Human Ladies

Every time I go home (rural Pennsylvania, outside of Philadelphia), I have an identity crisis. I am an East Coaster and damn proud of it. But it seems that, after almost 3 years in The City of Overly Inflated Egos, I have adopted some new characteristics. Sometimes I will say or do something, and my family or friends from the right side of the country give me that look. You know, that WhatTheHellAreTheyTeachingYouOverThere look.

On my recent trip home, I went to visit my sister at the library she works at (because that is how adorable life is in small town America. #sorryimnotsorry). While there, I saw a woman with three children all under the age of two. So, in my fantastical little brain, I said, “oh wow, you’ve got your hands full!” To which  she replied, “yeah, I have two more.” 

Me: “Wow! Are they all yours!?” Her: “…yes?” Me: “Ohmygoodness, do you get any sleep?!” Her: (snapping) “Yes, I have a very happy life thank you”

Now, here I am thinking Omg I totally just killed it at small talk. Sorry social anxiety, you aren’t getting the best of me today! I’m cracking jokes and empathizing all at the same time #likeaboss

But later, my sister told me her co-worker asked, “Why did Katie ask if those were all that woman’s children?” Apparently, I forgot my manners in rural Pennslvania, and, apparently, that was an odd question to ask. My sister said she thought about it and decided, “It must be an LA thing.”

Which got me thinking. Over here, that’s a pretty good rule of thumb. You don’t EVER assume that someone roaming around LA with 5 children birthed all of them. You COULD assume that they shipped them in from several 3rd world countries. Or they run some sort of overly expensive personal day care that is gluten free, nut free, dairy free, and all around fun free. But NEVER that those 5 youngens came out of that one woman’s lady bits.

 

Same rule applies to guys with small dogs and young girls with old men.

That is his girlfriend’s dog. I know. I’m sorry. He is clearly the only decent guy on the planet because he agrees to walk that yappy thing, so you are of course going to die alone. Unless you see him in West Hollywood. Then he could totally be your new best friend. 

And that old man is not that girl’s father. Or uncle. Or stepfather. Yes, I know they are holding hands, and yes it is super uncomfortable, and yes he did just grab her ass, I’m sorry you had to witness that.

I talk to my friends from college about their dating lives, and one of them will tell me the guy they’re dating is a med student. Another one is dating a graphic designer. Or he is running the family construction business. Or training to be a minister. And then I’m asked about the guys I’ve dated…

Actor. Manager. Model. Producer. Model/actor who lives above his dojo.

This is not bragging. This is sad.

Why is it sad? Because while my friends are having intellectually stirring conversations with their med students/designers/ministers, I am being asked by a guy if the necklace I am wearing in the shape of my home state of Pennsylvania is a piece of toast.

I wish that was not a true story.

Perhaps I am finally giving an extremely long winded answer to the question everyone asks back East. “Is it different? How? Explain? What do you mean its just different?!?” Well friends, its taken a few years, but I think I finally just did!

Allllllll my love,

Raina and Katie's Thoughts on Christmas!

HelloHelloHello!

We at Human Ladies are so excited to introduce a new contributor to our (slowly)growing community of amazingly talented women. She is one of my dearest friends, as well as one of the most stupendously kind and amazing Human Ladies I know. 

Miss Raina Hein and I smushed our little noggins together to share our thoughts on one of our most favorite times of the year. She and I both lead very busy lives, but the holidays are always a time when we come together to exchange gifts, laughter and, love. So we wanted to share that with you!

Make sure to follow Human Ladies for all the exciting goodies we have coming in the new year. I’m talking make-up tips, product reviews, recipes, and a lot more snarky opinions about things you didn’t know you had opinions about (you’re welcome.) And, of course, hopefully more from Raina too!

Happy Holidays everyone and a very, merry New Year,

Hey Poodle,

It's Girl Talk Tuesday!!!

Hey LadyLoves,

We are embarking on a new adventure called "Girl Talk Tuesday", where Brit and myself will start tackling the really hard hitting questions with some of our nearest and dearest. Check out our first go with the lovely Samantha (of Bar Review fame), We are dishing out oodles of our opinions (which are correct) on bootycalls and sluttiness.

