Panty dropper

No one really likes doing laundry. It's time-consuming, labor intensive and often involves you walking up and down the stairs of your apartment complex dropping socks and t-shirts along the way. Sometimes motherfuckers steal shit out of the laundry room when you've walked away for TEN MINUTES BECAUSE YOU LEFT THE QUARTERS UPSTAIRS. Once I found a carefully written epistle in my laundry room on top of an empty box of laundry detergent, ranting in a passive aggressive fashion about the injustices of the world and how it was totally unfair that someone used all of their detergent and how they could just go fuck their mothers because honestly who does that?! Laundry incites riot and unnecessary rage. I waited up until fucking 11 pm last night waiting for my goddamn pants to dry. I kind of hate laundry. With a passion.

The only reason I did laundry last night was because the underwear drawer was starting to look bare. Due to my irrational yet strong hatred for doing this menial task, I try to do laundry very rarely. I have enough clothes to last and I like to think that I don't smell. Possibly I am a disgusting creature, but this is no matter. Whatever, man. If you don't like it, then leave. Underwear is not something you can make stretch. We change our underwear every day, children.

These underwear even have explicit instructions written on them as to when to change. There is a reason for that. Shit is naaasty. However, in my travels yesterday I briefly contemplated relying on an old college trick that got me through many financially strapped weeks when I desperately needed to do laundry but was too busy squandering my lucre on things like cigarettes, magazines, salsa con queso from the C-store and weed. Instead of going to Safeway like a responsible grown-up and getting quarters, I was going to take a little trip to Ross and buy underwear instead of doing laundry. This stroke of genius saved my ass numerous times in college. Once I was invited to an impromptu trip to a friend's house in New Hampshire. I had about three hours to get ready and packed. I had not done laundry in many moons. I was all packed and wearing the last clean pair of underwear I had. My only choice was to walk to the TJ Maxx in Brookline next to the liquor store and purchase 5 of the most shameful pairs of underwear ever. One pair is teal. It says WANNA BE A ROCKSTAR on the ass in rhinestones. One pair has the Easter bunny on the crotch. This was bargain basement underwear, shit that most should not and would not wear. That's why they were $3 each.

Panties in hand, I remember strolling peacefully back to my apartment. Take that stank pile of laundry! I've beat you once again! The rhinestones fell off individually over the years. I still have those underwear. They are my underwear of shame.

Don't be this trashy, kids. Try to keep it together. Do your laundry. It won't be that bad, I promise.

Trashy or Not?

Nappers

napping in your bosses office while she is away? trashyornot, it's so much fun :)

Wet Hair

So last night you threw back too many lychee martinis and forgot to set your alarm before passing out. You wake up 30 minutes before work starts, take one look at your hair to assess the damage and almost vomit in your mouth. You throw yourself into the shower hoping to wash away your shame, piecing together the events of the night before. You throw on the clothes nearest to you on the floor (without a stain on the boob and with the least amount of wrinkles) and attempt to fix yourself up so you can prove to yourself, against the harsh judgement of the world that you are really a classy brawd....well kinda....sometimes....

Cut to twenty minutes later. You are speed walking down the street, jacket half on, putting on earrings and adjusting your bra strap when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the store window. The familiar taste of vomit collects on your mouth. You try to look away but like a bad car accident, your eye keeps turning. You see it every where, on the side of the bus, in the sunglasses of the people who walk by, in the post office window: Your wet hair gleaming, scattered about your head like a bad flower arrangement. You eerily resemble the wild dog who sketechily wanders up the alley behind your apt looking for food. Except you look worse, like you been dragged up and down the street a few times before having your hair run over by a truck . You pray/hope your hair will miraculously dry by the time you get to work.

No luck...you breathlessly brush through the doors 10 minutes late, to be greeted by your coworker who loves to comment on how tired you look. "Didn't get much sleep last night huh?" She smiles "sympathetically", cocking her head to one side.

For the rest of the day your hair is desperately trying to figure out what to do with itself, and eventually you give up and put it back into the inevitable pony tail.

Sigh.. the curse of the wet hair... plaguing us girls (and some fashion conscious boys) since elementary school. It's the look that screams to the world how badly you suck at life. How you just can't get your shit together in time..ever. I always wondered how the girls in the Cosby show pulled it off...

Plus, living in the ice box that we call the northeast, during the winter time (ie 8 months out of the year) we get the extra bonus of having your hair freeze into cute little dreaded icicles, delaying the drying time even more. At least if you live in Southern California, you could be mistaken for being a hot surfer chick who got up early to catch some waves. (right...)

