Gonna keep it real witchu, I thought FOR SURE these awards would have a Taylor performance or at the very least, appearance, and that is exclusively why I tuned in. I had to wait about an hour to even set my peepers on her when she won for Red (Taylor’s Version) and I rubbed my hands together in anticipation for a CLASSIC Taylor dose of acceptance speech truth. Never one to shy away from addressing the elephant in the room, I figured it was a guarantee we’d get a little tidbit about Ticketmaster exclusively ruining my life this week and crushing all of my dreams, even if she said it in a cryptic coded way like she’s known to do. And what did we get instead? NOTHIN. Just a bunch of boring thank you’s for Red. After that, my interest drastically plummeted, unlike the ticket prices for The Eras Tour on StubHub. Since I went through all the trouble of turning on the TV and looking at the “fashion” choices, figured the least I could do was roast them…even though there was absolutely no one noteworthy there. I mean even the host–Wayne Brady?! You serious, Clark? What is going on with awards shows lately that we can’t even drum up a big name celebrity to host, let alone attend.
PS She didn’t walk the red carpet because it would probably ruin her street cred since this awards show guest list was such a stinky loserfest…but she did look like a 70’s disco glam babe and this jumpsuit was backless, so clearly she observes Bovember (Backless November) like I once did in my fun youthful bar-hopping days (may they rest in peace.) You’re welcome for this ratchet TV screen pic.
WORST.
STOP TRYING TO MAKE DENIM A THING, EVERYONE. My God I’m so sick of this tongue in cheek ode to Britney and the early 2000’s jown. We get it, the most HORRIFIC styles of the early aughts are back in style. Distressed denim, chunky belts, ginormous crosses reminiscent of True Faith by Ramona Singer and french tips. BARF ALL OVER ME. THIS DOESN’T MAKE YOU LOOK COOL IT JUST MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE 20 YEARS AGO PARIS HILTON WITHOUT THE SOCIALITE STATUS. Also those extensions immediately transported me to Laguna Beach circa 2005 when Kristin and all of her cronies got extensions for winter formal and it was the most obvious ratty clip-ons that they probably paid thousands of dollars for. Die away from me millennium trends.
I truly don’t know what’s happening here. Did she tie a puffer jacket around her waist and tuck her front braids into it?
I’m usually down with my girl Bebe shaking that dump truck all over the red carpet in a fitted gown but this is a G-D mess. Girl is a walking loofah.
I actually puked a little bit in my mouth when I saw Grey Suit’s hairy thighs. This is an appalling group outfit choice and it became even more jarring when they won and I had to see everyone’s thigh meat up close and personal on my 60 inch.
Super weird grandma’s coffee-stained curtains/bodysuit combo but also I just want to put it out into the universe that I hate hate hate double hate LOATHE ENTIRELY the two toned hair trend. Why is half of your head red and the other half black? Pick a lane.
Ah yes, my fave two pieces in the face hairstyle…there’s always one! Also this dress makes me dizzy.
This was the only look I had to include a rear view on because VIEW THAT REAR. Holy guacamole. Jessie. WE KNOW YOU HAVE A HOT BOD. WE KNOW THIS. I will never ever ever ever think a dress with a BUILT-IN WHALE TAIL is cute. Trashcan 101.
MGK is such a worthless idiot I don’t even like giving him or his leech of a twin flame the time of day because all they want is for people to talk about them. This is the stupidest “look at me” outfit and I hope when he sat down one of his suit protrusions slid right up his buhhole.
Not a good enough reason to lose the shirt.
I do no support a Miami Vice look in November. Or ever from Charlie Puth.
This is lowkey an ice dancer outfit.
Host of the whole damn thing and he showed up in his jammies. He proved he DOES have fashion sense by popping off many spicy outfit changes throughout the show but YA GOTTA have a better fit for the carpet or you don’t deserve to host.
BEST
RAWR this look is FIERCE.
I dub these two the Leopard King and Queen of the night. They didn’t arrive together and have no affiliation other than great taste in animal print. Jimmie is WERKIN these pants, baby.
Always jivin with a Barbie power suit. Could definitely do without the full teeter totter view but VERY happy to report that after the CMA’s red carpet slops yabfest, everyone took notes and this was the ONLY boobage I saw.
