Many of us have delicately tried to mute our waitressing pasts on resumes with words like server, customer service representative, waitstaff, caterer, hospitality specialist, hostess....but do we feel any less trashy for having to put it on our resume in the first place? For some of us (ie. yours truly) waitressing constitutes a large majority of one's occupational past, making it a specialization...dare I say talent? Oy.. so after 8 years of working my way up from chinese food takeout specialist to jewish deli counter server, to somewhat classy bartender at GIA , I swore to myself..."never again..."
"not so fast....sweetheart"
Now I find myself saying "Would you care for pelligrino, still or iced water?" and secretly dying to just #$*()$(%*($ say tap water for once. Would it really be that trashy?
Houlahans is a chain restaurant in New Jersey. That alone probably already makes it trashy as hell. But Chris and I love to go there and order really sugary drinks in big ass glasses and talk about how much we love it there.
Does anyone really like california rolls? I mean really... can anyone truly eat a whole order of seafood salad from the deli counter at stop and shop without pucking?? Who invented fake crab and why must I find it constantly showing up in places that it shouldn't. And why do they bother dying it that vibrant pink/orangy color. Do people actually believe it is crab? Seriously....
Apologies if I am offending anyone, but transition lenses are perhaps the trashiest thing you could ever put on your face. The convenience of always having sunglasses on hand isn't enough to justify wearing this god-awful eye wear.
The first pair of commercial transition lenses were introduced to the public in 1991. Seventeen years ago! These were cool seventeen years ago.
If you are still wearing general purpose transition lenses - news flash - you probably either look like a pedophile or a butch, slightly overweight house wife.
I only tell you these things because I love you. Transition lenses are trashy.
Apparently, I've turned into a frat boy in the recent past because there are few things in this world I love more than a power hour with friends. What is a power hour? The rules are simple. One hour passes. Drink a shot of beer each minute. Try to stand up afterwards. Dance.
I was recently alerted to the existence of the most amazing website in recent memory: These Are Powerful Hours.
My mind was blown. These people are not fucking around and nor should they because a power hour is serious fucking business. This site features the best power hour mixes of all time. Ever. Seriously, a Neptunes power hour mix? Amazing. R. Kelly? Prince?! I will willingly become a frat boy because after two years of solid power hours with awkward mix CD's filched from Wendy's roommate, I am ready for something that is as serious as I am. That's what this brilliance is.
How trashy is it to get butt-ass naked whenever you see your friends? I'm not sure if this is trashy or awesome but I think I need someone to weigh in on this.
We're not that trashy, my friends and I. We have our moments of pure and total trash, when we're sitting on the couch eating spaghetti out of a shared Tupperware and watching "The Holiday" but what group of friends doesn't? However, we welcomed in 2008 by getting naked and dancing for three hours while wearing party hats.
Welcome to the Trashy or Not: Trashy Food Cycle 2007.In this series, I plan on fully exploring the world of microwaveable entrées and bastard foods.Today, we’ll start with Hot Pockets.
Hot Pockets brand stuffed sandwiches were introduced to stores in 1983 and purchased by Nestle 19 years later.There are currently five different Hot Pocket brand stuffed sandwiches and countless “flavors” in production.Being an Italian American, I’m most offended by the “Subs” and “Calzone” categories.(I assume these taste like a sub and/or calzone being thrown up into your mouth…like a pre-chewed sandwich.)Anyhow, the five sub brands are listed below:
Have you ever smelled a Hot Pocket while it is cooking in the microwave? It smells like plastic.I know this because my older brother is an avid Hot Pocket consumer.Not only are these people eating sketchy frozen meat nuggets…but they are also green-lighting their decision AFTER they smell the thing cooking.My mind is blown.
I’m going to assume that most people start eating Hot Pockets because they are “quick” and “easy.” Well, so is a grilled cheese made on the stove…with real bread and real cheese. Pasta is also easy. BOIL SOME WATER (it comes out of the tap hot, you’re half way there before you even turn on the burner).Pull yourselves together, people!Being a lazy slob is unattractive and trashy.I know that you don’t have many cooking supplies in your parents basement. But come on, be an adult and start eating big people food.
I don't know why it is, but most things associated with bubbles are kind of trashy. This is something I just realized as I was reading a draft of a post I had crafted about hot tubs. There's so much in this world that's "bubbly" and that I consider trashy as well. See the following.
1. Champagne. I really don't think there is a classy incident, save weddings and some celebrations where champagne can be considered classy. I associate champagne with headaches, constant burping and a freewheeling, loopy drunk that makes me want to make out with everyone and chain-smoke while swigging out of the bottle and burping with gusto.