But before you go and start blow drying your hair in the hand drier in the bathroom, you can take comfort that there is a time and place for wet hair. When it is actualy appropriate and even sexy. Contra trashy...

Enter the beach hair. The glorious time when it doesn't matter what you are wearing, if you are wearing anything, or when the last time you took a shower was..well because you're tan and beautiful.

The best part about the wet hair at the beach look is that it will soon turn into the sexy beach blown hair look, that you so desperately try to recreate with John Frienda's beach blonde (which sadly they do not make anymore). So go... jump in the water, get your hair as salty and sandy and sun exposed as possible. Let your damp locks fall freely on your cleavage. Just make sure you're at the beach.

Three for the road.

The corner store in my neighborhood sells loose cigarettes, three for a dollar. This situation is perfect for homeless people, degenerates, drug addicts and apparently, me.

The feeling of scrounging frantically in the bottom of my bag for a quarter to add to the pile of change clutched in my sweaty palm so that I may purchase three single Camel Lights is indescribable.

Once again, I'll take one for the team.

Le fruit du merd

one word, three syllables: Oranges. The mango's evil twin sister.

Why god invented this fruit in the first place is beyond me, but even more confusing is why it has been squeezed, mixed with various otherwise fine tasting foods, packaged and consumed.

hello

endies endies endies!

diction

ooh ooh! people that say "leg" like "laig" and "egg" like "aig." drives me right up the wall. so trashy. where'd they learn to talk, in a barn?!* and people that always sound like they have a cold, for whatever reason. that's trashy.


* sorry, northern california. as far as i can tell, this phonetic dysfunction is native to your shores.

At the cinema.

Situational trashiness is something we haven't talked about yet, but it's definitely something to keep an eye out for.

Drinking at the movies: So it's NOT trashy to go to the Arclight (sorry for the LA ref.) and drop an obscene about of money on a movie ticket PLUS walk through their gift shop and stop at the bar to get a specialty martini. But it IS trashy for me to bring a sparks or even a snapple + vodka to the AMC on Market Street? Come on!

Other examples of situational trashiness include, but are obviously not limited to:

• Bare feet. Sometimes this can be cute (think, kids on rope swings) and sometimes this can be trashy (think, kids in McDonalds).
• Bikini tops. These are great when you're at the beach or driving home from the beach...but you never want them to be a replacement for an actual shirt while walking around Six Flags Great Adventure.

Be self aware,
a.n.b.

Children, don't spend money you don't have.

It's saturday morning. I'm in my 'get shit done' uniform (headband, yoga pants + tshirt, glasses, face masque), armed with my TI-83 calculator...ready to do some budgeting & financial planning. On this particular morning, I have an extra spring in my step due to the fact that I just paid off all of my outstanding cedit cards.

This is when I realize that credit cards and the lending industry are both pretty trashy. I've included statistics below to support this piont.

• The credit card industry mailed over 6 billion credit card offers in 2005, an average of 6 offers per household per month
• Late fee income alone totaled over $11 billion in 2005
• 78% of American households were deemed creditworthy by the credit card industry in 2004
• With its acquisition of MBNA, Bank of America became the nation’s largest credit card issuer in 2006, followed by Chase and Citi.
• There were 574 million Visa and MasterCard accounts in the U.S in 2004
• Average household credit card debt has increased 167% between 1990 and 2004
• The average interest rate paid on credit cards was approximately 14.54% in 2005
• The rate of personal savings in the United States dipped below 0% for the first time since the great depression in 2005, hitting negative .5%
• Approximately 23 million households made only minimum payments in 2005
• 2.39 million U.S. households filed for bankruptcy in 2005, a 12.8% increase over 2004
• The average credit card balance in 2005 would require over 13 years to pay off if only making minimum payments of 4% at an average interest rate of 14%
• As of 2004, the number one cause of divorce is financial stress
• In 2004, 83% of undergraduate college students had at least one credit card in their name with an average outstanding balance of over $2,300
• 32% of students had 4 or more credit cards in 2004
• In 2005, 65% of teens failed a financial literacy test according to the JumpStart Coalition

Remember: Don't spend money you don't have!

Are you kidding me?

Check it.
Nose rings are kind of fucking hilarious in that they are the chameleons of facial piercings. There are hundreds of noses in this world attached to all sorts of people and in the right settings, nose rings can be really hot.

Facial piercings are trashy by nature. No one looks good with an eyebrow ring. The Marilyn piercing looks like a zit that you forgot about in your daily extraction rituals. Lip rings make you look like you do air drums to Good Charlotte and if you have one of these you probably have an STD that you got from some girl you fucked in a bathroom at a party after she did lines of Adderall off the back of the toilet. Let's look at 2Pac.



