« September 2006 | Main | November 2006 »

October 30, 2006

Slut-O-Ween Part 3: Saturday Night

More updates later, but below, enjoy my sex-columnist themed Trojan Magnum XL costume, CONDOM FAIRY.

**PS - It's occurred to me that these photos might be a bit ... much.  Just remember, it's Halloween.  I'm only doing my job, advocating safe sex.  ;)


Julia, sober, 9 pm.


Julia and her girls, still sober, 9 pm.

Julia, Scott, and Emily, two shots, 11:30 pm.


Julia, three shots, one glass of champers, two beers and one flasher, 4 am.

Happy Halloween.

Slut Mutt-o-Ween Part 1: Dogs Gone Wild

Julia's Mutt-o-Ween 2006   

There's only one thing better than dressing like a slut, and that's ... dressing up your mutt!  Okay, someone please kill me for rhyming that.  Seriously, no, kill me.








Of course, I'm partial to this pup, probably because she's mine.

Mutt-o-Ween: Part 2 - Still Wild.

Julia's Mutt-o-Ween 2006   






October 24, 2006

UPDATE!! Reader to Julia Part II: New York Women Have Character Flaws, Jealousy Issues, Sarcasm-Overuse



**UPDATE!  [Name Redacted] has way too much time on his hands, so he actually replied so my request for a spreadsheet detailing his model conquests.  How did he know that I use ridicule and sarcasm to make my jealous, non-cosmetically enhanced self feel better when twats like him date models???  No WONDER he went to an Ivy League school!  He's so smart!!!

My favorite line involves the analogy between beautiful women and Microsoft Excel.  Awesome.

------
From: [Name Redacted]
Date: Tue, 24 Oct 2006
To: Julia Allison
Subject: Re: men have brains on their mind

Oh, I forgot, not only are New York women way behind on the big 4, for example, Brazilian waxes and cosmetic enhancement which have been standard in Southern Florida and California for 10-20 years, but they have an almost equal deficit from bad character flaws like their level of condescension towards women from anywhere else.  It doesn't have to be their natural jealousy of Southern women or West Coast beauties, it could be the girl across the street or someone in a different industry.  And of course the sarcasm and ridicule they use to make them feel better. 

No need to send a spreadsheet with photos.  If you open a magazine, someone I've dated is there.  No hand models or plus-sized models.  By definition, a Ford model and miss USA are 9-10s.  But let's try to keep this from being personal.  Interestingly, with respect to your rating system, there are women who are too beautiful.  They're like microsoft excel, itself, you could only use 5% of their beauty like you can only use 5% of excel's functionality. 

Why would any woman get extra points for being well-educated?  If a woman gets through with her PHD by the time she's 35-38 that means a guy who would marry her and want to have kids would be into the relationship for an additional "fix my jalopy" fees of $100K per pregnancy in fertility treatments, plus the bad side effects of hormonal treatments can wreck a relationship.  Back again to relationship intelligence.   

Reader to Julia: I Only Date Models with PhDs and I Once Emailed MoDo. Did I Mention the I Only Dated Models?

I always promise myself I won't respond to stupidity, but ... I just couldn't help myself with this one.  I swear, you can't make this shit up.

------
From: [Name redacted]
Date:  Mon, 23 Oct 2006
To: Julia Allison
Subject: Re: men have brains on their mind

Julia,

Big fan!  You are a great writer though without much perspective on what older people think.

With respect to your article, I'm a single guy in his early 40's. Erudite, good-looking, athletic, multiple ivy degrees, lived in Europe, don't watch sports on tv.  I'm never at a loss for dates and have actually had multiple email communications with Maureen Dowd. The last 5 women I've dated have been a former miss USA, 2 Ford models (the model you see in all the ski catalogues) a former model now gemologist and a former Ford model with a PHD.  And that's just last month.  I've dated the spectrum.

I don't know any men in their late 30's or older who look at female intelligence as a big seller in a relationship, though I know many guys who are the equivalent of gold diggers who look for women with money to have relationships.  I have two cautionary stories about emancipated women who dated guys much younger who turned out to be con artists.  Guys who are young might like women with brains and ignore all else but once those guys get experience they'll have none of it.  And the married friends who fell for that are mostly miserable now.

Ultimately it comes down to the big 4, physical appeal, spiritual compatability, relationship intelligence, and commitment to the relationship (and for those looking to have kids, NATURAL FERTILITY MATTERS).  Surprisingly, most women in NYC are behind on all of the big 4.  NYC is not a place like Miami or LA with a preponderance of cosmetic surgery or not like Colorado or Northern California with people concerned about fitness.  Most women are more committed to their job than their boyfriends and none have a commitment to the time it takes to develop a real structured binding relationship.  And with the internet and instant messaging, ADHD is a big problem when there is ephemeral greener grass a minute away. 

