Taylor Swift – The Life of a Showgirl

Hand up, I let getting priced out of the Eras Tour sour me on Taylor Swift for roughly 3 years. My last track by track Tay blog was 2022 for Midnights–where I was already coming to the realization that I was burnt out on Tay. When The Tortured Poets Department came out in April 2024 and it was THIRTY-ONE songs long, I had to put my foot down. Respectfully, no. Who do you think you are? Morgan Wallen?! I was teetering on the edge of never listening to a T.Swift song again out of pure spite and resentment. How you gonna tour for two FULL-ASS years and not fix the broken system that was your ticketing where only the insanely rich were able to snag tickets?! If people are flying to Paris to see you because a Euro vacay is cheaper than driving an hour to friggin MetLife, something ain’t right, sis. Obviously I’m still not over it. So imagine fuming every day that we hear about how epic this tour is and how it’s a can’t miss once in a lifetime event and then having a movie in theaters and a feature film length album dropping mid-tour. SALT IN THE WOUNDS, BABE. I needed to take a breatheroni from my Swiftie lifestyle. I also was a little put off by how crazy the fandom had been getting. She writes good songs and is a marketing mastermind, but I WILL NEVER CALL HER MOTHER. Not even if there’s a FIRE.

Ok, I needed to get that off my chest before I say that obviously once a swiftie, always a swiftie, and when the Eras Tour ended and football season was over and she wasn’t being jammed down my throat every five seconds, I was able to heal from this trauma and with the announcement of The Life of a Showgirl, I was ready to be hurt again. A respectable 12 tracks was a breathe of fresh air and now that I’ve listened to it on repeat all weekend, it’s time to bring back one of my favorite traditions (that I started ELEVEN years ago) of making a new Taylor Swift album all about me and telling you what songs are good purely based on my own opinions and musical taste.

1. The Fate of Ophelia.* I’ve never loved a track one this hard since “the 1.” First listen I was head boppin, and by the 50th rotation of the weekend, I was doing full body rolls in the shower. Yeah, you’re welcome for that visz. WHAT A BOP! As a self-proclaimed writer, I loooove the rule of three’s and it’s something I do a lot in my own writing…have you ever read a caption of mine that doesn’t list three things? Probs not. This song is the catchy version of that. Me, myself, and I. The land, the sea, the sky. Your hands, your team, your vibes. A chain, a crown, a vine. INJECT IT INTO MY VEINS. I’d also like to take a moment to pat myself on the back because for someone who retained almost nothing in my 16 years of schooling, I somehow pulled it out of my ass that Ophelia is a Shakespeare reference and I was RIGHT. Anyway, the overall theme of this song is that she was waiting for love and it finally came and thank GAWD because if it didn’t she would’ve gone mad and drowned herself like that sad ole B, Ophelia. And I’d officially like to put it in writing that if my soulmate doesn’t enter my life by December 21st like Starr the very reliable and trustworthy psychic predicted, I will suffer the fate of Ophelia.

Best Lyric: ‘Tis locked inside my memory
And only you possess the key
No longer drowning and deceived
All because you came for me
I love a good bridge and also using the word ‘Tis will ALWAYS make me think of Hocus Pocus (‘Tis firm as stone!) and it is currently HP season.

She dropped the music video over the weekend as well and it is STUNNING. The costumes and visuals jammed into 4 minutes are worthy of an Oscar and exactly why I still love music videos. What a lost art. BRING BACK TRL!

2. Elizabeth Taylor.* When the beat drops on “I cried my eyes violet” ya girl is READY to do a millennial stank face and break it down. Never did I think that the creator of White Diamond perfume who had 45 huzzies would make such a bangerang of a lyric. B2B upbeat songs with infectious choruses and I’m already pulled all the way in to showgirl life. I read an IG comment from someone getting irritated that people are hating on this album and they’re like she’s in love and happy and people who don’t appreciate that aren’t in love or happy. And ma’am, I beg to diff. I’m neither in love nor happy. I’m fighting for my life to afford each very expensive day while also being repeatedly punched in the boob from every bill increasing this month, to my very first ticket, to apparently owing a buttload more taxes from 3 years ago. And YET, I can still enjoy zesty peppy love songs. And THAT is the real life of a showgirl. (Probably. I’ll let you know for sure when I have to start working at a Jersey titty bar to afford rent next month.)

Best Lyric: Don’t you ever end up anything but mine

3. Opalite.* Is it incredibly annoying of me to star the first three tracks? Obviously. But she was in her BAG when she created this one, two, three punch of her tastiest licks on the whole album. Honestly, I could fall off after these three songs easily because in my mind the rest of the album doesn’t compare. Admittedly, I hated this song when I first heard it. BUT I acknowledged that the reason I hated it was also the reason it was a dynamite pop song and everyone else was going to eat that shit right up. I knew I had to get over the hump before I would quickly be just as into it as everyone else. The hump, of course, being the “OH OH OH OH OH!” Rubbed me the wrong way the first time I heard it. But much like a clap break, I know what makes a song infectious and shouty Oh’s is always gonna do it for the gen pop. So far everyone I’ve talked to and every review I’ve scanned has Opalite at the top of their list. Reasons I had to let the Oh’s grow on me? These lyrics speak directly to my soul. Right out the gate with “I had a bad habit Of missing lovers past
My brother used to call it ‘Eating out of the trash.'” DAYUMN, Austin Swift with the diss of the century. One that I needed to hear as I’ve been eating out of the trash for a kewl 6 years now. Will 2026 be the year of the Opalite sky for me?! If it’s not, pls scroll up to item 1 and read what I’ll do. Hint: drown myself.

PS I also love drawing attention to “perfect couples” telling us sad singles “when you know, you know.” That phrase and those couples can F all the way off. See? bitter girlies can still enjoy love songs and be happy for newly engaged lovers because I’m just dancing through the lightning strikes, baby!

Best Lyric: And what a simple thought You’re starving ’til you’re not

4. Father Figure. Not the worst, and not the best. Numero quatro is definitely a hard crash from the dance party that is 1-3, but it’s not a skip, either. It’s got “The Man” vibes in its clear “F*ck the patriarchy” lyrics. Do I ever want to see Taylor fully cross dress as a man for a music video again? In the words of Michael Scott, NOOO, GOD! NO, GOD, PLEASE, NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But I also laughed out loud when she sang I can make deals with the devil because my dick’s bigger. Not only is she talking about her dick size, but it’s in the chorus?! That’s some grown woman, I say what I want shit. We’ve finally graduated from the Taylor that seemed to be trying out the F word for the first time on Midnights. And while we’re on the topic, my 8 year old niece, a “top swiftie”, basically can’t listen to any song on this album because Taylor is R rated in her thirties and she’s not going back. You want a clean version? She’ll slap you with her dick. And with a whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, she’ll lean in real close and whisper, “I’ll protect the family.” And that’s mafioso Tay for you. She’s in her Godfather era. Kinda have to respect it.

Best Lyric: You’ll be sleeping with the fishes before you know you’re drowning

5. Eldest Daughter. As the youngest daughter, I hate this song. Kidding, that’s not why. I hate it because it’s slow, it feels out of place on this album, and it’s trying to do too many things at once. It’s a combination of what it’s like to be the eldest daughter and also an editorial on the state of the internet today. Just pick one topic per song, babes. I couldn’t get on board with this one and it will probably be skipped in future rotations. The beginning of it almost sounds like a late night show host put mean tweets to a piano ballad as a bit. “Everybody’s so punk on the internet” as the opening line? As my niece would say, that’s so cringe 😘.

Best Lyric: And things I said were dumb ‘Cause I thought that I’d never find that Beautiful, beautiful life

6. Ruin the Friendship.* I might be going through heavy The Summer I Turned Pretty withdrawals but the first handful of lyrics I was CONVINCED this song was written about Belly and her boyfriend brothers Jere and Connie. I was like HOW COOL IS THAT?! TSITP uses Taylor songs to score every episode and Tay gives them a wink back by writing a song about their characters?! I was gassed until I actually listened to the lyrics and they took a much darker turn. I guess she wasn’t singing about Bellz keeping it in the family. According to superfans/the internet she’s singing about a friend from high school who passed away. WompWOMPP. Same friend Forever Winter was written about, which is another sleeper hit. Anyway, I digress. I think the lesson learned here is always kiss your friends even if they don’t want it. Unsolicited kissing 4eva.

Best Lyric: But as the 50 Cent song played Should’ve kissed you anyway

*Note: the lyrics from the last two songs really stunk and I struggled with picking just one so I’ll go with 50 cent getting a shoutout because Get Rich or Die Tryin makes me nostalgic for high school and we love a pop culture moment just as much as we still love Fiddy.

7. Actually Romantic. Tay doesn’t do social media beef, she lyrically eviscerates her enemies. I mean, if I was Kimmy K, I wouldn’t have left my house again after Thank You Aimee was released. Now it appears she’s turned her sword (pen) on Charli XCX. I’ll remind you once again that I spent 3 years rolling my eyes at everything Taylor-related and even was in the “her relashe with Travis is a PR stunt” camp basically up until they got engaged. Which means I missed all of this goss that apparently while Taylor was slumming it with that dirtbag Matty Healy, Charli was engaged to the drummer of the 1975. Charli wrote a song “Sympathy is a Knife” where she said she didn’t want to see her backstage at her boyfriend’s show and crossed her fingers they’d break up quick. People assumed it’s about Taylor and now we’re assuming this clapback is about Charli. None of this is confirmed, it’s all hearsay, which is my friggin sweet spot. I love gossip and I don’t care about the environment. (Mindy Kaling quote that happens to fit my brand.) If it’s NOT about Charli, it’s just romanticizing living rent-free in your h8er’s head. And that’s pretty genius. It’s the 2025 version of “why are you so obsessed with me?!”

PS I’m picking up on heavy Olivia Rodrigo “Sour” sounds. I don’t know if that has to do with anything, but I’m willing to bet someone on TikTok will have a 5 minute video telling me it means she hates her too because of a look that was given 5 years ago at an awards show or something.

Best Lyric: It’s kind of making me wet (Oh)
This made me laugh out loud. It’s too perfect. Taunting someone who hates you by saying how much they think about you makes you wet. It’s so disgusting and so amazing and I’m here for the random jarring lyrics she keeps splashing in.

8. Wi$h Li$t. I want to love this song but I really hate when she sings in the high register in breathy porn star voice. Love the sentiment of this tune but wish we could’ve just sung it regular style. Material things don’t bring you happiness, but you know what does? Love and having your football player fiance’s kids, BB! That’s the American dream. Since Travis is beefy and Taylor is super tall, those should be really manageably sized babies that definitely won’t ruin her downstairs forever. Honestly, you can tell it’s past my bedtime if that’s where I just took this very wholesome song about having a basketball hoop in your suburban driveway instead of owning a yacht. SOMEONE PUT HER TO BED BEFORE SHE REFERENCES THE TEARING THAT HAPPENS IN CHILDBIRTH. Ok, goodnight.

Best Lyric: Please, God, bring me a best friend who I think is hot
I wake up every day and pray for this.

9. Wood. Let’s start off by stating the obvious. She sampled “I Want You Back” by the Jackson Five. I don’t have the physical album and thus cannot look in the liner notes to see if she gave credit to them, but rumors are swirling that she didn’t and that there are several songs on this album that sound exactly like other songs. I don’t think the biggest popstar in the world would be that dumb to not admit to sampling or mimicking popular beats, but I’m not the beat police. So I’m just putting it out there and we’re gonna keep it moving.

When I heard the sexual innuendo lyrics to this song I thought surely my Spotify has shuffled me on over to Sabrina Carpenter’s latest album. Because make no mistake, this is a Sabrina Carpenter song on a Taylor Swift album. I respect what Sabrina is doing in the “hot female who likes sex and makes catchy tunes that reference getting banged girl power anthem” space. She’s got her thing. She’s good at it. Only she can get away with an album cover with her on her knees and a “who me?!” expression on her face. Taylor has a completely different style. She didn’t show her belly button for like the first 10 years of her career. She didn’t swear in a song until 5 years ago. She’s amazing at weaving these tall tales in lyrics. This song felt cheap to me. It’s one thing to sneak in a jarring lyric here and there for a giggle, it’s another to make a whole dirty joke song. It felt like it didn’t belong and almost like she got wine drunk with Sabrina and slurred, “imagine if I wrote a song about being dick-matized by Trav!” And then they wrote it in a fit of cocky giggles, but then she accidentally recorded it and released it to the world. Perhaps it was just a bit that went too far. We’ve all been there before. BUT…it’s also got an undeniable 1971 hook that you immediately recognize, which makes you want to shimmy shake despite the horned up lyrics. So I’m truly torn. If you’re feeling spicy at a girls night and need a groove fest then smash play, but I can also understand it takes a particular mood to feel like hearing someone noodle on about their man’s noodle.

Best Lyric: Girls, I don’t need to catch the bouquet, mm To know a hard rock is on the way

10. CANCELLED!* As a certified Rep lover, I can always get down with a song that sounds like it belonged in Tay’s snake bad gurl era. I love when she sprinkles them in on other albums, like Rep Tay will never truly die, kinda like Vigilante Shit. Much like her witchy we ride at dawn hooded cloak days, this one is for the ladies and she’s standing up for cancel culture coming after women more than men. And folks, she’s not wrong. If you’d like a hard example, look no further than Charlie Sheen’s most recent doc, where he details the decades of absolute deplorable behavior between drug use and rampant sex and then turning that drug use and rampant sex into a brand that he legitimately TOURED across the country. Never once cancelled. In fact, that tour sold out. People wanted more. Charlie and Nicholas Cage are drunk/high on a commercial flight in the 90’s, get on the loudspeaker to tell everyone the plane is going down ‘as a prank’ and the cops chuckle and tell them never to do it again when they deplane. THAT’S SHOW BIZ, BABY. If women did that they would be put into a conservatorship under a man for the majority of their adulthood. Oh wait…

PS I refuse to believe this song is about Blake. That would also be like eating from the trash for Taylor. Way beneath her.

Best Lyric: Did you girlboss too close to the sun?

11. Honey. Another meh song for me. Doesn’t quite hit like the others. It does, however, make me think of the 2003 HIT blockbuster film “Honey,” where Jessica Alba plays a white girl living and teaching hip hop in the hood to underprivileged youth. That movie is TENS and if you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favor. Soundtrack and choreography are LIT. Even made my highly anticipated Top Ten Dance Movie Montages back in 2017.

Best Lyric: You could be my forever-night stand, honey

12. The Life of a Showgirl Ft. Sabrina Carpenter. HEY! If it feels like the album flew right by it’s because that’s what happens when it’s not THIRTY ONE SONGS DEEP. The titular track features Sabrina (kinda weird to not feature her on Wood, but understand why two girls singing about one girls’ treasure could be confusing) and also uses the exact beat and cadence of “Cool” by the JoBros. I waffle back and forth on loving this song. Some days I’m all in especially because a clapping song is like crack to me and some days we get to that very musical theater riff in the middle and I’m like this is not what I signed up for. If I want a little musical theater, I’ll pop on the Greatest Showman soundtrack and circus-rock my face off. Yesterday, my friend sent me this meme, which is in itself hilarious and I’m here for the mild trolling of Travis being a total dum-dum, especially because they both lean into it:

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A post shared by Kevin Flynn (@_theblessedone)

But also nothing exemplifies that take more than the first line of this song: Her name was Kitty Made her money being pretty and witty They gave her the keys to this city. I mean, we’re looking at one fish two fish red fish blue fish…at best. Which brings me to my main point in addressing all of the hate this album has received in such a short period of time. People are wondering how she could have these long poetic songs with deep literary references and then also put out a song that rhymes kitty, pretty, witty, and city in one line. As if Taylor hasn’t been doing this for her entire career.

Folklore, Red, and Reputation are my top three T.Swift albums and I like them all for completely different reasons depending on where I was in my life and what resonated most with me at that time. I’m not sitting here comparing these songs to the storytelling of Folklore, or the gut-wrenching lyrics of All Too Well because they’re nothing alike. Lots of time has passed. I’m at a different place in my life, one that really just needs some fun songs to beebop along to and feel good. And Taylor happens to also be at a fun, lighthearted place in life. Did I bitch when she put out Lover while I was going through a break-up? Yes, but I still appreciated the album for what it was and found songs I could relate to (death by a thousand cuts.)

