Mentally awash in acid wash

I just heard “Livin’ on a Prayer” on my Internet radio at work, and even though actually dancing on my desk is frowned upon, there was some serious gyrating and hair tossing in my head, and my desk chair got the ride of its life.

#JerseyRepresent #ILiveInPhillyNowButStill

The Rhythm Nation Method

Today someone found this blog by searching for “slutty Pandora stations.”


I’m confused. Would that be music ABOUT sluts? Music that MAKES us slutty? (I have those songs — put on Rihanna’s “S&M” and I might as well have a pole.)

Is the station ITSELF slutty? Does it sidle up against all the other stations, all, “Hey, Top 40, how YOU doin’?”

And come on, aren’t ALL Pandora stations a little bit slutty? I mean, they all give it up to pretty much anyone.

Next up on Pandora’s Slut Station: “Runaround Sue” gets freaky with “The Wanderer.” (I’m not really old enough for that frame of reference, but I AM pretty pleased with it — that there’s some OG slut shame.)

Floral Sex

A horrible ad has been popping up on my Pandora Radio lately, telling me, “This Valentine’s Day, give your man a not-so-subtle hint: Tell him to order flowers from Such-and-Such Place.”

Tell…TELL HIM?!

Wow, what a spontaneous and romantic gesture that’ll be for me. Should I go select the exact bouquet I want and just send him a link, or does he at least get THAT much credit? Because OMG, men are SO clueless, amirite, ladies?!

I once had an ex tell me I “hint with a hammer,” because I usually just say what I want, but I’ve never pulled THAT shit.

Jesus Christ, if Valentine’s Day is that important to you, your Person should know to get your fucking flowers.

I like Valentine’s Day. When in a relationship, I personally like to spend it at home with a movie, pizza, and nudity, because I’ve generally felt loved every day in my relationships and don’t feel the need to make it such a Thing. (I am also cheap and lazy.) But still, I like love and celebrations thereof. I like flowers and hearts and pink crap and on-sale candy the next day.

But I hate the implication that all women are whoreticulturists and all men are inept.

…It’s possible I have too many feelings about this.

Internet radio is subtly slut-shaming me.

I’ve been a little on edge lately about coming off like a complete tramp. As if sensing my self-doubt, EVERY time I’ve put on my Pandora ’90s hip-hop station, it starts with this:

Pandora is a judgy panda.