Do you ever hear guys talk about their latest conquest vs. the woman who is their best friend.  It's night and day.  Maureen Dowd was seduced by show business.   Anyone who has seen her on t.v. sees she's all dried up. 

You don't have to be a maid, you just have to be someone's best friend and have the big 4 (and natural fertility for the guy who wants to have kids). 

From: Julia Allison
Date: Tue, 24 Oct 2006
To: [Name Redacted]
Subject: Re: men have brains on their mind

Thank you for your lovely email.  In the future, however, I’d appreciate if you attached a spreadsheet with indexed jpgs so I can properly judge all of the models you’ve dated, classified into the following:  Commercial model, runway model, plus-sized model, hand model ... all crucial distinctions which you neglected to make.  In addition, please grade the models’ features on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being ridiculously, ridiculously good looking.  No curve.  Extra points for PhDs.  And NATURAL FERTILITY, of course.

***UPDATE!!  Douchebag Replies!!!

October 23, 2006

Gentlemen Prefer Maids Brains: Maureen-Dowd-Go-Call-John-Tierney Edition



This week's AM New York column: Gentlemen Prefer Brains, focuses on studies conducted for a new book called, "Why Smart Men Marry Smart Women."

The gist of the book, and my article, comes down to this:  Shut UP with the "It'd be so much easier to get married if I were stupid and unsuccessful."  No, not really.  Then you'd just be single, stupid and unsuccessful.  As long as we're dumping adjectives on there, probably fat, too.

Column continues after the jump.

GENTLEMAN PREFER BRAINS
AM NEW YORK – “THE DATING LIFE”
OCTOBER 23, 2006
BY JULIA ALLISON

“Being a maid would have enhanced my chances with men … Guys want to be in relationships with women they don’t have to talk to.”
– Maureen Dowd, Are Men Necessary? (2005)

“The rule of thumb seems to be that the more successful the woman, the less likely it is she will find a husband or bear a child.”
– Sylvia Ann Hewlett, Creating a Life (2002)

“Whatever you do, don’t marry a woman with a career.”
– Michael Noer, Forbes magazine (2006)

Maureen?  Sylvia?  You’re wrong.  Michael?  You’re an idiot.

So says Christine Whelan, PhD, author of the new book “Why Smart Men Marry Smart Women,” which takes to task the myth surrounding high-achieving women and marriage: namely, that being personally and professionally satisfied is – statistically speaking – mutually exclusive.

It’s not, claims Whelan.  She wants all of the career-oriented women out there, whom she’s dubbed “SWANS” (Strong Women Achievers – No Spouse), to know two things:

1)    You WILL get married.  Just later.
2)    Men do NOT want to marry the maid.

With degrees from Princeton and Oxford and a wedding in the works, Whelan knows whereof she speaks.  And with U.S. census data and a nationally representative Harris study specially commissioned for the book, she has the data to back it up.

Forget Newsweek’s infamous claim that single women over forty are “more likely to get killed by a terrorist” than hitched.  Printed in 1986 and repeated ad nausea for the last twenty years, the magazine retracted it in June of this year.

Like Whelan, they found that the statistics were flawed.  The study had incorrectly predicted the matrimonial patterns of future generations based upon the past behaviors of previous generations.  In other words, what was true for our mothers is no longer true for us.

“In 1970, only 6 percent of American women between the ages of 30 and 34 had never married,” writes Whelan, citing U.S. Census data.  “Now it’s 24 percent.”

Why?  Two influences dramatically shifted the culture and timing of modern marriage: the exponential rise in women’s educational achievement, and the proliferation of working mothers.

Thirty-five years ago, only 68 women had a college degree for every 100 men.  In 2005, that number had skyrocketed, to 133 women for every 100 men.  The number of females obtaining graduate degrees had risen dramatically, as well.  The result?

While women focus on their schooling, they tend to put off finding a husband.  Thus, the average age of first marriage for women with a graduate degree is almost 5 years later than the national norm (25 years).

The second influence on today’s marriages is the proliferation of working mothers in the last three decades.  According to Whelan’s study, 72% of high-achieving men grew up with a mom who worked outside of the house.  Because of this, guys who were raised in the 70s and 80s “have no idea of femininity that excludes a high-achieving woman.”

So stop worrying that you won’t get married just because you haven’t tied the knot by 27. “High achieving women marry at the same rates as all other women,” explains Whelan. They’re just a bit older.

And DEFINITELY stop insisting that men are “intimidated” by your brains and earning power.  They aren’t.

According to Whelan’s study, 92% of high-achieving men say they are more attracted to women who are successful in their careers, while almost 90% reported that they wanted to marry a woman who was “as intelligent as they are, or more.”  Take that, Michael Noer!