2. Bubble baths. Just gross, guys. I don't know. Some find bubble baths to be relaxing moments, taking time out of the stressful everyday to relax in a peaceful oasis of softly sented bubbles and candles and whatever. Fuck that. Bubble baths remind me of vaseline-smeared photos of women with frosted lipstick and bad eyeshadow batting lashes at the camera. Has anyone ever really enjoyed a bubble bath? They are good for about 2 minutes and then the water gets lukewarm and you realize you're sitting in a tepid pool of dead skin. Then you get pruney and the bubbles fade. You're left with nothing but shame.
3. Hot tubs. This is where the line is fuzzy, because hot tubs are awesome in a sleazy 70's-Marin-key-party-swinger kind of way. I love a good hot tub, maybe under the stars with someone fun to make out with and a nice joint. That's good right there. That's living. Hot tubs reveal their trashy underbelly when they are located at motels. I once spent an awkward 15 minutes in a hot tub at a Holiday Inn Express in Ukiah, located right off the freeway. There was a girl who made small talk with us while chain-smoking Kools. After she left, we stared at the space over each other's heads for about 5 more minutes, then walked silently back to our room, silently acknowledging the trashiness that had just occurred.
The beauty in the trashiness inherent in bubbly things is their irrefutable power when employed simultaneously. Separately, these things are mildly trashy, but together they form a Triumvirate of Trash. If you're sitting in a hot tub drinking champagne out of the bottle whilst Calgon takes you away, we might as well bag your ass up and put you on the curb for the garbage man because you are officially TRASH.
I was ready to discuss at length the trashiness inherent in lipgloss. I had an entire diatribe prepared, complete with pictures and evidence all pointing to the hideousness of lip gloss and how its sticky disposition makes it the perfect counterpart to teased bangs, porn stars and bitches who flat iron their hair. Lip gloss is not really that classy nor is it something that many respectable girls wear. Your hair gets stuck in it in a stiff breeze. Often it looks as if you've glazed your lips with semen. It's hard to apply, gets all over everything and generally makes a fucking mess. No one wants to get a nice kiss on the cheek and have to remove the imprint of your lips with nail polish remover, as if it were the gunky residue leftover from a price tag on a CD case. Lip gloss makes you look like a whore, straight up. Here is an example. My GOD. This image commits several crimes against respectable make-up use. This woman is probably incapable of speaking, closing her mouth all the way or eating a cookie. She has flecks of glitter on her mouth as if she were a disco ball or a lady of the night. Shit is nasty. Men, women, whoevs, do you want to kiss that mouth? Do you want to try to get that shit out of your clothes? I bet lip gloss makes a mess in the downstairs, so guys do not get BJ's from girls who wear this much makeup on their mouth.
What kind of girl wears lip gloss? It's so easy to generalize, to make assumptions based on the image provided. I see platform shoes, jeans from Express, a lot of sequins and probably more hot pink than is necessary. I see perma-tan, bad highlights, eyebrows like quotation marks. This is typical, this is what you expect to see when you think of your standard slatternly ho. Lip gloss extends beyond these generalities. Small children, grandmas, your mom. Half the girls you see on the street are probably ducking into bathrooms and behind compact mirrors and surreptitiously smearing this shit on their mouths. Lip gloss is a scourge, a blight on society. Wear chapstick, ladies. A nice matte lipstick even. There's no need for this shit.
I feel very strongly about this issue. Then I remembered this sassy gal.
How I love this song. Hand claps, kicky beats and an adorable girl from Brooklyn pontificating on the wonders of lip gloss, complete with animated sparkles and big-ass bamboo earrings. I have a weakness for music videos set in high schools(see "Hit Me Baby One More Time"). Her lip gloss is cool. Her lip gloss is poppin'! She name-checks MAC and L'Oreal and demands of us what we know about her. She's not shy to admit to her passion for lip gloss and its inherent power. She knows to wipe that shit out the corner of her mouth so she doesn't look like she's been giving blowjobs behind the gym at lunch. She even gives advice to her guidance counselor. Her joy at the end of the song is infectious. She'll be lovin' it. She'll be usin' it. At the end, we realize that her sudden popularity and charm was not her lip gloss at all. She had it in her all along. Girl power. Makeup. Lip gloss. Word.
Please direct your attention to the following site. This was brought to my attention by a delightful friend who suggested this go on le blog. Never did I think I would be discussing perfume that smells like a ripe vag, but stranger things have happened.
It goes without saying that this is unspeakably, horrifically trashy. This is perhaps the zenith of trash, along with frosted lipstick and styling mousse. There are people in this world who decided it would be okay to BOTTLE THE SCENT OF A WOMAN'S VAGINA. People. Seriously. I don't care if you're a neckbearded virgin with a RealDoll at home in your parent's basement or some gigolo pimp-master brohan who bags Marina bitches every weekend with a calculated recipe of crantinis and an excessive amount of Acqua di Gio. This product is marketed at each and every one of you. As a MASTURBATORY AID. If you are so fucking creepy that you need manufactured scent of vagina to bring yourself to pitiful, gasping orgasm, I sincerely hope that you never get laid again.
