I’ve mentioned Jane Lynch once before in a reference to me wearing tracksuits and looking ironically athletic, but I felt like she deserved more than a snide mention in a photo caption. We love Ellen Degeneres Jane Lynch because she really twerks it 24/7. She’s a great human because she’s a combination of Vanna White and Justin Bieber—Jane is, actually, drop dead gorgeous (courtesy of Vanna) but totally rocks the lesbian vibe (courtesy of J. Biebs).
Recently, Jane Lynch took up the Broadway role of Ms. Hannigan in Annie, which is suiting for her since Ms. Hannigan is obviously the alter ego of Sue Sylvester, crazy tea party-ist and belligerent racist cheerleading coach on Fox’s Glee. My mom always claims that when she was younger in the year 1800, she auditioned for the role of Annie the first time the show went on Broadway. I used to tell all of my friends this to make myself sound really cool. My mom did not get the role, if you were wondering. I also did not gain any popularity from telling everyone that story, if you were wondering about that, too.
Jane Lynch wore a tracksuit to a Hollywood awards ceremony, so I wore a tracksuit to a Hollywood awards ceremony. JK LOL, I would never be invited to an awards ceremony, but I did wear a tracksuit to prom. JK LOL again, I would never wear a tracksuit at all. It’s a metaphor, of course.
ILY, Jane Lynch.
Last week at lunch with a friend, I was discussing the nitty, gritty details of the status of my current love life. When you talk about boys with a friend, the conversation can always be sure to lead in many different directions–what we like about them, what we don’t, who they are, who we wish they would be. This last clause got me thinking about the minor qualities boys have that make them come up a little short (pun somewhat intended).
Each girl has, in her mind, a specific list of what she likes about boys in a particular order. First, the list is catalogued by category. For example, first could be height, second attractiveness, third quality of humor. But then, she will within each category have another ordered list of preference. If the most important quality to her is height, then she will either prefer shorter guys or prefer taller guys. This list will appear in a different order in everyone’s mind. So while two girls may both prefer taller guys, the importance of height in general could be absolutely key to one and totally irrelevant to the other. I really hope you’re hearing me here. I’m aware of how ridiculous I may sound.
The one category out of the many existing (there are hundreds, of course) that my friend and I discussed over seared tuna salads was intelligence. Recently, a close, and very smart, male friend of mine told me that he always imagined me “ending up with someone very intelligent.” Because of the circumstances in which he divulged this intriguing comment (sitting outside of a fairly large party, surrounded by a group of people loudly socializing with red solo cups), I didn’t take it to much heart upon its release from his mind into the real world. A few weeks later, however, I found that I couldn’t stop thinking about that comment. What does it say about me that he thinks I should be with someone of high intellectual ability? What does it say about what he thinks of me? And, most importantly, how crucial should it be that we have smart boyfriends?
I feel like this could go all the way back to the early 1900s in the era of Elizabeth Cady Stantons and Susan B. Anthonys. If we truly believe that, modernly, there is no need to conform to traditional gender roles within male-female relationships, then I wouldn’t even have this question. Technically, it shouldn’t matter if my boyfriend was smarter than or was as smart as me because it would be absolutely fabulous if I, being the female, was the breadwinner while my trophy husband stayed home and compared strollers with the Irish au pair next door. I often consider myself to be a pseudo-feminist that appreciates a relationship of reversed roles. However, when I found myself seriously questioning exactly how smart any boyfriend of mine should be, I realized that the traditional “couple” stereotype still, naturally, exists. At lunch, my friend and I both admitted it–we want smart husbands. Sorry, Elizabeth.
After our discussion of my guy friend’s comment at the party, and our admittance that we are not as feminist as we once thought we were, I put the big question out there… should it bother me if I’m ever smarter than someone I’m with? I automatically backtracked to every boy I had ever liked (whether the feeling was mutual or was not) and thought about just how smart he was. Her response was quick, and, in my opinion, wildly brilliant: “Well, now you’re asking something bigger,” she said. “How do you define ‘smart?’”
Men, as confusing and complex as they are, can be smart in many different ways. Some babes may be impressed when their guy can speak about football for three hours minimum. I’m not this type of girl. I’m much more impressed when I have a male friend over who is able to survive a philosophical, intellectually-stimulating conversation without sounding stupid. It is not hard to keep a conversation going when you’re talking to a lot of Jewish people; it is difficult, however, to sound like you have an interesting/intelligent opinion every time you open your mouth.
