Both the Huffington Post and the New York Times have recently gotten really interested in girl-on-girl action (but don’t worry, this has nothing to do with Lindsay Lohan and Sam Ronson. Absolutely nothing. Seriously. Nothing). They’ve gotten so interested, in fact, that they’ve dedicated whole columns to trying to figure out why it seems like chicks dig other chicks.

Let me break it down for them (and you, if you really don’t know): chicks dig chicks because we’ve been taught to dig chicks.

Why do women seem to have a more fluid sexuality than men – at least that anyone will admit? Because since we came shrieking out of the womb, we’ve seen images of women in every stage of undress – including naked. Advertisements for razors with long, leisurely shots of legs. TV shows that have a mandatory wardrobe of tight clothes and short skirts. A bajillion movies where tits and ass flash across the screen so often that we eventually forget guys even have body parts. Music videos full of bling and boob. Reality TV where hot tubs are as mandatory as microphones. Porn (who could forget porn?). I mean, it’s not an old argument that the media is saturated with the female form.

So why are we all puzzled that girls get a little aroused when they see other naked or semi-naked girls? Read More »

I came across this article the other day, an article about how chivalry is dead, and my generation is the one who killed it.

To prove her point, the article’s author explained how she’s often cat called when she walks down the street, and laments about the days when men tipped their hats and said “mornin‘” instead of leering at a pair of breasts and saying “yee!”

Even though I think she’s got a point when she talks about certain forms of traditional chivalry going out the window (the last time a man tipped his hat at me was…well, never, and not once has anyone ever thrown a jacket over a mud puddle), I’m pretty sure that using cat calls to define the death of chivalry is just plain incorrect.

Look, men have been cat calling women since the day they realized their mouths made sounds and breasts were awesome. Sure, Victorian dudes opened carriage doors for us and offered their elbow when the terrain got rough, but don’t think they weren’t whistling and jeering under those handlebar mustaches and cute little bowler hats. Perhaps they weren’t shouting “aye, mami!” when a fine looking bustle walked down the street, but you can bet a Victorian chick knew when a Mr. Darcy was hating to see her leave, but loving to see her go. Read More »

“Hey mami…you lookin’ good girrrrrrl.”

Yep. I hear it. Daily. All I want to do is walk to the store and grab a red bull, and instead, I’m solicited by men I wouldn’t touch with a stick. It never matters what I’m wearing, if my hair is greasy, if my face is breaking out, or even if I’m with another guy.

The cat caller team is relentless. They slow their cars and roll down their windows while passing me by. They halt conversation and stare at my ass with such intensity that I can FEEL it. All that I want to know is…where the f*ck do they think this is going to get them?

Should I cancel my plans, hop in their cars, and give them head? And why the hell am I their MAMI? Since when is it sexy to be YOUR mami? Last time I checked, that’s incestuous and not really flattering at all.

As a general rule of thumb, guys, don’t comment to girls on the street about how they look. You might have great intentions with it, but at the end of the day it is rude. Not only is it rude, but it is also awkward. What do you want her to say?

“Thank you for being a creep?” Read More »