Danny Devito Buying A Sports Car To Drown His Divorce Sorrows In Young Tail?

Screw gas prices and fuel economy!!
Danny DeVito knows that where he's going, he can't take his money with him!
To the East Coast, we mean. He won't be able to fit those fat stacks of cash in the trunk of his car!
Especially if the rumors are true that he's ready to live life in the fast lane again and is searching for a flashy sports car!
After three decades of marriage to Rhea Perlman and 67 years of living-life in general, the Always Sunny star is beginning anew!
Gotta respect the mid-life four-fitfths life crisis!
Hoping to baptize himself in the waters of young women's vaginas a clean start, sources claim the Ladies' Man's first step is acquiring a Porsche.
One said:

“Danny has been embracing the single life. He is revisiting his youth and feels like a young man again and can do whatever he wants. His good friend Jack Nicholson lives a care-free and easy life – and Danny wants exactly the same at the moment. He’s done his duty as a parent, raising his three kids, and now that they’re adults, he’s looking to cut loose. The first steps of this transformation are trading his current ride for a flash car; he’s always wanted a Porsche or a Ferrari and he’s been trying them out for size."

We get it, Danny!
The young ladies are constantly handling Jack Nicholson's fine mahogany stick-shift and you want a piece of the action!
Hooray for feeling youthful!
We just feel terrible you wasted 30 years of yours and Rhea's time in figuring out what you wanted!!
Well, it wasn't a complete waste for him. He was apparently still cleaning up getting sloppy on set with the ladies while Rhea watched the kiddies at home.
Another source explained what's going on in his soon-to-be ex-wife's brainpan:

"Danny can be quite the flirt… he’s not ashamed to abuse his position and chat-up young, aspiring woman looking to make it in the industry. Despite his reputation as a lovable, funny guy… if he sees an attractive girl in a coffee shop or walking down the street, he will give her the eye. After years of turning a blind eye to it, Rhea finally snapped. She had enough of his bad-boy behavior and wanted an end to their marriage."

Yikes! Poor girl!
She needs to find herself a nice pool-boy to re-chlorinate her waters and do a deep cleaning of the filter her husband likely neglected for awhile now!!

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Brad Pitt And Angelina Jolie Spent $40k Building A Private Sex Shack In France?!

And it smells like fish!
Or at least it used to, before Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie spent $40k converting the old fisherman's shack on the grounds of their French estate into a private love bungalow!
And, by "love," we of course mean seXXX — so dirty, raunch, nasty, wonderful, and hardcore that it would make Christian Grey blush like an embarrassed school girl who accidentally entered the boys' locker room!
Insiders say their shrine to the horizontal mambo has more toys than a preschool!
Even better? The building is completely soundproof!
Now the Snatch star can play a hot game of Tomb Raider with his wife and turn the volume all the way up!!

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EXCLUSIVE Colton Haynes Confirms Teen Wolf Departure! Get Jeff Davis' Side Of The Story HERE!

Now we're official brokenhearted!
We have EXCLUSIVE confirmation that the beautimuss Colton Haynes is leaving the cast of Teen Wolf for good!
Jeff Davis, the exec producer and creator of the MTV series, tells PerezHilton.com:

"Colton and I spoke Friday and he confirmed that he is indeed leaving the show. We're sad to hear it, but I completely understand. Colton has to do what he feels is in his best interest for his career. But I'm going to miss him. He's a good friend and an incredibly talented actor. But this is his decision and we wish him the best of luck."

When first broke the story of Colton's unofficial departure, we were told that Mr. Davis tried to get the actor to quit by only allowing him to appear in 12 of season 3's 24 episodes.
Jeff says nothing couldn't be further from the truth:

"As for the comments about only 12 episodes, that's absolutely false. We were trying to get him back for multiple seasons of the show. Potentially, over forty episodes."

Jeff goes on to discard rumors that Teen Wolf "heads" are pissed at Hottie Haynes for appearing in Leona Lewis video.
The creator claims that's a pile of wolf crap, telling us:

"No idea where that comes from since Tyler Posey did a video a while back and we were more than happy to promote it. In fact, we love when the actors are doing other projects. Especially something like Dylan O'Brien's new movie, The First Time, which is coming out soon. It only benefits the show.
As for me being irrational? I can't really defend that. I am, after all, a writer. :)"

HA!
Well, that settles THAT!
Colton is leaving the show (sadface) but he's leaving on great terms, with (what we're sure are) plenty of new exciting projects in his future!
We can't wait to see what Teen Wolf and Colton have in store!

