There are over 100 million sites on the Internet. 100 million! You might think you know about all the important ones (CollegeCandy, Gmail, Google, TFLN…), but there are thousands of other sweet sites out there (like Life is Beautiful, Go Try It On, and Soshiku) and more showing up every day! We get it – it’s not easy or fun sifting through the crap and porn to find those gems, so we’re gonna bring the gems to you. Just sit back, kick up those feet and allow us to introduce you to the diamonds in the internet rough.]

When I’ve got a problem that can’t be solved, the only way I know how to feel better is to eat things dipped in frosting vent to someone else and hope they’ll give me good advice.  Usually, the people I go to are those closest to me: my boyfriend, my BFFs, or my mom—but what to do when I can’t go to any of them about a particular crisis (because it concerns them or it’s something I just don’t want to share)?

I recently discovered a little site called Blah Therapy that solves the problem of not having someone around when I need someone to vent to. Basically, Blah Therapy is a chatroom site whose purpose is to bring complete strangers together to help each other with their problems by pairing those needing help with those willing to help.

When you enter the site, you can choose to be either a “Venter” or “Listener”, and you are randomly assigned a chat partner according to which option you choose.  You can then pour your heart out to some random stranger, or listen as some random stranger pours their heart out to you.

What’s really great about Blah Therapy is it gives people a chance to air out their problems with total anonymity to a complete stranger, without the risk of being judged or made fun of. (It also gives the venter a chance to vent while simultaneously eating frosting out of the tub with their finger, and no one is the wiser.) Also, since they aren’t personally invested, strangers will give the most honest advice, which will be best for the venter in the long run.

Give Blah Therapy a try the next time you’re up late worrying about a problem in your life and need someone to talk to, or if you want to do a little good and help someone else out.  Either way, you’ll feel better after visiting Blah Therapy.

Tonight was a pretty stellar night. First, I worked out next to a total hottie on the elliptical (but didn’t muster up the courage in my sweaty ‘beater to say anything), then I came home and watched an AMAZING episode of Gossip Girl while eating an ice cream sandwich, and then Spencer and Heidi went to therapy.

When I die, I hope heaven is this good.

A lot of little things happened on tonight’s episode of The Hills. There was the budding romance between Audrina and Brody, or, more likely, MTV trying to make it seem like some big thing that will ultimately end with nothing ever happening. There was Stephanie being a giant moron at People’s Revolution where we learn she can’t answer phones and she doodles when people yell at her (probably because she can’t turn to coke and heroin anymore).

But those were only an appetizer to the delicious drama that was served up next.

Like Jusin Bobby making a return to the scene with a new shorter ‘do and bushier beard. What’s not new: his obsession with ugly hats. Oh and his deep life lessons: “Do you know how quick our life is here on earth?”
I’m not really sure how that made any sense in the context of the “you don’t treat me well” conversation with Audrina, but I guess I never expect that dirtball to make any sense. Audrina, on the other hand, falls right into dirty-finger-nailed grasp and is immediately taken with him again.

I just don’t get it. Besides the fact that this kid is awful and disgusting and dirty, Audrina literally goes from “It would never work” chat with Sleazy T to “I’m crazy in love with you” with JB. Seriously, all she did was turn her head. I know the girl isn’t the brighest bulb, but is it possible that turning her head shook her brain clean like an Etch-a-Sketch? One minute she’s all about being single, then – shake, shake, shake – she just wants Justin back.

Maybe those two just need a little extra nudge. No, not from Brody; from Speidi’s couples therapist!

Not that I understand why a couple of 25-year-olds really need a therapist. I always thought that couple therapy was for old married couples that just don’t have that spark anymore, not for people still making money off of a teen drama on MTV. At this point in our lives, if your relationship isn’t working, you don’t get a therapist, you just break up, get drunk and hook up with other people, then realize how much you miss the other person and go back.

And even if that wouldn’t work for Speidi, it’s not like this woman could. She’s a therapist, not a de-douch-bagger. There is nothing on this planet that will change Spencer – not even a Beverly Hills therapist.

We’ll just have to wait and see how that all turns out.
Who knows? Maybe the entire crew will be sitting on that couch next week after the girls crash the Hawaii surf party. That would just be icing on my (fat-free) Hills cake.

