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Sick of going out (literally, we’d all spent the day in bed with trash cans nearby), my roommates and I decided to have a Saturday night in.  We ordered a late night dinner of greasy Chinese food and gathered around the table – some of us on chairs, some of us on empty kegs, because most of our chairs were broken at our last house party – to load up on MSG and girl time.

The boys who lived next door had been giving us crap all day for skipping out on a “quality party night,” but we didn’t care. The only thing we were gonna be drinking that night was some hot and tasty egg drop soup.

While unpacking the 4 bags of food, I looked out the window and waved to the neighbors doing beer bongs in their kitchen. We were separated by only a driveway, so we could see and hear everything going on in eachothers’ houses. (Which, by the way, we learned the hard way when we were going on and on… and on about how hot they were…and they heard the entire thing.) Read More »

It’s a well-known fact that guys will go home with just about anything when they’re drunk.  It’s not that they’re desperate, they’re just…well, guys.  And guys like sex.  So it’s not surprising that you don’t exactly have to be a genius/supermodel to have a special (or not-so-special) one-night engagement with a dude at the bar.

However, women are a different story.

As much as we sometimes want to have some crazy sex, we have standards.  We won’t go home with just anybody.   In fact, there are some guys that we’ll never go home with.  Sorry dudes, but if you’re on this list you may want to consider celibacy.

In no particular order, here are the guys you probably aren’t going to be taking home to bump uglies with any time soon (hopefully): Read More »

Before this, we thought Easter was all about egg hunts, candy and going to church just to make your mom happy. But for these (probably mentally unstable) dudes, it means dressing up in creepy bunny costumes and freaking us out. Seriously, ladies, if any of these dudes offer you candy, don’t even think about eating it. Read More »

Yesterday some guy followed me up the stairs on a subway transfer (that it turned out he wasn’t taking, just creepily following me like a creepy creep creep) and after the requisite come-on line (which I won’t burn your retinas with), he instantly whips out the line I’ve grown so accustomed to hearing: “What’s your heritage?”

Here’s what I don’t understand (well, here’s one of many, many, many things I don’t understand):

Why does every guy in New York who approaches me want to know my ethnicity?

And I’m serious about this. Because, look. I live in New York City. There are more Jews (such as moi) here than like everywhere ever. I should not be so unidentifiable.

For me, there are two varieties of these guys. The guy cited above fits into the first category: guys who guess. And they always guess Italian, Puerto Rican, or Greek. Seriously. And I am pale like the squishy underbelly of a cabbage.

The other category of guys are guys who want to know if I’m Jewish. These guys are usually Muslim or Israeli and nothing in between. I don’t know why either group bothers–I’m too Jewish for the Muslims and not Jewish enough for the Israelis. So it goes.

And why, friends, why oh why for the love of all that is good and not annoying, why do they need to know my heritage in the first place? When did this become an acceptable thing to ask a stranger? Read More »