At first, the Polar Vortex sounds kind of fun. I imagine us all to be sipping spiked hot chocolates, boarding a train with a mustache-d conductor heading to somewhere like the North Pole. But then I realize that I’m just recreating a Disney movie in my mind and life is not but a dream.
Instead, the Polar Vortex is a brutal, brutal thing that encourages college girls to hang themselves from barren trees with their infinity scarves.
At the beginning of winter, everyone complained about the nippy chill more than usual. Everyone that wasn’t complaining about the chill insisted upon complaining about the people who were complaining about the chill. These skeptics were under the impression that everyone was just overreacting; that this winter was just as cold as any other. The complainers, skin still thin from what was left of that summer bikini body, were simply in denial of winter’s annual coming.
I wonder if the skeptics of those complaining about the cold feel like assholes now that WE’RE IN A POLAR VORTEX.
Here’s a neat list of five things you can do to stay warm:
1. Give in to that booty call (body heat).
2. Burn the keepsakes of your ex to make a bonfire. The ones you haven’t already burned.
3. Don’t get out of bed, ever. This is a great dieting technique because I would otherwise encourage working out, but haha no.
4. Watch so much Netflix while your laptop is on your lap that you get radiation poisoning!
5. Wear a Peekaru, buy a puppy/become a teen mom, and put it (or your unwilling boyfriend) inside.
In this snazzy Thought Catalog piece that finds itself less cynical than the usual, six of the most accurate quotes from Lena Dunham’s too-real creation, Girls, are highlighted to define “dating in your 20s.” However, as someone who is a strong believer that anyone with emotions can relate to Girls regardless of age, sex, sex life, etc., this piece is a necessary must-read for everyone.
Every episode of Girls is like a quote book waiting to be sewn together. Hence, there are a few quotes here that I thought shouldn’t have necessarily made the creme of the crop cut. But a couple of them hit the nail right on the head, like…
“You act like I’m uptight and then I follow suit. I become uptight. It is the most frustrating dynamic on the planet. It drives me crazy. I can’t stand it.” –Marnie (If this one doesn’t describe my existence as a human and/or as a girlfriend, I don’t know what does.)
“I don’t even want a boyfriend. I just want someone who wants to hang out all the time, and think I’m the best person in the world, and wants to have sex with only me.” –Hannah (No, not me “Hannah,” but obviously the leading lady of Girls shares my palindromical Jewish nomenclature. This one sums it all up–after a while, you realize that it’s totally not about the title as much as it’s about the feeling. Ya dig?)
“It wasn’t love the way I imagined it but it just felt weird if I didn’t know what she was up to or whatever.” –Adam (In other words: modern love. We’ll take it.)
This one gets FYD honorable mention but didn’t make the cut for the Thought Catalog piece (instead they put in one of the dumb lines with a Twilight reference):
“Sometimes being stuck in my own head is so exhausting it makes me want to cry.” –Marnie. (But then again, everything makes me want to cry.)
Read the whole piece here.
I believe there is only one true rule to fashion: look good.
Don’t mix prints, they said. Don’t wear silver with gold jewelry, they said. Don’t wear white after Labor Day, they said. And screw all of that bullshit, I said.
I understand why you’d want to savor your white in the trying months that your thighs are stuck together by perspiration. Fine, take advantage of all clothing light and breezy when the weather deems it appropriate. But why can’t you wear white in the winter? We don’t let Mother Nature control our menstrual cramps–we take Advil and eat chocolate for that. So why should we let her restrict the way we dress? We must create our own rebellious fashion (by wearing white in the winter, if you will). Or else, fashion will never be created.
In order to deserve the respect of rule-breaking, then thou shalt not break the rules poorly. If you’re going to mix patterns and patches, or if you’re going to wear white in a snowstorm, then do it well. Look good.
Shot by the most fabulous Sophie Schwartz.