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Susan Sarandon Reveals 'Disgusting' Casting Couch Encounter

Susan Sarandon wasn't always the star she was today and when she was just starting out as an actress in New York, she experienced the shady "casting couch" business practice that still haunts the industry to this day.
In November's issue of Elle magazine, the 66-year-old recounted a "disgusting" audition experience during which she was sexually assaulted and explained:

“I just went into a room, and a guy practically threw me on the desk. It was my early days in New York, and it was really disgusting. It wasn’t like I gave it a second though, it was so badly done.”

Luckily, his charm forceful advances didn't work, since Sarandon continued:

“It was not successful — for either of us.”

Either way, it sounds like an awful experience.
Such a shame that people like that anonymous perv continue to get away with it!

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Jay-Z Threatens To Cut Chris Brown Off Over Rihanna Relationship

And this is one threat that Chris Brown should take seriously!
Jay-Z has given Rihanna his blessing to start dating Breezy again. The industry heavyweight has told his princess that "if Chris truly makes her happy then go for it."
While he had kind words for RiRi, he had a sterner exchange with the man who put her in the hospital back in 2009.
During a recent concert, Jay threatened Chris' career if he makes the same mistake twice. A source explained:

"He invited them as a couple to his concert in New York and backstage he called Chris to one side and told him if he hurts Rihanna, whether emotionally or physically, it’s over for him. He’ll ensure it will result in the end of his career.”

We would hope that Breezy doesn't need a threat to make him think twice about laying another hand on any woman EVER, but this should help.
After all, Jay-Z is not a man you want to piss off…twice.

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BBC Icon Jimmy Saville Accused Of Molesting Children For DECADES!

America was shocked by the Jerry Sandusky sex abuse scandal at Penn State, but now the United Kingdom is dealing with an even bigger one.
At least 40 people have come forward to claim that BBC icon Jimmy Saville molested them!
Yuck!
Even though he's no longer alive to answer for his crimes, the reports are pouring in. It's so bad that BBC Radio Two presenter Jeremy Vine believes Saville will become known as "one of the most serious predatory paedophiles in criminal history."
The youngest known victim so far is Kevin Cook, who was just a 9-year-old cub scout when he appeared on the long-running series Jim'll Fix It in 1976.
Now a 45-year-old man with two children of his own, he recounted the awful experience by saying:

"He took me to a small dressing room. I don’t think it was his because it was really shabby, a dingy little room. He said 'Do you want to earn your badge?' and he sat me on a chair in the middle of the room. He put his hand on my knee and then tried to put his fingers up the bottom of my shorts before he unzipped them and touched me. Then he made me put my hand on top of his trousers … After I’d done my shorts up Jimmy warned me not to tell anyone. He said 'Don’t even tell your mates. We know where you live. Nobody would believe you anyway – I’m King Jimmy.'"

Truly sickening stuff!
Both Scotland Yard and the broadcasting company have launched independent investigations into the troubling matter. BBC Director-General George Entwistle has said in a statement:

"Jimmy Savile’s victims have faced years of pain. We owe it to them – and to our audiences – to understand how this could have happened – and to make sure that we do everything so that nothing like this could ever happen again."

The sexual abuse didn't just occur while Saville was working at BBC either.
He allegedly paid off parents of victims to avoid criminal charges back in the 1950s when he managed a dance hall. Other various victims say they were molested by his hand at psychiatric hospitals and children's homes.
Janet Cope, the deceased star's former assistant and good friend, believes the numerous victims are just "jumping on the bandwagon" to make a quick buck. We believe she's in some serious denial.

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Queen Latifah and the Case for Not Coming Out

