Thursday, October 27, 2011

Oh No She Didn't: Airplane Attire

Hello friends, fans, secret admirers... lovers.

Today as I sat and evaluated this blog and its mission to educate on the art of man-catching, I realized that there were still some components missing in order to make it well-rounded and effective. So, in addition to our lessons and Eye Candy, I present to you "Oh No She Didn't."

Most of my daily thoughts begin with the phrase "Oh No She Didn't", also known as ONSD. And most of those thoughts are completed with me mentally tearing apart this girl for her fashion choices. Are people blind? Or stupid? Or lazy? I can forgive everything but the latter. Laziness will NOT catch a honey, mark my words.

Our first ONSD was inspired by my girl, Jade. She broke down today and bought her first pair of skinny jeans. Everybody applaud. Seriously, hooker, give the girl a hand. That's better.

Her dilemma was what to wear on her flight from Austin to Lubbock. I can sympathize. I, myself, have made some very poor fashion decisions on flights. And guess what, I'm still single. Coincidence? I think not.

Just because you are trapped in a vacuum-sealed, airborne litter box (think about it) does not mean that it is OK to dress like a bag lady in the name of "comfort." You know what else is comfortable? A couch that you will share with no one but your 18 cats. How do you feel about comfort now? Mmmmhmmm.

Every moment is a chance to land you a sugar daddy. I mean husband. Oh hell, I meant sugar daddy. They say that money doesn't grow on trees, but only poor people say that. Rich people have money orchards, and I want to move in. But I can't convince a man to let me make it rain 100 dollar bills if I look like that troll under the bridge.

Now, I'm not suggesting that you wear a couture gown and diamonds, but would it kill you to put on a pair of jeans instead of those sweatpants? Oh, do NOT give me that "But they're Victoria's Secret, and they say LOVE across my butt." Well good for you, honey. I'm glad that someone loves your ass because no man on that plane is going to. Rule of thumb, if you're going to put on makeup - put on pants. It's that simple.

Next, I realize you're going to have to take off your shoes. That is not permission to wear those ugly Adidas slider sandals or, God forbid, Crocs. Ballet flats and TOMS are both easy to take-off and put-on in a hurry. Just so you know.

I say all of this out of love... for good clothes. Oh, and you too. Because I do love you, and I want to see you catch a man. Just not one of my men. Just to remind you, I will cut a ho.

To recap, an airport/airplane and early flight does not constitute pajama-couture. Look fly on that plane, girl. Haha, get it?

Go catch you a damn man, ladies.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The good, the bad, and the really-awful-embarrassing mistakes

I'm going to put it out there. Sometimes, my milkshake brings ALL the boys to the yard. But sometimes, my milkshake has been left in the fridge a little long and rotten results ensue. No bueno.

This past weekend proved to be yet another opportunity to set my man-catching tally back a few points. My girl, Jade, and I went to Game 3 of the World Series (Go Rangers!), and if the score wasn't enough to tell you that someone's mojo was a little off, just sit back and wait. The Rangers weren't the only ones that walked home with their tail between their legs.

Overall, the night was amazing. One of the best experiences of my life. Just thought you should know that.

So, my really-awful-embarrassing mistake? Why the hell am I putting this on the Internet?

It all began with a hot dog. Get your mind out of the gutter. Ranger Ballpark has these pretty dang fantastic hot dogs wrapped in bacon, and Jade and I had to have one. We weren't the only ones.

As I'm paying for my hot dog ($9, worth every penny), Jade begins to tickle my ass in public. You're sitting there all appalled, but it's really not that unusual. It's true friendship. I'm, of course, feigning disgust at Jade over my shoulder and paying about zero percent attention to where I'm walking. Which is also no surprise. I was not born with very much poise or elegance. But then, by the grace of God, I turn around right as I'm about to slam into a guy. In my defense, he was blocking the mustard. I look up to say excuse my clumsy behavior, and I'm staring straight in to "The Bachelorette" contestant Lucas' face. Rather than excuse myself in a ladylike manner, what do you think I say? Wouldn't you know it that the only word that my college-educated brain could pull from my extensive vocabulary was... "shit". Yes, that's right. I screamed (Ok, it wasn't that loud) an expletive right in this dude's face. And THEN, as if I hadn't embarrassed myself enough, I spun on my heel to report my encounter to Jade at a decibel loud enough for Meryl Streep to hear in her luxurious and most certainly sound-proof abode.

Needless to say, the only picture I got of him was this one. As he was running away from the tacky, loud girl.

There you have it, ladies. Even the man-catching blogger screws up. A lot, actually, but keep reading because sometimes I get it right.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Eye Candy #2

I enjoy looking at boys. I'm not ashamed. There's nothing wrong with appreciating what God created; especially if that something has abs that make me want to pass out from sheer delight.

Not a thing wrong with it.

My love for the male face, body and boootay is partially what gave birth to this particular man-catching business. I can't survive as a cat lady. I need stubble in my life, and I'm not talking about my currently unshaven legs.

I could've taken the usual route with the Eye Candy posts and chosen fan favorites like Jared Leto (who will always be my Jordan Catalano) or the ever-so-beautiful Ryan Gosling (Noah! Oh Noah!).