“Men who perceive themselves as smart and successful are attracted to women they perceive to be smart and successful,” writes Whelan.  And yet, more than half the women surveyed still insidiously – and falsely – believed that men wanted to marry down.

Like the Sex & the City episode where Miranda pretends to be a flight attendant to disguise her true, ostensibly more emasculating profession (an attorney, of course!) – women think they must lie or understate their achievements to ensure a happy relationship.

Completely untrue, insists Whelan. “When these able women buy into gender-based stereotypes of what a man is looking for in a woman, they not only insult the men they are trying to attract, but also give off negative vibes about their own self-confidence.”

Those vibes – stemming from needless panic and a false sense of I’ll-Never-Get-Married-Doom – may translate as desperation, anger, cynicism and bitterness, which we all know men just love.

Of course, “he can’t handle my smarts” is a hell of a lot nicer than “he thinks I’m an ugly, demanding bore.”

Men actually do want intelligence, self-confidence, and ambition.  “Success is sexy,” says Whelan. In fact, “more income and education may increase a woman’s chances of marriage.”

So whip out your black Amex, drop the H-Bomb with aplomb (uh, that would be Hahvard, dahling), and casually mention your enormous graduate student loans.  You’ll be married by next June.

And Ms. Dowd?  Quit complaining.  Being a maid wouldn't have helped anything except your kitchen floors.

Reader Dad to Julia: What's a Black AmEx?

The following email is from my dad, after reading the draft of this week's column (above).
------
From: Julia's Dad
Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006
To: Julia
Subject: Your Column This Week

Good article.  Why would a high-achieving male be interested in someone less capable or ambitious than he?  Lack of self-confidence?  Desire for role differentiation (someone to nuture children and manage the home front)?  Comparative advantage (economic division of labor theory that underlies trade; each person/economic actor should concentrate on producing those goods and services in which he/she is most efficient)?

And what is a black Amex?  American Express cards are green, aren't they?

Love,
Dad
Awww, the innocence of non-New-Yorkers.

October 19, 2006

Definitively Answering the Question:
Should Rich People Be Allowed to Breed?


Charlotte Bocly, Debutard of the Year

Very few things render me speechless.  This article was one of them.

"I Am Charlotte Bocly," indeed ...  she's straight out of a Gossip Girls novel, at least one of which I am not proud to say that I have skimmed.  Okay, fine.  Read.

Although Gawker didn't name her to the Douchebag Hall of Fame, I think she has a pretty good shot at it.

In case you're too lazy to read the whole train-wreck, here are some choice quotes:

"I Am Charlotte Bocly," by George Gurley, published in the NY Observer 10/26/06
"Besides apartments in New York and Paris, and the house in Bridgehampton, her parents have a chalet in Gstaad, Switzerland, where Charlotte says she’s a “member for life” at the super-exclusive Eagle Club (three-year waiting list to rub parkas with the likes of Roger Moore.)"

Charlotte on Her "Crazy" Summer in the Hamptons: “It was just a crazy, crazy time,” she said. “Somehow, everyone ended up at my house, and everyone’s in my pool, everyone’s naked, Paul is naked—this is at 5 in the morning, by the way—then Alexandra drove up. Out of nowhere, there are like 20 cars. Alexandra disappeared with a house guest, and I disappeared with this boy I thought was cute—it’s been a year, it’s not my style—a good-looking boy who I found out was in high school the next morning, but looked much older. And then Emily goes off with Paul—Paul!—and I’m in my underwear and a bra and I’m chasing after this guy, and I’m on the lawn—this is a little scandalous. My father comes out in his underwear—you don’t wake up my dad—and he was yelling in French and everyone was out of there. The world was shaking. Then I passed out in bed. That was a great night, for the Hamptons.”

Charlotte on Being SO Over Partying: “I was like, ‘I’m done with it,’” Charlotte said. “You know, like drama, drama, drama, drama, drama, drama, drama. I needed time away.”

Charlotte on Rehab: “I think I had Billy Joel’s room,” she said. “I had a great time. I met great people. I went there to have the experience. I needed to change, and that just seemed like the biggest extreme way to do it, regardless of whether I needed to do it or not. I was actually just supposed to go for one week, and I loved it. I was like, ‘Mom I want to stay longer.’ Oh, I loved it! It was like a spa, there was a pool."

Charlotte on Money: “I’m definitely aware of it,” she said. “I am, you know, spoiled. I am. Most of us are. The thing is, I’m not like a brat. You know, my two maids, Rubé and Maria, are like my best friends. I love Rubé and Maria; they will come in my room and go, ‘Charlotta, get up! Get out of bed, put on your shoes!’ I’m like, ‘Rubé, noooo.’ Then I’ll go and get her coffee, you know, they’re like family.” She said she adores her doormen and that, if she returns home with no money after a night of clubbing, the doormen pay the cab driver.