It’s just not that serious, people. Sometimes music scratches an itch in your ear and this album does that for me. I don’t care that the lyrics are simple and kinda dumb. I like it and you don’t have to. Plus, remember when you’re ranting on socials about how this album sucks, all your hating just soaks Tay’s undies anyway. 😂 Now excuse me while I order a feather headdress from Amazon and sashay around my kitchen like my favorite IG follow, Justin Anderson, who also appreciates a good pop song with lyrics that aren’t that deep.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DPY_BB3jdJO/

Best Lyric: Do you wanna take a skate on the ice inside my veins?

Red Carpet

Emmys 2025 Red Carpet

In case you haven’t noticed, I took the summer off from blogging save for my thicc two-parter about my disastrous solo adventures. I clearly needed 3 months to recover. I’m sure you’ve missed me. I’ll try to make up for the lack of snark you had this summer in the first red carpet of the seaze, y’all. (Remember when last year I would stunt my red carpet-worthy look for all to oooh and ahh at before getting to the celebs? Well, I recently bought the coolest and most complimented accessory I’ve ever owned that doubles as a running bit. So here’s two videos of my wiener purse hailing straight from China via Amazon, that I have made my entire personality for the one month that I’ve owned it.)

@thesaltyju
Happiness=wiener-shaped purse. #lgm
♬ original sound – HOLLY BROOKS

@thesaltyju
The bit that keeps on giving. 🌭
♬ What Dreams Are Made Of – Hilary Duff

WORST

Personal preference that I’ve definitely yapped about before but I really hate putting red and pink together. It’s like carnation heart cheapness. Red and Yellow for ketch & must on my glizzy handbag tho? Groundbreaking.

I don’t think we’re going to make suspenders happen on women in the year of our lord 2025. Dig the leopard clutch tho. And admire that she’s going for CEO’s and Corporate Ho’s here.

I get that Jenna Ortega is like an emo girl icon and now she’s becoming super fashion-y and apparently decided to surgically suck the air from her cheeks to make her look cooler, but I’m not high fashion. I wear Walmart sneakers that look like Adidas and guess what they are my most complimented sneakers. That being said, I cannot get down with wearing a sun catcher as a top. This is beyond stupid and I hope her nipples are chafing on these gems (pronounce it GEOMS like Julia Fox would want you to.)

Hate the mermaid bottom texture switch-up and especially hate the giant red flower pinned to her under-bosom. Also that’s a BOB right there. Praying Belly doesn’t go this short on Wednesday.

I love this color but the puff sleeves have GOT TO GO.

Looks kinda sloppy…and also like perhaps he went unbuttoned collar and open jacket so there was room for a red scarf?

Say it with me now, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, BEETLEJUICE.

Let’s go ahead and rule out suspenders on men as well. Why does he look like such a geekburger? Could they have hemmed his pants any shorter? This is something my Grandpa would’ve worn to Thanksgiving over a much rounder belly.

Geekburger part 2. Someone give this guy a swirlie.

Not only do I find this to be incredibly unflattering on Catherine, but I’ve argued many times before, no one looks good with pretend wide fabric hips and that seems pretty obvious.

What feathery fuckery is this?!

I’m torn here because at first glance I was like stunning, classy, champagne goddess, and then my eyes drifted down the dress and I couldn’t bring myself to give this any flowers. It looks like it got caught in a paper shredder. Putting pearls at the end of these tatters was a real identity crisis. The tie on top is giving bedsheet toga too and it was the quickest way to ruin what could’ve been an elegant gown.

It ain’t no secret that I have a mediocre chest. Push-up bras have deceived many, but ultimately, I do not know what it’s like to carry around a heavy set or go deep into the alphabet to find a cup size. And Jessica’s got them THANGS. And perhaps she wants to show off her goods and that’s why she chose this dress. But I feel like there had to be a better style dress to service her yabbos. Did I talk about boobs too much here because LITERALLY I’M SO DISTRACTED. SORRY I DON’T HAVE BACK PAIN AND BARELY FILL A C CUP. THIS IS MY CROSS TO BEAR AND I’M JUST HERE TO DELIVER HOT TAKES. WEAR A GOWN WITH STRAPS NEXT TIME, JESS.

Halsey out here cosplaying as Kris Jenner.

Seth always does a velour or corduroy suit and his big booty big ole black frame glasses and I’m just over it, tbh. TAKE A RISK, MAN!

What the fahk were we going for here? Hefty bags for a bra? Because that’s what I’m lookin at.

SNOoOoOoZe. Also is it me or is there a certain age that women hit when they start rocking the shawl shoulder?

My favorite thing is when I’m like OMG TAKE A RISK to someone who always wears the same thing. And then they do and I’m like YIKES not that one! Kristen is usually a jewel tone tight gown, pin straight hair down baddie and I guess she wanted to get wild for this Emmys. Well, I hate it. The half up hair paired with this razzle dazzle X business. Yuck. In this instance, she can go back to her tried and true.

We get it, Syds, you’ve got a top notch rack.

BLAHDHDHHGHHHHHH. Not the baby pink peplum.

WOWowWOW, when you take a minute to rip your eyes away from this Fredericks of Hollywood duster nightie sitch, you are zapped right into this kool aid dye job up top. What a journey from hell.

When you realize what blowhard he plays in White Lotus, you’ll want to hate this look more. But given that actors are not their characters, clean slate on judging this incredibly silly tweed barrel leg buffoonery.

Meg Stalter makes me giggle a lot on Hacks, but whatever bit she’s probably doing here is a no for me, dawg. No jeans and a white tee on a red carpet, throw some respecc on the process.

No to suit shorts. Forever and Always. Never ever ever will I be down with this Pinocchio bullshit.

I love my girl Sutton so much (throwback to one of the greatest girliepop TV shows ever made that prob none of you saw) but this dress stinks. I don’t make the rules, I just make them.

What is the deal (Jerry Seinfeld voice) with carrying a hunk of extra fabric on your forearms? Without that swatch from JoAnn’s, I was sold on this gown.

Mocha is THE color for fall, but I just can’t get behind it for evening wear.

Never name your kid Cooper because immature kids will always rhyme it with pooper. That being said, check out Coop in a Poop suit.

I read the headlines. I know this guy has been coined “daddy”, but I’m about to deliver the hottest of takes: meh. No guy has enough swag to get away with an all-white suit and essentially white Keds. This whole look gives me the ick and I know the internet will be panting and moaning over it but NOT ME.

Oh great, another useless bow!

A Bow AND Peplum! FINISH YOUR DRINK! (Oh, I’m the only one playing a drinking game for the most tired trends we see on every red carpet ever, no matter what the year?)

BEST

Love this old glam party frock! Look at that skirt swishin’

FUN PARTY SPARKLE PANTS.

Did jumpsuits jump the shark when it became the go-to fancy event outfit for middle-aged women? Petition to bring this trend back. Sure, women have to strip naked to pee and probably also suction their entire body into Spanx to look snatched and smooth. But you wanna break it down on a dance floor? This onesie is MADE FOR THAT. I hope Cate does the worm in this later.

She’s wearing the red scarf that Jake is missing! Bright red looks stunning with Selena’s dark hair and this fit is very chic.

Great male fit change-up from the same suits and tuxes.

Honestly every time I see these two I am reminded that they are together and I love this black tie coordinated combo for them.

Yes, hunnay!!! These two look beautiful and I love that they came together and presented from the gazebo. Stars Hollow 4eva.

She will F*ck you up and look good doing it.

It’s giving Cher Horowitz in the best kind of way.

Loving the trick of the eye silhouette on this train

When you’re Jude Law you can wear a black tuxedo and still be a jaw dropper because you give so much face. I mean come on, he’s 52. It’s just not fair.

I purposefully put Angela Bassett next because she’s 67 and serving. WOMEN CAN DO IT TOO, BB. Also do we need a ticket for the gun show, cause damn girl!

That rhombus top is TELLING A STORY.

One would assume I would rip this to shreds but I’m actually all in for this funky little splash. Could do without the middle of the chest curtain grommet, but when she walked onstage with her high pony and her sparkle panel bouncing, I felt like the party was just getting started.

A fun shimmery ombre!

Throwing heaters in a lace corset. Ok, boo!

Because I would only ever allow Adam Brody to wear a powder blue suit with ruffles and be like yeah he’s still pulling it off. He is America’s most emotionally mature TV boyfriend right now and we must reward that by letting him wear whatever the hell he wants and call it quirky & adorbs.

These two just radiate cool. Could have something to do with Sam wearing shades on the carpet, but I’ll give it to them anyway.

A gentleman and a scholar. Guys, I’m losing steam here and it’s inching dangerously closer to my bedtime. Which is why I’m gonna toss a crazy idea into the breeze and you can send it right on back if you want. Sure, an iconic duo wearing matching black tuxes is grand. But, even better, WHAT IF they showed up in like goofy bit costumes? Imagine these two came in the Dumb and Dumber top hats and suits? Bet that would get a big laugh! Thank me later, guys.

Obsessed with this color and we definitely don’t see enough of it on a red carpet.

Looooove the silvery blue jacket, shirt, scarf trio!

A butter gown that really accentuates her (what I choose to believe is real) summer glow!

I believe this is the exact definition of serving c*nt. yAAAAAAaaaaaSsss King.

Can’t explain why this colonial doll getup tickled me, but it sure did. See? I can change my judgements because normally I’d be railing on those puff sleeves and instead I’m like should I also have a floral nightgown dress? I think the wine red lips and tousled hair really sold it, making it more casj cute and less night of the living dolls.

This is a nice tasteful feathering.

Would’ve liked her hair better down but even though you’ll have to pry my bright blue and hot pink nail polish out of my cold dead hands as long as I have a tan, Jennie’s dark mani and lips ALMOST made me want to go fall. ALMOST.

This glitzy pink is making her baby blues POP.

Making a white jacket look gangsta.

A moment for a dead leaves fall hue. (that matches her hair and YES I LOVE THAT SO MUCH MATCHING IS MY FAVORITE.)

Yes to a maroon suit, always. Is it me or is Jason Segel getting significantly hotter as he ages? Another reason why men are trash. I’ll be looking like a worn leather bag in 5 years time (prob still without a husband) and this mf’er slimmed down, grew a beard, got some sun streaked highlights and a fresh turks tan and is the hottest he’s ever been at 45.

Love that she flipped her ends. Reese Witherspoon did that in the early aughts and all I ever wanted was to have a flippy hairdo but alas I was cursed with a brillo pad head. The dress is fun and a rare occasion where I will approve of a one strapper.

Legit only Walton Goggins can pull off a half unbuttoned shirt with full chesties and a very feminine necklace dangling in his cleavage. And boy does he know it.

This is like the bachelor franchise in a dress and I couldn’t love it more.

A sultry stare in a midnight jacket. Yum.

HOT TREND OF THE MOMENT…the naked dress. Credit to Justine for being the only one to rock it on this carpet and I think she smashed it out of the park. The pieces of flair are large enough to distract from her bits and it’s not too scandalous for the occasion.

Saving our host for last. If you’re doing a before/after, Nate is quite literally unrecognizable from when he started comedy back in the dizzle. Further proof that the more money you make, the better you look. (Adam Sandler is of course, the exception to that rule.) Either way, he looks sharp and he held his own on the big stage. Except when he called Gilmore Girls “Gilmore Now” and totally stroked out pronouncing Karen Fairchild’s name. But no one noticed, I bet.

Salty Stories

WELP, I Tried. – Part Two

Disclaimer: I tried to not make this a 5,000 word dissertation, but I am a work in progress. If this blog is too long for you, please feel free to visit my Instagram and see the 5 curated & themed posts about this trip for a much shorter visual snack. That’s the family-friendly, ‘don’t piss anyone from the trip off’ version. If you want the more unfiltered (but still not totally unfiltered) version, keep reading.

Now onto the big solo adventure of June. This beach writing retreat was planned by an actress who splits her time between LA and NY and still has family in this area of Greece where she’s from. I found her on Instagram. Before you say YIKES that’s sketchy, please know that I already know that. I did everything I could to fact check this situation before just trusting the universe and 2025 being my mf’ing year and zelle’ing large sums of money to a woman I only know via the ‘gram. She had done several retreats before, and this one in particular was featuring an NYT bestselling memoir author to teach the writing workshops. After much back and forth about booking this trip or a different one with a Barstool Sports blogger, I ultimately decided to go with the author I didn’t know so that I could visit a country I’ve always wanted to visit. I mean, I was literally asking my dad at 13 when he was going to take us on family vacay to Mykonos. To which he replied, “what is it that you think I do for work?” We went to the Jersey Shore instead.

Anyway, I figured workshopping and making connections with other writers would be more than I’m doing now (avoiding further rejection and instead just word vomming all over this blog.) I also set a lofty goal to re-write my book from 2020 and self-publish. After doing some research on what an editor would cost, it seemed to be around the same amount as this trip and I thought the experience would be more rewarding for me. So, I venmo’ed the deposit, then bought the author’s memoir and read it for the first time. What I thought was a comedy memoir like my book draft, was the exact opposite. Her story covered years of drug addiction and trauma, which is a far cry from my tales about my tummy probz. The book was incredibly dark and I wondered exactly what type of writing we’d be doing in these workshops, but that was for future Ju to deal with. I was excited to A. call myself a writer and B. tell anyone who sniffed near me that I was going on a writers retreat to Greece because how creative chic is that?!

Here’s what I already knew about me going into this trip:

I connect more with individuals in quiet settings and small groups where I can actually get to know them.
I want to be spontaneous but I actually love routines, schedule, and control.
I enjoy looking up things to do in the places I’m traveling to and creating a detailed itinerary.
I’m a social butterfly on borrowed time, meaning I need ample recovery and recharging after social interactions or situations where I’m exerting a lot of mental energy.
My stomach is a literal friggin disaster and only gets worse when I travel.
I get overstimulated by noises very quickly.

Here’s what I learned from this experience:

Group trips are not for me.

Alright, here’s the deal, I’m going to add nuance as to why I came to that conclusion, but unfortunately due to legalities, I cannot get into the sordid day to day details of this absolutely bonkers trip. That sounded super official, right? I’m a writer who has legalities. Nah, for real, this is a public forum and I’ve built it upon punching up at celebrities who deserve to be mocked. If I were to really spill the beans on what went down on this trip, I’d be punching down in a big way, which I’m not stupid enough to do on the record. If you want the VH1 Behind the Music version, buy me a cocktail and I’ll regale you with stories that’ll have your jaw on the ground. Simply put, there were several moments on this trip where I wondered if I was on a hidden camera show or part of a human experiment where the humans were actually animals let out of their cages for a week. And given the fact that this was organized by creatives, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if a book, movie, or both are made based on this true story. If White Lotus season 4 just so happens to take place at a Greek resort…I better get a hefty payout.

That being said, I’ll give you the glaring red flags leading up to the trip, plus how the very first day went, and then we’ll all wrap around the campfire for some reflections and bay at the moon. I don’t take big decisions lightly and as a real penny pincher, anything that costs a large sum of money gets even more thought. When I finally decided to put the deposit down for this trip in November, I had a surge of adrenaline and something to look forward to. Having not traveled internationally on my own since college, I was eager to get my flight booked as soon as possible to secure a good rate and also make this feel real. I even got a credit card with travel points hoping that the sign-on bonus would be enough to cover the flight. To take it a step further, I was cocky enough to think I could treat myself to first class and really make this a dream come true. I figured a flight to Europe costs about $1000, so how much more could first class be? Oh baby, what a cold hard slap of reality it was to see that dirt-level economy flights to Europe are in the $2500-3000 range and thus just business class was hovering around $6K. Poor people seats it is! Having not heard anything from our trip planner, I reached out to get a sense of if flights should arrive around a specific time for airport transportation purposes. She replied that I could book whatever I wanted. So I did.

All was quiet on the trip organizing front until I get a text at the end of February asking where the rest of my money is. Um, was I supposed to know it was due? Apparently, yes. She tells me to just Venmo her again. Folks, this trip was thousands of dollars. Would you feel comfy tossing that over Venmo to a stranger? I ask if she can do Zelle instead because it seems a scooch more legit and she obliges. I literally have to move funds around to get everything set to send only to find out even Zelle is like, you good, ma? You can’t send that much money to someone in one day. Which is actually kind of comforting that there’s limits. Could’ve really used an alert when I Zelle’ed a crackhead $25 for fake Eras Tour tickets, but whatevs.