I don’t think there is anything more adorable than this father/son matching pineapple top hairdo. Just some wholesome red carpet content with these two holding hands and looking adorbs.
Very dazzled by this discoball two piece. Mostly I just want to see it in action. Give us a spin, girl!
Just the right amount of sheen for this country stud.
Classic black mini without edgy cutouts, I APPROVE.
I think this screenshot was an accident because I have no clue who these guys are but let’s go with it. I love the floral suit the best but all three look great and you can’t beat a geekburger wave at the camera pose to look the LEAST cool.
Oh shit this is fresh. This is some Hamptons beach party crisp white vibes and I’m here for it.
Pretty sure they wear the same exact thing to every awards show but I still want those luscious curls so they can get away with it.
Great color and really economical use of the same fabric here.
Listen if ya gotta show up to an awards show chock full of youths who have no clue who you are until you point out that Sofia is your daughter, ya gotta pull out all the stops and a smoking jacket like this with the chesties poking out is just that.
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
Obsessed with these colors, just the right amount of leggage and her hair is mermaid wave perfection. 10/10, Carrie.
HEY Y’ALL! We’re getting back into the groove of awards season, gearing up for a long winter of yours truly clothed in oversized sherpa-lined men’s flannels adorned with crumbs asking celebrities if they dared to look in a mirror before they left their mansion to walk this red carpet. An age-old tradish. If I may make a blanket judgment about last night’s event it would be: TOO MUCH BOOB. Let’s be a little more tasteful with our cleavage going forward, ladies. Or just take a page out of my book and exclusively wear baggie tees with no bra. Now that’s CLASS and I think everyone at the dog park where I regularly rock this look would agree. Slops Yabs or Bust.
WORST.
This bitch took a spin in the drapes and walked out the door and I’m sorry but we cannot call this fashion. It’s what you do when you’re indecent and you have to walk by the window when the landscaping crew is outside, you wrap yourself in a sheet. And not for nothing but I always wonder when someone wears something like this do they ever think about how no one can walk within a 12 ft radius of them or they’ll be stompin all over their ridiculous flailing wispy dress bits? Counterpoint: if you hate someone and they wear something with a tail, all you have to do is stand on it to ruin their night. #DeepThoughtsWithJu
Kicking off my bubby-hate for the evening, I just never ever feel like I need to see what someone’s underboob looks like up close and personal. This keyhole peep is far too girthy and so unnecessary. If that hadn’t set me off, I’d be down with this look but alas I see red when I’m getting knockers shoved in my grillpiece at a classy event. (Stay tuned for more ranting about this and a fun little game I like to call how many nicknames for breasts can I shove into this blog.)
Usually Dierks slays with a trendy and funky-colored suit but I cannot climb aboard the ribbons, bows & embroidered flowers angle here.
My general distaste for Lady A’s music (which all sounds exactly the same) may have bubbled over into their red carpet choices because my first thought was UGH they’re so boring. So obviously I’m being a real Judge Judy here. But also, bleh.
I’ve kicked this blog off on a real snarky tone so we’re gonna go balls to the wall here and point out that you cannot have a hairline like Luke’s and not wear a hat. Your GO-TO move should be a cowboy hat. I’ll also accept trucker hat, which I think is what he’s usually sporting. No need to get fancy, Luke! If there’s any red carpet where headgear is welcomed with open arms, it’s every country awards show.
These two are called Bunnie & Jelly Roll and I really don’t think I need to say much else here. Except maybe, sir are you lost? VMA’s were months ago.
Is this a Vegas bachelorette pool party or the CMA’s cause bbgirl looks confused. Part 2 of 1000 of WE DON’T NEED TITS OUT FOR THE RED CARPET. I don’t care if you’ve got itty bitties or big honkers, I don’t discriminate on size, I just don’t want to see ’em.
OMG DID YOU GUYS KNOW THAT KATY PERRY HAS BIG BOOTY BIG OLE YABBOS?! Cause I for one had no idea due to the fact that she definitely hasn’t been jamming them down our throats for the past 15 years. Katy, take your over the shoulder boulders and get lawst with this Britney denim knockoff. That was an OG magic red carpet moment that will never ever be recreated.
Before I took a closer look I actually thought this was denim and I was also annoyed with Carrie for the same reason I just roasted Katy. Even though it’s not actually denim it’s still giving Britney vibes. Also it’s kinda just a smorgasbord of fabrics and I’m over it.
