 8:14 p.m.

“As I told you I shouldn’t have done this trip but I would have felt worst if I wouldn’t have come because it was too over the date, he is a very nice guy, great heart … but unfortunately I am not in love with him … You are my love … something hard to believe even for myself as it’s also a kind of impossible love, not only because of distance but situation. Sometimes you don’t choose things, they just happen… I can’t redirect my feelings and I am very happy with mine towards you.”

This was a chick flick, but the guns were cool so its man-approved

This was a chick flick, but the guns were cool so it's man-approved

Like doesn’t that take you back to when women wore bustiers and dudes had horses and settled their disputes with a pistol duel? I for one am all about it. What do y’all think?

Nuh-uh. This is girls night out!

Nuh-uh. This is girl's night out!

So I was blog trolling and I stumbled upon an amazing blog. Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a rare glipmse into the mind of the enemy: The hater! It’s not often we get to actually openly explore the psyche of cockblockery, but here it is in its most naked form:

“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with my girlfriend’s, because I absolutely do but at times, when we go out to a nice lounge, I don’t want to watch any of my girlfriend’s lose her sense of self when an “Alpha male” walks through the door. My mood takes a turn for the uncomfortable if there is any outlandish behavior being exhibited by one of the ladies. There is nothing that puts me off quicker than seeing one of the chica’s trolling for men….

All I am saying is that I would love to have some girlfriend time without some lounge lizard thinking he is going to get lucky that night with some hoo hoo action. Not with these ladies you’re not. So beat it. Scram. Move along lounge lizard. These seats are taken and no, we don’t care if you think you “know us from somewhere.” Puleeease.”

Read the rest here at Josie in the City (all rights reserved and stuff)

(I say most of what I say in this post here in jest. I’m sure the writer’s a lovely young woman and full of love and joy. Plus I lie highlighting other blogs I find interesting. I hope she doesn’t get mad at me.)





So I went to Sequoia’s on the DC waterfront for my birthday a few weeks ago.  Well, let me restate that. Tried to go to Sequoia. After a lovey dinner at Bistro Fraincais (I highly recomend their early bird prix fixe special: 3 courses for $25), we strolled down there only to find that last call is now 9PM. Last year, it was 10PM. Back in the day, I think it was like 12PM. My friends and I all surmised the same thing: They’re really trying hard to get rid of the element. By the element, I’m referring to a name my friend Bianca calls a certain class of people. You know who I’m talking about. So we went over to Tony and Joe’s, which is right next to Sequoia, and where the element migrates once the Hennessy stops flowing at Sequoia. If you’re unfamiliar with sequoia, it’s a large seafood restaurant in Washington DC right on the harbor. What makes the place neat is that it’s large, has great views of the water, and has a huge outdoor area with tables and a bar and these nicely lit trees. If you live in Brooklyn, think a much more upscale Habana. But with fish, not corn.

All this brought me back to a conversation I had a few years ago when my Mom, my Dad, and his friend Chucky were all eating at Sequoia on what happened to be a Sunday evening. Chucky’s from Cape Cod and is one of the few black people I know who can pull off a Massachusetts accent without a hint of irony. You know, like BAH-ston. Cape CAHD. Things of that nature. We were eating my mom began discussing the influx of people who frankly, didn’t look like they belonged there. The Element. I explained to my Mom, who’s a rural sociologist by training , and naturally thinks of these patterns in nerd terms, that around 5 or 6, there’s a shift change in the consumer base. The upper class whites and blacks finishing up Sunday Brunch dates or an early dinner with the family close out their tabs and vacate to make room for lower class negroes from Prince George’s county and Ward 7 and 8, and their middle class hangers-on who ascribe to emulate their hip lower class values and sense of style. Chucky, who lives a stone’s throw away from Martha’s vineyard mentioned that the same thing had been happening recently there. The Mom, being the little fireplug that she is, argued that we shoudn’t let them drive us out, rather we should stand fast against the tide and rally forth. We should take back this beach from these trespassers! It was a stump speech worthy of Winston Churchill. I invited her to stay around in that case. To which she replied, “I don’t need to be around these ghetto people. Tennis is on. I’m going home.” Way to abandon your troops, Mom.