Once the money was sent and I was locked in for sure, I started to get even more anxiety when it was truly crickets about this trip. So far all I knew was the dates, how much I paid for it, and that there would be writing and beaches. I couldn’t even pronounce the name of the city we were going to so when people asked, I just showed them the name. Then they would inevitably ask if it was one of the islands and I would say, sure. It wasn’t until I got back and someone goes, “oh, so you were in Northern Greece,” that I actually knew where the hell I was. In fact, while I was there I said is Macedonia a region or a country? Truly thought it was a country. Geography’s not my strong suit. Neither is math. Neither is booking a trip through Instagram. At one point last winter, my fellow organized traveler of a friend asked me rapidfire questions about my trip that I didn’t have answers to and I had to politely tell her to stop inquiring or I would fall in to a panic spiral and be forced to face the cold hard truth: I paid for something that could be fake. This was also around the time my dad started referring to the trip as Fyre Fest.

In March, I finally emailed and asked for ANY details like lodging, itinerary, transportation, and who else might be joining. The reply had a “rough” itinerary with each date listed and ‘breakfast, workshop, lunch, dinner’ written underneath, copy/paste style. I DID get the name of our resort and was able to see that it had good reviews and looked nice. So, at least we weren’t staying in FEMA tents masquerading as luxury villas. TBD on if this “resort” would serve styrofoam containers of government cheese on bread for our meals. I also was told I’d be connected with the other travelers soon. Throughout March and some of April, both girls were still advertising open spots for the trip on their IG, which was sus as hell. It also looked like our trip leader was in a different country every week. The story I began to tell myself and others to romanticize the situation was that she’s a European easy breezy beautiful cover girl and not an American uptight wad like I was. I reframed my thoughts to tell everyone this is actually a lesson in letting go for me and trusting that it’ll all work out. Let the records show that I’ll tell myself any fairytale I need to in order to justify my decisions.

One month before we were due to be in Greece (my birthday), we receive an itinerary that is almost identical to the one I got in March, listing that we would be fed 3x a day, which SEEMS LIKE A GIVEN on a trip where three meals a day are included in the price. All of the girls were on this email, and if I really wanted to put on my detective hat, I could’ve pulled gov names from each email and looked them all up, but at this point I didn’t want to find any further damning information about this trip that I couldn’t back out of. We were 3 weeks out and I still had no clue what we were doing other than eating meals and going to a beach. The author followed up with an additional email saying “you’re probably wondering what to pack!” YA THINK? And said light clothes and comfy shoes. She also told us some tech items to include in our suitcases, including her favorite products, which she couldn’t remember the names of and couldn’t find on Amazon to link to. Both useless emails full of typos did nothing to give me more confidence about what was to come.

If you haven’t booked your flights yet for international travel 2 weeks away…

I tried so hard to be casj cool and only control the things I could (booking a ride to the airport, taking weeks to meticulously pack outfits into compression cubes not knowing what the F I was wearing said outfits to, buying backup battery packs and converters, creating first aid kits, etc.) One day before I travel, despite having sent my flight info several times and asking to be linked with anyone on the same flight, I still have no clue how I’m getting from the airport to the resort (a 2 hour drive I was already dreading due to my severe motion sickness). I messaged the Billy McFarland of retreats and said, “Do you have any details about the airport pickup?” There are several appropriate responses here that would adequately answer my question such as, meet at this spot, look for this person, look for a sign with the resort name/retreat name/your name…and yet the response I got was, “We will be there to pick you up not to worry, we will find you.”

I’m already a high-strung babe and doing a global trek solo dolo, understandably, was a nerve-wracking thing for me. Add in the drama of my flight not showing up on the app and then my name being “wrong” because I didn’t include my middle name, so how could they possibly know it’s me?! I had to call two separate airlines because even though they operate each other’s flights, they can’t possibly communicate with each other. Needless to say, I showed up to the airport ready to run through a brick wall and also shit my pants. My suitcase was 10 lbs overweight. When I asked what I was supposed to do about that the airline attendant said, and I may be paraphrasing here, “you can scoot your bulky suitcase over to the floor of shame, open that bitch up for everyone to judge how much you hideously overpacked, and move 10 lbs of outfits you won’t wear to your carry-on OR you can pay the overage.” Since I’d rather die than be judged, I said, “what’s the overage?” She replied, 250. As in TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS. I turned heel, wheeled my phat suitcase out of line and started extracting, I cursed my need for multiple clothing/shoe options and the fact that I only brought a shoulder bag carry-on thinking I would fill it with souvs for the way back and it would be basically empty on the way there.

Well, I filled that bag right up (after two rounds of the luggage scale perp walk because I got the cranky airline employee who wanted to be a stickler for two pounds over) and had to schlep it through Newark airport. By the time I got to my gate to see if it existed, I had pit stains down to my ankles and full swass. I got a well-deserved $35 Ketel Soda to cool down and cry about the fact that I now was riddled with this American Eagle duffel bag overflowing with clothes and shoes for the rest of my 15 hour travel day. *Note: I wore everything I packed except for the rogue pair of jeans I threw in with several top variations for potentially cooler nights, which there were none of. So suck it, airport Judge Judy.

Despite carrying a boulder on my shoulder, everything went swimmingly with my travels and if I pat myself on the back any harder for how well I navigated that, my hand would fall off. To the group of malákas who mercilessly mocked and berated me for asking where to find my train last summer during an NJ Transit snafu, LOOK AT ME NOW! Made it across the Atlantic Ocean and through Germany all by myself without once asking a fellow traveler a question for fear of being publicly stoned to death. And God Bless the Munich airport for having shopping carts. I got to drop my 800 lbs of carry-on onto wheels and cruise on over to the window for some natural light and self-care.

Even as a solo traveling champ, it was still a full day of sweating, not sleeping, eating the highest of sodium microwave meals (and one particularly dicey cream cheese relish sandwich), smelling airplane farts, and being touched by strangers because even the smallest human does not fit in what they constitute as an airplane seat these days.

When I landed in Greece, I had fuzzy teeth and BO. And wouldn’t you know…they did NOT find me. I walked slowly out of baggage claim looking for signs, or a group of girls, or really anything that indicated I wasn’t about to be stranded in a foreign airport or snatched into a Euro human trafficking ring and NOTHIN. I don’t mean to always be right but IT DOES SEEM TO HAPPEN A LOT. I had 2 emails in my inbox, one from the group leader and one from a girl who will end up becoming a friend asking me where I am. I then get a call asking me where I am. As if I have magically ethered after getting off of a plane in a very small airport that I was told it was impossible for them to miss me because there’s only one way in and one way out. BLOW MY BRAINS OUT. I’m told I gave the wrong flight info, which I surely didn’t, and then to stand still and someone will find me, something I was already actively doing. Finally, I am found. It’s a real Amazing Grace moment. And I meet 5 other girls, most of whom were on the same exact flight that I was. Wouldn’t it have been GREAT to meet some of my fellow group mates in the Munich airport when I had 3.5 hours to kill, thus also creating a buddy system for when I landed?! Just a thought. Seems rational thoughts were not a part of this trip as we all roll our oversized suitcases and 2 carry-on’s each to a sprinter van that will be taking us to the resort. The trunk of this sprinter van opens up and there is room to comfortably fit one large suitcase. SUPER!

At this point I’m loopy and I just have to laugh at the absurdity of not accounting for luggage with 6 women on a week-long trip, but also expecting jetlagged greasy babes to problem solve this pickle that we did not get ourselves into. As we stepped back and watched the chaos ensue, I learned via some side commentary that everyone was as concerned as I was about sending money to a stranger and receiving no details about this retreat in advance. So at least it was comforting to know that we were all duped as a unit. The final solution after 20-30 minutes of suitcase Jenga while we almost get hit by cars in the parking lot is two stacked in the trunk, two stacked in the front, and the remaining 20 bags to be shoved on laps and at feet throughout the van. We pile in and start rolling and immediately realize that the only source of airflow is in the front and being blocked by suitcases. We try to open windows and by pure luck, the one closest to me will not budge. I’m in the back row of the van and I tell these girlies that I’ve met five minutes ago, “this may be an opportune time to share that I get car sick, so I just wanted to give a head’s up that I’ll be closing my eyes and disassociating for the remainder of this three hour tour.” Someone asked if I might throw up. Only time will tell, girlypops!

This is truly one of the ugliest photos I’ve ever taken of myself but goes to show how dedicated I am to being authentic.

We stopped 4 times on this drive straight out of my nightmares. Stop # 1 was because the double decker suitcases in the front were getting in the way of our driver shifting gears, and there was a dicey moment when both almost went free falling out of the front window, which was rolled all the way down in hopes that a morsel of fresh air would make its way back to the bowels of this van. God Bless my seat mate, the same pal who emailed me, for suggesting we put the suitcases in the back and Ju up front since she’s probably going to ralph everywhere. I then got to take the Queen’s throne where I hung my head out the window like a dog and let that sea breeze smack me in the face while my legs were in a full contortion pretzel on the dash. I love my legs, they are my greatest feature, but boy do I wish I could chop them off while traveling because they quite literally never have a place to go.

Stop # 2 was to fill up the ole tank. Because of course when you rent a van that is just for transporting people to and from the airport, you wait until it’s full of people with suitcases digging into their side wanting to die to gas ‘er up. Stop # 3 was for goats crossing the road. This was the only stop I would’ve allowed (it was mandatory) and I got a front row seat for animal cuteness. I’m sure my homeslices suffocating in the back did not enjoy this as much.

Stop # 4 was 15 minutes away from the resort when two women insisted they wouldn’t make it another second without peeing. As someone with a strong bladder and lots of pee anxiety, I can hold my urine for a minimum of 5 hours, maximum of like 10-12 depending on the situation and how much I’ve had to drink. We all peed before we left the airport and knew it was a 2 hour drive and I don’t believe anyone was slugging water on this trip because in Europe water is not readily available and we basically spent a week dehydrated. So why we had two almost oopsie pee pants moments from women who have not birthed children and thus have not ruined their pelvic floor yet IS BEYOND ME. We pulled over on the side of this back country road where there’s a cliff down to the Aegean Sea and the rocky dirt becomes their toilet. One tucks herself behind a tree and takes care of business, the other stands directly next to the car and just lets it all wizz out, fully erect, no squat, no removal of skirt and/or underwear, if there was any. As my window was down, I saw and heard the thicc cascading waterfall of pee, and if I really wanted to, I probably could’ve reached out and touched it. And there is…no recovering from that. It was the most wild thing I’ve ever witnessed. The goats crossing the road wouldn’t have even pulled this maneuver. And that was only hour 3 of being in Greece.

This hot start was most obviously an omen for the trip. It was the equivalent of driving up a winding road to a creepy haunted house and there being a dead-eyed old man holding a sign on the side of said road that reads TURN AROUND in blood. Should I have seen what I needed to see at the airport and split in a cab for a week of solo trolling around Thessanoliki? Probably. But then I wouldn’t be able to write this blog and WHAT FUN WOULD THAT BE?!

Stray cats everywhere I looked, also an omen.

Alright, time for reflections. As it turns out, putting 17 women in a room together may be ABC’s dream to create drama for a reality dating show, but IRL, it’s overwhelming and overstimulating. I can confidently say, and this may be a hot take for some people, but big groups of women do not bring out the best in each other. I’m not one of those girls that’s like oh I get along better with men, actually. I get along with plenty of girls. I love that girlhood is complimenting each other’s outfits and becoming best friends in bar bathrooms. But I also think too many girls trying to out-personality each other in a confined space is what purgatory looks like and there were several moments when I wanted to chop my ears clean off my head. Knowing that I bond better in smaller circles, cutting that group in half would’ve been very beneficial to girls who don’t thrive in attention-seeking environments. We also reealllly could’ve used some Big Dick Energy in this pack of she-wolves to balance things out.

Greece is known for their dicks, yet none were on this trip.

Although there was no detailed itinerary for our week-long stay, there was no down time either. The only moments I was alone was when I was showering or sleeping, and oftentimes I was showering at warp speed to make it to dinner on time after staying at the beach later to enjoy it as much as possible. In order to get my family souvenirs, I had to literally skip dinner one night to go shopping instead. I’m honestly shocked I never went full irritated bitch mode and snapped at anyone due to a depleted social battery and only getting about 4-5 hours of sleep each night, although I’m sure my face showed my every gripe on more than one occasion. If you know me, you know I must sleep a tight 8-10 hours every night and also get my daily late afternoon cat nap or I turn into the Beast when Belle refuses to join him for dinner. This is probably why I’ll never have children. Unfortunately, my body rejected the time zone in Greece and never adjusted. It was like it knew I didn’t belong there.

Also, as it pertains to my bowels and overall potty anxiety, I learned that flushing toilet paper in old European cities is a hard no. Tell someone who has IBS that the ancient pipes LITERALLY can’t dissolve thin tissue paper and watch them panic right before your very eyes. The good news is I was perpetually dehydrated and existing solely on carbs and one water bottle per day that I greedily filled up at the beverage station each morning at the breakfast buffet (to many dirty looks of course.) It was the perfect recipe for constipation. Sure, I looked like I was in my first trimester, but at least I didn’t have a tummy emergency that shut down the whole resort.

I never got to order my own food (another point of contention) and was forever hungry so this late night dawg was not only necessary for survival but v satisfying.

Three hours later…I think you get the gist of why group trips go against every fiber of my being. But much like Coldplay taught me in 2005, “if you never try, you’ll never know.” I tried it, I turned it into a story to make myself laugh / hopefully entertain you all, and I know that the next time I travel it will be with people who pee in a toilet preferably behind a closed door. This retreat wasn’t a lesson in letting go of control, it was a lesson in raising my hopes to Jupiter for something and not crying when those unrealistic expectations are not met. Can confirm that I did not cry about any of my disappointing solo events in the month of June. And that’s on growth, baby! (TBH, I did cry on the last night pre-hot dog but it was because I was read for filth by the Greek Billy McFarland and those were justified tears and not wah wah my life sucks tears. BIG DIFF.) I won’t beat the “two things can be true” theme to death but obviously this blog was heavy on the things that went wrong on this trip and if you want to know what went right, go to my IG/FB and see me rave about becoming one with the sea, boating/beaching like a champ, and bonding with two girlies who were equally as horrified as I was at any given moment. #TraumaBond. I would say the takeaway here is to never book a trip on Instagram, but honestly I booked my airport ride on Instagram with a guy named Vinny and that was a 100/10 experience, so I’m gonna keep rolling the dice on socials. You win some, you lose some.

True test if we can be friends: if you laugh at this video that I spent way too much time making whilst in the Munich airport on my layover.

After ALL of that, traveling back in a total haze of overtired crankiness, I spent my 9 hour return flight furiously journaling everything I saw and heard on this excursion, with my gangly legs stretched out into the middle seat because the Lord took pity upon me and left that seat open, giving me a place for my greatest asset to belong. And as the aisle seat and I were waiting in line for the potty (matching potty times is super polite plane etiquette), he asked if I was a writer after noticing me nearly ripping the page with my pen velocity. I told him how I was just returning from a writer’s retreat (I’m telling you, it makes me sound SO LEGIT), and we ended up chatting for about 20 minutes. He published an academic book and shared stories about that process, including a juicy C&D he received from Julie Andrews for using her photo on the cover. He was easy to chat with and casually brought up his husband almost immediately, which I LOVED. The gays have an uncanny knack for immediately letting you know they’re an ally and not a predator. And since I’ve been preyed upon several times in the past month by gross old pervs, I very much appreciated knowing right out the gate that this man would not be cornering me for my phone number, making me want to swan dive out the emergency exit. In fact, he gave me HIS business card and told me he would connect me to his neighbor in publishing. I told him that clearly I was meant to meet him because he just gave me more writing advice and contacts than I got all week. He told me I was funny, so obviously I would die for him. And THAT’S what you get for trying!

Salty Stories

WELP, I Tried. – Part One

Welcome to the summer of solo adventures that shall never be repeated.

A lie that I told myself to get through one of the loneliest and darkest winters I have ever experienced, was that 2025 was going to be my year. I fully convinced myself (and anyone around me who would listen) that this is the year everything clicks into place, even making my first ever vision board and writing down manifestations to really toss the good vibes into the uni. A big piece of that “this is your year” momentum centered on a decision I made last fall, to spend a sizeable amount of money (my entire savings) to join a writing beach retreat in Greece. It was something that had come across my desk more than once, and I kept revisiting it, clearly stuck on the idea that I needed to push myself to not only do a solo trip, but to go to a place I’ve always wanted to go AND tie it into reaching new writing goals. So, with much encouragement (and a sliver of financial support from parents who will literally never rid themselves of their youngest child), I booked the trip and had something BIG to look forward to.