Charlotte on Gstaad: “Gstaad is New York City without, like—I’m not going to say like the commoners, but you take a certain group of people and you just put them together in a little world, in a bubble, and that’s what it is,” she said. “I have come to love it. I had a phase where I was like, ‘Fuck all these people; it’s not real life.’ I’ve come to love it because I can go there, have fun with people I think are ridiculous, just enjoy their company.”

Charlotte on Her Dad:  “I love my dad. My dad gave me money like it was Kleenex.”

Honestly, it gets worse from there.  Trust me.

Look, I've done some douchebaggy things in my life.  Lots of them, in fact.  Most of us, especially at 19 years old, have a little douchebag in us.

That having been said, Charlotte Bocly takes it to a new level.  Didn't her mother (who was quoted in the article) realize how ATROCIOUSLY HORRIBLE Charlotte's spoiled teenage musings would sound if, you know, they were, like, totally recorded verbatim?

Honestly, I didn't know whether to indulge in copious amounts of schadenfreude (not that it will matter - she'll just fly off to Gstaad, where no one reads the Observer), or feel really sorry for her (she actually doesn't realize she's a brat. WTF??), or cry because I can barely make my rent and she ... well ... exists.

I think I'm going for the last.  Sniff.  Maybe her dad can give me some of that Kleenex.

October 18, 2006

Cosmopolitan's 50 Hottest Bachelors Party:
Words are Really Superfluous.


Me, Mr. Illinois (rrrrrr), and the gorgeous Miss Brooke Parkhurst

Best. Tuesday. Night. Ever.

There is nothing, NOTHING, better than screaming "TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!!!!!!" to hotties being paraded out like a herd of six-pack-possessing cattle.  De-licious.  (Man-licious?)

Okay, Okay, I take that back.  It could have been better if they actually DID take off their shirts.  And their pants.  And started singing, Pussycat Dolls style: "Doncha wish your boyfriend was. Hot. Like. Meeee.  Doncha?  Doncha?" and wiggling their little boxer-brief clad butts.

MMMM.  It's enough to make a girl want to incorporate man-candy into every party.  Or put a "man" prefix before every salacious adjective/noun.  Man-sational!! Man-Pleasant!  ... er ... right.  This is why Cosmo would never hire me as an editor.  But that's okay - as long as they keep inviting me to their Man-tastic parties!!!



Thanks to Brooke for being my obliging wingwoman throughout the evening, and not once laughing at me when I asked the boys in faux-reporter style, "But how does it FEEL to be a piece of meat?" and nodding seriously when they explained (usually with a thick accent) that aw, shucks, it feels real nice, and they sure are glad to be here!  Right, right, whatever.  Let's see that stomach again!

Kate White
, you are my hero.

October 17, 2006

I'm One! Or, Rather, My Dating Column Is ...
I'm 17 and a half.


If you look carefully, my hat says "One!"  Yeah, hilarious, I know.

Sooo ... unless you religiously read AM New York, you might not have noticed that my column didn't appear this Monday due to something I call "My-Editor-Thought- It-Was-A-Big-Pile-of-Crap."

Since there's nothing that journalists love more than posting Big Piles of (Editor-Rejected) Crap on their blogs, I'm pleased to be able to present it to you in its Crappy, Rejected Entirety.

Especially since it just so happens to mark my one year anniversary as their dating columnist.  Nothing says "Celebration" like "We're Never Going to Run This Piece-o-Shit Column!" *  :)

*Uh, AM editors?  I'm just joking.  I promise never to write crappy columns again.  Please don't fire me!

ANNIVERSARY COLUMN: FAQS
AM NEW YORK – “THE DATING LIFE”
OCTOBER 16, 2006  NEVER
BY JULIA ALLISON

Since this week marks my one-year anniversary as AM’s dating columnist, I thought I’d answer a few of my favorite frequently asked questions (besides "Did you get a boob job?"):

#1: What do you do?

Nothing better than the requisite Manhattan game of Let’s See How Much Money The Person I’m Talking To Makes!  In my case this goes something like:  “What do you do?” “I’m a banker,” "What do you do?" "I'm in finance,"  “And you?”  “Uh … I’m a sex columnist?”

The response is almost always disbelief and sometimes, in especially staid groups, sudden nervousness – as if I might whip out a vibrator and some edible underwear AT ANY MOMENT.

