First, it was March Madness. Then, it was the NBA Finals. And just before we single girls thought boys could stop focusing on basketball and start thinking about their own balls again, Americans got swept up with the World Cup. Bars are opening at 6am so "fans" can watch the games live from South Africa before they head into the office. Now it seems like the only way a girl can score a date in this town is by throwing herself at a guy in a sports bar between a commercial break and his 8am conference call.
Soccer not being much of an American sport (in fact, they don't even call it "soccer" anywhere else), this single girl actually could care less about a 90-minute ticking, yellow-card wielding, vuvuzuela blowing, penalty kicking game. But then I started paying attention to what all the vuvu-hoopla was about.
Soccer, futbol, whatever you call it, suddenly I understood this phenomenon of "World Cup fever." And who wouldn't? Especially when it looks something like this:
Or this:
Holy chiseled, manscaped bodies, Batman!
Now really, WTF IS GOING ON??? What are they doing?! Are they just taking their clothes off??? On the FIELD? Is this LEGAL?? (It better be.)
Most importantly, how is soccer not a bigger deal in America?
Obviously swimmers, water polo players and beach volleyball players are already partially naked as "skin" is their uniform. But why are athletes who play baseball, basketball and American football not getting naked on the court or on the field? In fact, basketball shorts have actually LENGTHENED over the years. Have Americans made no progress since our Puritanical ancestors dropped anchor?
Sure, I could spout statistics of various players, their positions and the number of goals they have scored. But all this talk of scoring and positions only allows me to focus on just one hard member - I mean - number. No really, I meant NUMBER!
The number SIX! For six-pack, that is:
The awesome thing is, it doesn't matter whether they just scored the winning goal or lost a big match - these guys LOVE getting naked.
Yoann Gourcuff, Cristiano Ronaldo, Fabio Cannavaro, Marco Borriello, Diego Lugano? See also: dios mio, mon dieu, meu deus, mio dio.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
#55 MacGyverisms
Singles girls had different motivating factors for watching "MacGyver" as we were growing up. Perhaps we enjoyed seeing a young Teri Hatcher star as the plucky Penny Parker. Perhaps (and most likely) we had a crush on Richard Dean Anderson, mullet and all, as the title role. (He's the only mullet exception we'll allow just as Tom Selleck is our only mustache exception.)
Whatever it was, one thing is for certain: single girls like MacGyver's ingenuity and resourcefulness at using everyday items to get himself out of perilous and, oftentimes, life-threatening situations.
Examples: Oh no! MacGyver is stuck in a mine and needs to create an explosion with just bubble gum and a paper clip? No problem! Yikes! MacGyver is trapped in a cage over a fiery pit and needs to unlatch the door using a tube sock and dental floss? Consider it done!
These MacGyverisms left such an impression on us, most single girls don't even realize we have been MacGyver-ing ourselves out of dangerous scenarios for most of our lives.
Dangerous scenario: Ack! Out and about when the strap to our camisole breaks!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! A safety pin! (No safety pin? A-ha, an earring!)
Dangerous scenario: Horrors! A giant pimple has erupted on our face and we are out of Clearasil!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! Toothpaste!
Dangerous scenario: NO! We wake up and that giant, RED pimple is still on our face! (And yes, we are STILL out of Clearasil.)
MacGyver solution: A-ha! Visine drops!
Dangerous scenario: Ugh! Got into a brawl with our guy's bitchy ex-girlfriend, cut our knuckles open punching her ugly face and we're completely out of rubbing alcohol!
MacGyver solution: Alcohol? Did someone say alcohol? A-ha! Popov vodka (where did THAT come from?) in the freezer! (Some for me, some for the wounds...)
Dangerous scenario: Zoiks! We have a giant piece of chicken/spinach stuck in our teeth!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! That boring dude's business card!
Dangerous scenario: Eeks! That bra we can only wear with THIS dress is missing!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! Band-aids! (Note: only to be applied with the smaller-chested.)
Thanks to MacGyver, us single girls have learned how to make do with the contents of our pockets and our handbags.
Trying to escape from a bad date? What would MacGyver do with duct tape, tweezers and a bobby pin?
Whatever it was, one thing is for certain: single girls like MacGyver's ingenuity and resourcefulness at using everyday items to get himself out of perilous and, oftentimes, life-threatening situations.
Examples: Oh no! MacGyver is stuck in a mine and needs to create an explosion with just bubble gum and a paper clip? No problem! Yikes! MacGyver is trapped in a cage over a fiery pit and needs to unlatch the door using a tube sock and dental floss? Consider it done!
These MacGyverisms left such an impression on us, most single girls don't even realize we have been MacGyver-ing ourselves out of dangerous scenarios for most of our lives.
Dangerous scenario: Ack! Out and about when the strap to our camisole breaks!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! A safety pin! (No safety pin? A-ha, an earring!)
