If you ask a guy what he thinks of Megan Fox, 9 times out of 10 he’ll start drooling all over himself as he tries to explain how her hotness defies the laws of the universe (and that one other time, he’s probably gay). It’s easy to see what her appeal is to members of the male species: she’s beautiful like a young Angelina Jolie and plays up her sex appeal in her movie roles.

But then you watch her on a late-night talk show or read an interview with her in a magazine, and you wonder how any guy can find her sexy. Not only is it unbecoming for a young woman to say the things she says, but her comments are also unprofessional for any actor to say while promoting a film. No self-respecting professional in their right mind would mention their poor hygiene habits on national television!

And yet, men everywhere are enamored with her. Either they are able to look past her idiotic remarks, or they embrace them. If the latter is the case with Megan Fox, then we women have a problem.

That this type of woman – who comes across as a crude simpleton and takes on movie roles nearly pornographically portraying her body – is the ultimate male ideal, should trouble all women. Intentionally or not, the global obsession with her sends a message to women that perfection means impossible beauty and a serious lack of social graces, if not a lack of intelligence. Read More »

[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupidity of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone etiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortunate road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

Landscapers: Ok guys, I understand that you’ve got a lot of ground to cover (no pun intended) and that requires you to start the day extra early to please all of your clients, one of whom happens to be the landlord of my apartment. I have no problem with you guys manicuring the lawn (because the thought of operating any type of lawnmower scares the living crap out of me–wierd childhood fear), but I do have trouble justifying the fact that you come at 7 am every. single. Monday. Coincidentally, 7 is four hours earlier than I ever plan on waking up on a Monday. I’m sure you can understand why it could be difficult to sleep through someone weedwhacking right under my window. On the bright side, you do wake me up early enough to possibly be a productive citizen, so I actually didn’t mind my chainsaw alarm last Monday when it got me to go to the library earlier–until I walked outside and got dirt in my eyes from the huge clouds you stirred up with the leafblowers. Will you never let me have my peace!? Read More »