Since it was announced that Queen Latifah will be headlining Long Beach Pride Weekend this month, various blogs have wondered whether this was a small, subtle step out of the closet for the entertainer.
The gossip blog Sandra Rose was the first to mischaracterize the announcement as a self-outing, based on a quote from an event official citing Latifah as "the voice of our generation" and a testament to "the strength of our community." To come to the conclusion that the use of the word ‘our' constitutes the artist publicly acknowledging what at this point is probably an open secret, we have to both presume Latifah's people approved the language, and that they meant for it to serve as perhaps the most subtle self-outing in celebrity history. Queerty rightfully expressed doubt, and so do I.
Not that those in the public eye can't announce their queerdom in similarly sneaky ways — as did Lindsay Lohan when she casually confirmed she was dating Samantha Ronson via radio interview in 2008. The dreamy Zachary Quinto was similarly chill about his own gayness in a New York Magazine profile last year. Nor is it surprising when those in the public eye simply decline to discuss their private life-citing professional concerns, the ever-popular desire for privacy, or a thinly-veiled effort to stir conversation about the subject itself.
All this, in fact, simply confounds a society weaned on mega-outings, usually following years of knowing hints expressed through "the art" and followed by national conversation on who "called it" beforehand. And, of course, there are those who say that the very idea that one does not need to come out if they are in the public eye is selfish and damaging; that being "closeted" has simply developed from an elaborate tower of personal lies orchestrated by the celebrity and their camp, to a silent agreement between the celebrity, the media, and the public to let the star avoid talking about their personal life without questioning what exactly it is they're trying to avoid talking about.
Whether it is still professionally damaging for a celebrity to publicly acknowledge that they're not heterosexual has been well-discussed many places, and dissected through various lenses. Since as a culture we elevate our celebrities to a near god-like status, I find myself much more interested in how this new attitude about celebrity self-outing has influenced-or has been influenced by-the larger queer culture.
To me, the idea that I must publicly exist either in or out of "the closet" makes a lot of presumptions about my beliefs, my experiences, and what I think is important. I grew up in a pretty gay-friendly New York family. There seemed no fundamental difference to me between my uncles who'd been together for thirty years and my grandparents who'd been together forty. My loud, goofy uncle's hetero marriage seemed just as legitimate to my child eyes as my quiet, distant uncle's marriage to his former husband in Atlanta. Gay and straight couples alike visited my aunt's high-end adult store to spice up their relationship, while I quietly read science fiction in the back room.
Before I was a teenager, I never knew that there was such a thing as "coming out." I thought parents just knew their kids were gay, and one day their kids confirmed this information, and (unless they were horrible bigots) everyone had a slice of pie after dinner. And in fact, I remember telling my mother rather casually at the age of 15 that I identified as bisexual. I even quite-maturely handed her a book geared towards the families of LGBT folks for her perusal. Her response was muted (and probably amused) but kind, and it wasn't until quite a few years later that she admitted she spent a short while wondering whether she'd "presented too strong a female role" before realizing how ridiculous that sounded. So, all that considered, I acknowledge that my personal experiences have not really given me a wide understanding of the shittier families and support systems of some queer folks. But now that I'm older, semi-estranged from those who raised me, and making a concerted effort to be closer to the other side of my family, I am learning that such relationships are often…complex.
And isn't that what "coming out" has always meant for our community? Cutting through the complexity of someone's feelings about the morality of gayness, the state of gay culture, so-called "gay politics" or whatever else is a reality and an issue for them; and making a bold, definitive statement about who you are. Hasn't coming out meant challenging the other person to negotiate you as an individual they care about alongside something they might feel uncomfortable with? It's saying "I'm leaving it up to you to decide how you are going to feel about me. But I am going to be honest and no longer let my fear and my sensitivity to your ignorance be my silencer." That's beautiful, and that's powerful. But that's not everyone's experience.
What if you never really had to come out, or if you did it so young and casually that it barely constituted this major, self-affirming moment? Do you need to now do it with everyone in your life? Am I required to tell my boss I'm queer, because I have nothing to fear knowing she's an LGBTQ ally and a decent person? Do I need to provide all my relatives with a handy label even if we're talking about people I only communicate with once a year? And if I choose not to do any of these things, does it suggest I've got some internal self-loathing? Am I allowed to be a private person, or otherwise someone simply uninterested in defining themselves to others?
The question ‘why does a celebrity owe anyone a coming out' is usually met with the answer that living in the public eye means you accept a certain degree of invaded privacy, and that your life and choices have meaning to at least some people you've never met. The gay kid who was going to make a bad decision, go down a murky road, turned back because an actor he likes is gay too. Because someone like him made it, and is happy and healthy and whole. And I can respect that both gay and straight culture need positive gay role models, but I also think it's important to acknowledge that many young people (specifically those brought up in pro-gay environments) are being open about their queerdom as early as they can self-perceive it. And if that is a trend that continues as American culture makes the agonizingly slow tread towards legal and social equality, is it really fair to continue to demand that celebrities take on the (perhaps unwanted) task of publicly coming out for the sake of social visibility?
And furthermore, to what degree does the fact that we're an incredibly voyeuristic society play into this entire conversation? Because it would be dishonest to pretend this expectation is not at least partly borne from the fact that people feel they have a right to know who others love and (specifically) sleep with. I can be irritated at the studio and public relations culture that makes it acceptable to try to shove a previously-open celebrity back into the closet for the sake of "marketability," while still finding it messed-up that some online bloggers have made entire careers peddling the concept that it's some kind of service to the LGBTQ community to out celebrities they declare are closeted-a concept I usually have a hard time feeling empowered by myself. As pissed as I was about the entire Prop 8 saga, I wasn't all together comfortable with how Wanda Sykes was peddled as the great unifier of Black and gay socio-political interests.
But maybe that's the rub, so the speak-that if you're in the public eye, you're going to be packaged and marketed with various labels, like it or not, so you might as well make sure those labels are true and work for you. Unless you want to take the chance someone else will manipulate your image to make it work for them. No one wants their public narrative written without their permission (much less their input).
Either way, the presumption that coming out is both a necessary thing and highly-important in the lives of all queer folks is something that I think we'll see change in the near future, and I hope that leads to more celebrities feeling like they can address interest in their sexuality on their own terms, without experiencing a flood of unwanted public attention focused on their private lives. And, as in the case of Queen Latifah, it would be great if celebrities could someday participate in LGBTQ-positive events, or otherwise be community allies, without it being seen as something it likely isn't.