Also during this time of utter despair short freezing days, two of my favorite artists announced summer concerts in Asbury Park a week apart from each other. What’re the chances?! Natch, I had no one to go to either concert with. Forever on the fence about doing a concert alone, I decided to pull the trigger and make June of 2025, the month of doing things alone and scared. It was either going to be forever, or go down in flames as an up and coming musician once sang about men. And now that we’re safely in July, I can now publicly declare…FLAMES. It went down in flames.

Let’s start with the concerts. What has stopped me from ever going to a show alone before, you might ask? The dreaded in-between time. Concerts are typically annoying parking situations, perhaps a long walk to the venue, waiting in line, not actually knowing when the band goes onstage so you get a drink, buy merch, maybe eat a snack, and yap. Then of course, there’s the dead air between sets as they switch the stages. When you think about it, there’s several wasted hours during a show that you barely notice when you’re with friends just yuckin it up. When you’re alone? It feels like 84 years have passed since you arrived. Well wouldn’t you know, this very specific fear that I had was 1 billion percent true.

My first solo show was Russell Dickerson, and there’s a reason his headlining tour of 2022 was called the RD Party. Boy knows how to put on a banger of a show complete with ripping his shirt off at the end, Chippendales style. He also happens to have some boppin beach songs and I couldn’t pass up the chance to be ON the actual beach jamming it up to the songs of the summer. Plus, both of his openers were singers I liked, which also never happens. Cut to me overthinking my outfit (in case a cowboy swept me off my boots), spending 20 mins looking for parking in Asbury, finally giving up and paying $25 for a parking garage when I could’ve found a street spot for $6, then getting into the venue and immediately buying an overpriced hat I didn’t need because, duh. A merch tent LOVES to see me comin. And then silence. For over an hour.

1. I hope the city council or whoever is in charge over in Asbury Park gets diarrhea at a super inconvenient time for the way they’ve monopolized parking in that dump.

2. I get that venues want you to show up early and give them money (cause who at this point doesn’t want to rip all of my money away from me) but HOW have we not made it public exactly what times each band graces the stage so concert-goers can plan accordingly?!

But I digress, I made my way closer to the stage, something I’ve never been early enough for in the past, and then I realized, I couldn’t leave that spot. I had no one to hold it for me and I certainly wasn’t going to get a drink and piss people off trying to get it back. I got dirty looks just for walking casually toward the front 16 hours before the show began. (Which is wild by the way. Sorry for existing?) So, for the next small century, I lived in that spot. I never got a drink, I never went to the bathroom, I just stood. It was BRUTAL. An hour and a half later the first opener went onstage. He was fun and I was reminded I know even less words to songs than I think I do. Another 30-45 mins of stage switching, then the second opener. Same deal. Then another what seemed like eternity of nothingness before the main event. I read all of social media that night. Everything. I was seeing tweets as they were coming through in real time because I was so starved for entertainment. I texted everyone I know and they were all busy not being a smelly loser cheese stands alone at a concert in white cowboy boots. I smiled at people next to me in the eternity of waiting hoping I might make a new friend. No one bit. I even tried the bonding over mutual hate tactic whenever a drunk guy pushed through by catching eyes with someone near me and doing a dramatic ‘get a load of this a*hole’ eye roll. Didn’t reel any pals in with that one either and that’s how I know I was not amongst my people. Russell commanded the stage as he always does but it lacked the glimmer for me. I had no one to scream sing BRING IT OVER HERE LITTLE MAMA, I’VE GOT A WHISKEY WAITING ON YA in their face and do the MGNO shuffle. It was a great show, and also incredibly disappointing. It was fun for 1-2 hours and excruciatingly boring and awkward for 3 other hours. Peep the content I created below because I wasn’t about to let that view go to waste after becoming a statue in the same spot for an entire evening.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DKm4jExAiVZ

Apparently WordPress is no longer friends with Instagram, so you have to click a link, which I know is asking a lot.

@gardenstategoofin
Literally just a Jersey girl who wants to have fun at RussellMania 💃🏻 #gardenstategoofin #stoneponysummerstage #russelldickerson #soldoutshow #sonicehesangittwice #happentome @Russell Dickerson
♬ original sound – Garden State Goofin

I left this show already dreading my next solo concert, but also didn’t really want to deal with the admin of trying to sell a ticket while I’m in another country. So this time, I posted in a Facebook group of girliecats looking for friends in Asbury Park and asked if anyone else was going and wanted to meet up. Four women commented separately that they were and I DM’ed all of them my phone number and told them to text me if they were open to meeting at the show. I received 0 text messages. One girl messaged me on Facebook and then when I reached out before the show, crickets. Which is worse, going solo and acting like it was a choice, or trying to meet up with absolute strangers and getting ghosted? You can get back to me on that.

Knowing that I absolutely didn’t care about this opening act and couldn’t do another two hours of standing in a crowd pretending to read tweets I’ve already read, I aimed to get there right as the band was taking the stage. This concert was for my good ole tried and true fave nostalgic musician, Andrew McMahon. The pop punk singing piano player I’ve been obsessed with since I was 16, and have dutifully seen live with each band he’s formed every time he swings through town. Well wouldn’t you know, I overcorrected my arrival time and didn’t account for the additional 40 minutes it took me to find a mediocre parking spot 5 blocks away (seriously, die a slow death, Asbury Park), so I was in line to enter as the band was getting onstage. You know what’s the perfect show to be in the dead last row for? The one where the lead singer sits at a piano the whole time. For realz, I could’ve been in a canoe bobbing in the waves of the ocean behind me and would’ve had the same view of the stage that I was catching inside this venue.

I got a drink to buy myself time on how to find a spot and then bopped from one side of the stage to the other, in the way back, craning my neck to see if I could ever actually get eyes on my boy Andrew. I finally settled into a spot by the fourth song and if the guys in front of me didn’t talk to each other, I could just make out Andrew McMahon’s tiny head in the negative space between these bros’ meaty necks. Sick view. The sound was even better. When they were singing, it was fine, although I could hear the crowd more strongly than them, but when Andrew talked, which he likes to do at shows, I got nothin. This was the 20th anniversary of their first album and he was telling stories about why he wrote certain songs, and all I heard was everyone around me’s conversations. Hey babes, if you’re going to just socialize, why spend $60 a head to do so? Why not just go to the bar and put that money toward boozin? I tried to push past groups that were literally facing away from the stage because WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?! Also, I realize I could’ve just gone full dick mode and done the “I’m looking for my friends” bit to push toward the front, but just the thought of pissing someone off and having a Jersey-style confrontation gives me the nervous poops. Not to mention the fact that I’m Jack the friggin Beanstalk and even just standing in the back I heard the slicked bun behind me grumbling to her tall hot boyf that I was too tall and she couldn’t see. Life must be rly hard for her.

The only time I could see him was when he jumped on the piano…

To add insult to injury, after 3 full days of a 100 degree heat wave, Earth was like my hot flash is over, let’s go back to fall, dropped down to 60 degrees and that G-D wind was back, BB! Challenge accepted though and credit to me: nailed it with the perfect amount of layers. Tee+hoodie+jean jacket. I wore a baseball cap with braids because I’d rather hurl myself off a cliff than have my hair repeatedly blow in my face. I never took the hood down. Should the chat monsters surrounding me ever close their gaping yappers, they would’ve wondered if I was the unabomber or JLo just trying to keep it on the DLow and not get recognized in AP. If you’re hating your current situation and everyone around you, highly recommend wearing both a hat and a hood. It was like having blinders up and also really came in handy WHEN IT STARTED RAINING HALFWAY THROUGH THE SHOW. Needless to say, I am done with solo concerts. BUT, I tried. I made the pre-judgement about why they wouldn’t be enjoyable that I was incredibly right about. And now I know for sure, seeing live music is only fun for me when I can share the adrenaline and joy with someone else, much like most of life.

TO BE CONTINUED because this blog was even too long for me so I cut it into two parts. And let me tell you, part two is a doozy.

Salty Stories

The Tummy Trials

As you might recall, I made the brave decision to detail my colonoscopy on this very blog a couple years ago. Since that fateful day when I sealed it into Internet history just what a disaster my intestines are amidst a dramatic retelling of my b*hole being plundered, I’ve continued living my life and hoping that one day I wouldn’t wake up bloated and ready to let out a constant stream of noxious gas forever and for all of eternity. Sure, I’ve continued to dabble in over-the-counter remedies, again, hoping that one secret sauce would unblock the dams and let the poop flow freely, but not so freely that I needed a diaper. My tummy trials have continued with powders, pills, gummies, and most recently, a foray into the ever-obnoxious world of drinking greens every morning. Just as I knocked all of the H2O warriors off of their pedestals, I’ll do the same for the Green Goddesses. Did NOTHIN. I went through a whole tub of Bloom, drinking a daily greens smoothie every morning, and honestly I think I got MORE constipated if that’s even possible. So way to go, wellness babes. You’ve really got it figured out.

Well, I had one last bullet in the gun that I’d like to point directly at my digestive system and fire… and that was seeing a dietician. Please join me as I process my disappointment through jokes on what it’s like to willingly see a dietician when you’re not trying to lose weight or eat healthy, but you just want to stop poisoning your dog’s breathing air with toxic toots. (I’m so sorry, Charlee.)

In case you haven’t heard from the 40,000 times I’ve screamed it on my social media, 2025 is gonna be my year. I manifested a man in my future and he’s not gonna want to marry me if I smell like a sewage plant and spend the majority of my waking hours on the can. So step 1 is fix my tummy. Wellness starts from within, so I went back to the gym and started eating avocado toast. Avocado toast was discovered by the rest of the world a decade ago, and everyone pinpointed avocados as the only reason millennials couldn’t afford to buy a house. I felt like there was too much heat on the green stuff at this particular time, plus I genuinely didn’t know when an avocado is ripe or how to cut it, so I sat back and let everyone else enjoy it before I finally dabbled for the first time this year. Shit is great. I’ve really been missing out. I also throw 1-2 out a week because they have weird spots on the inside or completely rot on my counter so I can confirm this is why I’ll never be able to buy a house. Just throwing money right in the trash.

In addition to almost daily avo toast, I’ve been beefing up my tomato intake AND started making a daily smoothie as a pre-gym snack. So in summary, I’m exercising, and eating fruits/veggies erreday. Problem solved, right? Do I still toss back frozen TGIFridays potato skins & boxed mac and cheese on a weekly basis? You bet your ass I do. Not together though…what do you think I am, a synthetic powdered orange cheese factory? But now that I’m more balanced in my cheese to veggie ratio, I wasn’t feeling as ashamed as I usually am about my total disregard for my body and thus felt it was finally time to expose my habits to a dietician and say HELP ME, I’M ~~POOR~~ FULL OF SHIT. After completing a lengthy questionnaire where I once again doubled down my life philosophy, I had my first appointment.

But not before I had my last hurrah of a bender via the Super Bowl. Couldn’t tell you one thing about the game itself, but I will always accept an excuse to app my face off for 3 hours.

Since a dietician is a real bougie kind of doctor, this woman was located on the main street of a very rich beach town above a boutique that sells the type of clothes one might wear around Turks & Caicos on one’s monthly vacay. I saw my Dr’s very white woman who wears Lululemon to Whole Foods name on the door and I opened it not sure if I was going to walk into a little waiting area. Nope, I walked into her sitting at her desk in a coastal chic loft with very white carpeting. So not only did I barge in without knocking but I also tromped mud all over her white shag. Hot start! That first impression will tell you everything you need to know about this 50 minute appointment. I’m a big, messy, slob who would hook up an IV to a fondue fountain if given the option, and my dietician was a perfectly dressed, very fit, celestial being who is probably 75% kale and spoke in soft tones. As I proceeded to crack jokes about the smell of my farts and my harrowing experience at the GI where I caught a finger up the butt and was told I was pooping wrong, this dietician politely smiled and took notes. I had the good fortune of learning that my GI missed several tests that should’ve been administered before my colonoscopy, which as you recall, I had to demand. And then…we got into diet.

If I wasn’t already feeling inferior (I most certainly was) this would be the moment that I felt like a raccoon scavenging a dumpster for food. I mean, you would think I told this woman I’m channeling Morgan Spurlock and on a McDonald’s-only diet by her judgmental reactions. After pointing out my new love for avocados, I ran down a typical day of food for me, which is: bagel and schmear for breakfast (or eggs, bacon, & toast), turkey & cheese on a roll for lunch (or salad with prosciutto, olives, and cheese), and a meat, veggie and starch for dinzies. One cup of coffee a day and plenty of water (with soluble fiber powder) up until my nightcap of 1 glass of wine while I watch my evening programs. Pop quiz style she repeated my options back to me and asked me how many grams of fiber was in each option. Unfortunately for me, I had to say zero every time and honestly I was waiting to be sent to the chokey for my meal choices. I was quick to point out that I drink my fiber, per my last GI’s instruction, I powder my water with fiber for each meal. Well, apparently that’s not really doing anything, so I’m super glad I’ve spent the last 2 years stirring up a sand concoction to drink with each meal. She told me to get psyllium husk fiber (now we’re splitting hairs over what type of fiber is better), which spoiler alert I did and I poured it into water, used an electric mixer because it came out looking like cat vomit and after vigorously mixing it turned into a flesh tone gelatin that I wouldn’t touch let alone ingest, and that tub was promptly returned back to Trader Joe’s. SICK SUGGESTION! (This is the one thing I don’t have a photo of and I really regret not snapping one but I was too busy gagging, so enjoy some internet snaps instead.) Guess what my old “bad” fiber powder looked and tasted like? Water. No chewing necessary.

What’s even more embarrassing about this diet rundown is that I wasn’t even divulging the real deets of what ingredients I’m willing to consume (trick question, I don’t look at ingredients, if it tastes good I slam it in my boca), or the fact that I KNOW I’m eating probably 2-3 times the portion that I’m supposed to be eating per meal. Also, it’s February…so I very slyly was able to omit my hot dog intake because who the hell is eating wieners in the winter?! Now that you know how much I DIDN’T SHARE, don’t you feel like I was unfairly punished here?! In fact, homegirl LAUGHED at my bit about a life without cheese is not a life worth living and then goes, so you have to cut dairy out of your diet. EXSQUEEZE ME?! If that’s the case then just put me out of my damn misery, now, Doc! I sprinkle cheese into every single meal like I’m the damn dairy fairy. Let’s not even get started on the counter-covering charcuterie boards my family erects at holidays. This past winter I tried making a new soup recipe every few weeks, and guess what each soup called for? AT LEAST 3 TYPES OF CHEESE and heavy cream. One of them had Velveeta in it! Even my veggies have cheese. Green Giant’s frozen cheesy noodles and broccoli is a STAPLE side dish in this household for one, serving size for a family of four. SO I GUESS I’LL STARVE, BABE.

Here’s me making a “healthy” meal and still tossing globs of mozz on top.

And starve is just what she’s having me do. I left with stacks of paper in tow, all listing terrible items to buy at the grocery store that not only taste like blech but also will basically bend me over at the register as well! Wanna know why most people eat like shit? BECAUSE THEIR JOB (OR MULTIPLE JOBS) DON’T PAY THEM ENOUGH TO AFFORD THE ORGANIC, ALL NATURAL, GLUTEN FREE, DAIRY FREE, DUG UP FROM THE GROUND BULLSHIT. Don’t even get me started on the notion that Whole Foods can charge triple the price for food that still has soil on it. So, wanna hear what a woman who has FOR SURE never fed her child a dino-shaped frozen chicken nuggie told me to buy? Sure ya do!

My breakfasts will now consist of fruits, chia seeds, whole grain bread and *natural* nut butters–ya know, the kind that have 4 ft of oil sitting at the top of the jar. My lunch suggestion was turkey, arugula, & vegan cashew pesto on whole grain bread with fruit as a side. And my dinner is a meat but the veggie can’t be cheesin and the starch should be a skin-on potato or sweet potato (no sour cream or butter.) Also, no more artificially flavored coffee creamer in my 1 cup of Joe per day. You know what’s fun about that? NOTHIN. PS if you want your life ruined like my co-worker ruined mine back in 2015…artificial vanilla flavoring in coffee creamer is actually a secretion from beaver’s anal glands. YOU’RE WELCOME. And s/o to Joella from Accounting who shared that tidbit with me as I poured vanilla flavored creamer in my cup. The best part of waking up is drinking beaver buttt juiiiicessssss!

