Eli Is The Man-ning: Ticker Tape Parade, Here I Come!

So, apparently my awesome state, New York, won this thing called the Superbowl. Okay, just kidding; I know what the Superbowl is. No, I don’t know what goes on in a football game besides the fact that guys with arms the size of my head helmet-butt each other at full-force a-head. (Get it? A head? Hahaha).

Sorry, this is why I’m not allowed to watch football with any real fans. I make jokes like that and laugh at them during things called “field goals” — which, if you’re not a football fan, is when everyone in the room/bar gets real quiet and Continue reading

When Can You Make The Switch From Sexy to Comfy?

When I go out on dates, I make sure to ‘wow’ the guy I’m out with by wearing a killer outfit.  Sadly for me (and my lack-of-comfort), this means extremely tight clothes, a cut-off-circulation push-up bra, heels, and a thong.  I’m usually okay for three or four hours but, after that, I get home, run in to my bedroom, and immediately change into comfortable clothing (pajama pants, Victoria’s Secret Pink sweatpants, etc.).

I always have an issue deciding when to whip out the bikini underwear and pajama pants in front of the guy.  If he’s hanging out with me in my house then, chances are, we’ve already been seeing each other for a few weeks.  Does that mean I can excuse myself and crack out my candy-cane cotton pj-pants that I got last year for Christmas? Or do I keep my jeggings/thong combo on? Continue reading

I’m Not Hating These Supermodels Any Less…

You already look like THAT…Did you really have to snag Orlando Bloom and Adam Levine, too?! I totally feel like Jan Brady right about now.  As you already know, I watch the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show each year because I am both a lover of beautiful fashion and a masochist. Sitting with my eyes glued to the TV, and my hand glued to my snacks, I weep to myself because I know that I’ll never look like that…unless I get someone to put me in one of those Rambo body-stretch machines.

Anywho, as if it’s not painful enough for me, now I have to watch two of the hottest guys in the world – Orlando Bloom and Adam Levine – blow kisses and give standing ovations to these women who are doing nothing but walking a straight line, essentially. Miranda Kerr and Anne Vyalitsyna obviously donated millions of dollars to poor children in Africa in a past life. It’s the only explanation. Continue reading

I Want To Hold Models Down And Feed Them Lard

I’m sitting here, watching the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show (something I do every year), while stuffing my face with Chocolate Teddy Grahams.  Yes, I’m trying to ignore my sorrow by masking my pain with chocolate.  Shockingly enough, though, eating fistfuls of tiny bear-shaped cookies straight out of the box is not making me look any more like the 90-pound, 6’2 models I’m watching dance down the runway in 6-inch stilettos that cost more than my car.  And they get wings.  Come on, isn’t that just adding insult to injury, now?

When I look at a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, sure, I cry because I have no boobs, let alone Double D’s. Sure, I weep over the fact that they are a foot taller than me and weigh less.  And, yes, I contemplate plastic surgery when I see how flawless their skin and features are.  However (and this is a BIG, HUGE, GIGANTIC “however,” ladies), I also know that the catalogue has some of the best-paid Photoshoppers in the business.  I can, there, lie to myself and say that they really aren’t that beautiful in real life.  That it’s a computer making them stunning.  That they’re actually ugly and fat and that’s Victoria’s REAL secret.  And then I watch the annual Fashion Show and immediately reach for the Kleenex. Continue reading