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We're falling in love — slowly, naturally, just letting it happen — with Valérie Trierweiler, the new first lady of France. Allow us to explain.
After reading this New York Times profile, we think we might have real relationship potential with Trierweiler. Here are some reasons why:
1. Trierweiler's vowed to hold on to her own identity — and career — even though her partner, François Hollande, is now president. The 47-year-old has been one of the country's top political journalists for more than 20 years, and doesn't intend to stop working anytime soon. "In France, a first lady has no status, and therefore she isn't supposed to do anything else," Trierweiler told the Times. "My perception of life is not to ask François Hollande, who isn't the father of my children, to support me financially." Damn straight.
2. She's had an unorthodox and somewhat messy (read: normal) love life, and she doesn't try to pretend otherwise. Trierweiler is twice divorced, and isn't married to Hollande; they're the first unmarried couple to live in the Élysée Palace. Some are concerned that they might be ill-received by more conservative countries, but the duo doesn't seem like they'll cave into pressure to get married anytime soon.
3. She can actually speak eloquently about the whole working-mom thing. Trierweiler, who has three teenage sons, struggles with feeling guilty about being a good mother, and discusses the issue in a more relatable way than, say, Ann Romney. "I've shared the fate of many working mothers, I felt guilty like them," Trierweiler said. "I took Wednesdays off to see my children and make them crepes." She turned down a foreign correspondent gig because "I wanted to stay with them."
4. She's just like us! (Well, kind of.) While most first ladies act like they've been preparing for the role all of their lives, Trierweiler admits that she's nervous. "[She's] scared of being the wife of a president and is looking for models," said Laurent Binet, a political author. "She sees herself as an active woman."
5. She's proactive, ambitious, and an all-around inspiring role model. Trierweiler's coworkers call her a "hard worker," and she's had to be: she was born to a disabled father who lost a limb in a mine explosion and a mother who was a cashier at an ice rink, and grew up in the French projects. "Valérie is a very interesting mix of strength, pride and fragility," said Philippe Labro, vice president of the TV channel Direct 8, who hired her in 2005. "She cares for her own identity and loves her job."
6. Trierweiler would make an excellent blogger. "All journalists have opinions, they all vote, they all have sympathy, friendships," she told Le Journal du Dimanche in 2010. "But they're not asked to justify them. We believe in their integrity, we trust them and we're right to do so."
7. She's not afraid to be witty — and feisty — on Twitter. "What a shock to discover myself on the cover page of my own magazine," she wrote when her employer, Paris Match, put her picture on its cover in March. "Bravo to Paris Match for its sexism," she added. Burn.
8. We're always suckers for a genuine-sounding presidential romance. Holland calls Trierweiler the love of his life, and the two talked for hours on the phone when they were friends for years before getting together. "François Hollande and I have been accomplices right from the start," Trierweiler said. "But there was something more than only friendship." Aww.
9. She's already influencing the president for the better:
  She's just so quotable! "I haven't been raised to serve a husband," Trierweiler told the Times. "I built my entire life on the idea of independence." Time to make some t-shirts?

