nonpretentious

Don't Judge a Book By It's Cover

Many people know that popular, yet cliche saying, “don’t judge a book by it’s cover.” In most cases, I live my life by this saying. If I see a boy who might not be my cup of tea, I still give him a chance. Maybe he’ll win me over with his charisma and charm? Maybe he’ll be a billionaire? Maybe he’s a famous soap opera actor? (You never know….).

Though, I can’t say that I’ve always lived my life this way. When I was younger, I used to judge everything. Books with ugly covers never got read, fruits with ugly skins got thrown away, and scary, barking dogs were avoided at all costs. Then, my brother got a pitbull and she moved into my house. I guess this was the point when I started following that cliché motto.

Her name is Bella. For those of you who live under a rock (or just don’t have common Italian knowledge), Bella means beautiful. Now, I don’t think Bella is beautiful. I think she is the most adorable living specimen on Earth. Like, the type of adorable that draws you in and you just can’t pull your eyes away.

However, it takes about 5 minutes to realize that despite her cute puppy-dog eyes, Bella has inherited the aggressive/mean/scary/killer/biting gene from her long-lost ancestors. This means, when Bella and I play with one of her toys – I hold onto it and she tries to pull it from my hand – I fall onto the ground and get scratched. When I try to get up, Bella jumps on top of me, only to continue to rip the chew toy out of my hand. Finally, when I get to my feet, I scream “down, Bella!” and she listens. She looks at me with those puppy-dog eyes and I forget about my bleeding leg, my hurt toe, or the fact that she won the battle over the chew toy.

Now, I know these stories don’t really persuade you to change your opinion about the vicious Pitbull. I know it takes more than puppy-dog eyes to persuade most people (I’m so weak!). So, I say one thing – play with a pitbull. Give them a chance. You may find that you love them so much that you’ll want to buy one. And, if you already have a dog and you’re scared that the Pitbull might, let’s say, eat it, know this: a small, white, bichon frise survived in house-o’-pitbull for 11 months. Now you have no excuses!

Alcoholism, Anorexia and You: The Rousing Interests of Facebook.

My sister, a nineteen-year-old fashionista just bursting with optimism, scared me stupid the other day with a hefty dose of reality that I simply must share.

She was checking her Facebook for messages and the usual status updates when she stumbled upon a girl she knew from high school. With her head shoved into the refrigerator, foraging for a midday snack, she gives me the scoop. At 19, this girl is now married, with a baby already in progress.

Sad, but decidedly not shocking. With a desensitized shrug, I listened as my sister went on with her Facebook finding. “Oh, and her profile…. Her interests, all two of her interests are drinking and being skinny.”

While I am compelled to categorize drinking as a mere activity, not necessarily an interest, or at the least, not an interest with any intrinsic value, “being skinny” simply cannot qualify as an interest, right? Right!?
(Disclaimer: I am of the plus-size persuasion and am skeptical of the skinny ‘n’ proud mentality, like it deserves some kind of honorary medal. Still, I hold no bias in this particular discussion. Hell, I wouldn’t list buffets as an interest.)

With this frightening thought in mind, this freelance writer with a fresh stock of cynicism, present to you:

MY TOP FIVE FAVORITE INTERESTS (THAT ARE LIKELY TO NEVER INCLUDE ALCOHOLISM OR ANOREXIA)

1) Reading: Feminist, psychoanalytical, indie publishing, graphic novels, zombies…I’m pretty eclectic.
2) Record Shopping: Girl garage rock and obscure compilations, specifically. i.e., Copulating Blues and Children’s Songs from Japan.
3) Thrifting: As far as I’m concerned, one can never have enough grandma sweaters.
4) Crafts: Sewing, doodling, making zines.
5) Obsessively Collecting Cute Things: Toys, stationery, lawn ornaments. Though I should mention that I have been told some of my so-called cute conquests borderline on deranged.

Epilogue…
My sister is still peering inside the refrigerator. My Dad, washing dishes nearby catches wind of our conversation. His hand still sudsy, reaches from the sink to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. The water from the faucet comes to a halt, as he looks to me and says, “drinking and being skinny, huh? Probably in part, the reason she’s pregnant.”

Thanks, Dad. I’ll never wonder just where I acquired that dry wit we love so much.

Greek Mythology

I know it hasn’t been a week since my last rant (ok, folks, it’s been a whole day), but seeing as I am new here, I do have quite a bit to rant about, and this is a topic that has been on my mind for quite some time. In nearly every classic college movie, every stereotypical college scene, there are a group of men who walk around campus wearing shirts and sweatshirts with two or three greek letters on the front: Delta Chi, Sigma Alpha Mu, Kappa Sigma, Alpha Epsilon Pi, Beta Sigma Beta, Zeta Beta Tau…the groups go on and on. An aura of mystery surrounds these young men–what they did endure to wear the letters they are wearing, what unspeakable acts have they had to commit to be part of the Greek life? Why are there such negative stereotypes surrounding them? Today I will tell you what it really means to be a fraternity brother.

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The Biggest Snub of All Time

There are plenty of Halls of Fame around the country (not to mention around the globe), and one of the hottest topics of debate in any arena is whether or not certain groups or individuals have been denied access to a level of fame not easily granted–does Mark McGwire belong in the baseball Hall of Fame? Does transcending sport and culture alone give one the right to be enshrined? I believe, however, that there is one glaring instance of Hall of Fame snubbery, and it is in the musical arena.

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