But what your hormones need is some fresh faces. I hope you enjoyed Jake Johnson from last week. I've been watching "New Girl" episodes at least twice a week just to see that handsome face. But it's time for a new boy on the block.

Chris Lowell

When I was a junior in high school, ABC debuted a show that would become one of my many TV obsessions and, of course, it was canceled far too soon. On a side note, I believe that top television executives just love to lure me into a show, make me fall in deep loving obsession with it, and then chop it down as if it were some kind of tainted zombie. Tragic. Anyway, there was this show called "Life as We Know It", and, within the first episode, I had declared my undying love for the utterly precious and adorable Chris Lowell.



Lowell played 'Jonathan', the yearbook photographer who falls for the then-plump Kelly Osborne. LOVE. What more could I possibly want in a man? Nothing, I tell you. NOTHING.



Lowell doesn't have many credits to his name, which is a damn shame. He did have a several-episode arc on "Veronica Mars" but that aired during the height of my crippling and mind-numbing obsession with Adam Brody and all things related to "The O.C." And then a stint on "Private Practice", but I boycotted all things not directly starring McDreamy and missed out again. Needless to say, I somewhat lost my soulmate for a brief time. I finished high school, went to college, and became an adult during that time. So much life was lived without my Jonathan. Then Netflix brought us together in a truly cosmic way. Seriously, there were butterflies and unicorns. Sigh...

I rewatched all of "Life As We Know It" (only 13 episodes) and pouted about the clear lack of Chris Lowell in my life.

Look at this perfect little hipster. Swoon.


And then the stars aligned and Chris came bounding back to fill the void in my heart. He was cast as the delightful douchebag Stuart Whitworth in "The Help" (SEE THIS ASAP) and my heart was mended momentarily.


Hey, Emma Stone. Get your filthy hands off the merchandise, or so help me, I will cut a bit..

So, there he is, girls. If you don't just love this face, then good because he's mine, and you have no chance anyway. This is one man you will NOT be catching.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Lesson Two: The friend zone

The friend zone is all too-familiar territory for me. In fact, I can maneuver through it so well I'm like Whitney Houston running through the halls of rehab.

What is the friend zone? Well, the friend zone is, at it's core, completely misunderstood. It's really not as bad as it seems. Females have spent centuries (hello, hyperbole) complaining and trying to avoid it. Males, on the other hand, seem (I'm not an expert) to have a completely different outlook on it. In fact, guys have a much higher standard for the friend zone than you might assume. They won't just let anyone in it, only those they value. So stop dreading it. It could turn out to be the best friendship you've ever had. Plus, sometimes guys pull girls up from the friend league to wife up. Might be worth the wait.

But sometimes you want to hold the crap outta that boy's hand. Sometimes the friend zone is not enough.

I'm here to help. I've spent years trying to figure out the friend zone, and here's what I've found.

It all hinges on that first encounter. Just as in a job interview, you're being scrutinized, sized up, and picked apart in the brain of this dude to determine if he's willing to shell out some cash for what could be a waste of time. Guys do not enjoy wasting time on anyone but themselves. And perhaps, women should adopt that principle as well. We'll date every Tom, Dick, or Harry just in case he might be "the one". Guys know what they want, and if you don't fit the bill, move along.

We females tend to have a misconception of what the first encounter should be like. In our heads, we're Jennifer Aniston in one of her latest rom-coms. We expertly flip our hair and laugh our infectious laugh while, on the inside, we're the perfect girl that all these guys having been missing out on. We're low maintenance, funny, sexy, smart, and every other quality that describes the "perfect" woman. We're misunderstood. But ladies, the only misunderstanding most of us are suffering from is the one we're having with reality. There is no such thing as a perfect woman. So stop trying to be. Whenever you make up your mind that being you is enough, then you'll understand.

But back to that first meeting. Girls have been known to make a few very fatal mistakes when it comes to reeling in that fish. I'm not saying my rules are tried or true, but take it from a girl who perpetually lands herself smack dab in the middle of the friend zone.

Rule #1: Shut up.
If you're like me, nothing brings you more pleasure than talking 90 miles an hour in front of a captive audience. However, if you're trying to catch a man, shut your pie hole, lady. This is what it means to be "mysterious" and "keep them guessing". What it really means is that divulging the woes of your last menstrual cycle or how that b-word at work ate your non-fat yogurt when it was clearly labeled is a big no-no. Guys don't want you to be who you are; they want you to fulfill all their qualities for a perfect woman. Even the best guys feel that way. Don't blame them. They watched the same Disney movies we did, and did you ever see a whiny, slightly neurotic princess? Hell no, you did not.

Rule #2: Avoid man-talk.
I love baseball. To my very core, I love baseball. Guys love baseball too. Perfect conversation starter? Negative. While this guy loves that I share an interest in his favorite sport, he has simultaneously placed me firmly in his friend zone. You can notice this if he says "this chick is cool" or man-shakes your hand. You know that weird thing they do where it starts out like a high-five but ends in an awkward finger clutch? Why do they do that? But, trust me, it's the sign that you screwed up. Save this quality for the second date. It's still useful, but it's only to be used as your clincher. You need him to be attracted to you on a physical level first. He's got to want to hold your hand and kiss you good night. And then you land that baseball bomb on him? Now he wants to hold your hand and kiss you at the Rangers game. Bada-bing, bada-boom. You've got him where you want him.