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Posted in: France’s Straight-Up,paris france about france nice france

Strapless Wedding Dresses, We Are on to Your Bullshit

It's not a secret that strapless bridal dresses are about as ubiquitous as that scene in movies where the officiant asks people in attendance at a wedding to speak up or forever hold their peace and someone speaks up, with comical results. But why? Strapless gowns are nearly universally unflattering, they're tough to keep on, and they look more like a bridal uniform for a woman marching into marriagebattle with her plastic cakemate groom than a unique expression of a woman's style. It seems that finally brides are starting to notice, and small numbers of them are staging a revolt. But will recent resistance be enough to end the iron-fisted rule of the strapless bridal gown?
Slate's Katherine Goldstein noticed what she calls "the tyranny of the strapless gown" when she began dress hunting for her own wedding. She's not a person with terribly unique proportions, and never had difficulty shopping for clothes in the past, but knew that strapless gowns weren't her thing. And finding a bridal dress that wasn't strapless was much more difficult than she expected.
Stymied, she searched for answers — why are 75% of gowns strapless when white strapless gowns look weird on about 95% of people?
Some designers theorized that it's a demand issue — brides interested in following tradition find themselves hemmed into having a floor length gown, but they still want to feel beautiful on their Big Day, and so they opt for strapless, skin-exposing numbers in an effort to avoid dowdiness. But I find that difficult to believe. Sexy Bride Disease is a real thing that affects real people, but women aren't that oblivious about what looks good on them. Strapless dresses, as Goldstein points out, can lead to armpit overhang, to uniboob, to "stick arms," to ham hock arms, to making otherwise perfectly beautiful women who look stunning in nearly every other clothing style look doughy.
Goldstein uncovered another, more insidious theory in her truth quest: Designers prefer to make bridal gowns strapless because they're easier. Sleeves are tricky, and dresses without them are much more quick and painless to alter. Less time, less thought, more ability to crank out more dresses, that they will charge women an arm, a leg, and a collarbone for because they're wedding dresses.
So, let me get this straight: designers already charge a metric fuckton for wedding dresses, way more than they charge for regular, non-wedding dresses that happen to come in white, and they're cutting corners by making them in the style that's the least challenging for them to fit to brides? And that style just happens to be almost universally unflattering? Oh, hell no. This ends here, strapless gowns.
I'm allegedly planning a wedding (I say "allegedly" because I've been engaged for several months now and every time acquaintances ask me if we've set a date yet, I make the sort of face someone might make if they'd been ask to clean up several piles of fresh, still-warm cat vomit) that will probably take place toward the end of next year. I'm completely dreading the entire process. It's not that I don't want to be married or have friends and family gather in a festive setting, but I don't want to shop, to shell out, to spend way too much time thinking about clothes and hair and makeup. I'm not very princessy, I don't like being photographed (unless I am three glasses of pinot grigio in and inside a photo booth), and I hate spending money on things I think aren't necessary. And I, like Katherine Goldstein, do not want a strapless dress.
So I'm not even going to bother with bridal salons — the idea of paying four figures for a dress that's totally not my style that I'll wear once makes me break out in hives. I'm going to take my practical ass to a regular old store that sell regular old dresses and buy a cap sleeved number in cream so that my paleness against a white gown doesn't make me look like I'm dying of consumption in the Moulin Rouge. And if anyone who attends my nuptials has a problem with that, then I'm afraid they are no longer welcome at the cake table.
Future brides, take note: you don't have to blindly follow the cruel way of the strapless gown. You have a choice. You can acknowledge that you're one of the 99% who does not look awesome in a strapless wedding gown. You can say "no" to the dress

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Rihanna Does Whatever She Wants With Her Vagina and for Some Reason That’s a Problem

