Ladies, what’s wrong with us!?!?!

To all my ladies out there: GET IT TOGETHER!  Come on, you’re letting it all hang out and it ain’t pretty.

I’m writing this blog after a night of hanging with some of my best ladies and watching the show The Bachelor: The Women Tell All special.  Some of these ladies remained composed, sweet individuals throughout the show (or at least as composed and sweet as you can be on national television).  But some of these WOMEN! My God! Who raised these chillens!?  I know my mother taught me better than to make an ass of myself on some crack-ass television show that is (supposedly) about finding love.  Awww hell, who am I kidding, I’m addicted to the show as much as the next girl.

But STILL… come on ladies!!!! Pull up your big girl panties and at least try to be a decent, functioning member of society.

After my reflection tonight, I began thinking: What is wrong with women?  Why do we do some of the things we do?

I’m not hating, because BELIEVE ME, I’m the biggest culprit of many of these things. Just ask my boyfriend…

Here are a few things that many women do (myself included) which seem paradoxical to not only other women, but also men.  Oh BOY do men hate decoding a woman’s every move.  Here are some big problems with us:

1. We’re always “fine” when we’re not fine: COME ON! When someone says “I’m fine,” do you EVER believe them?? Especially when they follow that phrase with a long silence.  During that long silence, the woman usually tries their damnedest to go about their everyday business except that they look like they have a giant stick up their ass.  Ladies… We’re NOT fine.  Get over it.  Tell your man, friend, boss, family member what is really going on or else you are going to end up like one of the Jersey Housewives, who pulls out weaves of other women and flips tables at “classy” dinner parties.  No one wants Queenzilla.  It’s not hot. It’s ugly.

Lesson Learned: Telling someone how you feel in the moment is a lot better than waiting for the PMS-ridden juggernaut (AKA you on your period) to run after your boyfriend with a golf club in the fashion of Tiger Woods’ ex wife.  Scary.

2. Stop blaming men for your weight.  You complain ALL day how you’re craving ice cream. Your boyfriend wants you to be happy.  SO, he tells you to eat ice cream.  Then, you eat an entire bucket of Ben and Jerry’s and blame your boyfriend for telling you to go ahead and eat it!  Listen bitches… we all like to eat.  Hell… I devoured the largest burger I’ve every seen the other night with chips and chili and I’m not sorry about it.  Don’t give other people (especially your significant other) the power to allow you or not allow you to have food.  Want someone to blame about that extra muffin top you gained over the winter, try your good old friend “motivation” and ask him why he hasn’t stopped by to kick your ass to the gym.

Lesson learned: Eating is fun.  Don’t blame your boyfriend for your weight.  Get your butt to the gym and STOP COMPLAINING!

3. If you want a compliment, JUST SAY SO: As women both secure and insecure will tell you, we constantly need affirmation from the ones we love.  Men on the other hand, feel like if they told you last month that they loved you, that should last them at least 3 more weeks.  Instead of fishing for compliments by putting yourself down and saying, “I look so ugly today,” or “My ass is so big in these jeans,” simply say “I’m going au-natural today and I’m okay with it,” or “My butt looks like JLO tonight!”  To which your boyfriend will (hopefully) reply “Baby, you look great with no makeup on,” or “You have a hot ass.”  Now, you may get the same response from your boyfriend either way you’ve positioned your argument (depending on how well you’ve trained him), but I’m damn sure he’ll be more happy to give a compliment to a girl who has confidence rather than to Buzz Killington who pouts in the corner because she doesn’t want anyone to look at her “huge zit” at the party where everyone is clearly too drunk to notice or care.