So I had pretty much forgotten about this whole shebang but for the fact that a couple of articles came out recently talking about the ever-widening class divide that seems to be gripping Black America. One in the Root, was about the over-representation of foreign blacks in Ivy League schools. The comments show the schism as people argue for the many reasons American blacks underperform.  One in New York Mag, written by the insufferable Toure, was actually directed at the exact same phenomena Chucky was talking about two years ago: The Element invading Martha’s Vineyard and the response by upper-crusty blacks wearing polo shirts and eating cucumber sandwiches. The response wasn’t positive. But the strategic response was very effective:

“A series of community meetings were convened. “No one said ‘Where all these loud niggers coming from?’ But that was the vibe from black and white Vineyarders.” In 1997, a solution was implemented that was simple and subtle enough to fix the problem while avoiding charges of racism: The ferry from Woods Hole changed its policy to eliminate standby passengers and to make reservations nontransferable. Party promoters could no longer buy tickets in bulk, and most students wouldn’t think to make a reservation months ahead of time. The parties moved elsewhere, and the Vineyard went back to business as usual.”

So why? Why did they come to OUR places with their unrefined manners, baggy clothes, rude conduct towards women and loud cursing? And better yet, why are we so perturbed by this? Are we threatened, embarassed, annoyed? Why can’t we just get along? Here are some ideas I’ve heard:

1. You all like to start shit: As part of your general chip on your shoulder and obsession with swag and being tough guys, an unacceptable percentage of you didn’t come to socialize, you came to fight. An unacceptable percentage of that percentage came with guns. Now while you all can beat each other in the streets and shoot at each other all day with somewhat limited repercussions, the same isn’t true for us. A felony assault charge for us would throw a serious wrench into most of our plans. Which when we invariably run into you leaves us with some unpalatable choices:

-Get Chumped

-Fight you and lose. You’re probably better at it than we are since you have so much practice. Also, your freinds will undoubtedly jump us, and since a couple of our friends are kind of punks, you’ll have the numbers advantage.

-Fight you and win. And get hauled off to jail, incurring bail costs, legal defense fees and a potentially career killing felony. Great

2. You make it harder for us. People associate us with you because of the fairly obvious phenotypical similarities. So when you show up with your retrograde behavior, let’s face it, it reflects badly on us. Next time WE show up to the same place, we’re going to be subject to a certain level of suspicion because last time YOU were there, three people got shot.

3. You’re a bad influence As much as we would like to make our brand of unthreatening academic high achievement “cool”, it appears that you all with your casual nonchalance, shiny watches, and rollicking swagger have won the culture wars up to this point. Which means that you’ve done a magnificent job of subverting OUR youth to your way of life. Witness the piss-poor academic performance of schools in even high-income black suburbs and the fact that we all dress like you. You are a fashionable bunch, I’ll grant you that. But your seductive negative influence on too many of US has got to stop.

4. You judge us. Not unlike how we judge you, so I can’t really blame you. It’s called cass warfare, not class one-side assault.Regarding the vineyard, one person in the article said:

“It’s this mecca where you can be yourself and be with people who have so much in common with you. No one has to feign some street cred when they’re playing tennis.” It’s a source of communion and of pride. “When you see a beautiful black family with their kids, it makes you feel really good about being black,”

You all, not so much. We don’t really feel good about being black around you all for two reasons. One, your version of blackness is wack. It’s an infantile celebration of violence, materialism, mysogyny, and general underperformance. Two, you make us feel that our version of blackness is inadequate. We know we should be confident in our version and believe in it, but it’s difficult. We want to feel conencted to “blackness”, not have it questioned or ridiculed because we don’t engage in the more self-destructive aspects of your culture. We realize we can be  a little tight-assed sometime. We’ll work on it.

So am I totally out of line here? Was this just a rant designed to up the arms race of class warfare/ Or are wroking towards something of a resolution? What are your thoughts? I’ve only covered one side of the argument. Part II will discuss what the upper class is doing oh so wrong.

So long, my friend

Posted: June 25, 2009 in Uncategorized

I’d remember you as you were and how you always wanted to be: Great

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Travel well, friend.

Things I hate

Posted: June 23, 2009 in Uncategorized

We’re going to start a new subtopic here in St. Randyland. It’s called Things I Hate. I know it’s unfashionable these days to be a hater, but part of my remarkable success is that I’m contracyclical. with that said, here are some things I hate today

1. Ed Hardy T-shirts. Because nothing says douchebag like your perfect combination of Ed Hardy T-Shirt, Ed Hardy trucker hat, shiny tattoos, and the overwhelming stench of Axe body spray that follows you around like flies on African children. God, I want to punch you

You gellin? Yeah, Im Gellin! Gellin like a Douchemelon!