Sluts. They're the worst, right? Always having sex for pleasure and walking around with visible ankles. Thank god we came up with this foolproof slut eradication technique, where we treat women like garbage for doing totally normal (but gross!) stuff that everyone on earth does all the time! Remember how we used to slut-shame Madonna? That totally worked out. Nobody ever had sex ever again. UNTIL RIHANNA.
Curses! Rihanna (and her vaganna) must be stopped! Fortunately, Drake and Chris Brown are on the case. Michael Arceneaux has a great piece in Ebony this month (somewhat in response to a Russell Simmons piece titled "Get Off Rihanna's Dick") detailing the latest wave of Rihanna-shaming, in which the aforementioned famous men, who have famously put their penises in Rihanna, rap about how gross it is that Rihanna lets men put their penises in her. Cool story, bros! (Brown's lyrics have the tasty bonus of alluding, it seems, to that time he savagely smashed the shit out of her face: "Don't f—k with my old bitch, it's like a bad fur/ Every industry n—— done had her/ Shook the tree like a pumpkin just to smash her/ B*tch is breaking codes, but I'm the password.")
Weirdly, men manage to stick their penises into stuff all the time without slut-shaming themselves into oblivion. Drake isn't releasing a track about how many chicks Colin Farrell has dropped his panties for (although I WISH HE WOULD BECAUSE HAHAHAHAH). But the problem with slut-shaming goes way beyond the problem of a double-standard. It's not just that men and women both engage in slutty behavior and therefore no one has a right to throw stones—it's that there is nothing wrong with slutty behavior (or, as I like to call it, behavior) in the first place.
So why do we target Rihanna's sex life so aggressively? Well, first of all, she seems to be truly having an awesome time—and women owning their sexual pleasure veers dangerously close to women wanting to own their bodies. And we can't have that! The more sexual agency you possess, the less of an object you become. That's threatening to a lot of people. Rihanna's not even some delinquent heiress with a sex tape whose only job is commodifying her sexuality (although that's fine too)—she's an incredibly successful artist who works hard on her craft and in her free time does whatever-the-snatch she wants without apology. And isn't that exactly what we want women to do? Whatever-the-snatch? It's almost like there's a right kind of slut (Kim Kardashian?) and a wrong kind of slut (our dear RiRi), and the difference lies in exactly how many fucks you give. Kim Kardashian's entire job is giving fucks (it's called maintaining her brand). Rihanna is just whoever Rihanna happens to be that day.
But more importantly, Rihanna is very famous, kind of bonkers, and completely unfiltered. She behaves exactly like any average 24-year-old does (plus a million billion dollars) and she has the nerve and the platform to do it right where we can see it. Most celebrities are so buttoned-up and micromanaged that as far as we know they're all smooth as a Ken doll down there. Not RiRi! And shouldn't we be happy about that? There's an entire INDUSTRY devoted to prying open the dirty little corners of celebrity life and digging out the nuggets that prove the stars are human, Just Like Us. Rihanna just hands it all over, shame-free, and now you're mad? Is it just the cycle of illusion/hunt/exposure that we like? Gross, you guys.
Whatever the reason, here is my rallying cry: CUT IT OUT. We need to stop shaming celebrities for having sex when celebrities having sex is obviously our favorite thing. Freaking out about Rihanna every time she Tweets some crazy shit about fucking a leprechaun or whatever doesn't make you hilarious or grounded or moral. It makes you just a couple of clicks above Chris Brown. Because what you're saying, essentially, is that women's sexual behavior is shameful and should be hidden and/or mocked.

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Congrats, New Grads! By the Way, You Don’t Know Anything

