Even though the last Bachelor couple has already split (and dragged each other through the tabloid dirt – you know, just another day at ABC!), I can’t deny that I have been counting down the days to the season premiere of The Bachelorette. Finally, my Mondays are good again.

For those of you who were not glued to your TV sets last season, listening to Brad talk all about his therapy (which totally paid off since rumors are flying that he and Emily broke it off..just sayin’), Ash was third runner-up. After a tearful goodbye in Africa, girlfriend headed back to the states to pick up her life..and dye her hair.

And now Ashley H (or Cupcake ) has returned to our television sets. Although, hopefully this time around we won’t have to deal with a constant barrage of  ”Do you really love me?” “I don’t know if you love me,” and “tell me you love me.” Or impromptu dental exams. Or her overly enthusiastic family (that totally uses emoticons and !!!!!!! in text messages) that makes me need a Xanex.

According to Ms. Ash, she’s “in the ring” and ready to find love..again. She lost the last match but not the entire battle. Blah blah blah cliche blah blah.

Let’s talk about the boys. Read More »

"I was here for the right reasons. Sob. I'm a good mom. Sob. I'm being attacked. Boooohoooo."

Hey, Foot? Meet my mouth. I never, ever thought I would be saying this, but last night’s Women Tell All segment of The Bachelor had me feeling all kinds of bad for crazy wacktress single mom “fightin’ the good fight and lookin’ for love” Michelle. For those of you who tuned in to watch the claws come out and hair weaves fly, you were probably left dissatisfied. Aside from the completely random forced altercation between Melissa and Raichel and Jackie’s one-woman tirade against Michelle (seriously, does she ever take a breath between sentences!?), the bitch moments were kept to a minimum.

Instead, The Women Tell All should really have been renamed The Women Have a Lot of Really Introspective Moments and Then Cry While Chris Harrison Gives Them Life Advice. Not that that’s really a downgrade, in my opinion, but I digress… Read More »

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Once upon a time, I was in a long-term relationship (read: I suffered six years of awkward sex, needless fights and raging jealousy). Granted, I was in high school for the first four years and was a measly freshman/sophomore in college for the last two. However, I still thought I had found the one: the peanut butter to my jelly, the cheese to my macaroni, or the avocado to my guacamole, if you will. (Can you tell I’m hungry as I write this?)

But when the relationship ended, I was a mere 19 – and after all the b.s., I was left with little to nothing to show for the years of my youth I wasted lusting after one male who couldn’t satisfy me sexually or emotionally. And although he profusely expressed his undying love for me – not once did the boy suggest that we had a possible future together. Not once. In six effing years.

It’s no surprise that my little snuggle bunny didn’t talk about marriages or baby carriages. Hell, he was only 21 when we broke up! But it’s not just the youngin’s involved in long-term romances who avoid the dreaded “M” word. The avoidance of marriage spans generations of men, all who are scared sh*tless by the thought of spending the rest of their lives legally bound to the wrong woman.

According to a recent study conducted by lifelong bachelor Carl Weisman as research for his new book titled, “So Why Have You Never Been Married? – Ten Insights into Why He Hasn’t Wed,” men aren’t actually afraid of marriage, per se. The real fear? Marrying the wrong woman. Read More »

I’ve always been a firm supporter of the phrase, “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” it is almost like a mantra to me.

Whether it was the mimosa I’d sip on Monday morning before class, blind-eyed to my roommate’s disapproving glares, or spiking my Coke with a little nip of rum in the dining commons at lunch to my friends’ bemusement, I’d just smile real big and cluck, “It’s five o’clock somewhere guys! Loosen up!”

Alright so maybe my tendencies slightly resemble that of Sully, the homeless alcoholic on the corner block who’s always singing Ace of Base off-key — But hey! Cheers to being young and reckless! At least he ‘saw the sign’…for happy hour.

Either way, such tendencies made it no surprise at all that I found myself in a bar (Thank you trusty fake ID!) this past Friday getting some drinks with a friend. After a hard week of internship pandemonium, a stiff drink in the city was just the cure. Read More »