Flavor of the Week: Jane Lynch

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).

Can we puh-lease have a moment of silence to appreciate this photo. Just, like, I can’t even.

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.

We love you, Ms. Hannah-Dylan-Pasternak-gan

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.


On the Importance of Intelligent Boyfriends

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.

Height never bothered these two lovebirds. Very chic use of metallic, boys.

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.

Boo, you whore.

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.


Flavor of the Week: The Great Gatsby Soundtrack

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.

 


On Muploading vs. Instagramming

I’ve written about muploading before, and in great detail at that, but I feel as though I didn’t dig deep enough. There is an infinite amount of potential expanding to do about the topic of taking photos on your iPhone–if you have a Droid, you can’t sit with us–and I figured that since I refuse to leave my bedroom today as I am physically glued to the new Justin Timberlake album, I may as well expand upon it.

In our nation’s history there have been many great debates: Brown vs. The Board of Education, Roe vs. Wade, the uprising of college students against the Vietnam War draft, and, of course, the current battle of Essie vs. OPI. During my most recent meditation I discovered that there is a very subtle issue that often goes unheard of and can probably be added to this catalogue of 21st century #firstworldproblems. How do you know when you should Instagram a photo as opposed to muploading it???????

Last week, I dissected a cat in Bio. I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to test out these waters. I took some pics of our deceased cat, which I named Joaquin (pronounced WAH-KEEN for those of you that don’t keep up with trendy baby names), and then I took some selfies. I went through each of the 200 resulting photos and tried to decide which ones I wanted to mupload and which ones I wanted to Instagram. Fine, I was exaggerating. I went through the process with the resulting 86 photos. Fine, 75. 75 I swear. After this trial, I appointed myself Supreme Court Justice of the iPhone megapixel camera and came up with a solid list for when one should Insta-G a photo and when one should mupload it. Here is my organized research:

You should Instagram a photo if…

…you think it would look absolutely perf with a little bit of Hudson, X-Pro II or some Amaro up in that shiz.

Screen shot 2013-05-18 at 5.19.42 PM

ya

…you can’t tag anyone it in. For example, your Starbucks latte does not have a Facebook account, so you cannot tag it on Facebook, so it will not show up on the news feed unless you mupload it by itself, which would be super weird, and since it will not be on the news feed, no one would like it, so you will seem like a total weirdo loser. If you Instagram it, however, you will get minimum 11 likes–just enough to make you look popular–so you’re set.

…it will make people jealous of what you are wearing, what you are eating, where you are vacationing, etc. That way you can be subtly obnoxious, but not overly obnoxious.

Screen shot 2013-05-18 at 5.22.05 PM

Example: this could have made people jealous that someone gave me a bouquet of red roses (which look pink due to my poor filter choice).

…you are doing something illegal. No explanation needed. If you feel like you need an explanation for this one, then you shouldn’t have an Instagram to begin with.

…you take an attractive selfie. It will get lots of likes, and make you look drop dead gorgeous amongst light, sun-soaked tones.

You should mupload a photo if…

…you really, like, really, want people to see it.

…you look good/better than the other people in the photo. Duh.

…the picture is funny. Instagrams are meant to be glamourous, i.e. Kim Kardashian’s account (JK LOL), or cute, i.e. Soul Cycle’s account. If it’s funny, Facebook it.

310767_10200534040890919_475267382_n

Facebook’d.

…it will make your ex-boyfriend jealous. Because it will. (Also, only boys like Scott Disick and Justin Bieber’s swag coach Ryan Good really utilize Instagram in the same way that we do, so your photo probably won’t reach your ex that well. Then again, if a guy is your ex chances are he’s of the Scott Disick-type. Then again (again), if you Instagram it, girls that are friends with your ex will see it. This one is kinda debatable but not really because muploading is probably the answer. Muploading is always the answer.)

…you take an unattractive selfie. It will get lots of likes, and make you look cute and funny.

941297_10200675938998283_1941946280_n

I muploaded this photo of my friend Louis and myself from our cat dissection.

photo

This is the conversation that ensued when I asked Louis for permission to use his face on The FYD.

I think that one day, I would like to write an iPhone bible. I say this especially considering my experiences with Facebook, Twitter…….. and, how could I forget, Tinder!!!?? (Read this for elaboration on all of the aforementioned.) For now, though, I am going to get back in bed–just kidding, I never left bed–and listen to this 10-minute JT song for the sixteenth time.


Flavor of the Week: Overalls

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:

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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.


On Being a “Millennial”

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.


Flavor of the Week: Gum

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.

Tacky, but cute gum

This is the round-up of my fave types of gum in no particular order:

  1. Orbit. It’s very classic. Has a fresh flavor, but is not too exuberant. Loses flavor faster than I’d like to admit.
  2. Stride. Flavor jacked. Super juicy. Love it. I only get the green one, though.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
Screen shot 2013-05-08 at 4.35.43 PM

I love nature, duh. I’m also def from the Water Nation. We’re basically the same person.

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.