Dangerous scenario: Horrors! A giant pimple has erupted on our face and we are out of Clearasil!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! Toothpaste!
Dangerous scenario: NO! We wake up and that giant, RED pimple is still on our face! (And yes, we are STILL out of Clearasil.)
MacGyver solution: A-ha! Visine drops!
Dangerous scenario: Ugh! Got into a brawl with our guy's bitchy ex-girlfriend, cut our knuckles open punching her ugly face and we're completely out of rubbing alcohol!
MacGyver solution: Alcohol? Did someone say alcohol? A-ha! Popov vodka (where did THAT come from?) in the freezer! (Some for me, some for the wounds...)
Dangerous scenario: Zoiks! We have a giant piece of chicken/spinach stuck in our teeth!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! That boring dude's business card!
Dangerous scenario: Eeks! That bra we can only wear with THIS dress is missing!
MacGyver solution: A-ha! Band-aids! (Note: only to be applied with the smaller-chested.)
Thanks to MacGyver, us single girls have learned how to make do with the contents of our pockets and our handbags.
Trying to escape from a bad date? What would MacGyver do with duct tape, tweezers and a bobby pin?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
#54 The Comeback Body
In those rare cases where a single girl does find herself in something that resembles a "relationship," there are times when we let ourselves slip with the calorie counting. We may forget that sex isn't an adequate workout and that lingerie shopping does not really count as a cardio session.
Especially during the early stages of a "relationship" (aka the "honeymoon phase"), we are almost convinced that maybe our serial monogamist friends are indeed on to something. Lazy Sunday mornings are best spent with sex marathons in bed, where we only bother to come up for air to answer the door for Chinese take-out or make, of all things calorically terrible, grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Of course, these are consumed IN bed before continuing to tackle another sex position recommended by Cosmo.
When we're not rolling like thunder under the covers (as Elton John would say), we suddenly understand why our non-single friends are a bit lackadaisical about scheduling sessions at the gym. This time has been relegated to removing unwanted body hair and soaking ourselves in moisturizing bath salts.
Of course, as common with single girls, something happens to the "relationship." Maybe we reached an expiration date, maybe he cheated on us, maybe we cheated on him, maybe he cheated on us while we were cheating on him - whatever it is, one thing we take away from this experience is a few extra pounds of relationship weight. Egads.
After a bad break-up, some girls are so upset, they can't eat. (Bitches.) Then there are the girls, such as myself, who are "emotional eaters" and drown our sorrow/anger/resentment in cupcakes. And donuts. And chocolate chip cookies. But there comes a day when we reach the bottom of that Ben and Jerry's container and realize, "Holy sh*t, did I really just consume a whole day's worth of calories within 20 minutes?"
We eventually return to our normal single girl routines - finding our center during yoga classes and punching out some of that aggression at our kickboxing studio (maybe he cheated on us with multiple skanks), then returning home with a smoothie or eating a bowl of cereal for dinner over the sink. Before we know it, and much to our relief, those offensive pounds have given way to the comeback body.
The comeback body is absolutely crucial for a single girl after a break-up, traumatic or not. Looking absolutely svelte and amazing makes it easier to attract new (and better) suitors. In addition, the comeback body may also include the comeback hair, comeback wardrobe and/or comeback boobs. Whatever it is, our comeback look can be the ultimate "f*ck you" and/or our inner 12-year old's way of saying "nyah nyah" to our former beau.
It is statistically impossible for us NOT to run into ex-boyfriends - especially if we were introduced through mutual friends, if he was a geographical desirable or if we stupidly added each other as friends on Facebook. Ergo, flaunting our comeback body in his face(book) is like having the last word.
And you know how much single girls like having the last word.
Especially during the early stages of a "relationship" (aka the "honeymoon phase"), we are almost convinced that maybe our serial monogamist friends are indeed on to something. Lazy Sunday mornings are best spent with sex marathons in bed, where we only bother to come up for air to answer the door for Chinese take-out or make, of all things calorically terrible, grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Of course, these are consumed IN bed before continuing to tackle another sex position recommended by Cosmo.
When we're not rolling like thunder under the covers (as Elton John would say), we suddenly understand why our non-single friends are a bit lackadaisical about scheduling sessions at the gym. This time has been relegated to removing unwanted body hair and soaking ourselves in moisturizing bath salts.
Of course, as common with single girls, something happens to the "relationship." Maybe we reached an expiration date, maybe he cheated on us, maybe we cheated on him, maybe he cheated on us while we were cheating on him - whatever it is, one thing we take away from this experience is a few extra pounds of relationship weight. Egads.
After a bad break-up, some girls are so upset, they can't eat. (Bitches.) Then there are the girls, such as myself, who are "emotional eaters" and drown our sorrow/anger/resentment in cupcakes. And donuts. And chocolate chip cookies. But there comes a day when we reach the bottom of that Ben and Jerry's container and realize, "Holy sh*t, did I really just consume a whole day's worth of calories within 20 minutes?"