Sometimes a brilliant one will exclaim, “Oh, you’re just like Carrie Bradshaw!” and I’ll nod sagely and say, “Yes, I’m meeting Mr. Big in an hour.”  At which point they’ll laugh even though it wasn't that funny and I’ll laugh even though I've made that un-funny joke about 137 times and then they’ll pause for a minute and say, “Wait … really?”  And if I’m feeling bored, I’ll reply, “Yeah.  You know, he has a HUGE dick.”

It definitely wakes up mind-numbing cocktail party conversation.

#2: Do you want to hear my crazy dating stories?

At least once a day, I get this: “Seriously, I have so many CRAZY DATING STORIES, you could totally do like, ten columns on me.  Want to hear them?  THEY’RE CRAZY, I SWEAR.  Seriously, want to?”

Seriously, no.  (How crazy are they again?)

#3: How’d you get to be a dating columnist, anyway?

Have few inhibitions, little or no tact, and a willingness to forgo the possibility of ever getting respect from New York Times reporters.  Also, accept that people will invariably send your conservative Republican father emails asking, “Is that sex columnist Julia your daughter?”  What they’ll mean is: “How’d you raise such a huge slut?!?  Can I get her number??”

#4: Do you get asked out because of the column?

Um … yes.  Having a dating column is like running an enormous personal ad every single week with a headline that screams: “I WILL PROBABLY HAVE SEX WITH YOU IF YOU EMAIL ME YOUR PHOTO.”

How many times have I said “yes” over the last year?  Maybe ten.  How many good dates have I had with those ten?  One.  And that’s about the average New York ratio of bad to good dates, anyway.

In other words, there’s really no net benefit to having a column after all.  Sigh.

#5: Sex & the City was 10 years ago – isn’t the popularity of these columns so over?

Nope.  People like to read about things they think about.  People think about sex.  Therefore, by the transitive property, people like to read about sex. If anything, it’s a shock that newspapers aren’t entirely comprised of sex columns.

Hmm … Wall Street Journal, you listening?

October 16, 2006

Every Jewish Mother's Wet Dream



No, not Dr. Ruth with a big She-Man in purple spangles.  Although one never knows with Jewish mothers.  Think Match.com - except your MOTHER fills out the profile and finds you a date by talking with other mothers who have ALSO filled out profiles for their wayward unmarried progeny.  Hot, right?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Here's my AM New York column on the subject, which is actually from LAST Monday, but I never got around to posting it ...

MATCHMAKING MOMS
AM NEW YORK – “THE DATING LIFE”
OCTOBER 9, 2006
BY JULIA ALLISON

My mom is not the “matchmaker type.”

The first – and last – time I asked her to set me up, she looked at me like I had just suggested she foot the bill for a Trump Tower apartment.  Preferably a penthouse.

Snapping out of her shock, she swiftly concluded that I should date the only man she could think of other than my dad – the general contractor working on my parents’ house in Chicago, who she happened to be on the phone with at that very moment.

“Want to go out with my daughter?” she yelled enthusiastically into the cordless.  “She’s a sexy sex columnist!!”

It was readily apparent that this was a horrible idea.

Luckily for Dawn Miller, not all mothers are as sweetly inept at finding their children mates.

Miller, 32, is founder of MatchmakingMoms.com – a new online dating site in which moms create the profiles and search for matches on their sons’ or daughters’ behalves.

“I’m very close to my mom and we often talked about how difficult it was to meet somebody,” says Miller.  When she initially felt awkward about online dating, her mother sat down with her and together, they went through the men’s profiles until they found the man who would later become Miller’s boyfriend.

“I felt more comfortable with my mom validating who I was looking at and whether they were compatible,” she explains.  “Nobody knows you better than your mom.”

My first thought was “aww, that’s so adorable,” but others had a different view.  Was it cute or creepy?

“Creepy,” says Lizzie B, 25, an editor.  “I do not want my mom involved.  I barely even tell her who I'm dating, let alone let her pick them.”

But wouldn't dating online be better if moms filled out the profiles?  They might think he’s smarter or better looking than he really is, but not many mothers would lie about their sons being married, for example.  It's not like they're on a quest to get him ass for Friday night.

“Maybe,” admitted Lizzie, “but doesn't it make them sort of pathetic that Mom's doing all the work?”

Well, maybe it makes them LESS pathetic because they’re not sitting in front of their computer uploading glamour shots and laundry-listing their accomplishments.  Mom is!  And moms are allowed to do stuff like that.

“It saves face,” says Miller, “if somebody sees your picture, you can just say ‘yeah, my mom put me up there.’”

Lizzie wasn’t having it.  “God forbid you meet a 35-year-old guy who actually needed his mom to fill out his dating profile,” she says.

“It’s like ‘Oh. So THAT'S why you're not married.  Now I see.'”

October 14, 2006

Fake Dictionary Time: More New Super Creative Terms of the Day!! Rahoo!!