Enjoy. Subscribe! SHARE! 

Or not, that's cool too.

Loveeeeeeee,

Ok, as we all know, a girl needs to let loose every once in awhile...and that means hitting up the bar scene. I have been to many bars in LA, and they all differ with the type of vibes they give off: wannabe disco clubs, erratically themed lounges, the “I can’t have a label” hipster bar, etc. However, the great thing about bars is that no matter how weird the décor is, how creepy the men are, or how mind-numbingly terrible the music is, every bar serves alcohol (or as I like to call it “God’s gift to humanity”). So as a Human Lady living in Los Angeles, I am here to help you fellow ladies navigate through the many places to drink(drank) in this city.

This week’s bar of choice is Bar Lubitsch, located in West Hollywood.

Not the upscale gay part of West Hollywood, but the elderly Russian Jewish part of West Hollywood that also houses struggling actors and writers who have just graduated from a liberal arts college in the Midwest that no one has heard.    

Luckily, the recent college grads and the Russian grandmas have one important thing in common: a love for vodka. Bar Lubitsch capitalizes on this and specializes in moderately priced vodka drinks. Of course I mean LA’s version of moderately priced, which equates to a cheap three-course meal in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Regardless, Lubitsch makes a mean Moscow Mule and has relatively friendly and quick bartenders. That’s right folks! No waiting eight and half minutes for a vodka tonic because a mixologist is taking their time hand rubbing ginger around the rim of your glass!!! Just simple, good drinks that are made quickly and properly.

The one downfall to the bar is that they have no beers on tap, just bottles. However I take this to mean that they want all of their patrons to let off the workweek steam and get sufficiently shitfaced, which I can appreciate.

They also joke about Russian Communist propaganda. Which is rad.

In addition to the bar and smoking patio in front, Lubitsch has a dance floor in the back. THIS IS THE PLACE YOU WANT TO GO. The DJ is almost always playing 90s R&B, and I cannot tell you anything I love more than getting white-girl wasted and dancing on tables while “No Diggity” is blasting from the speakers.

That was not sarcasm, it is my absolute favorite song and I will challenge you to a sing-off if you get me drunk enough.

Now, while some people find this dance floor excruciatingly cramped and very hot, I must say that is part of its charm. It’s dark, kind of musty, and filled with people just wanting to freak dance with strangers until the night’s end. It is wonderful. While you will get very sweaty, you will also meet some great people including, but not limited to: the group of girls celebrating a bachelorette party, the newly 21 white boys that look like the neighbor you used to babysit, the couple that you’re pretty sure lives in your apartment building, and at least three people you went to college with. How do all of these people fit into a 300 square foot dance space? I don’t know, that’s just part of Bar Lubitsch’s magic.

So please ladies, pay a visit to the lovable Bar Lubitsch. Get your drink on, get your dance on, and get in for free because they don’t have a cover! My only advice is that you leave before they turn the lights up on the dance floor. No girl wants to be exposed in all her sweaty and pit-stained glory after dancing to Blackstreet all night.

All My Love,

Halloween is fast approaching, kiddos, so you are of course having a social anxiety attack. Why? Halloween is a super complicated holiday, setting you up for a solid week's(days') worth of social networking judgement and scorn. Why again you ask? Because as any decent Human Lady, you know that girls are heinous bitches and will have countless remarks to whisper snidely to each other about who/what you decided to dress up as, who/what you went to here/there with, etc etc etc.

You don't care? Really?

Do you have an Instagram account/Twitter account/Facebook account/Tumblr account in which you post asinine information regarding yourself and shit you've done/thought/read/said? 

You care. So shut your face and keep reading. 

We plebeians are fortunate enough to have been given a guide of sorts to come back to in any such life crisis akin to the one we're all in the midst of right now. I am of course referring to the infinite wisdom that is...

