My kids would be bad, but they’d be perfectly good at it.

Dispatches From the Department of Why I Don’t Have Children:

I almost never iron my clothes, so I don’t own an ironing board. This morning my shirt was a bit wrinkled…possibly because I keep clean clothes in a pile on the other side of my bed where a man should be, because I am too lazy to hang them up.

So I ironed the shirt using the living room carpet as an ironing board.

I was wearing underwear and my deodorant shirt — a beer-branded fitted tee I wear while doing my hair and makeup so any rogue deodorant marks get on THAT shirt rather than the shirt I wear to work.

I was also running late for work, and listening to a song about S&M at full volume.

Do they have a Kidz Bop “S&M?” I guess I could compromise. FOR THE CHILDREN.

Movie review: “Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates”

I was going to kick off my new, resumé-appropriate blog with a review of Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates, which AMC Theaters offered me free passes to see tonight.

BUT…goddammit, it was fucking funny. And I COULD write a clean review, but…fucking funny!

I don’t laugh a lot at romantic comedies — the jokes are generally dumb and contrived. But I snort-laughed several times during this one, and want to see it again just to hear the lines I missed while my fellow moviegoers were laughing their faces off.

Adam Devine was actually amusing, which I’ve never thought before. I now have an official ladycrush on Aubrey Plaza. Zac Efron was funny and sweet, and takes his shirt off if that’s your deal (pass). And y’all know I’d sit and watch Anna Kendrick read a damn newspaper, so I was pretty psyched to see her jump up and dance on a table because Rihanna is “my jam.” #SpiritAnimal

It’s also nice that the movie’s self-aware enough to at one point give a quick nod to how heavily they’ve borrowed from Wedding Crashers.

I’m not all “ZOMG, GO!” but I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. It’s a solid date movie (if, unlike me, you’re capable of human interaction). Silly, fun, and very cute.

They don’t even MAKE music for how sexy I am.

Normally I listen to standup comedy while I get ready for work, but I noticed the entire notion of “morning,” especially “rainy morning,” offers much less “fuck this shit” when I have music on. So today I put my iPod on shuffle and heard:

1. An Amy Winehouse song called “Amy Amy Amy” about dolling oneself up for a workplace flirtation…while I examined a pair of jeans I pulled from the hamper to make sure they weren’t the ones I dropped guacamole on the other day.

2. “The Thong Song,” while wearing llama-print hipster briefs.

3. “Hell on Heels,” flip flops.

I am basically sex on a stick, you guys. I don’t even know how y’all deal with me.

P.S. There was also “Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna, which proclaims, “I got class like a ’57 Cadillac,” which…clearly, with the guacamole and the llamas and the $2 Old Navy flip flops. But also, “got all the drive and a whole lotta boom in the back,” which — pfft — is TOTALLY true.

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.)

Musical Masochism

I’ve heard this song a bunch of times since That Guy “made it like it never happened and that we were nothing,” and I was perfectly fine. But it just came up on my Pandora playlist and suddenly I’m a weepy bitch over it?

Li’l early for PMS, isn’t it, Body? Though I suppose that would explain the recent irritability, exhaustion, insatiable libido, and mass consumption of salty, cheesy Mexican food with Girl-Scout-cookie chasers. 

This is all fine. (It actually is. It’s out of my hands. There’s literally nothing I can do except “breathe and reboot.” Plus I think I’ve proven I’m stronger than Weepy Bitch, even if on occasion she IS the one who knocks.)

S&M/G&T

I like to think I’d get laid much more often if it were always an option for a man to see me dance to Rihanna songs with a couple gin & tonics in me.

#MyJam #PerfectlyGoodAtIt 

In which my phone jumps to a very bold conclusion

I was texting a friend and started to type the word “smiley.”

I typed the S and the M, and my phone decided to help: it asked me if I meant “S&M.”

Um, NO, iPhone. It’s 8 am. I haven’t even had coffee yet. I certainly wasn’t thinking about S&M.

But now I am…