Is he wearing eyeliner? This is a man who was balls to the wall hardcore. He made songs about fucking bitches and California love. He was a tough motherfucker. But he's got a gigantic gold stud in his masculine, gang-banging nose. What the fuck, 2Pac. You look like Xerxes, from the excellent and homoerotic film "300".



Good lord. His nose ring is actually the size of my thumbnail and CONNECTS WITH A CHAIN to earrings that look like he bought them from a sketchy street vendor in the East Village. Seriously? He looks like a tool.

You be the judge.

Let's go watch "The Weather Man"

I didn't think I would actually post about this. It seemed too cliche even for this venue. Then I realized that WIKIPEDIA HAS AN ENTIRE PAGE DEVOTED TO THE CAMEL TOE PHENOMINON. I knew I had to report on this topic.

Not Trashy: Since the camel toe is usually a non-intentional front-wedgie, I feel like it's almost not fair to call it trashy. Of course, if it were me with the camel toe issue, I would be sure to remedy the situation ASAP and pick it out of there. Therefore, if you're exercising (the most common case) and it's non-intentional, I's say this an instance of a NON-trashy camel toe.

Trashy: Wikipedia states that "Pornographic web sites exist that are solely dedicated to publishing photographs of cameltoes." This is very trashy. I wasn't aware that there was an entire genre of porn dedicated to the camel toe. I am naive.

More trashy than I could ever imagine: Wikipedia also calls out the existence of a "moose knuckle" which is a male camel toe. Kill me. Furthermore, "larger women who wear tight fitting clothing are said to have a moose,knuckle and not a cameltoe." I fully understand this instance of the moose knuckle and whenever I see one on the bus, I can never look away. I think it's safe to say that both the moose knuckle AND camel toe are EYE MAGNETS. (...can't look away regardless of how badly you want to.)

Interesting trashy fact courtesy of Wikipedia: "The cameltoe is a key plot element in the movie The Weather Man."

This concludes my camel toe report.

Best wishes,
a.n.b.

One for the road.

It's Sunday. You probably haven't taken a shower and it's around 12:30. You woke up about an hour ago with a dull headache from beer and shrimp with the girls and you want to put a modicum of effort into the rest of your day. Something has to give. You can't spend the rest of the day in your house wearing a man's baseball tee from the Gap and yoga pants. Maybe you don't feel like wearing pants but something about your bare ass clad only in I-need-to-do-laundry underwear with Snoopy surfing on your crotch makes you feel uncomfortable. Trashy, even. You are desperate for an in-between, something that replicates the sheer joy of being pantsless and unfettered yet offers the protection provided by something, anything, covering your ass and your ladyflower. This is where these come in.



Fuck. YES. Cut-offs. So stupendously trashy yet the perfect thing to remedy the situation you've found yourself in. Put these fuckers on and you are ready to face the world, even if the only world you'll be facing is yuppies and their kids in Baby Bjorns looking embarassed for you as you nip over to the corner store to buy Kettle Chips and some strawberry lemonade.

It's like being naked outside but better.

A look back...

Loyal readers,

First, I'd like to point out that this post could have taken many differnet turns. I could have gone on and on about dumb t-shirts, amusement parks, etc. I'm sure these things will be written about in greater detail at some point.

As for right now, this post serves more as proof that I have been seeking out trashy things for quite some time. The below are two images that were taken at Six Flags New England in May of 2005.

Yes. I was at Six Flags. Not only was I at Six Flags, but as the VP of the Class of '05. I actually coordinated 200 students to visit the park. I was the pied piper of trashy college graduates on that day.

On with the pictures.

Exibit 1: I understand that people don't want to lose their childred. It makes sense. This world is full of crazy people. I understand. However, if you're going to put your baby on a leash, go all the way. Buy the leash and accept what you're doing. DON'T make a make-shift kid-leash out of your belt. I caught this on camera. See below.Exhibit 2: Apparently these two fuck heads don't like fat girls. I have nothing more to say due to the fact that this actually made me mad in real life. See below.

Enjoy your friday night.

Love,
a.n.b

Rock of Love

Here is a sample of the delightful nymphets (read dirty coke sluts) that make this quality reality TV. Who will win? Are we watching true love blossom?

Can we please get Megan Reynolds her own show?!

You are my sunshine.

Summer is fucking awesome for so many reasons. If you live on the right coast, summer means sundresses, iced coffee, getting off work early on Fridays, the beach, clambakes, road trips, sunglasses, amazing summer jams like "Umbrella", dance parties, barbecues, potlucks and the like. How great are all of those things? Totally amazing. Wondrous.