You gellin? Yeah, I'm Gellin! Gellin like a Douchemelon!

Stole this from made me angry inside,

2. Perez Hilton’s Bitchassness. Bitch, you got slapped. For talking out the side of your neck and then calling a man a f*ggot.. A suicide bomber didn’t decimate your family. Your little sister wasn’t sodomized by R. Kelley. Bernie Madoff didn’t steal all your money. Ahmedinijad didn’t steal your vote and have his goons beat you in the street like a dog. You just got slapped. As you deserved to. And now you want to make videos and tweets and shit about it like it was something more than a bitch getting slapped. Bitches get slapped every day for talking out the side of their neck. And John Mayer pwned you by the way. Pwned you.

Hey Tweeps! Gettin my ass whipped for talkin shit. Can someone call the po-pos?

Hey Tweeps! Gettin' my ass whipped for talkin shit. Can someone call the po-po's?

Watch the Hilarious Huffington post video here

3. Those black riot police motorcycles. I hate them shits. Every time you see one of them nasty 450cc not quite off road but not quite streetbike motherfuckers, you know someone’s gonna get beat. Especially when they’re being piloted by someone from the Middle East. This isn’t to speak ill of people from the Middle East at all. I loved You Don’t Mess With the Zohan and its message of tolerance. But I’m just saying. If you eat hummus three times a day AND have one of these black riot motorcycles, statistically speaking, chances are good, you have oppressed someone’s human rights within the last three days. If you also happen to own an electrified baton, well, those chances go up to about 100% that you’re either beating or raping someone who can’t protect themselves right now. Or celebrating your latest beat and rape with some hummus. Not tryna get racial, just saying.

God, why cant Perez Hilton be on the other side of that baton?

God, why can't Perez Hilton be on the other side of that baton?

4. Class Mixing. For fuck’s sake. Can’t we have anything of our own? First you overran Black College Spring Break and turned it into Freaknic. Then you took over damn Sequoia’s every Sunday and make them run out of Heineken and Hennessy every single weekend. You tried that shit at Martha’s Vineyard last year, too, didn’t ya? Ha. See if you’ll try that shit again. Can’t you people just stay on the South side of whatever city it is you live in and enjoy your weekends and holidays dodging crime there? You don’t see us trying to take over Deno’s or the Blue Flame? We respect that that’s your place. Can we not have the same decency from you all?

Ah, Ace of Spades. A touch of class.

Ah, Ace of Spades. A touch of class.

Actually, this provides a lovely segue into my next blog about class warfare. Stay tuned, it’ll be fun

My moustache, you likez it.

My moustache, you likez it.

From Livesteez:

Fellas, you didn’t think we were going to neglect to follow up on the previous article, did you?  Well we’ve put a little list together for you too. For some, this may be too amateur a list to read through. But if you’re that guy who will continuously lick the same area without variety, which, in some cases could produce the desired result of an orgasm. Or, the guy who’s simply returning the favor.  It’s best to, firstly, be remembered but also to be remembered as the man who “had me climbing the walls and gripping the sheets.” But if your girl ever rejects some oral action from you, you’re the ideal reader. Fellas, if you’re trying to orally impress a woman, these 10 tips should do just the trick.

1.) Get Involved – In order to peak her interest, you have to have to be thoughtful, women love to be romanced and enraptured.  Draw her a bath, light a few candles, play soft music and have her favorite wine ready. Remember, the combination   champagne, chocolate and strawberries are a natural aphrodisiac. Lotion her body and tease her with your touch. Move from her nipples to her navel, maybe tease her clit. Get her excited!

2.) Take your time – what you shouldn’t do, is dive right into jack rabbit mode with your tongue. This could, quite possibly, quickly kill all pleasurable sensation and prematurely end the session due to clitoral over stimulation. For starters, you want to take your time and kiss the erogenous zone the same way you would passionately kiss her lips and mouth.