Speaking of juice, when I was bragging about my fruit intake, I told the doc about my 3pm smoothies to get my blood sugar up so I don’t keel over on the elliptical at the gym, and she pointed out that a smoothie is a meal and not a snack. A smoothie is not a meal for me. It’s like drinking a glass of chocolate milk as a little flavor savor. It tides me over for about an hour and then I’m ready for the real deal. It was suggested to me that adding protein powder would give the “fullness” I’m looking for. It most certainly does not. Does this smoothie give a stunning pop of color to my ‘fit for the day? Yeah duh. But does it fill me up? No, I’m fucking starving.

So in summary, this dietician told me about a bunch more tests I need from the GI–one of them being post-marking a turd…should be fun, deleted dairy from my life without batting an eye, sent me links to expensive protein powder and vitamin brands to buy, judged me the hardest, and then followed up by submitting a full report with multiple pages of notes to my GP that included this spicy little snippet:

SHOTS FIRED, DOC! For a little context, which she provided none of in this nonsense: as she interrogated me about what I would or wouldn’t eat, I quipped that I was raised in a house full of chicken tendies, mac & cheese and pizza, so we weren’t really experimenting with organic cuisine. And when asked if I would make an intricate meal, I said I do not enjoy cooking and therefore try to make quick, easy meals. And when she brought up fruits and veggies, I told her that I live alone and can’t eat them fast enough before they go bad and end up wasting and throwing out food each week. TELL ME HOW THAT TRANSLATES TO GREW UP EATING MAC AND CHEESE AND PIZZA. DISLIKES COOKING, SINGLE AND LIVES ALONE. I mean, I guess thanks for writing my dating profile for me? Dislikes: cooking and being single. But also the opposite of thank you for sealing that into my medical record and bringing a doctor I saw one time for allergy meds into it? Feels like punishment for making you steam clean mud out of your white rug. PS beans are DISGUSTING.

Needless to say, I gave the dietician the ole, ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ farewell. And then I went to a new GI, who told me a stool sample is unnecessary (God, I love doctors all having a conflicting opinion on what I need) and agreed to give me a SIBO breathe test and a lactose intolerance test so I can tell the dietician to shove her dairy-free diet up a grass-fed cow’s ass. The SIBO breathe test is basically to find out if I have bacteria living in the wrong part of my gut, which can cause the rotten egg rips. I was mailed a box with a bunch of bags to blow into and very detailed instructions. Do I look like I work in Dexter’s Laboratory? There’s a HIGH margin of error if we put me in charge of this. I barely figured out how to do my own Covid tests and that was just to get out of work anytime I had a sniffle. TBD on this adventure, as I’m still going back and forth with the doctor on if insurance is even covering my little at-home experiment. I’m sure I’ll document it for laughs if I ever spit into a bunch of baggies and shove them in the mail.

A cold sweat broke out at this instruction. How much is 1/4″?!

My lactose intolerance test was last week. My instructions were to fast for 12 hours and drink 12 oz of milk before going into the office. Chocolate milk was approved and you’re an IDIOT if you choose to drink white in this scenario. Plain milk at the crack of dawn? Ick. I’d rather drink chunky psyllium husk fiber. So that’s how I found myself setting an alarm for 6am to chug chocolate milk. Honestly, it was delicious but I would’ve preferred to wake up and move around a little before doing essentially a chocolate car bomb.

*I put a filter on this because my skin color at 6am in winter is that of a corpse.*

My little prep sheet said the test was going to take 15-20 mins. I was in that office for an hour and a half and when I tell you I thought I was going to pass out from hunger, that’s the understatement of the century. I had a tech who had legitimately no clue what she was doing and I had to blow into what I imagine a breathalyzer looks like at 15 minute intervals. The way she explained it was, “if you blow higher than a 10 more than once, you’re lactose intolerant and if you don’t, you just keep blowing until it’s done.” Um? I blew a 1 and then she told me to take my little cardboard mouthpiece and F right off to the waiting room until I’m called again. You know what’s awkward? Holding the thing you’re shoving into a machine and spitting into and not remembering which side you put your mouth on and which side you put into a definitely saliva-filled machine. What an ironclad process we have here. I held it like a fat J to feel rebellious. (Is that how you hold a fat J? Asking for someone who’s never once smoked weed.)

Anyway, I blew a 1 every single time and that bitch did not set me free until it was basically lunch time. I’m not a doctor, but after I administer this at-home breathe test I will be, and I THINK IF YOU BLOW A 1 TWICE, YOU’RE VERY TOLERANT OF LACTOSE AND CAN GO EAT BREAKFAST. Also, not for nothing, but I’m very confident at this age I would know using my own brain and logic reasoning if I was allergic to dairy. But once again, who am I to advocate for my own body?

As I blew my last 1, I placed an order for a pork roll egg & cheese across the street. It had been weeks since I’d had cheese on a sammy and damnit I deserved it. I inhaled that thing on the drive home, even dripping grease on my leggings like a slob kebab. Worth ruining a pair of pants because it was truly a religious experience. And that, my friends, is why you can add all of the flax seeds, arugula, quinoa (tastes like actual flavorless orbs) and oat milk to my diet all you want but YOU WILL NEVER TAKE MY CHEESE.

See you in another 12-18 months when I revisit this topic because subbing berries for chips and pesto for cheese at lunch time is for sure not going to fix 33 years of IBS. By the way, Dave’s killer 21 whole grains & seeds bread RIPS my mouth to shreds on the daily. So, the saga continues…

Red Carpet

Oscars Red Carpet 2025

WE MADE IT! It’s Hollywood’s biggest night, the culmination of awards season. Doesn’t matter what that stupid rat named Pux Phil saw or didn’t see, at least we can always count on the Oscars to tell us Spring is near. Thank the Lord. There is hope. This winter can die away from me and I’m so happy to see the pastels kickin on this red carpet. I also partook in some pasteling this weekend when I got dressed to walk my dog to the local brewery to soak up the sun and hops.

You may be thinking baggy jeans and a baggy shirt?! Have you completed your transformation into Gen Z? And to that I say yes and no. Yes, I bought baggy floral jeans and wore them unironically, but no Gen Z didn’t invent this lewk. May I remind you as a child of the 90’s, we did it first. So I’m simply going back to my youth and nostalgia for baggies and platforms. The only thing that was missing was a crop top and honestly you’re welcome world, because my midsection is not in crop shape. I’m just out here willing spring to come one denim bloom at a time. And I’m about to be the kindest I’ve ever been for any red carpet so pls mimic that energy and don’t come for me by reminding me that I’m a 33 year old wearing jeans from the juniors section because I SHOPPED FOR JEANS FOR A MONTH AND THESE ARE THE ONLY ONES THAT FIT ME, OK?!

WORST

Bowen usually pops a well-coordinated look and this missed completely. The pink shirt threw me off, I don’t know if he was doing a mixture of pink and green to shout out both the leads of his film but I would’ve liked it more if he wore a pink shirt and a fully green jacket. Otherwise it just looks like he got dressed in the dark.

This dress looks incomplete. Like the person making it was like oh shiiit the Oscars were tonight?! Alright, fine, just take it, still works.

This is a stocking. She’s wearing tights as a dress. And she looks genuinely mad about it.

Meh. I genuinely was offended by so few celebs that we’re doing a red carpet where people end up on the worst dressed if I’m just unimpressed. I’ve seen her take risks and this is just boring.

This is some straight clown shit. Sure, I have a personal vendetta against polka dots and always have, but frilled sleeves and a red waist bow on top of polkas?! WHO TOLD YOU THIS LOOKED GOOD?! Fire them immeds.

Ooh baby this gave me the most horrifying flashbacks to formal events circa 2003. The tacky bedazzled strapless dress, the french tip acrylics, the pink eyeshadow, even the hair that looked like it was straightened with the Conair removable plates straightener/crimper combo deal that did nothing but add more frizz. Half expected to see a mouth full of metal with matching pink rubber bands when I first glimpsed this chick.

I put these two pink moments back to back and was able to give you a very detailed and harsh roasting of the previous girlie, because I am her and she is I. I am both of them. This is what I wore to a 2004 Bat Mitzvah and this outfit was purchased at JCPenney for the occasion.

So when I say snarky comments to others, I’m really speaking to my younger self. Note the straightened hair that is still WIDE, french tips & watermelon colored braces adorning a half empty mouth.

Oh, ok, Plumette After Dark.

I do want to say that I really appreciate her committing to the skinny arm. Does that mean it’s making a comeback? (Says the girl who never stopped skinny arming in photos despite how uncool it is.) That being said, this dress is horribly unflattering. Her cleavage looks 13 miles long. It literally looks like the top of the dress is dragging her boobs down to her ankles.

Spray painting the Trunchbull’s weightlifting champ belt gold DOESN’T MAKE IT FORMAL!

Ah, a trend carried over from the SAG’s I see, is there a red belt in Karate?

At first glance I was like ok this is fine, then I got to her lady bits and saw that weird velvet spiderweb section and then the fingerless lace Madonna gloves and for those reasons… I’m out. Also I know I’ve said it before but it deserves repeating, what is the happs with this hairstyle?

This hair style is offensive to the icon that Goldie Hawn is. Also to keep it real, so is this tacky dress. She deserves more from her stylist. Isadora diamond would’ve smashed with this gown though.

Someone on Instagram (it was probably like elitedaily or something and I’m not crediting them so sorry bout it) called these his “slutty little glasses” and it made me laugh out loud. I really hate a brown fit but he’s honestly kinda pulling it off with swagga, even in these pretty hideous specs. So I’m like ew and then I’m also like but maybe not? Could be swayed, clearly. If he winked at me, I’d be like sup.

Love the purple flowers, hate the loud kaleidoscope graphic tee happening yonder.

Suuuuper snoozy. Kinda wish she went full 90’s and did the plum colored matching lip and butterfly clips in her hair too. Would’ve respected it way more.

This feels like something you would wear to a corporate cocktail party, not a red carpet for Hollywood’s biggest night.

Speaking of underdressed, what the hell are you doing Rita?! You’re a seasoned vet. An old pro of Hollywood royalty. Is this her way of saying she’s over it? Cause dressing for a backyard baby shower is a MOVE. Half expected her to be posing under a shades of pink balloon arch with a kitschy photo prop.

Gloves were hot in the streets last season and I feel like they died down this past winter, as they should’ve. Elbow length velvet gloves at a pretentious Hollywood awards night? Groundbreaking.

Keeping with the dark velvet, does this B go to Hogwarts? She’s wearing the invisibility cloak, without the invisibility. Disappear this getup, babe.

At first glance I loved this because I was dazzled by the sparkle. Then I took a closer look and it’s basically arts and crafts supplies painted silver, mixed with some Party City leftovers.

BUT IT HAS POCKETS! I know. It pains me to knock a cozy girlie who’s just jammin her hands into her pockets but the deep V cut over her deep V turned me all the way off.

Potentially sexist take (can you be sexist against your own gender?) but I’m having a hard time with the short hair here. I know, it was for a role, and obviously sometimes it’s not a choice for a woman to have short hair, but gelling it and giving it a deep side part WAS a choice. And I disagree with it. This mermaid scales gown fell flat for me too.

I gasped when I saw the middle part sock bun. Between that and the curtain dress accented by a ribbon belt, the early aughts were screaming at me to put this on the worst dressed.

To quote Brynn from RHONY, “Amy is a basic bitch.”

NOT THE COMICALLY LARGE GARBAGE BAG TIE OVER HER SHOULDER.

BEST

It makes me giggle to think some lowly interns were forced to throw her train up in the air on each side and run out of frame for the shot. Doing the lord’s work though because the fluffing sold me on this gown.

Imagine sitting on broken glass all night? That’s commitment, baby!

My favorite way to dress up a black gown is with diamonds, darling!

DayUmN. She look good. Most importantly, she matched her frosting to her dress.

He looks so sharp and the green pops just enough but isn’t obnoxious.

I’m such a simple creature. Anytime someone wears this material that literally shines on camera, I’m obsessed. She let the dress do the shining here (literally) and kept it simple with hair and jewels, which I appreciate. Tasteful cutouts are a nice touch too.

This velvet blue is d r e a m y.

VAVAVooOoM. Her hair looks great in this little flippy bob and this dress fits her like a glove.

You know what, HELL YEA. I’ll let it slide. Let Doja Cat bring a little leopard trash to the Oscars. Sure, this is really more fitting for the VMA’s but honestly I think we’re lucky she covered her nips and bits. This is what elegance looks like for the D Cat and I’ll support it because everyone deserves to have a Jersey Shore moment on a red carpet amongst elites.

As always, anyone who wore a boring black tux doesn’t have a place on my blog (unless I’m sexually attracted to them, of course.) Sterling looks like a real stud with the black and white combo.

Correct me if I’m wrong–I usually am–but this is the only blue I saw on the red carpet. And it’s a stunner.

I dumped SO hard all over Timbo’s neon green getup from the SAG’s (where he was the youngest actor to win) and I saw a side by side the next day of him recreating an actual look Bob Dylan wore. So egg on my face, he really was going all in during awards season continuing to honor Bob and I’m guessing this fit is no different. Well, the difference is, this is a lovely pastel and not a puke neon green. I approve of this lil peep.

We’re not supposed to comment on Demi’s bod/beauty/grace at her age because the entire point of her movie was about how obsessed women are with their looks and aging, or so I’m told via headlines and nothing else because there’s not a shot in hell I’m ever going to watch that movie it looked downright horrifying. But sue me because she’s 62 years old and her body is slaaaaaammmminnnnn. She’s dressed for her figure all awards season long and it’s been noted. GET IT, MAMA. Also remember when she was married to Ashton Kutcher? lolz.

Oop, SHINY! Love the different directions of shine to switch it up.

Never would’ve guessed Jerry O’Connell would be at the Oscars let alone earn my bedazzled jacket spot of the night. Good on him.

I don’t really care for the mixed media top, with a friigggggin bow, I’m merely putting this on the best dressed as a vision board reminder to myself that I would like pearl straps on my wedding dress should that day ever arrive. Future Julia who tricked someone into marrying her: say yes to the dress with pearls, booboo.

I die for this color but I’m literally resisting the urge to reach through my computer screen and pick her up by her shoulder straps and carry her around town like a chic grey handbag.

I surprised myself by liking this one. The anti-bow tie sitch is scratching an itch for me and I can’t explain why. Visually 10/10 for the guy who takes himself way too seriously.

We’ll guh ‘head and keep our Roy bros together because they were also nominated against each other in the same category. Kieran looks phenomz in the midnight blue and his wife Jazz followed the sparkly metallics trend and looks amazing as well. Also, the two of them are cute as hell and Kieran’s acceptance speech was real and the ONLY speech that made me laugh in a 4 hour program. (Hey Hollywood, when the world sucks, be the comic relief, don’t be the ones also pointing out how things suck. Thx.)

GET IT, JUNE!

I came after baby pink at the SAG’s because most people were wearing it SO wrong. You gotta break it up, you can’t have it wash you out and match your flesh tone/hair color. I LOVE this look. The sparkly lil bra top opening up into the big ole pink gown is elegant and fun. Party on top, gala on bottom.

Ruby red slippers, yaaassss honay!

JUSTICE FOR WICKED

I saved the Wicked girliepops for last because I want to give them their flowers. First and foremost, this movie for SURE cost a fortune to make, they’re still going to roll out a part 2, and it was THE moment this Fall. You couldn’t go anywhere without someone bringing it up, merch being shoved in your face, or hearing that high note of Defying Gravity. And yet all throughout awards season they’ve been snubbed like nobody’s biz for a movie about the Mexican cartel directed by a french man and starring a bunch of American actresses plus one problematic tweeter. Or, a movie about a New Yorker starring a girl born and raised in CA. Simply put, Wicked has been robbed and I’d like to hold space for that. Hand up, I was just as critical of them because they were not blowing me away on the red carpet when IMO, it would’ve been SUPER easy to make a splash considering how loud the colors and themes of Oz are. I’m glad to see that both of them heard me and gave us the grand finale we all deserve…until next season of course when they run it back. Cynthia’s rocking a MOMENT here with this villainesque velvet. Plus she got to show off her pipes, mostly because they couldn’t let anyone from Emilia Perez perform or they’d look like a bunch of hypocrites. Regardless, they got to kick off the show, so good for them! Still can’t fathom doing a #2 cleanup with those nails, but I’ll stop talking about it…for now.

