A couple of weeks ago, when Helen Gurley Brown died, bitches everywhere were left without proper guidance to the art of modern living! Sad day for all the single ladies! One of my favourite websites, Regretsy (check it here) had nice tribute and April actually had an audio of HGB reading a chapter called “Plain Girl Power” from her 1962 bestseller, Sex and the Single Girl…how to bag a man even if you’re not that pretty! Her wisdom lives on 50 years later.
As it turned out, over the summer, I have been receiving some e-mails from you readers actually asking for my advice! I’m going to channel Helen Gurley Brown and share these with y’all and I’m sure you’ll want to keep the letters coming.
I enjoyed your last post of your trip to Italy. My husband and I are planning a trip there in the fall for 10 days and I’m wondering what to pack! I’ve heard the Italians are very fashionable and we don’t want to look like tourists!
First of all, don’t kid yourselves, you are going to look like tourists even if you are in Prada head-to-toe. They know you are not one of them. And they will be dismissive of you no matter what. Somebody told me that the reason they are rude is because they assumed I was an American. But I don’t think that’s the case. I think Italians have colony-envy and actually embrace American culture, hence their penchant for bandanas and cowboy hats. Remember, they are one of the only European countries that didn’t do such a good job raping and pillaging other countries in other continents.
Men in Italy all look the same so if you want your husband to blend in, make sure he packs collared shirts and does not wear shorts! I think a man always looks sleek in a Lacoste polo shirt and dark washed Levis 501’s. The colour of the polo shirt will determine whether or not he is gay or straight but it’s okay to be both so I’m not going to tell you what is what. Italy is full of men who seem gay but aren’t or they are but no one cares…it doesn’t seem to be an important label. So let your husband wander, it’s his vacation too.
As for you, you will probably over-pack and pay no heed to this formula: Take the number of days of vacation (10) and divide by 3, which rounds down to 3…and that is the number of outfits you should pack. Yes 3! You will only wear your favourites anyway and you can wash out the pits and crotches at the end of the day. You need 1 fancy outfit and 2 casual. I trust that you know that casual does not include yoga pants but you can wear those as pyjamas and on the plane if you are taking a night flight. Also for plane and trains, you need one of those voluminous sweaters that every woman has in their wardrobe so that you can wear it backwards as a Snuggie. I did this and people looked at me with envious glares. Also pack a swim suit and don’t fret about what you look like. Very old ladies in Italy wear string bikinis and all men wear Speedos so if you worry about if your tits are falling out or your ass is slung low, don’t, they only care about what you packed in the lunch box. And pro-tip: Always have a sandwich with you, it’s the accessory of choice all over Italy.
As for shoes: Pack 3 pairs. I wish I could say snowshoes because navigating your way through cobblestone roads is madness. Italian women are typically bow-legged so their centre of gravity allows for high heels but as for you, tourista, fuck it and wear Birkenstocks. Glue gun some Swarovski crystals on a pair of white ones and you are a fancy bitch, Italian style.
If you forget something, you can buy it there. I forgot to pack a hairbrush and used my fingers until I finally bought a comb on Day 8. I had a couple of dreadlocks in the back of my head. Hilarious. Just remember to bring sunscreen because they only have it for babies which is thick and goopy and I do not recommend it (especially if it gets in your dreadlocks.) Italian adults use brown tanning oil as though it was 1972. Good times. Have fun and always do as the Romans do!
I am in my first serious relationship and my boyfriend is sleeping over. I have a hard time falling asleep because I am nervous of what will happen in the middle of the night! What if I fart?
This is an ageless question that women both young and old fret about. Sex and the City addressed this issue when Carrie let one slip in bed with Mr. Big and then she died of embarrassment….they did an entire episode based on a fart. If I could bank all the farts that have exploded in front of me by men, I would be able to power a city block during prime time. I have to tell you a cautionary tale about this one dude who would casually fart away on my couch during pre-coital warm up, then go to the bathroom with the door open and blast some more farts, and then seep out yet even more farts in the bedroom during sexy times. He would fart the way normal people breathe. And he wouldn’t acknowledge it. I never knew how to react so I ignored it. After awhile I could understand his farts, like they had their own language. Tiny little farts meant he was frisky (which was most of the time), the giant ones meant he was bored and needed a joint, and the sharp, tight ones expressed displeasure which would happen when he watched tennis on tv. To this day when I see Roger Federer, a Pavlovian fart reaction will fill noxious fumes in my olfactory organs. Poor Roger Farterer, which is how I forever will think of him.
Then he went on some stupid colon cleanse, which of course made him even gassier if that was at all possible, and one day he farted out my name, beckoning me into the bathroom while he was curled up naked in the tub. He wanted me to hold the hose while he gave himself an enema. And that was when I realized that farting can lead to heavier bodily functions. And I was out the door.
Seriously, they should ban farting. It’s no joke. But if it happens to you, it’s best to just giggle and excuse yourself. I’m sure your boyfriend won’t even care, he will even find it endearing. And remember no little toot that you emit from your tiny little rosebud can ever be as bad as the image of a naked man in a tub with a hose up his hairy ass.
I’m seeing a married man and he says he is leaving his wife in the future but he is staying for the kids’ sake, they are still in school. I’m not sure what I should do.
There’s actually a mathematical formula for this conundrum:
Time (number months of your relationship)
Multiply number of Brazilian bikini waxes he has asked you to get
Divide by number of mysterious hang up phone calls you have received by a blocked caller
When you get that number, then add a million years….and that is when he is going to leave his wife!
In the meantime, why can’t you just enjoy being a mistress? You don’t have to wash his underwear or watch him chew on his whole grained cereal in the morning.
This is how they roll in Rome, no judgement!
Hope I have been helpful and I leave you with Carrie farting in front of Mr.Big, if she can do it, so can you: