Shorts

Alright, I love summer as much as the next girl--possibly even MORE than the next girl, depending on who that girl is. However, as soon the temperature starts to creep up, so do the hems on people's pants. I am, of course, referring to The Arrival of the Shorts.

Shorts can be really cute. SOMETIMES. They can also be the most horrific sight one is likely to encounter on a hot summer day. On principle, I very rarely wear shorts. I have no qualms about wearing very short skirts. Those are usually adorable. But there is a thin line between "Those are cute!" Shorts and "What in God's name was she THINKING!?" Shorts. I do not wish to tread that line.

Already this year, I have been the visual victim of many shorts infractions. Seriously, I feel like my eyes have been raped. So, for the good of all humanity, I have compiled what is surely only a partial list of rules for wearing shorts. Please pay it heed...and if you're reading one of these and thinking to yourself, "But I look GOOD when I do that," I fear I am too late to help you. You have fallen victim to the Shorts Epidemic.

How Not to Be a Shorts Rapist:
by Sara

1. At the gym, there are two girls. They always work out together, they have matching side ponytails, and are somewhere between eleven and thirteen years old. They're cute. They are also CHILDREN. But every day, they both come in wearing "shorts" that would more accurately be defined as boy-cut underwear. They're tight, tiny, colorful little one-inch pieces of cloth that do not even cover their entire butts. Seriously. There is cheekage. This is not ok, no matter how cute, tan, young, old, thin, muscular, or exhibitionistic you might be. This could probably be more beneficial in a "How to Get Gang Banged in the Parking Lot of the Gym" list.

2. This is designed specifically for the gentlemen. I know that Umbros are cool. Or at least, they WERE cool in 1993. However, if you opt to wear them (or shorts with any other silkish material) please, please PLEASE wear underwear. Why? Because we can see your junk. Every little wrinkle, every little vein. And while everyone enjoys an unexpected penis sighting, this is not going to do wonders for your popularity. Additionally, if you are wearing swim trunks as shorts, and thereby not wearing underwear, please do not sit with your legs spread. Your little soldier will try to escape, and unbeknownst to you, dangle out the side.

3. The 80's, tragically, have ended. If the button on your shorts is anywhere over your bellybutton, please remove them from your list of possessions. Even if you have the behind of an Ass God/Goddess, you'll get Mom Butt. You know what I mean.

4. So you've avoided all of the above pitfalls. You ran out to your favorite trendy little store, and purchased a perfectly acceptable pair of shorts. You rush home, slide them on, lay down on your bed to snap them shut, and start to strut your "I have hot shorts" strut down the street. If the insides of the shorts keep rising up...like between your thighs, so that there is an upside down letter V of shorts material pointing directly at your crotch...go back and get a bigger size. Seriously. No one will know.

5. Finally, this is one I learned last year, the hard way, when I was determined that a pair of cute white shorts from Banana Republic would be JUST what I needed to complete my summer wardrobe. If you are pale...like REALLY pale...white shorts are not ok for you. Your porcelain goddess skin will not be admired and appreciated. It will be mocked. As a side note, I never did purchase them...I just stared longingly at them from afar.

You're welcome.

xoxo

Jubilation

Every year, around September, my senses awaken. I feel a quickening of my pulse, a tingling in my toes. Suddenly, colors are brighter, flowers bloom more beautifully, and there is music in the air. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. The beginning of candy corn season. One day, just when you'd almost forgotten about this delectable taste bud adventure, you're wandering the aisles of your local grocery store, and there it is. Bags upon bags of orgasmic sugary delight.

Yes. This is a blog about candy corn. If you've got beef with that, then you've got beef with me, and I'll meet you by the bike rack after school with my fists and some brass knuckles.

The problem with the corn? Once Halloween is over, it disappears! No more candy pumpkins. No more yellow and orange happiness. It's like when you're seven, and the day after Christmas finally comes...you look around amidst the boxes and ribbons and new toys...the day you've waited for ALL YEAR has finally come and gone, and you stare blankly at the destruction in your living room, and you just have to ask yourself, "What the fuck?" It's disheartening.

And so I spend the rest of the year in a state of despair. Sure, there are other things to keep my mouth happy...actually, let's not go into that. But it's just not the same.

However, this year, in February, I was at the store picking up some groceries, when I meandered into the horrifically red section, identifying the Valentine's Day candy. I think I could sense it before I saw it--a round tin full of red and pink candy corn. Naturally my first instinct was to grab all that I could carry and rush out of the store. I contained myself. I bought like 2 containers.

So once I realized that other holidays are breaking into the candy corn monopoly, I've obviously spent the past two months trying to find Easter candy corn. Just when I'd given up hope, AB and I were at Giant, and there it was. Bags upon bags of beautiful pastel heaven. I obviously bought it, but I had to give the bag to AB to monitor my candy corn consumption...I'm a little bit like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I'd just keep eating more, and I would not look attractive as a giant, triangular piece of sugar. I swear to God, if I could stick a tuxedo and top hat on a piece of candy corn, I'd be tempted to marry it.

I was so excited about my find that I had to start a conversation about it at a party this weekend. I brought some into work. I think I've told everyone I've seen about the Easter candy corn. My co-workers came in this morning to sample it, and we've concluded that it tastes creamier and softer than regular candy corn. We think it's because pink, purple, and yellow are creamier colors.

But now I'm panic-stricken. What holiday could possibly be coming up where they'll make more candy corn?? The Fourth of July? I mean, I'd eat it, but I think red, white, and blue candy corn would just be silly.

I clearly have a problem. Please do not encourage this obsession in any way.

Hatred

Ok, you all know the show 7th Heaven, right? You've definitely seen it. Reverend Camden with his bitchwife Annie and their passel of children, pets, and random stragglers who are invited into their home and indoctrinated with important family values and lessons?

I hate this show. I hate every single one of the characters. If it was possible to have negative respect for something, that is the amount of respect I have for the writing, acting, plot lines, and character development. AB and I tried to discuss who we hated the most on that show, but the conversation just lapsed into stunned silence, because it's an impossible question. It would be like trying to count to infinity (although I hear Chuck Norris counted to infinity--twice.) I asked him if he was forced to blow up one of the Camdens who he would choose, and he just shook his head in befuddlement and said, "Can't...too many." I think though, if I really had to, I could narrow it down to Lucy or Ruthie. I just stare at my television screen and can feel liquid hatred fill my eyes.

None of that is very interesting. We all have television shows that we hate. But the trick is that I can NOT stop watching this show. In fact, I seek it out! When I go home over lunch, I immediately turn to the Hallmark channel (which is just bullshit in and of itself...they make cards, not television shows) and know that I will see a gruesome explosion of hugs, bad acting, and important morals. And I do it. Every single day. And then I drive back to work, singing the theme song and marvelling at the atrocity.

Do you think this is what heroin addicts feel like? And if you were to choose a Camden to throw into a river full of snapping alligators and electric eels, who would you choose?