And that brings us to Mizz GuHlinda herself. Look, I’m never going to like Ariana as a bleach blonde and I’m certainly not the only one who’s been saying it. But she’s staying true to the part and THANKFULLY, she must’ve heard my pleas these past few weeks and literally everyone else’s because I’m definitely not the only one who pointed it out either, but shout out to her spray tan! She’s alive! The pale skin and blonde combo was giving near death and I’m so happy to at least get a little glow this weekend. Most importantly, this is a Glinda the Good Witch dress. Nailed it. This is what I wanted ALL ALONG. She literally looks like she’s coming down in a bubble, bro. It’s perfect.

Red Carpet

SAG Awards Red Carpet 2025

We’re almost through with awards season…and winter, God willing. The SAG’s are typically skipped by the gen pop who doesn’t need another opportunity to listen to the richies of Hollywood wax poetic about why they love being an actor. But they finally moved them to Sunday night on Netflix and let’s be real, we don’t have anything else to do on Sunday nights. I had a 4pm dinner reservation with the olds, carbo-loaded and had an hour to kill before the red carpet even started. If this is what it’s like to be 85, I’m there, baby. Can’t wait. This weekend I went on a mission to find a pair of jeans that fit me, and the result was me buying a pair of elastic waist pleather joggers and WHO NEEDS BUTTONS anymore?! I wore them out on the town last night and demanded my mom take a solo shot of me WERKIN them. Best dressed, AMIRITE?!

Here’s what everyone else wore. It goes without saying that they’ll never look as good as me wearing glorified loungewear on a Saturday night at a swanky cocktail bar.

Pick a style, sleeve or sleeveless. Don’t pull this cop-out one sleeve, one bare arm nonsense.

I’m all in on this silver Chinese finger trap lookin concoction. She’s serving this party city streamer neckline so hard I can’t help but respect it.

The pop of red with her lips and nails makes this as spicy as her Taco Bell sponsored proposal.

My kneejerk reaction is how young this look is. I feel like she’s going to prom, but she JUST turned 21 so honestly, it tracks. She’s just wearing what the youths wear, probably from Shein.

DIE AWAY FROM ME PEPLUM.

I know you’re sick of me complaining about this but she’s GOTTA wear a different shade of pink. This pale pink is washing her completely out. I like the dress style and I think the flowers are pretty but I cannot look at another red carpet appearance by her looking like she checked herself out of the hospital against the Dr’s wishes to be there.

Clearly this was the color of the night, which I very much don’t approve of, but what’s the hot tip you give your hair girl to get this monstrosity? I want you to make it look like I glued my hair to cover half of my face. Make me look like I’m wearing a bonnet made of sleek hair. Give me the Buzz Lightyear special.

Oh my damn this is bad. It’s belly dancer meets boardroom. Wanna class up your chest and belly chain of rhinestones? Just add a collar! Exquisite.

This look is money as hell. A bowtie AND a scarf?! He has many leather-bound books and his house smells of rich mahogany.

Abby Elliott is my style twin. I love everything she wears. She’s not afraid to rock a pastel and a girl after my own heart she matches all her accessories precisely! Brings a tear to my eye.

Ooohh this dress is like smooth chrome. I wanna touch it.

Keri always looks stunning but for the love of God stop PINNING A GIANT FLOWER ON DRESSES.

The pattern of this dress looks like worms. But that’s not what I want to discuss here. I want to discuss the fact that Jane Fonda was the first star to do a red carpet interview and I genuinely thought her batteries died mid-interview. Obviously as all red carpet “emcees” go, they’re essentially braindead and all they do is call women queens and tell them they slay and slobber all over them. But this chooch asked 2-3 legit questions and Jane short-circuited and stared at her with her mouth agape each time she was expected to answer. Yet when she accepted the life achievement award, she was able to give a VERY lengthy boring speech reading from a teleprompter. Is Jane Fonda a robot who needed to get plugged in and powered up for the show? You heard it here first.

This is the only way I will accept this color. Silk tuxedo jammy style.

These two are wearing the same dress and you cannot convince me otherwise. Ya smooch the same guy one time and now ya gotta twin at awards show?!

Sick doily.

Very appropos for a Showgirl nom. Give us a shimmy, guuuurrrrrllll.

I was into the glitter flowers but when I scanned down to those boots, OOoooHHHEEEE. I need me a pair of gold boots.

Obsessed with this. I need a mint Marvelous Mrs. Maisel fit IMMEDIATELY. The leather gloves give it a real bad grrl edge.

No. Get this the hell out of my face forever.

Neon green, a bolo, and a leather suit are all choices and none of them are good ones.

Poop suits unite! No but seriously though I hate a brown suit and both of these babes are pulling it off.

Big leather guy over here (did I mention I am the proud new owner of clearance leather joggers?) but this little shelf thing happening at her hips is a peplum in disguise. GET RID OF IT.

J.A.W. clearly watched Kendrick saunter all over the football field in those bootcut jeans and said, me too. Gimme a little flare.

SLEEK

This looks like a watercolor and I’m very mesmerized by it. Supes prettz.

This is so hideous and he’s a walking velvet booger, but also the way that jacket is tied is also giving Karate class. He’s about to HI-YA his way right out of your nose.

Two words: Chunky Platforms. I feel like we’re back in the Steve Madden era and I don’t like it one bit.

💃💃💃

I didn’t expect to like this calf-length coat but it’s fierce as shit. It’s like am I going to a funeral or am I going to walk a red carpet? Am I hiding an assault rifle in here or am I just a theater kid with a flair for the dramatics?No one will ever know.

A mermaid IRL.

I’m obsessed with the color periwinkle but how did we go from Kenny’s bootcut halftime moment to full blown JNCO’s? That escalated so quickly. And not for nothing but I’ve been on the hunt for a pair of jeans that fit me and you know what makes an already terrible shopping experience of finding pants that will button EVEN WORSE? NOT KNOWING WHAT THE BOTTOMS OF YOUR JEANS SHOULD BE DOING. Skinny? Straight? Stovepipe? Slim? Bootcut? Flare? Baggy? Barrel? Ankle? WHAT ARE WE DOING WITH JEANS THESE DAYS?! PICK ONE STYLE. JUST ONE. AND LET IT BE IN STYLE FOR ALL OF ETERNITY.

Oh shit, Ray-J, she’s been bringing the heat and the rack this awards season. Ok, girl. I see you.

Immediately no. Why this homeslice lookin like he’s gonna cut you up into pieces in his basement? Nightmares.

This is the best I’ve seen Kathy Bates looking since she clearly went on the zempic diet and are those gym sneaks she’s rockin downtown? Keep it comfy, booboo.

Ope look at that now we’ve got Karate Kid Part 2!

This is a female tuxedo look I can get behind. Enough of the ties and baggy 90’s suits on ladies. Cinch a cummerbund around your snatched waist and toss on a stack of pearls to class up your menswear.

I do love a plaid moment even though it’s not Christmas.

This blue is SO eye-catching and fun and makes her blonde stand out!

The skinny scarf trend of the early aughts has made its way to the men. Yikes. Let’s not and say we did.

I’ve never been happier to close out a red carpet so I can stop seeing this awful flesh-tone on a bunch of pasty ladies. WEAR A BRIGHT COLOR SO YOUR SKIN DOES NOT MATCH YOUR DRESS, BB’S.

THIS IS HOW YOU DO A SOFT PINK! Dark hair, dark skin, and this color looks a bajillion times better. I said out loud as soon as I saw Kerry, “shining, shimmering, splendid.” And I meant it. This is my favorite look of the night and it ain’t even close. It’s fairy princess fun and glam, her hair completely matches the sleek retro vibe, and this is how you take a color of the moment and make it memorable.

Red Carpet

Critics Choice Awards 2025 Red Carpet

I don’t know if it was because this awards show was rescheduled twice or because it’s on cable or because it doesn’t really matter, but everyone SURE dressed like dumpster soup! In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that the men all looked stunning and the women all looked like they got dressed in the dark. #Feminism. No but seriously, I gotta calls it like I sees it. Kanye’s slave, oop, I mean wife, who showed up fully nude to the Grammys looked better than this ragtag crew. So in light of the fact that I gasped at half of these looks, I will most certainly not be dividing it up into categories. You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit. Here’s my Kacey Musgraves bohemian cowgirl inspired lewk that I wore to therapy after the Grammys this week. It didn’t receive rave reviews but my dog couldn’t take her eyes off me and that’s really all that matters. (Definitely didn’t have to do with the fact that she needed a walk and I was busy taking mirror selfies.)

Now onto the toxic sludge leftovers that draped celebrities for a Friday night awards ceremony hosted by Chelsea Handler on E!

Is homegirl just matching her gowns to her skintone to her hair this awards season? Cause she’s 2/2 and I’m baffled by this. Just like I KNOW I said 1000 times in last year’s Barbie era…if you are nominated for a character that is a very bold, and COLOR CODED character with a distinct wardrobe, why are you not shoving that down our throats in your red carpet fits? I expected GUHlinda the good witch to be slamming pink all up in our bubbles. Not showing up in what I imagine lives at the bottom of a pond in the winter.

Oh great! Did we all send out a memo that said “everyone must wear mud!” Cause holy shit what an unflattering skin tone we’ve chosen to coordinate in. The Granny’s lace isn’t helping matters either.

Miami Vice/Wolf of Wall Street/what my dad wore to church in the 90’s ain’t it. We can’t be out here wearing baggy menswear and calling it fashion. Or even if she’s making a political statement like if I dress like a leading man from 1984, will you pay me like one? Whatever the motive is, it’s not a good enough reason to wear this goofy ass suit.

Leighton got the mud memo but added a little sparkle to it. I’m deeply saddened by her bangs but at least the dress style/shape hits. Adam really doesn’t need to do much to look like a damn snack.

I don’t think I need to reshare my toga party pic from the Globes, but this is wrap yourself in a bedsheet rough. Rougher actually, because it’s like she just wrapped herself in 5 different bedsheets. Or dug around the bottom of her hamper and sewed whatever was there together and dropped it over her head. SO Sustainable Chic.

How Nancy Reagan of her. Considering the sea of bad looks she’s floating in, I don’t aggressively hate it. But obviously it does not match the energy you want to bring to the function that is a knock-off awards show.

Back to back politically conservative styles. You know I can easily be swayed by a razzle.

I LOVE this light grey and I love it even more paired with crisp white kicks.

What a total snooze cruise. As my personal heroes, MK&A said in critically acclaimed flick Passport to Paris.

PEPLUM.

Oh, ok you little Valentine’s sweet treat, you!

Again, given the circumstances, I’m willing to jive with this Grecian Goddess cosplay when normally I’d be like alright, that’s enough. Mostly because I’ve always wanted to be able to pull off the wraparound braid like that without looking like a total goon.

Kinda brought the men’s average down with this mixed media poop suit.

Another “trend” that I’m very vocal about hating… the structured dress. I’m sorry if you don’t have child-bearing hips as I do, but creating them via a gown just looks absolutely ridiculous.

This is tacky as heck. I mean congrats on the perky thangs, but the style of this dress, color, and weird bolero sitch happening at the shoulders is ick.

I won’t even hate on the Wednesday Addams dupe because she’s serving it so well. As the kidz these days say: she ate and left no crumbs.

Kinda bridal shower-y but I like the fun pumps and she looks snatched.

Very classy and elegant. Almost too? Save this for the Grammys or Oscars, BB!

I know TikTok has ruined my brain because all that played in my head when I saw this was the high-pitched “oh no, oh no, ohNoOhNOOHNO” sound from the Tok. We can’t let this app get banned because how will I reference trending sounds from 4 years ago?! Forrealz though what the hell am I looking at? I sewed my own gym bag in Home Ec one year, got blood all over it from sticking myself with the needle and it still turned out better than whatever this sewing project is.

Hot damn I love a maroon moment.

SMG does look glowing if I do say so myself but I do strongly dislike a giant flower tacked onto a dress.

See what I mean? The men BROUGHT IT. What a dreamboat in this grey/green tone.

Who needs a piñata for a funeral?! Look no further.

PUT THE GLASSES ON MPG!!! I melted a little when I saw Zack Morris looking this FOINE on my TV screen and actually wearing the glasses instead of holding them as a prop would’ve been a total panty soaker.

I’ll say this, putting that knob in between her yabbos worked because my eye was immediately drawn to it. It’s like an optical illboobsion. The rest of this dress looked like it got caught in the lawnmower. What a rack tho.

I like that I saw maybe one or two plain black tuxes and every other dude went for it. This mustard jacket is definitely a risk but Grobes is pulling.it.OFF.

Alright let’s get down with a pop of seafoam! Dress looks great, don’t know if we needed the True Faith by Ramona-esque necklace circa 2008 as the only accent but whatevs.

Classic charcoal exterior, spicin it up with the tie and shirt combo. Love this way more than his Grammys leisure suit.

Sure, just toss a net over an adorable brunch floral dress. Makes total sense and definitely isn’t infuriating at all. I love fashion.

Crochet had a MOMENT this summer and I like splashing it in an unexpected place.

Love the pink lip but I’m suuuuuuper bored with these plain ole black gowns. You may be thinking but Ju, you hate when someone is very trendy high fash too. And to that I say I feel seen. Don’t be boring, but don’t be weird.

Jeff Goldblum loves to rock a zany jacket and I love him for it.

I actually really like that this is a sheer bottom. It keeps it spicy considering that top is slouchy af. The gold waistband is also super flattering. This is the best girlypop of the night for me because I’m not overly enraged by any piece of this. So she’s got that goin for her, which is nice.

At first glance I was like YOIKES red and maroon don’t go together, and then it kinda grew on me. Plus, it’s Colin and he has such a sexy mean mug. Bad boyz wear shades of crimson.

This falls into the black blob category of the evening, apparently it was wear a flesh tone or wear black or get lawst. I do like the tuxedo effect here even though she for sure looks like she lives in Lakewood, NJ. (This is a very niche joke and I’ll be happy as a clam if even ONE person laughs at it.)

This is exactly what I would expect a woman in her 80’s to wear to a fancy function and she’s killin it! GET IT, JUNE!

Red Carpet

Grammys 2025 Red Carpet

Honestly kind of bold to have Music’s Biggest Night go on without rescheduling after the city blazed for like 3 weeks straight. They claimed to keep things as is so they could celebrate the resilience of the city, and of course hawk a QR code for donations every 5 mins. No offense but if I’m donating to LA after the fires, I’m not sending my money to a generic QR code from a major television network not having any idea where it’s going. And while I’m dumping on charity, the opening act of the night with Dawes and a bunch of other famous musicians singing “I Love LA” was bizarro world. In roasting this, I had to google the song, and I found out it’s an old song by Randy Newman. So I guess this diss goes out to Randy. That song corny as hell, man. Felt like a song from Barney if Barney really loved LA. You wanna support LA after the fires? Stream Heidi Montag’s new remix of I’ll Do It ft. Pitbull. (I’m totally kidding, I don’t know shit about how to help after the fires, I just know I’m not scanning a QR code or singing “look at those mountains. look at those trees.” )

I came in hot and for that I DO NOT apologize. Sorry is for suckers. So let’s keep the ball busting rolling with the fashion choices of the eve. But first, my tradish of showing you a runway ready outfit from me so you know I have the credentials to judge others fashion choices.

Glorified PJS or Aspen chic? Or both? Stunted this ‘fit on a 0 degree day where I forced myself to leave my house and go work in a coffee shop. Now onto the people who think 65 degrees is a cold day.

WORST

I thought we got rid of this family? Haven’t they created enough of a scene individually and collectively over the past decade? Now we gotta roll back up wearing a house hat? Get the hell out of my face. How much we gotta donate to ban all 4 members from all of Hollywood?

Everything I said above applies here as well.

NORAH JONES, EVERYBODY! The same woman that gave us the soulful piano stylings of the early aughts is back and lookin FUNKY. Don’t get me wrong, I hate every part of this outfit, but also I’m kinda like mad respect for quirkin it up this much. I wanna give her a fist bump but also I want to burn my eyes out of their sockets just from looking at this mixed media concoction accentuated with a giant red clown belt.