The ideas for these are thanks to the same girl who thinks I could have fucked JFK.  For the record, she requested credit as my "extremely glamorous blonde transatlantic friend who attracts degrees like she attracts boys."

I would have gone with: "Ivy League Hizo."  ;)  Kidding, [name of girl], Kidding!!!

Anyway, the new terms for today are as follows (and yeah, they're brilliant):
Backlist, n.

1. Traditional Definition: Earlier books still in print.
2. New Definition: Stable of boys and/or exes who can be trotted out for sex/emotional comfort when no new men are available.

eg: I haven't met a new guy for like four months - good thing I have a solid backlist.  No classics, but sometimes it's nice to reissue titles rather than speeding through new acquisitions.

(Read this, using the second definition, obvi.)

Jumpers, n.


1. Guys who always have long-standing crushes on you, the kind where if you said 'jump' tomorrow they'd always say 'how high'
2. Also meaning 'old comfortable sweater' in the 'I am settling for mediocre sex and relationship kind of way and also tend to leave you in the closet and forget about you.'

eg: I'm way bummed no further correspondence from hot, smart boy, I am tot giving up and must resort to being pursued by jumpers - godawfully boring british guy named Frank who's also a phd and is like 31 and oh my god I will shoot myself if I have to go to drinks with him, and this horribly overzealous Italian manufacturing heir named Herbie who is awful and not cute and sent the most cringeworthy email about liking me.  Yuck.

And yes, the above was an actual quote from the overeducated blonde's email.  I swear to god.  Okay, except for the "yuck" part.  I added that (creative license).

October 13, 2006

WWJF?

    OR  

I recently received an email from a completely overeducated blonde girl friend of mine, who boldly declared the following:
"Were this the sixties, I like to imagine you'd be fucking JFK.  And I, hopefully, would be banging Arthur Schlesinger."
Of course I love the sentiment, but I would totally not be fucking JFK, probably because Jessica Cutler would get to him first.

Also, I never date the hot guy that everyone else wants, mainly because I'm highly contrarian and the whole idea of everyone else wanting someone (or something) turns me off.   And, although I love gorgeous, smart men, I do not like to compete for them, because I am lazy and not particularly a fan of "rejection."  Thus, it's much more likely I would be fucking JFK's head speech writer, because that is how I roll.

Or, to use a modern day example:  Aaron Sorkin.

Although, actually, the man has lots of ladies now, so probably more like Aaron Sorkin in high school.  Mmmm ... yum.

October 12, 2006

Julia's New Made-Up Super Clever Word of the Day: Procrastalking

As you've probably noticed from my UBER-FANTASTIC and CRAZY-EXTENSIVE vocabulary, I get Dictionary.com's Word of the Day and have for the past four years.  (What?  Like you don't??)

Actually, my whole family does.  Sometimes we send each other emails trying to use that word in a sentence, but only if the word is really insulting.  (Although The Younger Brother claims Merriam-Webster's is far superior because of the audio pronunciation provided.  Whatever.  Of course, this is probably why I pronounced cacao "CA-COW" the other day.  Apparently that's not how you're supposed to say it.  Who knew??)

Anyway, the problem is that Dictionary.com is only helpful if you're into old, stodgy words like "aesthete," "fulsome," and "vertiginous."  Obviously those are pretty awesome words, but sometimes a girl has to mix it up a little.  That's why I signed up for UrbanDictionary.com's Word of the Day.  YEAH BITCHES! (I so love saying that.  I would say that after every sentence if I could.  YEAH. .. nevermind.)

Okay.  So.  UrbanDictionary's definitions are not, you know, those you might find in the "real" dictionary. But when I read them,  I feel hip ...  like a gangsta and a playa and all of those other terms that end in -a when they shouldn't.  And yeah, they've helped me figure out just what this "milkshake" is that Kelis uses to lure boys to her yard.

Since I was so inspired, I decided to create my own term today:

PROCRASTALKING, verb.

To delay or postpone actual work to cyber-stalk one's crush/current/ex/soon-to-be-ex.

eg. Yeah, I was totally procrastalking today - I had a column due, but I checked John's Facebook mini-feed 13 times!  And then I bloglined him!  I so have to disable my internet.

See also: procrasterbate



Lilly (as a puppy) procrastalked Langdon constantly instead of doing her reading.
Bad Lilly!

October 11, 2006

D-List Celeb Reader to Julia: Just Be Yourself.
And Sleep With Me.

From: D-List Celebrity/Model/Professional-Womanizer
Date: Tue, 10 Oct 2006
To: Julia Allison
Subject: Re: last night

Being you - embrace it Julia, stop apologizing for being a social climbing, motivated chick, who won't settle for mediocrity.  You want something, you take it, and fuck anyone who doesn't like it.  My unsolicited suggestion is that if you want to change something don't recant and explain it...just do it. The sooner you accept you the sooner you is a big hit [sic].