It's the time of year when the internet is deluged with condescending lists of "advice for graduates"—stuff like "experience Paris" and "learn to wear purple until you laugh until you cry until you laugh"—and since all of that shit is just literal barf smeared on a laptop screen, I decided I might as well take a stab at it myself. Let's help some kids.
1. Experience Paris. Just kidding.
You know what? International travel is great and all, but it doesn't magically turn you into a genius or a good person. If you make it to 30 without ever having had the financial flexibility to purchase a $1000 plane ticket, then you're pretty much just normal—not some barefoot hill-goblin. And you know what? Everything in Paris is fucking covered in gruyere. You're only 22-years-old (or something). Do you really want to get sick of gruyere already? Seriously. You want gruyere in your life for as long as possible.
2. This is the most important thing of all the things: you think you know stuff, but you don't.
People act like college is this gateway to adulthood, but it's really just more playtime. Adulthood is the gateway to adulthood. It's not that you're not smart, but I'm like a decade older than you and I'm STILL half baby. I only know like two things at this point, and I am literally the Albert Einstein of being in my twenties. You're going to keep learning stuff constantly for the next 50 years or so, so just calm down and let the learning happen.
3. No one wants to hear about your semester abroad in Thailand.
4. Take all the help. Take it!
Okay, so there are no jobs, you have tons of debt, and everything is fucked. I'm sorry. If moving in with your parents for a while is a viable option, if you have the ability to ease into independence, you should take it. Otherwise, when you actually become independent, you'll have thousands of dollars in credit card debt and a shitty rental record, and then when your car gets towed because of unpaid parking tickets you won't be able to afford to get it out of the impound lot, which means you essentially just went into debt so that you could give away your car. These things affect your credit for years and can come back to screw you even after you've learned your lessons [Ed: After ten years, I'm still dealing with the effects of my just-out-of-school credit fuckery. Take this advice VERY seriously. Don't be me.]. So if you have help available to you, take it. If you can, move in with your parents and get an unpaid internship. Then get another unpaid internship. Write a blog or whatever. Get to know people in your chosen field, don't be a presumptuous dick (nobody owes you shit), and remember that it's your privilege (i.e. parents) that got you here. Your responsibility as a privileged person is to not be a Republican.
5. To the non-privileged people, yes, you will have to work harder than the people in item #4, and that completely sucks.
The world isn't fair. I'm sorry. It just isn't. But take the job you have to take, and try and do the work you love in your free time. Chances are, you're smart and tough and not a dick. That will help.
6. You look really pretty today.
7. Say yes to everything. Take the meeting.
Any job in the field that you eventually want to get into is better than any job that's not in that field. Pay your dues. Nothing is beneath you right now. And be shrewd. Like, if you graduate from culinary school and what you want is to be a fancy chef, it's better to get a job as a dishwasher at a nice restaurant than as a line cook at Denny's. I thought I wanted to be a writer, so my first unpaid internship was at a shitty fake magazine that was owned by these super sleazy Young Businessmen in the Valley. It was basically just a coupon book that kept the dudes afloat while they focused on their real project—inspirational corporate fire-walking. So mostly my "editorial internship" consisted of picking up firewood at a seedy lumber yard and driving it across town to this weird, empty porn-condo that, I guess, was Creepy Firewalking, Inc.'s HQ. Then the dudes would touch my arm and try to get me to walk on hot coals because "it's spiritual," and then they would give me $20 and it felt dirty. It was fucking awful, but I'm still glad I did it, because I totally got real magazine jobs later. Resumes are all smoke and mirrors anyway.
8. Be nice to your parents, because they are going to die and you will be sad.
Unless your parents were horrible, in which case fuck your parents! (Not literally.) One of the best things about being a grown-up is that you get to burn bridges with people who are complete dicks to you. You make your own family now.
9. That said, you should also never ever burn any bridges.
My dad was literally nice to everyone he ever met for his entire life, and every time shit got complicated some old rando would pop out of the dumbwaiter and be like, "Hey, do you want this job? I love you!" He called it luck, but I call it being fucking nice to people. (Just kidding, we didn't have a dumbwaiter. But maybe you can, once you get one million jobs from being so nice all the time!)
10. You are a no-strings-attached person right now. Congrats!
This is your big chance to be responsibly poor, before your poverty starts fucking up anyone else's life. You (probably) don't have kids, a spouse, a mortgage, or responsibilities of any kind. What you do have is the stamina and the drive to cope with a staggering amount of discomfort (i.e. an air mattress in a windowless closet in a garbage shack under the freeway with 13 vegan roommates growing white-people dreads) in the name of freedom (i.e. an unpaid internship supplemented only by your busking salary and plasma sales). Do it now. Because believe me, by the time you're 30, you won't even have the patience to sleep on a fucking couch, let alone share a microwave that smells like the ghost of Braden's ravioli.
11. Don't get confused, though: Unless you are actually poor, you are not actually poor.
I know I said "poor" in item #10, but I was being lazy. I'm sorry. What I really meant was "broke." Don't get some chip on your shoulder about how disenfranchised you are because all you have is a liberal arts degree and 100 Top Ramens. It will make you sound silly and careless. Some people have been systemically disadvantaged their entire lives and now they live in their cars and don't even have Bottom Ramen. Here's an easy way to tell the difference: If you got arrested, do you have someone that could bail you out of jail? If the answer is yes, then you are broke and not poor. "Poor" is not a game. You are "broke."
12. You should care about politics.
Unless you care about politics too much, in which case please stop caring about politics so much because you're making everyone tired.
13. Invest in potatoes.
Potatoes are delicious and they cost almost negative money. Any idiot can cook a potato, and if you're following this guide, there's a good chance you're going to be very hungry for a very long time. Potatoes!
14. If you must make art about your own life, go for it.
But don't expect anyone to take you seriously until your life actually has stuff in it.
15. Don't believe anything that someone sitting at a folding table on the street tells you.
They are either a weird monk who wants to give you a "free book" for $15, or they think 9/11 was an inside job, or they want you to sign up for a garbage credit card, or they are Lyndon LaRouche.
16. Your time as a libertarian, Buddhist, and/or bisexual is over.
Unless you're an actual bisexual, in which case I TOTALLY BELIEVE IN YOU. PLEASE DON'T YELL AT ME. I know a lot of you guys are mad at me right now. Shit. I feel like I'm breaking my own rule at #9. But I told you, I'm still learning! (See half-baby, item #2.) And also, libertarians are mean. I am not sorry for that part.
17. It's time to figure out your weird sex stuff.
I know that when you were younger you hated yourself for liking anything besides tender vanilla caresses, but hush. If you can only self-lubricate by imagining that your mattress is stuffed with Michael Landon's hair, embrace it! And remember that there is someone on the internet who has an actual mattress stuffed with Michael Landon's actual hair, so you are not even close to being the creepiest Cheerio in the box. Also, if you really just like tender vanilla caresses, that's adorable! Do that! Don't let anyone tell you what to do with your parts.
18. None of the stuff that you think is a big deal is a big deal.
Like, nobody on the entire earth cares if you got your period and stained your pants. Fuck, nobody even cares if you just SHIT your pants. Just go home and change your stupid pants! People have bills to pay! People are busy! No one is looking at you!
19. Don't structure your life based on lists on the internet.
That's crazy. You do you, special snowflake.