Mean Girls. (Sorry Hilary, but I am Tina Fey for president AllDayErrDay)

As we pour one out for our girl Cady Heron, we go into this holiday knowing the fine line we walk. We are smart, tough, degree-having, deal-making chicas bonitas...pero...we still wanna...like, look hot, ya know?

!?!?!?SO WHAT DO WE DO!?!?!?

Do we be CoolGirl (??? that's a whole other discussion, but I digress) and have a super witty, creative, and possibly topical costume? Then proceed to sulk in the corner while the cute guys dressed as Marty McFly and Fred from Scooby Doo tag team the tramp in a sailor dress with her perfect ass-cheeks hanging out? Or do we embrace our inner Basicness and head to Party City for the $50 Slutty Nurse costume and just call it a fucking day?

Never fear my darlings, because we have figured it out. We are pulling a full on Hannah Montana and doing The Best of Both Worlds. 

Human Ladies presents--

The Quirky/Cool/Creative Girls' Sexy Halloween Costume Ideas 

For a lot of these, you can buy a standard Sexy (insert Object/Person/Animal) costume at the party store, and then make it better per our suggestion. Trust.

Also, most of these require a lot of hair teasing. Sorry in advance. 

1) Helooooo Nurse from Animaniacs 

What you need:

White blouse, white pencil skirt, white heels (hit up American Apparel or H&M on your lunch break) (Or just grab that standard Slutty Nurse costume. Get it girl)

Print out pictures of Yakko and Wakko, glue them on some cardboard, and adhere them to the front or back of your shoulders. 

Tease the hair nice and big (or use a blonde wig if you're really going for it) and throw some red lips on.

Only talk to guys who know who the Animaniacs are, because they are the only ones worth talking to. That's a real life lesson, not exclusive to Halloween.

2). Schrödinger's cat

What you need

Black yoga pants or leggings (YES!!!), black shirt, black pumps, cat ears and tail (Or  slutty cat costume. You don't have to leave your dignity at the door when you buy it, 'cause we're gettin' philosophical babydolls)

Black and white eyeliner to draw your cat eyes, nose, and whiskers on real cute.

A wall for you to lean on and look disinterested.

Are you or are you not having fun at this costume party? No one knows until they ask you. Then feel free to unleash your dazzling personality and charm. 

3 Sexy Wayne and Garth

What you need

Black V-neck tshirt, black baseball hat, and denim mini skirt (Finally! That thing hash't seen the sun since 2005. Right? RIGHT!?!?)

A blonde friend, who is also rocking her middle school denim mini, plus a flannel button down and a push up bra, thick glasses.

TEASE TEASE TEASE YOUR HAIR.

You get extra hipster irony bonus points for convincing your two guy friends to cross dress as Cassandra and Stacy.

Further suggestions include

Hipster Chester Cheetah (but only if your complexion can pull off orange. Seriously.)

Sexy LOL Cat (Use cat costume suggestion above, then decide who can has cheezburger. Give those selected actual cheeseburgers. You will be everyone's favorite)

Sexy Chess/Math/Cello Prodigy (helps if you are Asian)

Sexy Alex Trebeck (What is the best idea my sister has ever had?)

So there you go. The work has been done for you, and you can now run off into the night with confidence and abandon, knowing that you are not only maintaining your self-respect and all around awesomeness, but you look dayyyyyumn good. 

And any chick who is throwing shade at one of these costumes is a sad individual. Do not hate, but rather know that we at Human Ladies will be praying, as Brit says, for her trashbag soul. 

You're welcome!

Hey there, Felicia!

Why are we obsessed with so much crazy shit?

Do you remember beanie babies? Barbies? I don't know about you, but my beanie babies never left the garbage bag I carried them in to and from the second grade. And as for my Barbies, those things never had clothes -- or hair actually. I was a weird kid, i liked turtles and dirt, whatever whatever etc etc.

My point is it seems like these "things" happen, and we're all mindlessly obsessed -- then it dies faster than my fucking soul at an airport. Oh a 7-hour layover?? On Spirit Airlines?? You don't say, Barb.

Like when people ask me if I find Zac Efron attractive……

..... Is the grass fucking green???????