It’s a rare day when I like a Billie outfit and today just isn’t that day. It’s the flipped up Skipper hat (with casj dangly strings?) and the weird sunglasses that live just below her eyes that did me in this time.

Stop it. Stop it right now with the micro bangs. I REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE ANYTHING ACCENTED BY MICROS. In fact, my eyes land on those monstrosities first and then I just stop scanning down, because I’m too angry. Except don’t think I didn’t also catch Gaga’s bleached brows hangin out beneath the baby bangs. Horrifying. If you forgot, here’s my rant from the last red carpet via Ariana Grande and a throwback visual as to why I hate these bangs so much. Why don’t we just get all of our bang girlies out of the way in one big (micro) clump:

What hairstylist started this trend? Get them away from scissors immediately.

These aren’t micros but I grouped them in because she belongs in the bad haircut club with whatever’s going on past those bangs. Honestly I got a little PTSD when I looked at it because that’s exactly what my SuperCuts “front angle” looked like. If I were rich like Miley, I could’ve sued for my hair hack job. So she should lawyer up, probs.

Does the girl who wears leopard every day get down with Chappell’s whole schtick? Obv not. I’m too much of a traditionalist to be into these over the top themed costumes that she rocks on the daily double. Kudos to her fans that stan these lewks, but it ain’t me. Music slaps tho.

Who the hell invited this guy?!* Another one I thought we were rid of. Actually upon second glance at this photo where he literally looks like he’s going to murder me, good to see ya Kanye. Welcome back, babe. No bad blood here! Big time fan. Especially of your Kim K lookalike wife’s “outfit.” Top notch nips.

*just found out: no one. No one invited him and they were promptly escorted off of the premises.

I would’ve slapped a NSFW tag on this picture, but if this is how a human can “dress” in broad daylight on a red carpet, apparently there are no rules anymore and I can just roll up to work tomorrow with my labia out just as long as I put a stocking over it.

Johnny Legend looks fabulous. Chrissy out here lookin like an insect *after dark.*

The deepest of V’s and the hardest of staches.

UGH Finneas, a poop suit and rapey colored glasses?! Good thing his lady looks like a dime.

Alicia, tell me how your head feels tomorrow after dragging those bad boys around all night. Guess it’s trendy to hang tree ornaments off of our ears now.

Imagine being this short and also dressing like a matador?!

At first I was like oohh steel gray corset drama but also what a party this dress is. I was overlooking the knee high gladiator sandals. And I was underestimating how much I could let that go. The answer of course was not at all. Once I started thinking about how much I hated them, I couldn’t stop. When gladiators were all the rage I got several comments from the men in my family asking when the battle was and I got bullied so hard that it only makes me want to ask Charli the same question. Thankfully my gal pal Kat who ALWAYS disagrees with me on red carpet hot takes was on the same page calling her an 1800’s prostitute.

Never would’ve pegged Busta to be a church robe kinda guy. Although I guess we could’ve seen it coming in 2006 with: “Lot of my bitches be comin’ from miles around / See they be comin’ cause they know how the God get down”

Not a good enough reason to wear a macramé belt.

When bad patterns happen to good people. My condolences shakiraSHAKIRA.

Ope a dress with a landing strip! Gross!

I’ve seen Paris do a million times better but to be honest the sunglasses ruined the entire vibe. Did she and Finneas go to the same Sunglasses Hut? Why are we jamming tinted dad shades down everyone’s throats? Questions we may never know the answer to.

Not to knock the Cowboy Queen of the night but this dress photographs like a decorated cork board. It also physically pains me to see boobs squished this hard. Let those puppies breathe a little. They’re fighting for their lives with that cut.

BEST

Oooh ZEDD YOU KNOW I LOVE A SPARKLE SUIT!

I couldn’t shit on her outfit like I did the male counterparts of her family. How does one kid come out thinking wearing a whole house on his head is cool and the other one is a normie? Genetics, man.

YaaaAaaaAaaaSSSS baby!💋✨ -is what I imagine JLo would text me if I wore this outfit. So I’m just showing her the same hype gurl energy.

DAMN GURL! Those cutouts be CUTTIN. I just panicked that I was objectifying a teens’ body because her first hit was Drivers License and I suffer from perpetually thinking 2019 was a couple years ago, so I was like oh shit is she even 18 yet?! Quick Google search and I’m in the clear to comment on Liv’s bod-ody-oday because she’s 21. She can drink and make grown-up decisions now. Key word I am clear to comment because if you’re a guy, you’re never allowed to comment. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk about how only a snarky blogger in her thirties can talk about a 21 year old popstar’s g00dies.

I like the silver and blue, very midnights chic…but by George how does she wipe with those daggers?!

I liked her inside outfits better, mostly because girl has got HAIR and to pull it up is an injustice for all. Sabrina rocketed to stardom this year with a bunch of sexual innuendos and wearin negligees. So this outfit is right on par and it definitely works for her. Great color and just enough feather to make it saucy.

Shaboozey with the shimmer scarf. Go Off, King!

Sheryl is lookin SNATCHED! I love that a. she still looks amahzing 2. she came out of the woodwork and was part of the Sesame Street song in the beginning. c. she’s like boho chic casj cool at the Grammys.

Sometimes I just give it to a person who’s wearing something super dumb but looks so happy and committed that I find myself loving this journey for them. Teddy Swims is a dude who can EASILY be confused with both Jelly Roll and Post Malone. Except neither of those fools would be caught dead in a pearl cap and matching silky pearl jacket. GET down with your PEARL self, Teddy!

I will forever be jealous of someone who can serve an unsmiling look and not look like a circus freak/potential axe murderer. Gracie is SLAYING the mean mug. She looks like she could order one of her disciples to kill you but also like a sweet, gentle Mother Teresa at the same time. HOW?! Teach me your ways, girl!

I know I came in real bitchy and you were probz expecting me to just dump all over every look but I MUST be feeling generous to give this a best dressed nod. I think it’s the coordination here for me. The Navy Blue set with matching hat. Janelle did an MJ/Quincy trib so she was channeling that era and honestly she dresses like MJ anyway, so it was a perfect match.

My obligatory nod to the host looking nice even though they never wear anything particularly spicy.

Not only did she coordinate cream jackets with her mans (and Noah Kahan) but she looks like a tall drink of Babe Soda. The red carpet commentator made sure to emphasize that this minidress is made of HARD plastic and that it was likely very uncomfortable. No shit! If my elastic waistband doesn’t touch the underside of my boobs, I’m uncomfortable. I could NEVER squeeze my body into this let alone walk a red carpet without busting through the legos or having a nip slip.

An oat milk Prince.

I love Tori Kelly so much and I feel like I haven’t heard music from her in forever so I’m happy to see her here, which means she’s probably producing or writing for others and I love how she is one with the carpet. Tori IS the red carpet, bitches! She looks like a beautiful crimson mermaid.

If you get to host an awards show apparently you get a season’s pass to the rest of them? Cause I don’t really see why Nikki should be at the Grammy’s other than the fact that she singlehandedly funded The Era’s Tour from now many times she went. (Spoiler alert, she played a key role in stripping Benson Boone mid-performance and it did make me giggle.) All that to say, her legs look amazing and I always appreciate a mint moment.

I can’t be a hooch for cheetah print and not clap it up for a fellow jungle cat. She’s literally a bedazzled tiger. Rawr.

I wonder why she’s wearing Red? Her stems be STEMMIN tho.

A surprise cameo towards the end of the 9 hour show and how iconic is it to *poof* appear in a cloud of organza and glitter?! I need this sparkle suit immeds.

FAVORITE LOOK OF THE NIGHT:

I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS LOOK! It’s so simple and that’s why I’m obsessed with it. I could wear this to the bar if I wanted to! (I absolutely couldn’t, I barely go to bars and when I do they’re full of olds wearing hoodies.) But I do wear a white tank like nobody’s biz and pairing such a basic top with the razzly dazzliest of skirts is so fun! I even like the belt as the accent to break up the two and I NEVER like a chunky belt. Kacey’s killin it and also stood out from the rest of the pack with a tasteful amount of shimmer&shine and without showing too much skinz.

Playlist

Pub Nights

My favorite thing about music is that any given song can immediately transport you back to a specific time in your life. This playlist is a love letter to my golden years of partying it up in TogaTown. Even though I lived in Saratoga from ages 18-22, I was at college, so it was really just snippets during winter/summer break. The time period I’m memorializing through song here is ages 24-28 (2015-2019) when I was REALLY cookin’ on Caroline St.

Here’s a bzz’ed artsy shot of said street.

In the heyday my pals and I became regulars at Caroline St. Pub, hence the name ‘Pub Nights.’ It’s at this bar where we got probably too close to the staff, spent all of our money (my dad was splitting rent with me, so always a mature decision to spend money you don’t have at the local pub), and took way too many bombs to remember. A bomb was a Monster energy drink+flavored vodka shot and if you took too many you felt like you could lift a car above your head but also might burst into tears if someone looked at you weird. What a time to be alive.

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Side bar: even if you weren’t a part of this particular era, I’m sure anyone who is reading can relate to the feeling of being in your twenties and grabbing life by the bombs. You’re still young and dumb, you’ve got a little bit of independence, and you’re either in an entry-level job that doesn’t really matter much or you’re working in restaurants (or both) where everyone hangs and bangs. It’s pure chaos but also pure bliss. You have no clue what’s coming next or when you’re going to get your shit together but it also doesn’t matter at all. And honestly, not for nothing, but my friend and I were just looking back on those times and wondering how the hell we afforded to go out as much as we did on garbage salaries. My first FT job paid me $12 an hour and I also worked as a hostess on the weekends for probably another $8-$10 an hour. I look at my financial sitch now and I’m baffled. I don’t know if it’s a combo of inflation and the fact that I never tried for a second to save money back then, but WTF? I make triple that now and if I go out for one night I am financially ruined. I blow my entire month’s “fun” budget on a few spressies and a couple Ubers. And then I remind myself that this is why I’ll never own a home.

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Anyway, back to fonder memories of spending my peak legal drinking years in a town where the bars stay open until 4am and every summer the population quadruples for track season. Before you get the dance party started with this playlist, I’d like to toss out some honorable mentions to the places and people who made these years so spesh, if I may. First and foremost, Popcorn Brian. I could write an entire chapter of a book about this man (in fact I did) but I’ll try to briefly sum up the magic. Popcorn Brian was a man in his fifties who went out solo and preyed on young chicks. The first night I spotted him, he was elbows deep in popcorn at Gaffney’s and I immediately named him Popcorn Guy, which of course came to include his government name when he added himself into my phone on a night when I was the prey in 2013. We quickly settled into being “hi” friends and every night that I went out for 8 years, if I saw Popcorn Brian we said hello and usually he slipped me a compliment. (WAY better than slipping me a roofie.) If Popcorn Brian saw me and didn’t compliment my outfit, I would immediately want to go home and change because clearly I looked like a walking dumpster. He was the epitome of what Saratoga Nights were, especially in the summer. You never knew what you were gonna get, but you were probably going to get a story out of it.

Secondly, of course all of my gal pals who were down to clown and take our outfits way too seriously, or a theme, or singing front row with the bands, or commanding the dance floor. These years were so fun and ridiculous and I couldn’t have done it without you! That literally felt like I was signing a Saratoga drunk nights yearbook, but it’s all true. HAGS.

Thirdly, I’ve already shouted out Caroline St. Pub, but while most people gravitate to the bartenders at a bar and want to become friends with them for free drinks, I’m the weirdo who wants to become friends with the bouncers instead. Never once got a free drink at Pub, but I did get to kick it with my homeslices Bob & George. I would literally leave my group of friends to stand against a wall and survey the crowd. Why? Because I have ALWAYS wanted to get paid to stand in a corner and people-watch with my naturally resting bitch face. But alas, I don’t have a penis, nor muscles, and therefore could never be a bouncer. I also would never be able to break up a fight. In fact, one could argue my face says my thoughts so loudly that it could actually start a fight. So thank you to my two fave bouncers for letting me moonlight/drunkenly have a running commentary on everyone in the bar. Hope your paychecks were thicc for putting up with me every Saturday night.

Fourthly, is fourthly even a word? Feels wrong, but whatevs. The live music in Togz! I give sincere individualized apologies in my song descriptions below because I for sure took being a fan a scooch too far, but I LIVED for a live band night, especially on a patio. Soul Session used to do Thursday nights in the summer at Gaffneys and you’d get all ages gathering to dance and sing. It was a whole vibe. Guess you had to be there.

Fifthly, have you given up on reading this blog because it hasn’t even started yet and it’s definitely too long already? Chowderfest. I really don’t need to say anything about this other than, pre-2019, there were no open container laws and we were livin’ LOARGE dumping hot creamy soups and alcohol down our throats outside all day in February. If you’re still in Saratoga and not bogged down by responsibilities (children) pls do me a favor and crack a cold one on Caroline this Chowderfest in my honor. (But like don’t be obvious cause you can get arrested now.) I would say take a shot off the Sperry’s ice luge but I imagine a hunk of ice that everyone puts their mouths on didn’t survive Covid…

Closer – The Chainsmokers ft. Halsey

We’re starting off with a bang because I can’t even begin to relay to you how INVINCIBLE I felt scream singing, “WE AIN’T EVER GETTING OLDER” with a bunch of other tipsy twenty-somethings in a crowded bar. So great that I also went on to name a Facebook album the very same thing. I’d still be posting 200 photo FB albums if I didn’t think I was going to get boo’ed off this planet. What a lost art it was to create a unique & entertaining caption for every terrible picture I posted. This generation’s “photo dump” girlies could never. But I digress…I don’t want to give The Chainsmokers all of the credit here because they turned out to be real big douchers who let this smash hit go right to their frat bruh heads, but this song is a *moment.* It perfectly captures what it’s like to be young and messy and make poor decisions. Halsey crushed as she always does and this was the time period when she started to release her own music, which I promptly became obsessed with as well. Also no hate to the roommate back in Boulder, but they made it sound cool as hell to be a mattress thief.

I’m A Mess – Bebe Rexha

Full discloszh, I heard this in Stop & Shop a couple months ago and this is the song that started my spiral back into creating this playlist. I was just browsing the shredded cheeses and almost teared up singing in my head “everything’s gonna be ok, that’s what my therapists say.” I had a visceral memory of singing this at my friend Kim’s apt, saying this was our new anthem because Bebe was crushing the self-love while also giving a shout out to her therapist. It was the message all of us insecure 20-somethings needed at that time. I sure believed Bebe that everything was gonna be alright. And guess what?! I’m no longer Venmo-requesting half of my rent from my parents and leaving the bar crying because my drunk boyfriend accused me of looking at the singer (who we were all looking at because he was performing) so it IS A GOOD, GOOD LIFE!

Bad Things – mgk ft. Camila Cabello

Listen, the girlies were going through a real bad girl moment in 2017. Taylor was in her Reputation Era and all the other pop hooches were like HEARD, we can do this. My friend Kelly introduced me to this song and for WHATEVER reason, I immediately correlate it with thigh high boots. For years I thought it was because Camila was wearing some in the music video and that’s what solidified that trend and me NEEDING to get a pair, but I just rewatched the video and homegrl ain’t wearing boots. So I guess it’s one of those moments my brain made up. For anyone who cares (no one) the-over-the-knee boot coincided with the bad grrl moment of 2017 and I dragged my mom to the mall (RIP) and got myself a pair of my own at The Bon Ton (RIPx2). I still have them and thank God I do because the trend swung right back around and I’ve never been more pleased to dust them off and debut them again. Boots as pants should FOREVER be a trend.

Also, fun fact, for whatever reason someone misspoke at work or drunkenly made up a word, and called that style of boots dopelopes, and ever since then, I actually struggle to call them anything else. If you think it’s stupid that I just wrote a whole paragraph about boots that are taller than normal, think about what a fuss I made at that time, the first night I wore them to the bar, with a sweater dress I specifically bought to wear with them! I forced a photoshoot with my BFF Kristi so the lewk could forever remain in our hearts and our minds. So basically, nothing’s changed because I still do that when I’m wearing a kickass outfit. PS s/o to mgk for being the toxic trashy boyfriend with a hot GF that’s too good for him for a full decade now. Quite an image to uphold.

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The best part is after all that, you can’t even see my dopelopes in this picture!