It was Sunday night, which meant a spread of Diet Root Beer, a chopped green apple, a turkey sandwich and my TV tuned to VH1′s Tough Love. Heaven.

Last night we saw Steve challenge the girls to be low maintenance. According to him, if these women want to snag a man, they’ll need to prove they can hang with the boys and not worry about breaking a nail or looking less than picture perfect. I totally get that – whiney girls are unattractive to everyone…even me – but this specific challenge did seem a bit much for me. Why do the girls have to do all the changing? Why can’t guys just accept the delicate flower that is their manicure-loving lady?

Anyways, during a pick-up game of football with some random bachelors, Taylor (Gold Digger) left me with my jaw on the floor…but for doing something good! Girl was throwing caution to the wind and actually enjoying herself. A girl who can rough it up in the mud with boys while wearing pajamas and a “wet hat” is A-OK in my book. And that’s most likely the kind of chick a guy would enjoy spending time with. Especially since she didn’t stop running the ball just to ask some guy how much money he made.

Then the girls went out on some dates. After being on a “You Go Girl!” high from Taylor’s enviable self-assurance on the football field, my positive outlook was deflated once Arian sat down with her man. It took only moments before she was comparing herself to a prostitute, saying it’s okay to be called crazy as long as your boobs are huge and bragging about her “oral talents.” Her date was obviously uncomfortable and didn’t know how to react. Right there, I lost all respect for Arian. But, at this point, I doubt she even cares if anyone respects her. She may as well just wear a sign that says, “All I Have To Offer Is My Body…and Some Mad Skillz in Bed.”

Does she really think that rubbing some random guy’s thigh and telling him he’s gonna get laid (if he gives her $5) is going to help her find real love? It’s sad and embarrassing and hard to watch. This girl needs to find some love for herself before she can ever find someone else to love her because she’s making it mighty hard for anyone to care.

And then there was Jody. Things had been going well for her and her date since their liplock last week and I figured it would continue to move forward. However, Jody’s insecurities came out in a cigarette-craving rage last night when she grossly misinterpreted an innocent question from her date. Meant as a compliment, her date wondered why she was single because she just seems too good to be true. Jody’s hangups replaced her logic and instead of feeling flattered that he thought she was a rare find, she took his comment as “You’re single, so there must be something wrong with you.” And she. went. nuts.

My confusion must be the same kind of flabbergastedness that men feel when women fly off the handle at the tiniest thing. I’m noticing that watching these women is like stepping back from the bigger picture and being able to see things from a man’s persepctive. A guy says, “You look nice,” and we think, “Just nice? Why not amazing? Is it my outfit? Maybe he doesn’t like me.” We let our insecurities read too deep into what men do and say, and that’s where miscommunication and hurt feelings come from. You know, men are actually pretty simple to read. They say what they mean and that’s that.

During the therapy session, Steve called Arian out and actually verbalized what I had been thinking; with the way Arian acts, she is putting herself at risk to be physically taken advantage of or contracting an STD. I’m definitely not saying that Arian deserves this Fortune Cookie of Tough Love, but it is the reality of her future if she doesn’t make a change. I get an image of her at a Frat party, drink in hand and tossing out big boob jokes while sloppily laying across a guy’s lap. Next thing you know, the guy could easily restrain her and do so many unthinkable things.

She needs to learn to respect herself, make safe decisions and realize that her behavior could potentially put her in danger.

Next week’s episode looks to be the juciest one yet! Especially because tonight’s episode concluded with the ever-enticing “To Be Continued…” credit. So, was anyone else as appalled at Arian like I was? Has Taylor finally charmed her way into your heart like she has with me?

I ended up buying 5 pounds of apples.

When I got home, I decided it was time to put all my energy to good use and bake a pie. I turned up loud, energetic music and started up the oven. As a semi-professional cook, making delicious things was always a kind of therapy, and was a way to channel my emotions. I asked one of my male friends if baking a pie was an appropriate response to a breakup, and I was told, “Only if you’re planning on throwing it at his face while it’s still steaming hot.” Aah, right to the point.

So now I present the:

I’m-Too-Good-For-Him-Anyway Apple Pie:

8 cups of peeled, sliced apples (Approx 1- 1 1/2 lbs)

1/3 cup sugar

2-3 teaspoons of cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

2 pie crusts (Store bought. You can find them in the refrigerator section) ‘

Vanilla ice cream or whipped cream

1.) Heat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit

2.) Peel, core and slice your apples. Slices can be thick, thin, whatever you want. Word of caution: thick apples will stay kind of firm, whereas thin apples will bake into kind of a mush.