But then I need to take a step back. Examine this thought. Is this rational? WHY do I think he's so attractive? I'm pretty sure he wears more makeup than I do (saying a lot there). What is it about cocky men that almost look like a female that makes females go crazy?? (Adam Levine, anyone that was in the running to play Christian Grey, all the fun ones with nicknames ie R.Patz)

Reconsidering????????????

Think about it. We create human life. We produce our own milk. Our bodies straight make a thing you can buy at Ralph's. That's nuts. These nuts. We are real-life russian nesting dolls with ombres, but for some reason I can't seem to figure out what it is about James Franco that makes me crack a creepy smile and say, "You know what, yes. Go."

So, I've compiled a list. You're stoked!

Rest assured, I've done/worn/said/had/ate everything on this list. If you find yourself offended by the comments made, then you're probably a trashbag to begin with, and we at Human Ladies will pray for your trashbag soul.

Sidebar; UGG boots are not on this list. (Fuck that buy a pair it is like walking on a damn cloud made of heaven sprinkled with n*sync)

!~!~!~Taylor Swift is on it TWICE~!~!~!

… just kidding!! That is a large novel I'm still workshopping.

For obvious reasons.

here we fuckin go y'all

HIGH-WAISTED SHORTS

I woke up one morning. I went into my closet and wondered:

"What could I wear today that would make me look like an eighty-five-year-old woman and a newborn baby all at the same time?" 

"Ugh!?!? Ladies, what item in my closet could swallow up my ass and legs whole but also go all the way up to my boobs??!"

"You guys!! I need to find something to wear for my interview for that kiosk at the mall that sells hair extensions!!!! Hurry!!!"

"Look!!! It's halloween and I'm wearing a diaper!!!! Just kidding it's Tuesday but still yes to the diaper!!!"

Why they're OK: The 10-inch back pockets perfect for pancake-ass and hiding your gun.

PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES

I've never tried one, could it be because I still don't know how to order a drink at Starbucks?? I don't know, that was pretty rude of you to ask. Why don't I paint you a picture instead.

Starbucks Enterprise, Coffeeville, USA, 4am morningtime:

Me: I'll have a coffee.

Brenda, sparkly S'bucks lady: What size?

Me: Small.

Brenda: You mean, baby hands mcgee size?

Me: What???

Brenda: Miss, the sizes are listed on that board just there. There's baby hands mcgee size, small toddler size, size of your head, size of my head, or our largest size, Ford 4x4 with or without the retractable mirrors.

Me: …Coffee???????

Fin.

Anyway, I hear it's pretty much like a chai tea latte. (which is available year-round you autumn obsessed buttholes, just close your eyes and think of a pumpkin).

Why they're OK: I still wouldn't know because I've never had a chai tea latte either so please just get off my case ok damn.

OTHER GIRLS IN BATHROOMS

Girls in bars = enemies. Same girls in bathroom at same bar = best friends.

Let's walk through it together.

It's 10pm, a group of friends and i wait in line at whatever club makes the best Long Island. (Stop fucking ordering those btw). Our 5 inch heels aren't entirely unwalkable, but i wouldn't say we're NOT struggling.

Another group of hot girls walk by. They stand behind us in line. My guard -- IMMEDIATELY up. Game face, sal. You have a guy standing in line with you? Talk really loudly to him about how you know the bouncer (He will love hearing about other guys). A girlfriend offers you gum? Fuck yeah, you want gum. Chew that shit as loud as you can. Loud noises and big movements are key here. Let those other bitches know.

I hear one of the girls make a rude comment about my dress to her friend. In reality, she didn't. I'm about 3 deep, paranoid, and looking for a cat fight because hey I'm a lit up white girl and if my math is correct then that's just the next logical step to a saturday night. Throw her massive shade.

11pm-1am - vodka cranberries / lose your phone / peel off false eyelashes that were falling off anyway / cry to best friend.

Suddenly, It's 1am. We're now 5-6 deep. 5-inch unwalkable heels are now in hand and our gross asses are barefooting it to the bathroom. (I mean... figure it out ladies).