Rule #3: Act Interested
Too often girls bend over backwards to seem like the most interesting girl alive and to hold his undivided attention. Once again, shut up. The male ego is very fickle and needs some lovin'. A few well-placed 'uh-huhs' and 'oh my goodness, tell me mores' will go a long way. Don't get me wrong. It's still about you, but take the high road and feed his self-esteem for a little while. You'll be glad you did.

Rule #4: Don't be a pushover
We all want to prove to guys that we're super laid-back and not at all high-maintenance, but no man wants a woman who doesn't know her self-worth. It's OK to set high standards. Guys like a challenge, and most will rise to the occasion. Don't protest when he brings you flowers; thank him and move on. Wait for him to hold open the door. Not only does it say "I'm worth your time, are you worth mine?", but it also says that you need a good man.

Rule #5: Laugh at his jokes.
Duh.

In conclusion, don't fear the friend zone, but don't doom yourself to it. Life is not a romantic comedy. Learn to play the game.

Now, go out in the wild blue yonder, ladies. And catch you a damn man.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Eye Candy # 1

Two posts in one night? Look at me go. Go me.

While I offered my first tip in the art of Man Catching earlier, I thought to myself, why delay on our first Eye Candy?

Jake Johnson



I adore Fox's New Girl. It's witty, fun, cute, and has Zooey Deschanel skipping around in the cutest clothes EVER. That, my friends, is a recipe for success.

But there are some major Hottie McHotPants in this show, girls. All of Zooey's (or Jess Day's) roommates are adorable, but one totally caught my eye.

Johnson plays Nick, the easy-going-but-still-kind-of-hung-up-on-his-ex guy. But what you might not know is that Johnson was in the little known but absolutely endearing Paper Heart which just so happened to have been partially filmed in the lovely Lubbock, Texas (Wreck 'Em Tech!). If you haven't seen it, do so. It's really fantastic.

Anyhoo, Jake has that really unconventional hotness factor. I think that's the most hipster thing I've ever said. But, really, he's got a good face and is super witty. Snap.

Now, sources (Twittah) lead me to believe that Johnson is hitched. In which case, bravo. I'm such a girl's girl, and I applaud my gender on their romantic pursuits. And it's obvious the girl has good taste. I think we'd be friends. Plus, his lady-love is lucky to be tied to a man who can successfully carry a mustache.

Not. Easy. But he does it well.

So, congrats Jake! You'll probably never read this, but your hotness is applauded and appreciated.

Be sure and check out New Girl on Fox, Tuesdays after Glee!

Lesson One: The Booty Pop

I was not blessed with a butt. In fact, my dad affectionately dubbed my lacking physique "the back with a crack". I've learned to embrace it... what little there is to grab hold of. But I realize there is one thing I must master to place me one step ahead in the Man-Catching business.

The Booty Pop

You've seen it. The girls who can back that thang up with ease and the men flock to them like a moth to a flame. It's like magic.

The art of the finely popped bootay is not one to be snubbed. It's not a skill monopolized by the club or bar scene. Oh no, not at all, my friend. The booty can be popped in many different settings. And let me tell you - men enjoy a lady who can finely shake her rump.

Have you ever seen someone turn down Kim Kardashian or J-Lo? That's a rhetorical question because heck no you haven't. Those girls got back.

Let me offer a disclaimer. Don't be a tramp. The booty pop should never be abused. In fact, it's more a way of life rather than an actual act. You've got to let that boy know you are one hot ticket. I'll leave it at that.

So take it from me and the wise words of Kelis. The milkshake can bring all the boys the yard.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Adventures in Man-Catching

After I brushed the cobwebs off this darling blog, I was utterly stumped on how to fall back in to the business. Nothing new or exceptionally exciting has happened that I didn't tweet about (love me some Twittah).

But then, it hit. Well, actually Sarah-friend gave me a verbal butt kick in the right direction.

I have this list. It's actually in my brainium - not on paper. It's my Man-Catching List.

A good man is a hot commodity these days, people, and should be treated as seriously as unicorn tears. I don't mess around with matters of the heart... or bank account. I mean to catch me a good (rich) one and, preferably, before I'm committed to velour sweatsuits and underground Rascal racing.

Why am I doing this?

I'm a tad bit boy crazy. I know you're shocked. I've suppressed the quality for years because no one likes those bat-crap crazy females. Not that I'm a bat-crap crazy female or anything. I'm just throwing that out there. For educational purposes.

In addition to sharing my Man-Catching List, I'll be posting some Eye Candy every now and then. Most will be celebrities because, unlike most, I'm destined for a life of fame and fortune and prefer to be realistic about my destiny and not toil with average boys. You can all come visit after I'm on Cribs. I'm totally OK with rubbing junk in your faces.


DISCLAIMER: This list, thus far, has proved to be 100 percent ineffective. You were warned.