You know I’ve had enough of my eyeballs getting poked out by nipples when I put my girl crush JJD on the worst dressed list but seriously ENOUUUUUGHHH with the boobs. I’m literally beginning to question if it was a requirement for your hooters to be busting out of your dress to even attend the CMA’s. This looks downright uncomfortable. Like, props to your plastic surgeon but we don’t really need proof that your hard as rock implants stand at full attention without any assistance. Y’all sick of my boob jokes yet? Too bad. I’m sick of getting poked in the eyeballs by them.
Alright, 80’s Dad. Are those New Balances?
This is like tacky lingerie and probably the least flattering dress I’ve ever seen Miranda rock. So there’s that.
Oh, GREAT! MORE AREOLAS!!!!! JUST WHAT WE NEEDED!
John looks like he went back to 2013 poppin tags with Macklemore at the Salv.
This is a bellhop and/or Regal Cinema attire and you just CAN’T be strollin a red carpet lookin like this. ESPECIALLY when you’re hanging on by a thread in the country music world like Jake Owen is. How did not one person on his team look at this deep red smoking jacket and go, you’ll look like the help, dude, pick something else.
BEST
I really went back and forth on this one. On the one hand, it’s giving REAL hardcore stripper vibes and it’s a scooch hypocritical of me to boob-shame and then allow a sequined leopard lace-up number to sashay right onto the best dressed list. On the other hand, LEOPARD. I love leopard so much and I don’t care who knows it, so THERE.
Nice fall color, love the bow heels and WHAT WITCHCRAFT IS THIS SKINTIGHT SILK DRESS WITH NOT ONE CRINKLE OR FAT LUMP? I truly need the link to what kind of spanx/shapewear she’s slurped into because HOT DAMN I stared at this picture for an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to find one little panty line or even just the outline of her belly button and NOTHIN. Definition of fits her like a glove! (Also to stay on brand, full coverage on the tots would’ve been preferred, obv.)
Everyone looks sharp except for the guy all the way on the right who looks like he borrowed his dad’s Sears double breasted jacket because he forgot the event was tonight. Not to put him on blast, but also, clean it up.
I love how cocky Cole is that he wears a hat with his own initials on it. And also I just really want this suede number. Love a subtle bedazzled jacket.
Lauren with the big hair. I LOVE IT! What a babe soda. Thomas looks alright, one time.
IN ALL MY YEARS, I’ve truly never seen a Pete and Repeat on the red carpet at the same event. YOIKES this is embarrassing. I mean I imagine most stylists are on the same circuit because this faux pa NEVER happens but I really wish these two would’ve embraced this twinsie moment. One time I was at the bar and the girl next to me was wearing the same exact bright yellow floral top from TJMaxx and I elbowed her and said I see you’re a fellow maxxinista (obviously I was overserved) but we laughed and took a selfie. AND THAT’S how you handle who wore it better like a PRO. Sure, I’m not famous and I’m not wearing the same designer dress as someone who is infinitely more famous than me (literally don’t know the other girls name, sry not sry) but I WILL say, I love the color and they both look downright fabulous in it.
Riley is kind of giving off grandpa vibes in this jacket which is fitting for having a hit about grandpas never dying but really I’m just loving on his arm candy’s classic nude.
We love a red carpet pregnancy announcement in granny’s applique florals!
If we’re being honest every single time I’ve seen a photo of Maddie and Tae in the past 5 or 6 years they’ve been around, I genuinely wonder if it’s the same two girls. They look different EVERY time I see them. But regardless of if we’ve gotten sub-in Maddie’s or Tae’s through the years, this black and white combo is FIERCE. The big bridal skirt paired with the dominatrix patent leather thigh highs? YES please!
Might be ~*~controversial~*~ to say but this silver look is majestic.
Wynonna looks like a disco ball! Get it girl, give us a spin!
Normally I’d go IN on this turquoise-weighted velour flare-fest but you know what?! Get down with your bad self, Lainey! I’m a strong supporter of wearing an obnoxious trendy hat and usually I do so under circumstances that certainly do not warrant a brim that wide. Well babes, this is a circumstance that warrants a brim as wide as the red carpet. Hats off to you and your 600 precious metals weighing down your hands and neck.