Who do we find?? Group of girls from earlier. Unfortunately, we're all huddled around the same mirror, waiting for a stall in a 2-stall bathroom. (Like why is there only 2?? this is a huge ass club). Anyway, the enemy comments on my outfit. "Oh my god, I love your dress."

My friendly ass responds, "OMOMGSOD THank yoUU!!!!!!!" 

20 minutes later and we're sharing a toilet seat, tagging each other on instagram. She's also weirdly good at giving advice on how to win over the guy I came with.

Why They're OK: Someone always has a tampon!

Though i still don't think our obsessions define us, you have to admit, we are obsessed with some stupid shit.

Signed,

Lovingly, ((I guess))

Dear Mr. Jason Derulo,

Upon hearing about your breakup from Jordin Sparks, I felt it was finally time for me to also air some of my grievances with you.

You make me uncomfortable.

I have been struggling over my feelings for you for quite some time. So much so that I've enlisted a common therapy technique by expressing them in a letter to you. 

My serious confusion began when I went to work one day when the song "Wiggle" was first hitting the airwaves. I came in, enthusiastically hoping I could bond with my new co-worker over this bit of pop-culture. However her response to my enthusiasm was, "pshh Jason Derulo is wack".

I was immediately impressed, as I didn't realize anything could be wack past 2004. But then I started to really consider you, Jason, and your music, and the more I did the more conflicted I began to feel. 

The following are my thoughts while listening to your three most recent singles.

Talk Dirty

You have been around the world, but don't speak the language. But the only thing you need to understand is when you are hearing dirty talk. What  does dirty talk sound like in Russian? or Thai? I'm curious/impressed that you understand.

From the sounds of your global excursions, international customs has ben very lenient with you. 

Also, I'm concerned about your exposure to oral herpes.

Jason, you are a talented young man, that many other young men aspire to be like. Perhaps, in your next song, could you do us women a solid and encourage only understanding…when we talk about how stressed we are at work? How rude Jenny was when she “accidentally” didn’t invite us to get manicures? Our booties will still need no explaining (though you continually seem very perplexed by them), but it's just like…we know some other words too. You know?

If YOU seem like you care, maybe all these other clowns will rethink some priorities? Just a thought.

Wiggle

You have one question. Out of all the questions in the whole wide world. Just one. And it is inquiring how we fit our behinds into our tight jean pants? Well Mr. Derulo, let me tell you, it is no easy feat. Why do you think we wear yoga pants everywhere we go? You’re welcome.

“Your booty like two planets”…...But which two Jason?

   The planets all vary in size. Some have craters. Some have a solid structure, while others are more gaseous and loose. Choose your answer carefully.

“Go ahead, go ham sandwich”...... But what if I keep kosher?

Trumpets

Your use of children's instruments is intriguing. A xylophone in this song. Perhaps its some sort of artistic dissonance, bringing together adult sexual themes with the sounds of innocent children’s instruments, creating an experience that makes you feel so uncomfortable yet strangely drawn to it.

But probably not.

“Is it weird that your ass reminds me of a Kanye West song?”     Yes.

“Is it weird that I hear trumpets when you are turning me on?” Are we 15 and at marching band practice? Or on tour with Bruno Mars? No? Then yeah, it's weird.

“Is it weird that I hear angeles whenever you moan?” Dear God, YES!

I am concerned, that you are suffering from sever ADD or perhaps Schizophrenia. 

So Jason, I hope you can try to understand my plight. Yes, your songs have wonderful beats and catchy tunes, and I find myself singing them over and over in my head. But your lyrics. Your lyrics...

I think you are a talented young man Jason. And I look forward to your moody, existential phase that is probably going to follow your break up with your girlfriend of three years, because I think you could churn out some real nuggets of wisdom.

But in the mean time, this fairly uncoordinated white girl, who is still trying to understand the concept of "making it clap", will think fondly of how you decidedly make me awkwardly, enticingly, confusingly, uncomfortable.  

Love (I think),