I think that I consider someone “smart” to be someone who is not only good at participating in discussions about current events, societal theories, whatever is “in style,” and historical happenings but, in addition, enjoys these conversations. Then again, I also am interested in having a boyfriend that is willing to go shopping with me and will not make me feel fat when he takes me for fro-yo but then doesn’t get any himself. That is rude, obviously. I think smartness can be measured in a multitude of ways. What it comes down to, I believe, is how he handles a relationship. This can possibly gauge more light on his level of intelligence than anything else. Lying is dumb (it never works in your favor, buddy), ignoring me is dumb (if you feel the need to ignore someone, you shouldn’t be dating her), and taking someone else’s side is dumb (you don’t always have to agree in a relationship, but you always have to be a team). I hope I don’t sound too high maintenance. I don’t sound too high maintenance, right?
So, boys, as the female race, this is all we’re looking for. It’s not too much to ask. Really.
Recently, I have gone through two musical phases. In last Sunday’s post, I mentioned how I could not get out of bed because I was glued to the new JT album and pretended that I was the star of the “Mirrors” music video and acted out the entire song for a few hours. My second musical phase involves none other than The Great Gatsby’s soundtrack. It is beautiful in so many ways, and has quickly made its way to the top of my “Most Played” list on iTunes. Just in case you have not heard it, I will provide you with a thoughtful review of the album, song by song, written in haiku form.1. “Bang Bang” – will.i.am Did they have auto Tune in the 1920’s? Awks for will.i.am 2. “A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (All We Got)” – Fergie, Q-Tip & GoonRock A warehouse rave and Moulin Rouge give birth to Fergalicious song. 3. “Young And Beautiful” – Lana Del Rey Makes me cry every Time I hear it because I Think that I’m Daisy 4. “Love Is the Drug” – Bryan Ferry with The Bryan Ferry Orchestra Bryan Ferry, who Are you and what is this song. I don’t get it. 5. “Over the Love” – Florence & The Machine Perf for the album Makes sense in context of the Movie, finally 6. “Where The Wind Blows” – Coco O. of Quadron This makes me forget That I have OCD and I feel down to chill. 7. “Crazy in Love” – Emeli Sandé and The Bryan Ferry Orchestra I think that when I Sing along I sound just like I am Sasha Fierce 8. “Together” – The xx If you are a crack Head then you will enjoy This song. LOL 9. “Hearts a Mess” – Gotye Very eerie but Like a good song you know what I’m talking about? 10. “Love Is Blindness” – Jack White This song will play in The background when I’m giving Birth in my movie 11. “Into the Past” – Nero Weird breathing at start Better suited for Twilight Or a porno flick 12. “Kill and Run” – Sia Sia thinks she is Adele in this song but it’s OK I like it
Because this soundtrack is so incredible, go and see The Great Gatsby. Especially if you’ve read the book. If you haven’t read the book, go and see it anyways. Just don’t act like you’ve read the book because that would be pretentious and annoying.
Overalls have been a really large part of my life since I was a lesbian-child infatuated with Mary Kate and Ashley. I think that they are really convenient because you don’t have to struggle with finding a matching top and bottom when you wake up crusty-eyed and retainer-clad at 6:30 a.m. Instead, your biggest struggle becomes “how the hell do I go to the bathroom in these” which doesn’t apply much to me and my camel-like bladder tendencies. Since I started my lemonade-cayenne pepper-maple syrup cleanse, however, these statistics have unfortunately changed. If you have a strong bladder, and are not currently on a liquid cleanse, go for the overalls. Trust me.
Once, I watched an episode of my fave TV show, My Strange Addiction, in which a transgender human has an obsession with acting, dressing, and appearing as if he/she is a baby. See photo below:
Then, recently, I realized that I actually seem to wear one-pieced clothing, overalls included, very often in public. See photos below:
After this epiphany, I got super concerned. I have to rely on pure faith that people don’t think I, too, am addicted to being an adult baby. I’m just addicted to being chic, and spending less time picking out real outfits in the morning.
And sure, maybe I am still a little lesbian for the Olsen twins, their frail bodies, and their oversized fur coats that each cost more than my four years of Ivy League education will. But everyone is, so it doesn’t really count.
Earlier in the week, Joel Stein wrote a cover story for Time magazine about our generation, the “millennials,” and how narcissistic we are. The Fro-Yo Diaries embodies the millennial attitude (from my perspective, of course, and that perspective clearly differs from Joel Stein’s). But, just to give you all a run for your money–whatever that expression means (what a millennial comment of me to make)–I’ve decided to write about my most “millennial” moments. I would encourage everyone to read Joel Stein’s article, but you can only do that by obtaining a physical copy/subscription of Time. Obviously they restrict us from reading a full copy of the article online because, like, if they did, that would be so millennial of them.