Shape of You – Ed Sheeran

Ed had just released Divide in 2017 and I don’t think there was a day when I didn’t have that full album on repeat. (If you’re a longtime fan you’ll know that I gave it a track by track recap and it’s one of my faves he’s released.) I won’t punish your ears by putting Galway Girl on here even though I overplayed the shit out of that song this particular year. I even made it my alarm song, so I started each day ready to Irish jig all over the haters. Instead, I’ll include this bangpiece that was often in rotation at the pub. My hips DID NOT LIE when this beat was beatin.

My Own Worst Enemy – Lit

Sure, this song came out in 1999, but you’ve never experienced a REAL cover band unless they’ve let this song rip. This is such a classic drinking song, and I probably heard it every single weekend for 4 years straight. Quite literally never gets old. In fact, just the beginning guitar riff makes me taste Bud Light. Also, peek behind the scenes, when I was creating this playlist, I wanted to reach out to some friends who were a part of this era to make sure I included the songs that always made them think of our sloppy times, and while I was out here focusing exclusively of the pop hits of the time, they honed in on the 90’s and early 2000’s throwbacks these bands were singing as we moshed in the front row. Thank God for crowdsourcing because I was forever fuzzy on the deets in this time period. How could I forget being overserved and wailing PLEASE TELL ME WHYYYYYYYYYY with 100 sweaty strangers?!

New Rules – Dua Lipa

I discovered Dua Lipa through this song and oOh baby did this one hit home. There was a brief period of time when all of my gal pals sent their boyfs packin. They blamed it on mercury being in retrograde or something, which is a fun PR spin to put on dumping guys that probably deserved to be dumped. Regardless, this song coincided with the great dumping. Say dump again, Julia. And WE WERE FEELIN OURSELVES. It was Summertime and the livin’ was track season, BB! So we were hitting the bars and trying to follow Dua’s v. strict set of rules. And then Fall hit and we had a great theme party to celebrate the end of Mercury f*cking around. Welp, 50% of us failed and ended up taking those boys back and I wore that boy’s Space Jam shirt to said mercury theme party. I would LOVE to have a moment where I’m like it was our twenties, tough stuff, lesson learned. But HA! I never learned my damn lesson and I can say with my WHOLE-ass heart, Dua knew what the hell she was talkin about and I should’ve listened to her then. 1. Don’t pick up the phone. 2. Don’t let him in. 3. Don’t be his friend. Happy to report that so far in 2025, I’ve followed all three rules. First time for everything.

Despacito Remix – Luis Fonsi ft. Daddy Yankee & Justin Bieber

This was Bieber’s last hurrah of making music before he got married/retired and he was ALL about the collabs with DJ’s and rappers and latin popstars and every single one slapped suh hard, it was tricky to choose just one. Picked this one for a little culture and because it’s an instant hip-swayer. Did I learn a lick of Spanish from this song (or the 4 years of actual Spanish classes that I took?) No. Did I learn how to put some stank on Puerto Rico? HELL YEA I DID! This is how we do it down in *POO-WHERE-TO* RICO.

Cheap Thrills – Sia

Whether there was a dedicated dance floor at a bar or not, during this era, I’mma be dancin. Realistically, by the time I arrived at the bar around midnight, I was already a bottle of wine deep and it wasn’t hard to feel loose enough to groove immediately. And this song is the epitome of a bop and lyrics are basically exactly what my life was at that point. Friday and Saturday night, get cute, toss back some adult bevvies and hit the dance floor. As we’ve previously established by questioning how I could afford any of this, I didn’t need money as long as I could feel the beat.

Snapback – Old Dominion

You may wonder what a country song is doing in a mix of clerb pop beats and that’s a valid concern. This song is singlehandedly responsible for me clasping onto a trend that I have yet to really let go of and it is the exact opposite of thigh high boots. A band full of hot country boys singing about how sexy it is for a girl to wear a backwards hat was ALL I NEEDED to think that I looked like a total babe soda in a backwards hat. I’ve always been a hat gal, but this period of time is when I really ratcheted it into another stratosphere and the very first enabler of this trend was none other than local band Toga Boys who decided to sell snapbacks for $5. I’d like to preface this story by saying that when I commit to a bit, I do it so hard that it might scare some people. My first summer back in Saratoga I discovered Toga Boys and their weekly residency at Gaffneys, realized I had a raging crush on the lead singer who wore the hell out of a backwards hat, and then made it my mission to be at pretty much every show he played ever. Not only did I look like a creepy groupie, but I took it a step further and talked him into giving me a free hat, then I proceeded to never take that hat off for a solid calendar year. I wore that thing everywhere and because of OD brainwashing me into thinking I looked hot, I HONESTLY THOUGHT I LOOKED HOT. I still wear backwards hats, mostly at the beach, but at least I now know I look like a total lez and I just DGAF. Still waiting on those royalties for creating the PERFECT album cover for Toga Boys should they ever release original tunes with that donut float.

…Ready For It? – Taylor Swift

I mean, I’m not gonna talk about Reputation and not include a song from it. To say this album was iconic would be the biggest understatement of the century. A country/pop star who never swore and always kept a pretty squeaky clean image goes basically into hiding for a few years and then drops THIS HEATER?! The album was all F-OFF anthems and her look was EMO. I was obsessed and I always think of this album when I look back on these years. It was a whole attitude and I embraced it full force with my chokers and my dark lipstick. SO hard to pick one song so I just went for the all encompassing fan fave and most annoying phrase that I’ve ever gotten stuck in my head.

S.O.B. – Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats

Another nod to the local live music scene in Saratoga, after spending a couple of years stalking Toga Boys and their other band variations, I stumbled upon 2096 and suddenly, my obsession was transferred. Where Toga Boys leaned more into the classic and alt rock hits, 2096 incorporated more folksy stuff that you didn’t typically hear covered at the bar. I’ve only ever heard this song performed by them. In fact, this band was at the Stone Pony last year and when I heard this song I was like OH I KNOW THIS from Saratoga. Pretty offensive that the actual band was singing it and I was like ugh, it’s not 2096. Still don’t know any of the words, but I know SON OF A BITCH and oooooHHHHoooohHHoooooOOHOOhhhoohhh. And that’s all that matters. It’s such a fun group singalong song. Other honorable mentions from this band that got me in my feels EVERY time was Little Lion Man (another great crowd anthem) and Chasing Cars, which I had also never heard covered and legit teared up every time they performed it. Since I know how incredibly weird I was when I became super into a band, I will also issue a formal apology to these guys because I took “you’re a fun band to see live” the farthest always and I think I once DM’ed them a bunch of pictures I took of them performing like I was their social media manager. The pictures were awful as I was for sure seeing double. SORRY I’M A CREEP!

Sorry – Beyonce

JK I’m not sorry, cause Beyonce taught me to literally never be sorry and also that men ain’t shit. If you’re getting tired of me being like OMG ICONIC BAD GURLS, get over it because I’m TELLING YOU 2017 was for the gurleeeze. We were having ourselves a reckoning. Taylor vs. Kanye. Camila vs. mgk. Selena vs. Justin. Ariana vs. all of her exes. Beyonce vs. Jay-Z. Sir did you think you could cheat on Beyonce and she WOULDN’T have something to say?! Not only do I love a song that gives me permission to flip the bird as a dance move (and I definitely did) but without this song, we’d never have been gifted Becky with the Good Hair. It’s meant to be a burn, but honestly, I’d die to be called Julia with the Good Hair. So much so, that I somehow ended up translating the nickname to my boyfriend at the time because he had given me a nickname and I felt I should return the favor. Of course, his nickname for me was Droolz because I unfortunately had a period of time in my youth where I demanded to be called Jules and also food/spit were spraying out of my mouth almost every minute of every day. And I called him Becky with the Good Hair, Bex for short, because he had long hair that was for sure nicer than mine. Do you see the disparity? Boy, BYE.

This Is What You Came For – Calvin Harris & Rihanna

Even though we found out via ‘SCREW THE WORLD’ Tay that she basically wrote this song and let Calvin Harris take the credit because they were dating at the time, it doesn’t even matter because what A BANGER. This is exactly what you want to flail your limbs to on a Saturday night until 4am. For those of you unfamilz with Saratoga, there’s a bar on the corner of Caroline St called City Tavern and each floor all the way up to the roof has something different going on. The 4th floor was coined “the boom boom room” and I think you can picture exactly what that means. This is a boom boom room song. Strobes and mmst mmst mmst and Popcorn Brian grindin all up on YA. You’re welcome for that visz.

Summer of ’69 – Bryan Adams

My dad can vouch for this but my sister and I heard this performed out in Saratoga and immediately called and told him to learn it because we never want to see live music again without Summer of ’69. Credit to him because he did learn it and he’s played it every time we’re both at one of his gigs and we get up and jump around like idiots to it. It goes without saying that summer is my favorite season, so a song that glorifies all of the good times of summers when you’re young will always hold a special place in my very foggy memories. And not for nothing? You literally can’t beat a Saratoga Summer. So once again, thank you to Justin Joyner of Toga Boys, Motion Blur, & Gravity for bringing Summer of ’69 back into my life and ALSO putting up with me creepin fangirl style with my backwards hat and my weird ongoing bit in the summer of 2016 where I referred to you as my boyfriend without you knowing because I thought it was funny. Oop!

Stressed Out – Twenty One Pilots

I remember this song being bumped a lot, also Imagine Dragons’ “Thunder” which is kinda similar vibes but I’m sorry I can’t possibly give kudos to a song that just screams lightning and thunder over and over again. Anyway, this little ditty is tongue and cheek because I’m sure I sang it at the time with my whole heart wanting to turn back time to less stressful days. And now I listen to these lyrics and think WE WERE IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS. What the hell was I stressed out about at 25? Probably my bar tab.

All The Small Things – Blink-182

Another cover band crowd pleaser!! Gets the people going and I’ve never screamed WORK SUCKS, I KNOW harder for someone whose typical day at work consisted of sorting through chaps, dildos, and Four Loko dresses leftover from a Fat Jew show. Jk that was just one job. In this four year stint of living in Saratoga, I had 9 jobs. That’s not an exaggeration. 9 jobs in 4 years. Guess what? They all sucked. Jk the one where I planned beer festivals and got to travel to Hawaii was siiick. Too bad they laid me off after a cool 6 months. Now you know why I needed hit the bars as much as I did. “SAY IT AIN’T SO, I WILL NOT GO.” – Me when they turned the lights on at 4am.

Back To You – Selena Gomez

Remember the show 13 Reasons Why? You shouldn’t. It was DARK. Real hot in the streets at this time and this song was in it. I had to quit it cold turkey because watching all the reasons that a teenager commits suicide was not helping my newfound panic attacks, which also started around this time. Anyway, kinda unrelated but I just wanted to set the scene for what was hot in the streets 8 years ago. This song came out and everyone was like OBVIOUSLY THIS IS ABOUT JUSTIN BIEBER and then I found out that a singer who I met in college (my cr33pin on musicians goes WAY back) wrote this hit. Awesome for him, not so much for all of us Selena-Biebs stans. As someone who more than once, unironically, referred to her own relationship as the Selena and JB of Saratoga because of how many times we broke up and got back together, I guess I can relate to this song. Also suuuuper catchy.

Mr. Brightside – The Killers

You wanna instantly liven up a room full of sloshed white people? Play Mr. Brightside. Epic. Whether it was being sung by the band or got queued up on Touch Tunes, everyone was comin out of their cage. See what I did there? For people my age, this song dropped at a pivotal time in our lives, 8th grade. We started having school dances in 7th grade. So essentially, I’ve been partying to Mr. Brightside since it debuted. And it brings the house down every damn time. And I’ll repeat this story until I’m 6 ft under but when The Killers do a show, they open with Mr. Brightside and I honestly can’t get over it. It’s either the cockiest move or the dumbest move because then everyone’s like peace thanks for the show. Either way, I can’t imagine ever hearing this song and not immediately feel ready to run through a brick wall and also take a tequila shot.

Truth Hurts – Lizzo

Ok, so the majority of the pop hits I’ve included in this playlist came out in 2016/2017. That’s when I was going hardest in the paint. By 2018/2019, I had considerably slowed my bar outings and was opting for more settled weekend activities. Read: I was broke as a joke and had to be more selective about which nights I wanted to throw money away and then also delete the following day to a full 24-hour hangover. All that to say, I slowed my roll, but when Lizzo hit the scene and blew the summer of 2019 wide open, it was GAME ON. You could not escape this song. You’d be scrolling IG and see 3 posts in a row with the caption, “I just took a DNA test turns out I’m 100% that bitch.” (Guilty.) I remember going to see The Jonas Brothers in Albany and the entire arena singing along to this as if Lizzo herself was onstage…it was literally just the pre-show music. Truth is, she posed a great question that we still don’t know the answer to: why men great til they gotta be great? You can get back to me on that.

Shut Up and Dance – WALK THE MOON

Closing out strong with a song that was requested every time we went out by my girl Kim. This was her jam and if a live band didn’t play it for her, they were dead to us. She’d command the dance floor and it was fun to sit back and watch her give her heart and soul to performing it every time it played, but it was even more fun to get in the mix and have the whole group scream-singing it. A solid core memory of my golden years of Saratoga and I will never hear this song and not think of that time. Plus, it’s just a clean, feel-good bop. A wholesome song about dancing to a snappy beat. Does it get any better?!

Alright, the playlist is over. Now go get a doughboy from Esperanto and stumble on home.

Oh, you’re still here? Great. Feast your eyes on a throwback to the relic of Facebook albums with this visual walk down memory lane.

The time my mom gave me a trampstamp at Grey Gelding when I wasn’t even of legal drinking age yet.
A weeknight at Gaffneys in the off-season
See? RBF could start some fights.
My love.
Must finish the bottle before heading to the bars. This photo was taken at midnight.
Pre-Doughboy photoshoot
If I was this unhinged on the way to the bar, imagine what the walk home looked like.
RIP Sperrys Chowderfest ice luge. 2015
The last run in 2019
Apparently I chalked while drunk too.
Car Bombs at Parting Glass, another staple.
Rock at Desperate Annie’s was my ride or die.
Forced myself onstage with 2096 for my birthday. Plz note the backwards hat.
This flag was my personal backdrop pt 1
pt 2
pt 3
I declared November exclusively for backless shirts and called it Bovember because I’m an idiot.
Accidentally coordinating with Grinder
Just your average Thursday.
All the awards to the band for trusting two drunk girls with a probs expensive guitar for a Halloween photoshoot.
Mercury Girlies
The time I made my parents do bombs.
St Patricks
Will never stop drinking and backwards hatting.
Snow Day = Booze Day
Blizzards were just an opportunity to bar hop in a blanket.
Caroline St Sledding
The time I wore snowpants to Kings and was probably still the best dressed person there.
We brought balloons and treats for George’s 60th.
The next 10 photos are a series I like to call Posing with Total Strangers
There is no age limit
I definitely told this guy he had a fresh fit and demanded a photo
Ugly Sweater Pub Crawl
This was a recreation of Titanic?
The infamous Chowderfest Tigger
Sup bruh
My entire 25th birthday was a scavenger hunt of pics with strangers so instead of posting them all I picked a few especially weird ones
Mouth tats
and prom poses
s/o Tap & Barrel, another frequented joint
No open container laws 1
2
3
The ole boot & rally.
Choose not to count how many times I walked home barefoot.
Sry KC, you seemed to fall victim to all of my “MUST TAKE A PHOTO IN THIS OUTFIT” nights
Passed.
Bombs away with Saratoga Rikki!
This bar changed names 900 times, idk what it’s called now but what a moment when it opened and had a cool neon sign
And inflatable props.
We really loved Hawaii.
And props!
It’s a miracle I’ve ever had friends..
The time I took my mom to Pub to show her where I spend all her money.
Car bombs & chokers.
More chokers
OG Pres
TY Alex for introducing me to Soul Session & Desperate Annies
Never without a Bud Latte and I certainly got my money’s worth on this outfit I probably paid $15 for and wore downtown 900 times.
My first and basically last time at The Horseshoe.
We yelled at strangers a lot.
Just Audrina DJ’ing at Gaffs
The only time I’ve ever been captured by a professional photographer at the bar. Good thing I was sobez.
Green tea shots washed down with a beer
My last night living in Saratoga, getting behind the bar at Harvey’s and apparently posing with cash like a rapper.