We eventually return to our normal single girl routines - finding our center during yoga classes and punching out some of that aggression at our kickboxing studio (maybe he cheated on us with multiple skanks), then returning home with a smoothie or eating a bowl of cereal for dinner over the sink. Before we know it, and much to our relief, those offensive pounds have given way to the comeback body.
The comeback body is absolutely crucial for a single girl after a break-up, traumatic or not. Looking absolutely svelte and amazing makes it easier to attract new (and better) suitors. In addition, the comeback body may also include the comeback hair, comeback wardrobe and/or comeback boobs. Whatever it is, our comeback look can be the ultimate "f*ck you" and/or our inner 12-year old's way of saying "nyah nyah" to our former beau.
It is statistically impossible for us NOT to run into ex-boyfriends - especially if we were introduced through mutual friends, if he was a geographical desirable or if we stupidly added each other as friends on Facebook. Ergo, flaunting our comeback body in his face(book) is like having the last word.
And you know how much single girls like having the last word.
Friday, June 4, 2010
#53 John Krasinski
Most of you recognize John Krasinski as "Jim Halpert" from that Emmy award-winning television series, "The Office." Some of you may recall seeing him as Mandy Moore's fiance in that silly romantic comedy License to Wed with Robin Williams. Then there are those of us who remember him as the guy who fills the "cute quota" in Jimmy Kimmel's Handsome Men's Club. (He can be our big handsome.)
Whichever way we prefer to know him, single girls like John Krasinski because he is unarguably affable and charmingly adorable. He is the kind of boy we bring home to introduce to our mother. We want him to be the Jim to our Pam.
Despite his exaggerated features, his nose is a bit grandiose and his ears tend to stick out a little too far, his strong features make him handsome enough to be swoon-worthy, but not so attractive that sluts are throwing themselves at him. Plus, he seems to be the kind of guy who would be too shy or goofy to do anything about it anyway.
In essence, John Krasinski is the anti-douchebag. And isn't it about high time us single girls avoid the douchebags and pursue the sweethearts?
Ultimately, John Krasinski could do no wrong. His perpetual "aw shucks" look prevents anyone from ever blaming him for committing a mortal sin - he could probably get away with murder and mayhem merely by shrugging his grand shoulders and flashing his trademark apologetic grin.
We don't fantasize about John Krasinski. Nay, fantasizing is reserved for dirty, raunchy thoughts and John Krasinski is better than that. While we save naughty thoughts for guys like David Beckham and Bradley Cooper (because they are the type who would cheat on us anyway, fantasy or no fantasy), we daydream about John Krasinski.
In our daydreams, John Krasinski is the guy who holds our hand and takes us on picnics in the park where we could lie on our backs and make shapes out of clouds. He is the guy who tells us the best part of his day is waking up next to us in the morning. He even sincerely insists it is our most attractive moment. (And because John Krasinski does not lie, we know this is the truth.) He is the guy who brings us breakfast in bed where we can do the New York Times crossword puzzle together. (He graduated from Brown with honors so we know he's a smart dude.)
Whichever way we prefer to know him, single girls like John Krasinski because he is unarguably affable and charmingly adorable. He is the kind of boy we bring home to introduce to our mother. We want him to be the Jim to our Pam.
Despite his exaggerated features, his nose is a bit grandiose and his ears tend to stick out a little too far, his strong features make him handsome enough to be swoon-worthy, but not so attractive that sluts are throwing themselves at him. Plus, he seems to be the kind of guy who would be too shy or goofy to do anything about it anyway.
In essence, John Krasinski is the anti-douchebag. And isn't it about high time us single girls avoid the douchebags and pursue the sweethearts?
Ultimately, John Krasinski could do no wrong. His perpetual "aw shucks" look prevents anyone from ever blaming him for committing a mortal sin - he could probably get away with murder and mayhem merely by shrugging his grand shoulders and flashing his trademark apologetic grin.
We don't fantasize about John Krasinski. Nay, fantasizing is reserved for dirty, raunchy thoughts and John Krasinski is better than that. While we save naughty thoughts for guys like David Beckham and Bradley Cooper (because they are the type who would cheat on us anyway, fantasy or no fantasy), we daydream about John Krasinski.
In our daydreams, John Krasinski is the guy who holds our hand and takes us on picnics in the park where we could lie on our backs and make shapes out of clouds. He is the guy who tells us the best part of his day is waking up next to us in the morning. He even sincerely insists it is our most attractive moment. (And because John Krasinski does not lie, we know this is the truth.) He is the guy who brings us breakfast in bed where we can do the New York Times crossword puzzle together. (He graduated from Brown with honors so we know he's a smart dude.)
If we were with a guy like John Krasinski, he would never give us a reason to write him a "Dear John" letter. Aside from being engaged to Emily Blunt, John Krasinski is perfect.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)