Go "Review" Yourself

This is so awkward.

I’m a dirty, dirty liar.

I promised a new blog this evening and I’m sure it’s only the promise of a new “KB Thinks for You” that got you through the day but… I’m going to be honest, I did not quite get around to writing blog today.

Don’t look at me like that.

You can just hide those judge-y eyes I see pointed in my direction.

How about YOU got write a blog that makes people laugh so hard they piss themselves.

That’s what I thought.

I was a little busy today writing a book review of Bob Dylan’s Chronicles, Volume One. Before you call me a giant nerd, it should be noted that I was doing this as an assignment, not for fun. Although “reviewing” things is kind of my hobby.

Typically I call it “judging harshly then criticizing it as harshly as I possibly can” but for the purpose of today we can call it “reviewing.”

And before you whine to me and say “well why can’t you write a blog now?” let me just say that I’ve got shit to do and quite being so damn nosey.

But, if you must know, I have a test tomorrow and I have not even begun to study yet. See my dedication to you loyal KB readers? Instead of studying here, I am trying to justify my life choices to you.

When I drop out of school and live in the subway preaching about God while simultaneously asking for money for alcohol, I’m going to blame this on you.

See you next week.

Or, as Kristen Wiig would say in Bridesmaids “Aufwiedersehen Asshole”

Update

Listen up.

Tuesday's are busy days for me. I don't get done with class until 6:45 at night and then I have "Glee" and "New Girl" to watch before doing Insanity and then I need to shower to rinse off the 3 quarts of sweat I lose during Insanity. Needless to say, I don't get done with things until about 10:30 at night and the last thing I want to do is write a blog to post at some ungodly hour Wednesday morning when Wednesday is my day to sleep in as late as I want. So the point of this long, drawn out paragraph is that I will no longer be posting blogs Wednesday mornings.

Whoa, there.

Step back from the ledge my friend.

I will be posting blogs Wednesday nights now so you can either check then or roll in early Thursday morning. Basically, as long as you keep reading my blog, I don't give a f*ck.

Now, since I know you came this morning looking to start your day off right, I've decided to compromise. I will be posting a new blog Wednesday evening but I'm going to include a little teaser blog now.

I recently sent a birthday present to my little 10 year old friend Emry. She is probably the coolest kid ever. Anyway, I just boxed up some NYC merchandise (you know, t-shirts made by children in sweat shops in Indonesia, candies that are basically 100% synthetic, other sweat stuff that really tells someone how much you care about them). Anyway, I wrapped up the present in a left over New York Times I had lying around my room (oh yeah, I'm soooo sophisticated), threw it in a box and shipped it off. Later, as I was throwing away what was left of the newspaper, I realized I had wrapped her present in the September 11th New York Times front page.

True story.

Nothing says "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" quite like a full color photo of someone at Ground Zero with tears streaming down their face.

Oops...

Remember, check back here tonight for a longer (hopefully less offensive) blog.

Dress Code

This is an open letter to Fordham’s female students and women everywhere:

Dear Rams (Lady Rams? Ramettes? Ewes?)

We live in a post 19^th Amendment world! The world of Title 9, Roe v Wade, and epic one day sales at Macys. Why do we not stand up and declare “NO! I will not dress up for class!”

Everyday I see guys walking to class in their mesh shorts or sweat pants, a stained shirt, some old worn out moccasins, and hair that hasn’t been washed in weeks. But at the same time I see women rushing to class in 18 inch heels, 300 dollar dresses, 5.6 pounds of makeup, and hair that must have taken an hour to do.

Each day it seems as if this girls are in some competition to out do each other. Each girl that walks in the door is better dressed and better groomed than the girl before. And there I am, sitting in the back corner in some sweatpants and a sports shirt from my freshman year of high school with my hair in the same pony tail I’ve been sporting since middle school.

You know what they say; “when you find a look that works for you, stick with it.”

Although, to be fair, I’m not sure if the look really “works” for me or if I’m just too lazy to find a look that does…

Anyway, in order to keep up with them, I’ve decided to start wearing my various prom dresses to class. I have to do what I can to keep up with the Joneses.

With those WASPy Mother F-ing Joneses.

Sure, people give me weird looks but no one can deny that I look hott (I put two “t’s” because one just doesn’t accurately convey how good I look). I get my hair professionally coiffed at one of NYC’s 500 Unisex hair saloons. I get manicures from that place on Fordham Rd and I know they’re good because they are Asian (fyi this isn’t racist because I’m saying something nice about them like “Black people can jump high” or “Indians make great food” or “Arabs are really good taxi drivers”). After that, I pick out a pair of really nice, classy heels. Nothing under 7 inches. Throw on my prom dress and, depending on the mood, even add a corsage.

Then I head to class for my moment to shine.

But let’s get real; I can’t wear a prom dress every day. They just aren’t that comfortable and when it gets a little colder, I’m going to freeze my ass off.

So I’m offering a new solution.

Girls: let’s boycott. Show up to class looking as absolutely shitty as possible.

Got drunk, slept with a rando, and stole their clothes to walk-of-shame it back home? That’s cool. Wear that to class.

Woke up late and didn’t have time to fully prepare yourself? Wear your pajamas and tousled hair.

Hey! Maybe you just don’t want to get dressed. Screw it. Wear whatever the hell you want.

Come on ladies. This is the 21^st century. Let’s make the most of it.

And, let me have an excuse to dress like crap without feeling inferior. Remember WWKBD.

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Hey you! Yeah, you! That nasty person standing directly next to me. Can I ask a question? There is plenty of room all around us so why are you attempting to stand on the same square foot that I am?

The other day I was on the subway which was absolutely packed. Not only did I have to stand but I was literally sandwiched in between two women.  The woman in front of me was holding a purse which was apparently made out of razor blades as every tiny movement of hers cut the hell out of me. Honestly though, I’m more ok with that little bit of discomfort than the one that was going on behind me.

Bracing herself between the pole on the wall and the pole in the middle of the car was a woman who was either 8 months pregnant or else gains weight in a really unfortunate way. As our train chugged steadily uptown, I could feel her belly against my back.

Not ok.

When I first felt her belly resting against me I thought, “OMG this cannot get any worse.”

I was wrong.

Apparently Pregnant Lady really liked whatever jams she was listening to, resulting in her belly rubbing all along my back.

Maybe I’m overreacting but… I don’t think it’s normal for a stranger to caress me with her baby bump. I mean, at least buy me dinner first or something.

This brings me to my point for today; back the f up. If I don’t know you—and in most cases, even if I do know you—there is no reason for you to be standing so close that I can smell your breath and identify everything you’ve eaten in the past week (on a side note, an egg salad sandwich? Really? Did you want to make yourself completely untouchable?)

I guess the moral of this blog post is that this is America. I should feel free and safe. Our fathers fought and died so we could live in a country where we don’t have to be touched inappropriately by baby bumps.

God bless you. God bless me. And God bless the United States of America.

Oops

Sorry to let you all down (as I know reading my blog is the highlight of your week) but... I'm slightly behind on my homework.

Now, when I say "behind" I don't mean I'm getting stuff done late, I just mean I'm cutting things a little close. For instance, I have something due today at 2:30 which I am going to do the minute I finish this blog.

What can I say... I live for risks like this.

But, if you came here for laughs today, I won't disappoint.

Did you know Helen Keller had a play house in her back yard?
(wait for it)
Neither did she!

That didn't work for you?

Well, try this on for size

http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/debbie-downer/1087347/