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Better
Living Through Emily
Or, how
to make your vagina pretty.
written by Emily on January 13th, 2003
As the sole procurer of ovaries here on P-boi,
it is my job to represent my entire gender. I exist somwhere between G.I. Joe
and Ganjuro, trying to prove my worth in the he-man woman hater's club that
is, "dorky e/n web writing," and expecting my male collegues to shower
me with praise and treat me like the princess that I am.
Concordantly (Ergo. Vis-a-vis.), we live in a strange age that has seen the
rise of the "metrosexual." Aside from being tasty with Old Bay seasoning,
metrosexuals are straight men not afraid to embrace their feminine/"gay"
tendencies; dressing well, putting stock into their appearance, cooking and
having a more broad appreciation for homos culture. The idea
is ridiculously offensive to both straight and gay ment alike, and the whole
reason the trend exists is because Bravo needed a couple of hours of programming
to shove between Cirque de Soleil specials.
But, because I'm nothing if not a bandwagon jumper, I found myself wondering
how I, a Super Sexy female with a largely male audience at my disposal, could
contribute toe the homofication betterment of our "straight
and penised" populace. It was then at my little cartoon insect of inspiration
whispered in my ear, "Emily, why dont' you do a mish-mash post of random
girly shit you like, and write it under the guise of educating men?" And
I said, "Okay."
(Random tangent: If Jiminy Cricket is my conscience, I like the pretend that
my inspiration is that little hillbilly flea with the hobo knapsack that was
always singing about "food around the corner.")
Disclaimers:
Guys: Please note
that this post is strictly tongue-in-cheek, written more out of
personal laziness than my own desire to teach. Talking my advice
to heart will probably accomplish nothing but to endear you to
chubby manga-reading girls with livejournals the world over.
Girls: I sense some of you out there, about to
fire up that hotmail account and angrily let me know all about
how you've never worn makeup in your life, and how you spend your
weekends fly-fishing and watching "Monster Garage."
Before you do, let me say tha I don't care. Don't e-mail me.
Ashton Kutcher
"Trading Spaces"
For reasons some of you may already know, I've recently moved
back in with my parents. And, though my old room has been turned
into my mom's office, complete with various pieces of hummingbird
ephemera and a big picture of Larry Bird (don't ask), the memory
of what it once was still lingers; a 9'x11' lavender shoe box
full of remeberances of childhood, and nothing that related to
who I was past age 14. Many a night was spent Dorothy Jane
Torkelsoning about how I wished I had my own place to decorate
how I saw fit.
To fill the home improvement void, I took to watching
"Trading Spaces." I won't go into the show's premise,
as I'm sure you guys already know it. If you don't. . . don't
e-mail me. Basically the show exists so that lazy couch potatoes
(myself included) could:
a)
Convince themselves and all of their friends that they could
build their own headboard out of plywood and felt.
b) Debate endless who is more hot: muscley (but
retarded) 40-something James Marsters Ty Pennington, or Tiny Gay Chinaman Vern Yip, and his love of the color beige.
c) Have something to gab about when a designer
does something supremely stupid. Like glue moss to a wall.
At left, the infamous moss wall. At right, the
appropriate response.
Relevance: As a metrosexual, you'll be expected to show off your new found sense of style in not only your wardrobe, but in your domicile as well. And what better way to learn than by watching bleach blonde soccer moms reupholster dining room chairs? Besides, there's nothing that can turn a woman on more quickly than a well placed dish of sea shell soaps.
Elijah
Wood Nigella Lawson
As a woman, there's probably nothing on earth I love more than
cooking for my man. To me, it shows him how much I appreciate the
hard day's work he put in while I was sitting at home on my
tuckus watching my stories.
When I'm in need of a good recipe for green bean casserole or
German chocolate cake, the first place I check is in the books of
my favorite foodie, Nigella Lawson. Nigella comes from a long
line of distinguished British culinarians, but ever since Julia
Child went all humpbacked and the Galloping Gourmet's liver
rotted out, she's all I have left. Looking like she stepped out
of the pages of, "Valley of the Dolls," Nigella is a
certified MILF. That's why I like her cooking shows so much.
Because she's thin and pretty. (Okay, obviously that was sarcasm.
But really, when given the choice between Nigella and say, The
Two Fat Ladies? Who are you gonna choose?)