3.) Pay attention – a woman’s anatomy is obviously very different from a man’s, but some of the same pleasure principles apply. Just like a man, a woman has a certain “spot” that is extremely sensitive and, when properly stimulated, can make her climax with quickness. But in order to make this an experience, try some other techniques like varying speed and pressure. To make her orgasm explosive, pay attention to what makes her back arch hips jerk and save it for later.

4.) Communicate – don’t forget women are creatures of emotion, so they need to feel connected to you in some way. Dirty talk is good. Tell her how she tastes and how much you love to please her. Tell her how she turns you on and how you’re going to make her climax. Oral play is a very intimate encounter, so make sure you maintain eye contact as well!

5.) Suck the cliioris- some tend to shy away from sucking much of anything. However, it’s best to get over this hang-up and open yourself to suck her clit. This is also a technique that’s going to take some easing into. In order to successfully perform this, she needs to be very well lubricated. Start off gently and give a soft suckle, and gradually suck a little harder and longer each time. A lot of woman like to play with the pain and pleasure threshold, so make sure you’re communicating with her enough to know if that’s something she’s into.

6.) Teasing is good – variety is key. Predictability is normally a turn off, so switch it up! Just when you get her good and hot, remove your mouth from her vagina and give her some time to recollect, you want her to want more. This is also a good moment for you to take a breather but keep her interested by nibbling on her nipples and neck. Grind on her and let her feel your excitement, but whatever you do, don’t give in because your task incomplete. This is her moment.

7.) Use your fingers – let your fingers be that icing on the cake, kind of like a special addition. While you can get your girl off with tongue tricks alone, take your time to introduce your fingers. Suck her nipples while you use your fingers to play with her clit, a lot women get off on their own finger strokes so pace yourself. If you consider yourself talented, try licking her clit and using a come hither stroke with your fingers inside her and playing with her nipples withy our free hand. That will definitely triple her pleasure and have her knees buckling in no time.

8.) Use a stiff tongue – woman love this move and it’s also an intro for the events to follow. Stiffen your tongue and push it into her vaginal opening. Make long stroking movements and, once again, use your fingers for clitoral stimulation. For optimal access you may have to push her thighs towards her chest, depending on the body type.

9.) Play with positions – flat position is obviously the easiest way access the vaginal region, but try and have her stand up against the wall and drape on leg over your shoulder. The 69 position is also great for optimum arousal, and can also jump start  the rest of the action.

10.) Don’t stop – when you start to get the feeling she’s about to climax, whatever you do, don’t stop! In fact, it’s best you quicken the pace a bit and keep doing exactly what your doing, don’t switch anything up orally! At most, squeeze her breasts and do a little nipple play. But you’ll know she’s about to explode when her hips start to jerk and her back arches, along with the heavy breathing. You know you’ve hit the spot when you get the emphatic “right there” and see some eye rolling. If you achieve all of the orgasm signs listed above, which cannot be faked, then you’ve officially rocked her world.

Kneel before my fabulousness, swine!

Kneel before my fabulousness, swine!

Ask any single educated black woman who wants to be unsingle, and there’s a 50% chance (unscientific) she will say the following:

“Men are intimidated by me.”

She could be five foot even or six foot twelve, 90 pounds or three hundred, but chances are good you’ll hear some variation of this trend as reason why guys are

1. Not hollering at her

2. Not staying in a relationship with her.

This gets particularly touchy as you go up the professional and educational ladder. I’d venture by the time you hit 120k/yr. or a JD, the number in my first claim goes from 50% to say, 85%. Hate to bust your bubble, ladies, we’re not intimidated by about 90% of you.

Halle Berry, Oscar winning actress, millionaire, consistently voted one of the world’s mot beautiful people; maybe a little intimidated at stepping to you.

Beyonce, million selling artist, workaholic, wife of millionaire former crack dealer who stabbed a man in a nightclub; perhaps we feel like we should get our weight up before taking a run at wresting you away from the jiggaman.

Average looking late 20’s to early 30’s mid career professional with a Master’s degree from a top ten school; enh, not so much.

See, here’s the thing. Men are typically attracted to beauty, will pursue positivity, and will keep a partner. It’s really that simple. Next time you’re in a social setting, take a look around. You’ll see all the guys checking out the hottest women at the place. But you won’t necessarily see these women have the most conversations. You’ll see the women who are laughing, smiling, and flirting doing that. And the women who are holding hands with their Sig O? They’re usually the ones that have held their dudes down.