Millennial Moment #1:
My mom often criticizes me for making a mess and then not cleaning it up. The other day, I was eating some dried apricots from their plastic container and decided that for the first time in my life, I would put them back in the cabinet when I was done with them. As I was standing in front of the cabinet, seriously struggling to re-seal the lid, my mom charged into the kitchen. This is the conversation that ensued:
Mom: Hannah, will you move please?
Me: Hold on, I’m just putting this thing away.
Mom: HANNAH I HAVE NOT EATEN ONE THING TODAY, NOT BREAKFAST, LUNCH, OR DINNER.
Me: OK, OK, I’m done. Relax. I’ve made dinner for myself the past two nights. It’s not a big deal.
Mom: DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND I HAVEN’T EATEN ANYTHING ALL DAY????????
Joel, how horribly rude and obnoxious was it of me to try to put my apricots away?!?!
Millennial Moment #2:
I make my parents pay $175 for me to have a 45 minute session with my therapist twice a month. Now if that isn’t selfish of me, then what is? I mean, anxiety doesn’t even exist anyway. And young adults don’t have problems. And young adults aren’t allowed to complain. Because we aren’t spending 14 hours of our day studying and working. Because instead we’re playing on our iPhones. Which we solely use for Tinder to meet fake people that that boost our egos, and not for medication-reminders or to set alarms so we make sure our two hours of sleep don’t interfere with getting to class on time or to keep track of our schedules in a calendar (just like you do) or to, God-forbid, have a means through which our neurotic Jewish mothers can use the “Find My Friends” app to see where we are at all times. No, no. Never any of that.
Millennial Moment #3:
I went back through all of my text messages and counted: on Saturday, May 11, I sent 64 text messages. This is actually a really low number for me, as most millennials spend their Saturday afternoons super hungover from going to wild techno raves the previous night, which we do, wearing neon clothes, practically every weekend. But if I went back to my texts from Friday and counted–which a millennial would never do because that requires too much manual labor (you know, all that scrolling)–I’m sure my stats would at least be tripled.
Millennial Moment #4:
Please watch this video in which Joel Stein tries to be a millennial for a day.
Then, ask yourself: have you EVER sexted by saying “Do you have time to have sex tonight?” No, obviously you haven’t. Millennials would never waste that much time on writing a text message. Obvs, we love to abbrev (Obviously, we love to abbreviate). Our sexts would look a lot more like this:
D u hav tme 2 hav S tn?
Note: S is capital, inferring the use of the abbreviation for “sex” and not “snapchat,” which is represented by a lowercase “s.”
This essay is dedicated to Joel Stein, slanderer of the selfie, denature-er of the multitask, and green monster of envy of how successful we’re going to be when we create the flying cars that you watched in The Jetsons–not that I, or any other millennial, even really has the capability to comprehend what a Saturday morning cartoon is. Just because your last name is “Stein” does not mean that you have a free pass to target our generation and still be considered a mensch.
When I was in sixth grade and going through a lot of anxiety, I lived off of two things: water, and gum. I was convinced that a combination of these two totally nutritious staples would prevent me from throwing up, like ever. Well, I suppose they worked, as I made it through my year without vomiting once. Since, I have had a strange obsession with gum. Then again, pretty much every babe does.
This is the round-up of my fave types of gum in no particular order:
- Orbit. It’s very classic. Has a fresh flavor, but is not too exuberant. Loses flavor faster than I’d like to admit.
- Stride. Flavor jacked. Super juicy. Love it. I only get the green one, though.
- Trident. The type of Trident that I chew—the small packs with those cute pieces, although that is not a great description (also, is there any other type of Trident? Idk…)—is pretty shitty gum and loses flavor in about 1/8 of the time it takes me to put on overalls or give up on a liquid-only diet. However, I’m literally obsessed with the packaging. Great fruity flavors too. Only fruity gum I’ll chew.
- 5. 5 is good and reminds me of expensive and luxurious things because it names its gum after the natural elements. Kinda makes me feel like Katara from Avatar the Last Airbender.
Gum solves a lot of problems for me. When I am hungry, I chew gum. After I eat, I need to chew gum. When I’m nervous, I chew gum. When I go out, I chew gum. When I drove up the side of the tallest mountain in Turkey in my host father’s VW on the wrong side of the road, I chewed gum. I brought 15 packs of gum with me to Turkey. Turkish gum is “gum” flavored. It’s very interesting. Chewing gum is like being a born-again virgin after you ate 100% of your Chipotle bowl when you know you should have eaten max 70% of it.
True life: last weekend, I came home late and fell asleep chewing a piece of gum. I woke up the next morning, still chewing that piece of gum. I will accept gum as a birthday present. I don’t like cinnamon gum. Not to be picky, just saying.