Summer also means being gloriously TAN. Tanning is one of those things that is so bad for you but the end result is sooooo good, like eating cupcakes for dinner standing over the sink wearing no pants because your roommate isn't home and you're too lazy to cook. There is a fine line between between trash and class here and this debate is one that could rage endlessly for centuries.

There's a limit to what looks good.





If you're a skinny thing with too much eyeliner and an affinity for un-ironic neon and platform sandals then you reserve every right to be the color of a leather handbag. This is your milieu. Embrace it. Own it. The trashiness inherent in this kind of tan is such that it surpasses trash and comes right back to being acceptable. To be blissfully unaware is a trait that few possess so wear it proudly.



Just don't let this shit happen. This is what those girls grow up to be.

PAPER plates

How about eating your meals off paper plates? Better yet, eating off of paper plates and then saving them to burn in your fireplace so you can save space in your trash can because garbage pick up is only once a week.

trolls

I mean, do you remember when these were popular? What the fuck?! Apparently it was fun to style their hair and rub their bellies for luck, like some really trashy buddha.

Oakland Crimespotting, An Interactive Map of Crimes

Okay it's Friday and you're looking for a good time. Maybe your love life needs a little pick me up. Maybe you've got a co-worker you don't want to work with anymore. Or a boss who's out of drug connections and needs a little help. Well look no further friends the newest web 2.0 social networking tool is here. Didn't make the list....better luck next week.

Let's do it.

Leather furniture, kids. Leather couches. Leather ottomans, chaise lounges, divans. There's nothing like getting off a leather couch in 90 degree heat and feeling the back of your thighs peel slowly off the surface of the SKIN OF A DEAD ANIMAL. Cozy. Comfortable. Awesome. There can be some amazing leather furniture, some shit that looks like it should be in the study of a Southern lawyer who wears linen suits and has a magnificent handlebar mustache and quietly drinks and gets blowjobs from his secretary on his lunch break. He's the kind of guy that wears sock garters. He smokes cigars and has a stentorian voice and bellows a lot. The blowjobs happen on chairs like the one pictured below.

There's something kinda classy about this. You'd find it in the back of an antique shop somewhere and you'd take it home with you and it would be that chair you bought on a whim antiquing upstate that was a pain in the ass to fit in the car but you're so glad you got it because it's great for just reading and maybe gazing out the window at the leaves as your amazing husband brings you a cup of Earl Gray with milk and a dash of honey, just how you like it. Barf.

Then there are the alternatives.



Words almost fail me. The things this couch has seen, the asses it's caressed, the horrible sexual acts it's witnessed. There's defeat in this couch. It wants college students and marijuana smoke and episodes of Entourage ordered OnDemand. It needs a nice quiet place to retire, to continue its slow deflation until someone puts it on the street with a handwritten sign that says "FREE". Wizardry happens behind closed doors here in San Francisco.

Fingers + Toes Revisited

While I agree that the faux nails and their mold are terrible, there are worse accessories.

Princesses with Fins

The mere fact that dolphins are often portrayed in nouveau art surrealist paintings such as this one, seen often in the bathroom of a neo-hippie stores (selling things such as incense, dream catchers, journals and useless rocks) justifies putting dolphins on the trashy list, with a capital T.
Not to mention there have been too many books written about dolphin love, how dolphins will/can save the world, and human's unfaltering dedication to these creatures. Everyone knows I love sea creatures, namely large mammals with huge dicks, but dolphins are an exception..they always have one eye looking at themselves and one eye looking at everyone else thinking "look at me, I'm so cute! see me jump spit and twirl!".
All the while these goddesses are gang banging and blowing eachother on the DL. for real...Too trashy for words... (ps greg have you ever thought about a career change from sports painter to dolphin painter? could be lucrative...)

The eternal debate

People fall into two camps in this world: girls who call it "cream" and girls who call it "lotion". Technically, either is correct. If you want to argue semantics, a cream is heavier, heartier and provides a more comprehensive moisturization. A lotion would be appropriate for the summer months or in less arid environs. No matter. They both do the same thing. Why the debate over names?

There's something about the word "cream" that unsettles the mind. Perhaps the implications of dairy products, of a thick unmoving mass of white resembling lard smeared ceremoniously over your appendages while watching daytime television wearing a towel. Cream implies a dedication to post-shower moisturizing that few have. It's an intense experience, one best spent alone, in the privacy of your room, the lights dimmed. Cream usually comes from a tub from Victoria's Secret and smells like fairy farts and flowers.