So maybe your ravishing beauty is what’s keeping guys away. You’re so good looking that men just feel you’re out of their league. You must be able to do so much better than them, so why bother even trying? Wrong. After a couple of Hennessy and Cokes, most guys don’t have a single inhibition at macking to the best looking girl in the world. When I was sixteen, I went hard at Idalis in LA. Sober. And this was back when she was hot. Like on MTV err’ day lookin’ right hot.

Ey guhl! What yo name iuh?

"Ey guhl! What yo' name iuh?"

And I was getting ready to be a junior in high school. I didn’t have a drivers’ license for fuck’s sake. But I wasn’t intimidated in the least. Because she was really friendly and sweet. This might have also been because I was somewhat non-threatening being all underage and shit, but at the end of the day, how people react to you is in direct proportion to how you make them feel. When you make them feel good about you and themselves, they will respond positively to you.

You see, the reason people don’t respond positively to you isn’t because they’re intimidated by you. It’s because your bearing, your disposition, or your conversation doesn’t make us feel good. Simple as that. Now, I know you want to believe that it’s your job that has us shook. Or your impressive array of degrees. but these don’t really turn off most dudes. What does turn us off is when you use these admirable achievements to puff yourself up or to try to raise yourself above others because of them. No one likes feeling that someone else is looking down on them. This is especially true when it comes to education and career. People are invested in these aspects of their life, both timewise and emotionally. If you spend 50 hours a week at your job and at least four years at a particular school, you’re not really going to take kindly to someone putting themselves on a pedestal because the school they went to or the company they work for is arguably superior to yours. So if you think your problem is that you intimidate men, it’s probably not. It’s that you don’t make men feel good. Some tips:

1. Check the mirror: Ask yourself seriously whether or not you make others feel good? Do you give off a positive vibe? Are you supportive of people? If not, well, hey, you get back what you put out.

2. Pride goeth before the fall: Yes, you should be proud of your accomplishments. They’re great. But no one needs endless repetition of how great you are because you do xxxx or went to xxxx. You don’t need to constantly prove that you’re worthy because of these things and when you do, you come off as an insecure douchebag. They’re not the bellweather of who you are. That Stanford degree won’t cook a steak or suck a good dick or give a fine backrub after a tough day.

3. Drive slow, homey: I have a friend who’s finishing up a residency at Harvard Medical. She calls her school the H-bomb because when a lot of guys hear that, they immediately think their resume isn’t up to snuff. I feel bad for her on one hand, but she also does a great job of not making it the focus of who she is. And as such, she’s able to de-escalate a lot of these potential issues because she doesn’t overplay the Harvard hand and she doesn’t lord it over anybody. If anything, she often makes fun of the arrogance of a lot of Harvard people. If she can be chill about her accomplishments, you with the Bachelor’s from the mid-pack state school? You really need to cool the fuck out.

4. Take the armor off: Look, it’s a cold world out there. Everyone knows it. You face rejection and unkindness every day. That’s no excuse to be a twat. Too many people (men and women) try to use very superficial things to give themselves self-confidence and make them feel better about their lives. Phrases like “I’m always in VIP,” “Oh, I don’t wait in lines to get in the club,” “Isn’t that last year’s model?” etc, are just some examples of douchey things people say to try to elevate their status and give themselves a level of protection against being thought of as less. Please quit.

5. Get off the entitlement train: Because you went to x, you deserve x. Because you work at x, you deserve x. Becuse you wear x, you deserve x. Enh. I said it before, I’ll say it again: Part of the problem is that people think you get what they deserve. You don’t. You get what you work, hustle, cheat, steal, and strong-arm for, and then you still usually have to rely on some luck to get it done. So yes, you’re good looking, went to a great school, and have a great job. That does not make you princess of the world, so expecting everyone to wait hand and foot on you because of your looks or pedigree isn’t going to get you a lot but looks of disgust from most people. Especially when you run into someone whose track record is tighter than yours (you will). Humility is really attractive.

Caveat: Most of this advice actually applies to both sexes. That means it’s unisex. Like cKOne or something. Y’all remember cKOne? That was the hot shit in like ’93

Not douchey!

Not douchey!

Jee, she seems like shed be nice to talk to

Jee, she seems like she'd be nice to talk to

Damn you David Bowie!

Damn you David Bowie!