Nothing but the sky behind Drake’s baby-fro is as blue as the painfully emotional lyrics he spits out on his latest album, Nothing Was The Same. That is, until it starts to rain and those fluffy clouds turn to tearful raindrops.
Yesterday I discovered drakeweather.com and today I am obsessed with it. Never has there been a chicer way to check the weather. I’m tired of weather.com’s constantly changing graphics. They give me motion sickness. Weather By Drizzy is simple and aesthetic. Let Drizzy give you the lowdown on the driz-le.
There’s not much “shit you should read” here, but there’s a lot to see (esp. if you have a Retina display Mac/are tripping balls for any other reason). The site figures out your geographic location and then shows you Drake’s cartoon head surrounded by the visual representation of your local forecast.
Sorry, Brick Tamland, but gangsta rap made me do it.
As gleeful college biddies flock back north to the tundrous Great Lakes and to the non-stop pretty-people-party that is all southern schools, I can’t help but reminisce upon the terrible yet inevitable habit of losing everything.
When I was younger, I used to lose or leave something behind every time I left the house. My first few flip phones would go MIA for weeks at a time, only to show up again crushed at the bottom of a friend’s driveway or stowed away in the wings of the stage curtain by a boy who sang in the sixth grade chorus with me. Eventually, his mother told me of his intentions: he thought it would be funny to hijack my most prized possession and then heroically “find it” again. Of course, he forgot about the hijacking and the devious plan in its entirety and ceased to properly return the phone.
In seventh grade, I lost my childhood teddy bear in transit over a weekend in which I was attending three separate Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. There’s a price to pay that comes with being a 13 year old Jewish girl.
A night in which all you do is “win, win, win no matter what” can be awfully tainted by the loss of your Marc by Marc by Marc Jacobs by Jacobs Marc by Marc keychain. In college, girls lose a lot of things. Dignity, respect, iPhones, and wallets. While there rarely seems to be a bright side to losing any/all of the above, there still must be a reason why we lose so often–otherwise, we just wouldn’t. So here’s a few I came up with:
We lose stuff to get attention, because everyone loves putting together a search party for Daddy’s missing credit card.
We lose stuff to get new stuff, because, hey, wasn’t it time for that iPhone upgrade anyways?
We lose stuff to get our stuff returned, because you never know how attractive an honest man will be.
We lose stuff when we don’t really need or want what we lost, because who needs a jacket when you have a sick new crop-top with a major side boob exposé?
We lose stuff when we’re distracted, because we can’t help it that we’re so popular.
My mom used to yell at me for being so forgetful about my things, and I told her that it wasn’t something I could improve upon because it was an unavoidable character flaw. It’s part of being a girl. (It’s also part of being intoxicated.)
It would be a sin for me to hog all of the amazing shit I find on the internet for myself. New segment: Shit You Should Read. Because you really, really should.
We know a lot about Barbie. Her boyfriend is Ken, her BFF is Teresa. She loves a good beach party and her dwarfish younger sister is Kelly. What we didn’t realize about Barbie is that she doesn’t have a vagina, and what we didn’t know about Barbie is that she’s pretty pissed about it.
In FYD fashion, HuffPost threw up an open letter on their blog from Barbie about body image. We discussed open letters last week because most of them are 99% pointless and 100% overdone in an effort to rebel against the plights of our generation. But to our surprise, Barbie did it well. Here’s some of our fav lines from the piece:
“I have no vagina. You probably know this already (I know your perverted younger brothers know this as well). This is one of the hardest things for me to live with.”
“I wish I looked more like She-Ra or Wonder Woman. They always go to Crossfit together and never invite me.”
“Ken and I have had a rough relationship for many years. He does not have a penis.”
“I do not eat much because I am usually in a box, and then there is that whole being made of plastic thing.”
And Barbie closes with an ode to her glitzy BRATZ (the doll version of betches)… “My body might not be realistic for most, and that is OK. That is actually better than OK. Because I am sure that some young women have talents that most do not have. Some have sparkling eyes that most others do not have.”
Read the whole letter here.