Lotion is a little more clinical. By nature it's less messy, more utilitarian and practical. You have a thing of lotion on your desk that a coworker gave you for Christmas from Bath and Body Works. It smells like pina coladas. You're kind of embarassed about it, but it comes in handy. If you're not comfortable with changing your shirt in front of your friends, you're going to call it lotion. It's detached, but somehow more accessible. Chew on that.

Which is trashier? It's a matter of taste.

Brown bag it.

Lunch. It's my favorite meal.

When trying to save money/bring lunch from home to the office, it's often times tricky to select the appropriate vessel for transport. Lets review our options.


Brown bag: If you asked me yesterday, I would have said this was OK. I took my lunch to the office in one of these things today and felt really creepy for some reason. Perhaps it's because I was clutching it and didn't put it in my canvas tote for fear of squishing it. Either way, at this age, brown bags are used for three things: beer, condoms, and cigarettes (only when Megan purchases 3 cigs INDIVIDUALLY from Tims - this will get it's own post, don't you worry).


Plastic bag: makes you look poor/weird. (I still do it, but feel weird about it without fail. This is clearly the best option out of the three.)

Insulated bag: If you carry your lunch in an insulated bag, you're never going to get laid and you still live with your parents...and I'd put money on the fact that you cry yourself to sleep every night [dork].

You light up my life.

Touchy subject for some. Candles can be nice in moderation. A well placed votive adds atmosphere during dinner and flickering flames have their place in birthday celebrations and blackouts. Some find candles of this sort to be appropriate for decorating, strewing them about for feng shui or whatever. These candles look like they should have fucking spells written on parchment wrapped around them. They probably smell like patchouli and hippie sweat. I am going to take one for the team and say that these are trashy with a capital T.

Fingers + Toes

This is my first post, and will therefore include one of the most obviously trashy item of all time: the acrylic nail.

I consider these things mind-blowing for the following reasons:
1. Women spend hours to get these god forsaken things put on their hands.
2. + 3. Women also spend tons of money to put these inconvenient accessories permanently attached to the ends of their fingers.
4. Men find this attractive. Men are attracted to them.
5. Lets take points 1 - 3 into account and reach back into our memory banks for just one second. Does anyone remember when people discovered that MOLD grows under those things? Remember when this was considered NEWS? CREDIBLE NEWS SOURCES REPORTED ON THIS VERY FACT.



Additionally and arguably more trashy, are the trinkets SOLD at the nail salon. One example: The toe ring...tiny ornaments for your stank cheeto toes. Image below.

This is pretty bad

I'm fairly certain that this shrimp round, glass of white wine with ice cubes, pack of cigarettes and TV with rabbit ears speaks for itself.

Snowboarding: T o N

I'm gonna have to say yes to this one. As a skiier, I never feel insecure that I don't snowboard, despite the TOTALLY AWESOME clothing and attitude that it inspires.

Glasses

This may be controversial... but glasses? Trashy or not.

Sonia, I think you're definitely onto something with the chinois. I just think we should broaden it a bit, since I trashyornot really started with chinese food. Let's just put it in writing... Megs may have some issues... p.s. I find MSG to be less trashy than the shit in slim jims. Even though I LOVE slim jims.

TRASHY:

- lemon chicken (any chicken with glaze, really)
- WATER CHESTNUTS, BABY CORN, LITTLE MUSHROOMS, BAMBOO SHOOTS AND ANY DISH CONTAINING THE AFOREMENTIONED HORRORS
- cashew chicken dishes (the kind where the chicken is in tiny cubes, usually with disgusting bits of celery and carrot)
- green tea w/ sugar
- mu shu anything
- shrimp with garlic sauce
- those little crisps that some places give you with duck sauce before your meal
- SWEET AND SOUR CHICKEN
- general tsao's chicken or however the hell you spell it
- wonton soup? (still on the fence. sometimes it's great)

well that's all I can think of right now. Have I left anything out?

Le Grand Chinois Debate

eating MSG is my worst nightmare realized aside from getting eaten from a shark in cape cod bay.
It's trashy no doubt, especially when you find the white powdry evidence of it still on your food (Victoria's spare ribs for example)... BUT is it trashier than sodium nitrate? A chemical found most commonly in preserved meats (ie slim jims)

MSG vs Sodium Nitrate, the great trashy food enhancers

it's all so confusing

all this internet stuff is hard to follow....welcome to megan and sonia time...hopefully to be full on chicken time soon

Welcome bitches.

Watch this space for haikus, photographs and our quiet judgements.