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A Cupcake Is Never Just a Cupcake: The Psycho-Sexuality of a Twee Treat

Cupcakes are not new. Cupcakes have been around the block. Cupcakes have been declared the "it" treat for years, both "recession proof" and simultaneously "over." Yet cupcakes persist, now more than ever. And cupcakes are no longer just a delicious bite of sugar and frosting, cupcakes are a symbol. When you see a cupcake, your brain interprets it as a message. But what? On June 16, Dean Cain will star in a Hallmark original movie called Operation Cupcake. He plays a soldier back from war; Kristy Swanson plays his wife, who's been running a "quaint cupcake shop" (what else?) in his absence. In the promotional photo, both actors are straining to send a message: She, the baker, stands smug and secure as he, in military fatigues, holds a tiny cupcake aloft. As though the juxtaposition — war and sugar, fierceness and sweetness, masculine and feminine — is ridiculous. A soldier holding a cupcake? Absurd! A brawny dude would never possess a ladything like that.
Because, friends, a cupcake is a symbol for both a vagina and the female orgasm.
It wasn't always this way. Ye olde nursery rhymes and ancient tales inform us that in Western history, baking was a male-dominated endeavor. A baker was a man, period. Hot, fresh bread, cakes, pies, meat pies… these were whipped up by men. But when industrialization made ovens less dangerous, the labor force divided, and men did "manly" work, and women took over kitchen duties. Any cooking still done with fire (grilling) is still considered fit for a man. But baking is a woman's job. Unless, of course, you're dealing with well-paying "professional" jobs: A chef — even a pastry chef — is still considered a manly profession.
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Cake is a group dessert. Cakes involve gathering, celebration: Birthdays, weddings, holidays. Cakes are made to be cut and shared. Cake is democratic, giving. If food were sex, cake would be baby-making missionary position. Family-oriented.
Cupcakes, on the other hand, are single-serving indulgences, selfish celebrations. Party of one. Cupcakes are not designed to be shared. Cupcakes are brats. If food were sex, cupcakes would be masturbation. Self-pleasure. Cupcakes encourage you to take big gulping bites, lick that frosting from your fingers and feel a smug, personal satisfaction that is all yours.
Plus, cupcakes are small, and small is cute, and women are supposed to be cute. Non-threatening. Not taking up too much space. Cupcakes say I splurge! But only a little. Just the adorable and acceptable amount.
Since men are threatened by anything that can bring a woman pleasure better than they themselves can (see: cats, vibrators), cupcakes and men have a vaguely contentious relationship. Oh, guys will eat cupcakes, sure, but we all know a cupcake is A Thing For Girls. (Is it any wonder that cupcakes are popular in a time when women are frustrated by the wage gap? Fill that gap with frosting!)
And thus, in this post-World War II, post-housewife, post-Sex And The City climate, cupcakes have become shorthand for womanhood. Cupcake is code for "I am female." We're also riding a new wave of what being a woman means: Unlike the ERA-era ladies who questioned patriarchal habits like leg-shaving and bras, women today are enjoying and embracing femininity. Cupcakes fit right in alongside pin-up lingerie, knitting and crafts on Etsy. Cupcake tattoos have become increasingly popular. It seems like lady-centric site Pinterest is at least 90 percent cupcake. And when women heard about the cupcake ATM, they nearly lost their damn minds.

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