3.) Toss the apples with the lemon juice, then mix in the sugar and cinnamon

4.) Add vanilla and give it a last stir.

5.) Unfold your pie crust into your tin or baking dish. Make sure there’s a little crust overhanging your pie pan.

6.) Pour or layer your apples into the crust

7.) Unfold and lay the top crust over your apples. Using a fork, seal the edges of the pie by making fork indentations along the outside.

8.) Using the tip of your knife, mark the top. Draw a picture, make an X, do whatever you want. This will allow steam from your pie to escape to prevent it exploding all over your oven.

9.) If you want a pretty finish on your pie, brush a little egg white over the top crust, and sprinkle with a little bit of sugar.

10.) Put your pie in the oven. Set a kitchen timer, your watch, or your cell phone to about 30 minutes. Check your pie when the timer goes off and if your pie isn’t dark enough, add 10 more minutes to the bake time.

[scrumptious photo from lickyourownbowl.files.wordpress.com]

I was also extremely depressed, dropped out of high school (only for a semester!) and spent three hours a week in intensive outpatient therapy.

However, times have changed and I traded in my razor blades for wine glasses and my sorry, pathetic teenage attitude for a much healthier, positive one. I became happy. Baggage-less, I thought. Completely devoid of any negativity from my past.

And then, as all love stories begin, I met someone who I had absolutely everything in common with and with whom I got along flawlessly for the first six months. I thought I was over my years of self-loathing and teenage drama, and if I could hold a healthy, (somewhat) adult relationship, then I was convinced.

Seriously, this relationship was awesome. We were like male and female versions of each other: We were in the same major (yes, boy magazine journalism major!), loved cheap beer and foosball and basically couldn’t keep our hands off of each other….any time, anywhere.

But, eventually my insecurities came to the surface and the relationship became a huge emotional mess, for both of us. I’m talking the whole screaming at each other in public and then pouring beer on each other to even the score kind of mess. There it was again; all that baggage I thought I tossed years ago, staring me right in the face, mocking what I thought was my new life and new super-happy relationship.

I might be an extreme case (in fact, I know I am), but after the failure of this relationship, that was all lovey-dovey, fairy-tale, red roses on the outside, I began to question, quite Carrie Bradshaw-esque-ly, if we can ever really escape our pasts.

Seriously, what the hell is baggage anyway? What does it include? It is just the bad stuff? The good and the bad? The good, the bad AND the ugly? And if it does include it all, then don’t we all have some baggage?

By the time we hit college, we all have some life behind us. We’ve all experienced some kind of hurt, heartbreak, betrayal, death – something that has contributed significantly to who we turned out to be. And as we get older and start to develop as adults, more and more stuff happens to us. It’s just inevitable. It’s just life. All that life creates feelings and I guess, those feelings are deemed emotional baggage – little trash bags of negativity that pile up in our once-pure hearts and threaten our future relationships – with both ourselves and others.

But if we all have it, then what can we use to judge what is normal or abnormal baggage? You hear stuff about it all the time. So-and-so had so much baggage. Another so-and-so can’t date right now because she has too much baggage. And even another so-and-so lied and said he had too much baggage because he didn’t really like the chick he was dating all that much.

Baggage = the death of relationships.

But, in defense of my once-crazy self, let me be the first to say that we ALL have baggage. The difference here is how you choose to deal with it. If the dude you are dating has a horrible emotional past – mother left when he was 4, dad was abusive, ex-girlfriend broke his heart & stole his money/apartment/car/dignity etc. – but he is able to hold his head high and still find joy in life, then by all means, let him have his baggage – and claim it, too

However, if said dude gets aggressive with you, makes you feel guilty that you’re gonna leave just like his Mother/ex-girlfriend/car did, THEN there is a huge problem – one you definitely need to get away from until the guy gets himself into some serious therapy.

Honestly though, there’s nothing wrong with a little baggage. Baggage makes us different, unique, interesting. Baggage is, in essence, what makes us – it’s what adds dimension to our life story. I’ll be the first to admit that I got some, in my proverbial trunk of life, that sometimes crawls it’s way out. I know you do, too. But it’s all about making a CONSCIOUS effort to be happy about TODAY, not dwell on the losses, ex’s and craziness of yesterday that separates awesome chicks like me and you from the rest of the crazies.