You're a hot bitch and, assuming you take care of that body of yours, you'll look like that for many years to come.  Which brings me to photos of yourself; the picture on the bed was hot, and, if you want my opinion, I'd go lap-topless.

The rest of my advice will wait until we're curled up in bed....errr...i'm holding the remote and you're in the kitchen in a t-shirt and panties making me something to eat. ;)

xo
[D-List name removed]

First of all, this fellow is in deep, deep denial if he thinks I'll ever make him something to eat.  That is not how I roll.

Second, I don't wear panties.  Okay.  That's a lie, I do.  Really big ones, actually.

Finally, I cannot wait until I is a big hit.*

*Yes, I meant to write it like that.  Please refer back to email if you didn't get the joke.

October 10, 2006

Quote of the Day



The following conversation is from a cocktail party last week, during which two lecherous, nasty, drunk shit-faced old men tried to get Me and Cute Blogger Girl to go home with them.

Me: "But I told him we were lesbians!"
Cute Blogger Girl: "That's not a deterrent.  That's a challenge."

DAMN!  Why don't I know things like this?

October 09, 2006

Sports and Dating, Blah Blah WOO!!!


Julia, Wilbon, and Julia's former roommate Krystal*
*No, you cannot have her number.  Unless you are rich.

The above photo is supposed to "go" with last week's AM New York column, about a subject of which I rarely speak ... that is to say, SPORTS.

Yuck, right?

Michael Wilbon doesn't think so.  And he thinks I'm kinda sorta maybe A TOTAL IDIOT for not realizing their importance in the world.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME????  DON'T I KNOW WHO T.O. IS???

In a word, no.  Well, I didn't, at least.  Until I got read a 'Bon column on him, and now I'm super educated.  Quiz me, baby!

I can't wait to start dating jocks ... Psych!

Sorry Mike.  (and yeah, I've been waiting to say "psych" again since 1989)

 

HOW TO DATE A SPORTS FANATIC: DON'T
AM NEW YORK – “THE DATING LIFE”
OCTOBER 2, 2006
BY JULIA ALLISON


To say I’m not a sports fan is a bit of an understatement.  Besides consistently (and predictably) being picked last in gym class, I managed to live in Chicago during the Bulls ‘peat-a-thon and never attend a game, and I didn’t know who Terrell Owens was until last week.  (Does that mean it’s football season?)

In other words, dating a sports fanatic is my worst nightmare.

So far, I’ve been lucky – geeks and nerds are my forte, and they tend to eschew physical activity of any sort (except, you know, that kind).  But such a streak may be difficult to continue forever, and according to a recent survey done by the online dating site True.com, 57% of men prefer that women share their passion for sports.

Crap.

To be honest, I used to think my complete ignorance on the subject was adorable – charming even.

I was, apparently, wrong.

“Not knowing used to be cute in the 70s,” says my friend Michael Wilbon, longtime Washington Post sports columnist and host of ESPN’s Pardon the Interruption, “but it’s not cute anymore, it’s a total turnoff.  It’s so anti-social for a woman not to know about sports in this day and age.  After war, the biggest stories in the world are about sports.”

They are?  Oops.  Obviously I need to put down “He’s Just Not That Into Me” and turn on Sports Center.  Er, PTI.

Assuming the athletic-knowledge-challenged individual is female, which is a safe – if admittedly sexist – assumption, what’s a gal to do if she has a sports lover boyfriend and she can't tell the Cowboys from the Capitals?

“If she’s a ‘good girlfriend’ she’ll make an effort to get into it,” says Jon, 28, a lawyer, “But the girl who is actually willing to sit down and spend three hours watching a football game is very rare.”

He’d settle for “somebody who follows the major headlines, who can tell me who won the last Superbowl, who has a basic knowledge of how the game works.”

(Hmmm … Googling “2006 Superbowl Winner” right now.)

Whatever you do, says Wilbon, do not walk into the room and scream, “Who’s playing???”   But other than that, men are more understanding than you think.

“We don’t need them to be fanatics,” he explains. “We don’t want them to be.  You can check in at the beginning of the game, then go shopping, get a pedicure, have lunch with the girls.  We want you to know what’s going on, but we don’t want you there all day.”

Whew.  That’s a relief.

Still, says Wilbon, “There’s no girl who gets the attention of guys like one who understand sports.  Except maybe a cute girl who understands sports.  And Maria Sharapova.”

I give up now.

October 08, 2006

Julia Lazy, Unproductive, Bad Blogger, Human Being



Dearest Peeps,

It's four am, and I have no right to be awake currently, but I am, and feeling a bit guilty about my lack of blogation in the past week.  Yes, I made up the word "blogation."