Lesson Learned: Be confident. No one like and Eeyore. (Unless you’re the cute and cuddly donkey from Winnie the Pooh)

4. If you dress like you are looking for attention, don’t be mad when you get attention: Look, I like to dress up on the weekend as much as the next girl. (Have you seen my shoes in the cover photo??)  However, when you let your T and A hang out for the world to see, don’t be surprised by A) the kind of men you meet or B) the kind of woman those men assume you are. Also… stop being grossed out by the bum who just cat called you on the street for looking good.  A bum in Boston said to me the other day, “She know she lookin’ good,” to which I replied, “Damn right I do!” Then I gave him an air high five because I was afraid if I touched his hand I might get bird flu… or worse… a whiff of his whiskey breath.  I understand that there comes a point when a man can cross the line with what he says or tries to do to a woman dressed like that, but honestly ladies, we are smart. (At least we should be). Act like a smart girl, don’t put yourselves in stupid situations, and if a man wants to give you a compliment (be it genuine or lewd) you can choose to take it for what it is and simply walk away.

Lesson Learned: Dress in a way that makes you comfortable, not in a way that you think will fulfill some idiot college boy’s fantasy.  Be smart when you’re in situations with creeps. And PLEASE don’t flash your lady business for everyone to see, especially when you’re drunk.  Then you’re just going to be know as “that girl” and NO ONE wants to be “that girl,” except maybe Marlo Thomas in the 60s.  (Some of you might not have caught that reference.  IMDB it.)

Now enough gripping about typical lady behavior. Now I’m going to gripe about something else.


For those of you who read my last post on the Morningwood show, you could probably tell by my description that they Palladium was not the cleanest of venues.  The bathroom was no different.  The floor had water all over it, one of the doors didn’t hinge, and there were sprinkles all over every seat.

Let me tell you something, I sure DO NOT have Penis Envy but I DO, indeed, have Peeing Envy.

I will now describe to you the typical trip to the ladies room at a public venue:

First we all wait in a GIGANTIC line because we all want to make sure we don’t have to pee during the middle of whatever it is we’re seeing or doing.  That, plus most of us have been drinking too much coffee (or beer).  When we finally get to an open stall there is usually some kind of malfunction: the lock on the door is broken, the toilet is full of shit that someone didn’t flush, the knob for the flusher broke off, there is pee all over the seat, nothing to wipe with (not even cardboard toilet paper roll), the floor is soaking wet… etc, etc.  THEN, we either sit on the dirty pee-ridden seat OR hover over the toilet seat and pray for the best.  Hovering in itself is an art (especially if you’re drunk) because you need something to hold you up so your ass doesn’t fall into the water. Not to mention the water that splashes because you are SQUATTING! THEN, we need to wipe, get ourself situated, and grab our purse (that we had to clench between our teeth because OF COURSE the doors don’t have purse hooks). Don’t even get me started on the fact that if it’s that time of the month you better pray there is some sort of disposal for it because then you risk clogging up the toilet and making matters even worse.

When you finally emerge out of the stall, it feels like you have taken a trip to Middle Earth and back.  The ladies in line glare at you like angry orgres because they have been waiting forever, just like you did.  You wash your hands (with your purse under your armpit or clenched between your teeth again), fix your makeup, make sure there is no toilet paper hanging off the fabulous shoes you have just purchased (and probably ruined walking in the shit water) and try to still look like a lady after going through a truly HORRIBLE ordeal.

Then we have how a man goes pee:

Usually not a long wait, (even at sporting games).  Walk in, unzip, pee in urinal, shake, zip up, wash hands, DONE.

WHAT?!?!?! How unfair!

In college my freshman year I lived on a co-ed floor and I actually preferred using the men’s room when I could because it was usually cleaner and had less sprinkles on the seats because the guys all used urinals!

Sometimes I feel like I would rather pee in a bush outside than endure the horrors of the ladies room.

Don’t even get my started on my first ever job as a hostess at a ribs restaurant where I cleaned an old lady’s poop off the floor because she missed.  And yet… that may just be a blog for another day.

Until next time… For Christ’s sake ladies… pull your shit together and represent our lady business in a less crazy way!

Shannon Allen


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