And if you do find yourself in a relationship with a dude with too much baggage, remember there’s not much you can do to help the situation (unless you are a professional therapist, of course)…besides locking your doors & putting in for a restraining order.

Seriously.

[photo from www.mikeblissett.com]

[Seriously though, if your mom is in this picture...We want to high five her]

I was a late bloomer, and I didn’t have my first boyfriend until sophomore year of high school. Let’s call him Eric. Eric was a freshman when I was a sophomore, but we were in the same German class. After several weeks of elaborate and awkward courtship, Eric finally asked me to see a movie with him, and our relationship began. Neither one of us was the flaky type, so it lasted a pretty long time—almost two full years, until I was a senior. Until, to be precise, just a couple of months before my senior prom.

As you might imagine, I was crushed when he dumped me (over instant messenger—on the night before finals!). I’m ashamed to say that I walked around for weeks being weepy and really dramatic, but my friends were a great help, especially my best friend. Or so I thought, at first.

My best friend—let’s call her Nicole—did everything a best friend was supposed to do. She hugged me, she laughed with me, and she came over to my house for a sleepover with chocolate, Godiva ice cream, and Moulin Rouge. She told me I didn’t need a boyfriend and that Eric was a loser, and she was right.

A few weeks later, not too far before the prom, I called her one evening at around dinnertime. Her sister said she wasn’t home, but she’d call me back when she got home. After a few hours, I presumed she had forgotten to call back, and so I called again. Nope. She still wasn’t home. Weird, I thought. Eventually, at about 11 p.m., she did call back.

“Where were you all night?” I asked.

“Uh… nowhere,” she said.

“No, really,” I insisted. “Where were you for so long?”

“I was just out,” she said. “I went to McDonald’s with Eric, and we kind of got lost.”

I should have figured it out then, but I didn’t. Eric was friends with all of my friends, so it didn’t seem that odd to me that he had been out with Nicole, although it was a little strange that they had been out for so long. But thinking that my best friend was lying would be like betraying her, so I told myself it couldn’t be true that anything was going on. She wouldn’t lie to me like that.

Another couple of weeks later, right before the prom, I was out shopping with Nicole. She mentioned something about Eric that sounded suspiciously affectionate. I tried to convince myself that I was just imagining it, but it didn’t work that time. Instead, I blurted out, “Are you going out with Eric? Just tell me. Just tell me the truth.”

She looked injured. There was a short silence, then she said, “No! No!”

I believed her.

To be continued…

And then? Bam. Fired. Jobless. Let go only 2 months into my very first full-time salary-and-benefits job out of college.

What I didn’t realize about being fired is that it feels exactly like a breakup.

I went home and curled up under my duvet in the middle of the afternoon, and all I could do is replay the breakup in my head. Instead of “I think we should see other people” it was “We are going to have to terminate you, effective immediately”. I could picture my boss’s face in my head, and it brought me to tears each time. Just like a breakup, I couldn’t eat or sleep or think about anything else. In vain I tried to distract myself by downloading and watching episodes of Gossip Girl.

A few days later, when I finally dragged myself out of bed, I came to realize that I probably wouldn’t see most of my ex-coworkers again, kind of like how you never get to see your ex-boyfriend’s cool friends after the breakup. Too awkward. But I loved my co-workers! I can’t believe I don’t get to hang out with any more! And of course I wouldn’t be able to hang out in the neighborhood where my old office was, for fear of running into my ex-boss, or just being overwhelmed with negative memories. This thought affected me so much I almost broke down in tears again just thinking about how I wouldn’t be able to go to the local DELI again. The deli! I was clearly losing it.

Of course, the feeling that I’d never find another job again was pervasive, just like I felt during my last breakup–I’ll NEVER find another boyfriend again, NEVER! “Who will ever hire me now?” I thought. “Clearly I am a horrible employee, and I might as well just resign myself to a life of poverty”.

Now, of course, I’m doing better, looking for new jobs and spending some time with my closest ex-coworkers, far far away from the office. But sometimes I look at the coat in my closet–an ex-coworker gave it to me–or someone I haven’t seen in a while asks me how the job is going, and it all comes flooding back again. My old company advertises on the subway too, so just a simple trip by train can send me into a major re-lapse.