In all seriousness,
the thing that makes Nigella so great is the simplicity of her
food. She's not Emeril, who announces that he'll be preparing
crab and gorgonzola-stuffed pork tenderloins topped with apple
jalapeno chutney and a side of cajun sweet potato risotto, then
cums all over himself because he just fucking loves paprika so
god damned much. She'll just make. . . a pie. From scratch. And
make you think it's the easiest thing in the world. Speaking as
someone who comes from a family with a long standing tradition of
"brown and serve" dinner rolls, I think that's pretty
cool.
Relevance: From what my good friend Television
has shown me, men who don't know how to cook are forced to eat at
Hardee's all the time. Also, the better your meatloaf tastes, the
more likely you are to get that fancy mink stole you've been
eyeing.
Orlando
Bloom Stupid Japanese Shit
Sanrio
Okay guys, listen up. There ARE hot girls on the Internet.
They do exist, and not just as camwhores. And you want to know a
not-so-secret? They all fucking love Sanrio. I promise. 80% of
them like Hello Kitty. The ones who read Neil Gaiman dig Badtz
Maru. And, if they're completely weird like me, the love Tuxedo Sam and his large collection of bowties.
FRUiTS
Also popular among the ladies is a specific style of dress known
as "Japanese Street Fashion." Made popular by the
FRUiTS magazine/book, street fashion is a style based around
bright colors, clashing patterns and home made designs. FRUiTS
kids are kind of like ravers, only thankfully laking in pacifiers
and parachute pants. And E.
The appeal of the
street fashion movement (though quickly being usurped by our
culture) lies more in looking than emulating. To an extent,
anyway. For example, not being 4' 11" and 85 lbs., I can't
really pull off the tu-tu and Barbie purse (try my damndest). I
can', however, buy some pink argyle socks and feel good about
myself for staying out of the GAP. And really, what's the
continent of Asia good for is not for improving my self image?
One strange offshoot of street fashion is the "Elegant
Gothic Lolita" trend. They aren't goth chicks really but,
well, look for yourself.
The Japanese are better at everything.
Pocky
Kids, I may come across as a real, "independant spirit" (roll back the clock ten years and this is where the "NOT!" would go), but the truth is that I fucking love the mall. My favorite store? Motherfucking Suncoast y'all. Why do I love Suncoast so much? Because, between the never ending racks of posters that feature James Dean and Marilyn Monroe hanging out together and the anime dorks who akwardly try to hit on me when they notice me buying a stuffed "Ein," there's Pocky.
If the Greek gods had
ambrosia, and dwarf artists/"House of Buggin'" stars
had absinthe, I have Pocky. Basically nothing but long cookie
strips dipped in chocolate, Pocky is my alpha and omega of
foodgasms. Pocky's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and
they're like, Pocky is better than yours. I thought about making
love to it, but I don't want to taint the chocolately goodness
with the bittersweet nector of my wonder crevice.
Relevance: Absolutely none. This is the point
where my already flimsy premise crashes and burns. None of this
will help you be better men, I just enjoy talking about it. But,
if someone wants to buy me this, I'll send you my panties. *wink wink nudge nudge
ring-a-ding-ding*
John
Cusack John Cusack
John Cusack is a cinematic anomaly. He's one of the few actors
working today who appeals to men an women alike. To guys, he's
the non-pussified everyman; the one who is intelligent,
articulate,and could kick your ass if he wanted, but would rather
sit at some rearranging his record collection. Also, I think men
appreciate a guy first seen as one of Anthony Michael Hall's
sub-nerds growing up to fuck Love Hewitt.
Why do women like
him? Two words: Lloyd Dobler. Every girl in America (except,
maybe like, Bijou Phillips) wants their own Lloyd Dobler. In
fact, this whole post is a farce. You don't need to be a
"metrosexual." You don't have to be a snappy dresser,
or decorate your place with ultramoder IKEA furniture with names
like "flintch" and "smegma." Lloyd Dobler.
That's it. Rent, "Say Anything." Watch. Learn. Repeat.
And then we, as women, promise not to give you a pen.
Relevance: "I don't want to sell
anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't
want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold
or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or
repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a
career, I don't want to do that."
On a final note, on million duckets to whomever can arrange for me to marry this girl.
She looks like Thom Yorke.
Emily
Imsophiapetrillo@yahoo.com
Aim: Roxymoron87