My absence is not entirely due to lazyness (key word: entirely), but instead because I've been contemplating the following existential question:

What is the Point of Having a Blog?  (my questions always come fully capitalized)

The disadvantages I've come up with so far:

1) It's cliche.  Which I obviously hate.
2) It takes far too much time and effort.
3) I don't get paid for it.
4) I only have so many witty things to say, and if I use them all up on my blog, how will I woo men?  Or, uh, write things that actually do pay ... minimum wage?
5) Apparently bloggers don't sell a lot of books.
6) Not that I'm in any danger of actually writing a book because
7) Blogs have trained me to think in 200 word increments and ...
8) I'm really lazy.
9) Have I mentioned I don't get paid for this?
10) Have I mentioned I'm really lazy?

FYI, The genesis of (blame for?) this fruitless philosophizing can be traced to an email I received last week from a loyal reader ... email continues after the jump.
------
From: Cute Smart Boy I Like
Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2006
To: Julia Allison
Subject: Your Blog


Websites are good at getting your name out there but are there many serious journalists/writers that have blogs?  Don't most of them spend their time fleshing out ideas they might have written a paragraph on in their website into real articles that get published?

I guess what I'm getting at is it seems more and more like being a blogger (albeit you aren't, you are a 'sex columnist') but that the whole successful blog as a "write two paragraphs about something interesting" has coaelesced into gawker type sites (curbed/gawker/gizmodo, etc) and those sites have staff but that individual blogs tend to make a person on their own look a bit amateur.

I bring this up because I think there's a part of you that feels writing on your blog helps to get your name out there or establish an audience, but I'm not necessarily sure that it's a wise investment of time (I'm not saying it isn't, but you should take an objective look at other people who have blogs, or rather just be a bit more skeptical about that avenue).  Maybe it's because writing on your blog is easy (you know the password) but getting articles into magazines is more difficult, but clearly one is more worth your time.  I'm not suggesting you are neglecting anything, or even that you shouldn't be writing and developing an audience.

I still believe that writing is important, but the term 'blog' has come to mean "Here's what I did last night, here's what I ate for breakfast, here's what someone wrote in my comments".  [So-and-so's] site is a mashup of very few of these types of post along with LONG articles that he spends weeks writing.  It turns out that those long articles generate HUGE amounts of publicitly (rightly so, he's saying something interesting and has spent the time to share it) but the short posts not so much.

The problem is you have a LOT of competition from other blogs and sites like reddit which aggregate a lot of the "here's what I did last night" posts so generating traffic and attention can't be done by that kind of blogging.  It's a diary type site versus a magazine type site and I think the magazine type site (with articles) in your case would be much more advantageous.

Plus I think there's a backlash toward 'blogging' right now because of the fact that anyone (which means horrible writers) can do it, so they do and then you (a talented writer) get lumped into the same trashcan. So something to think about with regard to your personal site.

I just don't think you should think of it as a "I need to post something every day for my audience" type of thing.  Those types of posts are irrelevant the day after you put them up there, whereas [so-and-so's] articles about [a subject] are read every single day even though he posted some of them 6 years ago!

You should feel free to disagree with me if you think I'm offbase.

Readers?  The three of you who are still awake, that is.  What do you think??

October 04, 2006

I Give Up!


Sooo ...

Today, let's discuss the subject of self-promotion.

I do a lot of it.  Not well, obviously, because people continually find me obnoxious while I tend to think of myself as charmingly self-deprecating.  Which just goes to show the difference between self-perception and reality. 

Occasionally, I put myself in other people's shoes and rethink my methods.  For example, just this weekend I removed all of the photos from my website, including the egregiously ... egregious ... homepage photo.  I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking when I used it in the first place - I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time. Hell, Jessica Cutler has a giant photo of her boobs on her website.  What's so wrong with typing on a laptop in your negligee?

What's wrong with it is that it's really fucking annoying.  It's like when you and your girls are out and you see another girl dressed in a ridiculously non-existent outfit and you're like "You're not even that hot.  Seriously.  Tone it down."  And maybe you're just being bitchy, but you have a point.

It's one thing if I were one of those girls who only hangs out with guys and steals boyfriends, but shockingly, I'm not.  I'm actually a girls' girl, and although most of my friends say that they didn't like me at first (at least they're honest, right?), I am, more often than not, considered good company "once you get to know me."

So I'm issuing in a new era of Julia Allison, a "toned down" version.  A subtle version, although I've been subtle maybe three times in my life, and two of them were when I lost my voice.

We'll see how it goes, but in the meantime, cut me some slack.  It's hard out therrrrr for a clichéd dating columnist.

Especially one who makes really old, lame jokes like that.  Sigh.