The good news? Just like a breakup, you’ll eventually move on. You won’t think about it so much, and when you do, it won’t feel as awful. You WILL find a new job, and soon your new job will fill your life with new memories and friendships and local delis. Don’t be afraid to treat being fired just like you’d treat being dumped. Get your friends to come over with wine and ice cream and movies.

Burn a memento (I burned my old business cards–outside, of course, so as to not set my apartment on fire) as therapy, and if you do have to go back to the old neighborhood or see some ex-coworkers, make sure to look really happy and put-together. Don’t let them know how much of a mess you are! Make a list of all the ways your job kind of sucked–all the stuff you pushed to the side when you were in the honeymoon phase (yeah, the pay was actually really sh*t!).

Eventually you’ll forget all about that job. You were way better than it anyway.

Masses of my friends who come from a ‘split’ family love to assume that my family is NOT split simply because my parents are still married. Boyfriends assume that because I have parents that are still married that I too must want to get married.

Well, not only do I not want to get married, but I wouldn’t be surprised if watching my parents all of these years has played a role in that choice.

Sure, they’ve been together for a long time. They’ve stuck it out through thick and thin: cheating, emotional abuse, money problems…you name it. But they don’t make me want to get married.

They’re apocalyptically wrong for each other, first of all, and they’ve stuck this thing out because they believe that staying married is a religious duty. EVEN THOUGH they were both married and divorced before meeting each other.

My mom never really forgave my dad for cheating on her. She has held it over his head every day in every way possible for the last 22 years.

He messed up, but now he’s not even allowed to have friends. And it’s been this way my entire life.

Their communication is on par with a madman screaming at a brick wall. My mom screams, my dad ignores….REPEAT.

My mom is so obsessed with money that she 100% controls my dad’s finances. She checks his receipts daily and instigates full out war if he doesn’t pay attention to her.

Does she need therapy? Hells yes. Maybe they both do. But you know what? They’re not getting it. All they’re doing is staying married. They’re watching American Idol together on Tuesday nights and waiting to die.

I really believe they’d be better off divorced and ever since I found out that parents could get divorced when I was a little girl, I have wanted for my parents to. But they won’t.

I am not impressed by the longevity of their marriage, unlike so many of my peers. In fact, I’m utterly and thoroughly UNimpressed.

I commend those couples who stay married and are HAPPILY married. However, call me crazy, whatever, but I don’t believe in staying unhappily married — ESPECIALLY because my parents still are.

When they were around my mom, she was the coolest mom anyone knew. She made the most mouth-watering desserts. She was HILARIOUS and even outlandish in many scenarios. She was over-hospitable and generous in every way. She’d take me out with my friends and pay for their movie, their dinner, their shopping sprees…She was the mom that all of my friends wanted, or so they thought.

The unfortunate thing is that my mom probably should have been going to therapy her entire life — but she never did. The result has been pretty destructive to our relationship, and her relationship to everyone else as well.

Behind closed doors growing up, she damned me to hell routinely. I really wasn’t a bad kid at all, but she grounded me for anything she could think of: getting a B in a class, making her late to church, or simply disapproving of my father doing all of her papers for her when she went back to college.

She has no filter on her mouth. She’s the most critical person I know and it’s evident to everyone around her that she really does say things solely to hurt other people on a regular basis. She has no problem using racial slurs and calls me a ‘back slider’ when I tell her she’s a racist. She torments me daily over when I’ll get married (despite the fact that I don’t want to and I’ve made that clear). My father has had two heart attacks and she still refuses to buy healthier food for him, even when he asks her to. And no, she doesn’t have a job…but she totally controls my father’s money…even to the point of checking his receipts on a daily basis. It goes on and on and on and on.

Sometimes we have a nice time together. Sometimes she makes me laugh and insists on taking care of me. And even once in a while..she tells me that she loves me.

I feel guilty, however, about my feelings toward my mother. More or less, I think she needs serious help, but even beginning to approach that conversation with her leads to full out war…we’ve all tried this already. I know I’m not the only daughter out there wondering why I can’t get along with my mother…so are they any others on here? Do any of you girls always clash with your mother no matter how hard you try to be friends?