The men were a little disappointing tonight so I really savored this maroutfit with smoking slippers from country music’s resident racist hot mess.
Reebsies knows what works and it’s a jewel tone to really emphasize that Red Ragtop.
Luke ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ Bryan, ladies & gents.
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
A group award! SLAY Runaway June SLAYYYYYY. I love that they color coordinated and then popped OFF with their own emerald interpretations. The country girl belt mixed with chain heels, sparkles, feathers and a whole lotta leg! Look out, Carrie! These chicks know how to party.
Taylor Swift is taking a break from re-releasing every song she’s already released and a million more “from the vault” to bring us her 10th album (for the first time.) And you know what that means, I am obliged to word vomit my opinions on each and every track. As an elder millennial (and I would argue, her target demo since we are the same age) I have outgrown her drop everything for a spur of the moment surprise antics. I full-on missed this album announcement because it happened at the VMA’s, an awards show for Youths that I’ve fully accepted I’m too old for on the same year that she bombards us with this. And when this album came out at midnight and then another 7 songs were dropped GOTCHA style at 3am, I was snug as a bug in a cozy Queen in a blissful state of REM. I woke up, walked the dog, and listened to the album for the first time in the shower while I got ready for work like a G-D adult. No more nonsense for me, Tay! Although I stand by the fact that this woman is a lyrical songwriting genius and deserves her megastardom because of it, I can also admit that releasing every song she’s ever written is getting to be a little overwhelming. Thirteen was a solid album and a feasible amount of tracks for me to pull original commentary out of my ass for this blog. Twenty is really pushing it and we might have to pop open a bottle of wine to get through it. But I have a job to do here, one that I created for myself nearly 8 years ago with 1989 and by God, I’ll continue to fulfill this duty for the loyal Salties.
1. Lavender Haze. In the spirit of being brutally honest, this song was a poor choice for an album opener. Other than the fact that she says “meet me at midnight” at the very beginning, I’m assuming because she wanted to introduce this album, it kind of all around stinks. As she revealed in her little gimmicky “share the track titles through a TikTok each night” bit, the phrase Lavender Haze she ripped from an episode of Mad Men because she liked how it sounded. Intentions are good because she just wanted to sing about how great it is to be in love and how everyone brings you down with their judgements. When this song started, I immediately thought oh I’m going to hate this album because if all the songs sound like this I should probably be on LSD to enjoy it. Luckily, I don’t fully hate the album and this song was just a poor lead-in. Also for all my RHONJ stans out there, this speaks directly to Teresa’s LOVE BUBBLE. So if your’e going to jam out to this song, please jam out to it with this visual because this is the happy ending that you get if you live in that lavender haze. You know what they say, the higher the hair, the more it rubs against your love bubble.
Best Lyric: I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say (Hell YEA, Live your life for yourself, QUEEN.)
2. Maroon. I heard the beat of this song through my shower speaker and was CONVINCED that Spotify did some weird shuffle thing and tossed me over to Taylor’s song with Zayn for 50 Shades of Grey. Like did they use the same track? Did she sample her own song? Is this a part 2? I had so many questions and I guess the only real answer here is that when you’re in your thirties and you’ve been a popstar since 15 churning out hits every single year, at some point they’re bound to start sounding exactly the same. (Most people would suggest that’s when you throw in the towel but I won’t suggest that because I don’t want to anger the Swifie mob.) For an ear refresher, here’s the old sexy 50 shades beat and tell me they’re not identical (not the oh’s in the beginning, obviously):
I like this song. This is more vintage Taylor and probably should’ve been track 1. Visceral storytelling lyrics about love and heartbreak with a killer bridge. That’s the gal we all know and love. Also important to note: our first F bomb of the album. And might I add, the first of many. As an avid F Bomb Thrower, normally I’d be very supportive of adult Taylor deciding to say F it to her younger fans and cuss up a storm on an album. Except that the F bombs that float throughout Midnights are the F bombs of a girl who just discovered F bombs and therefore force them into every sentence whether it makes sense or not. (Say F bomb again.) I know this girl well because I was her in middle school. And no, I’m not trying to sound cool because I realize that a 12 year old popping F bombs into every sentence is trailer trash as hell and I’m sure my parents would’ve been mortified to discover this is the language I was using in the lunchroom with my equally as foul-mouthed friends. But to be in your thirties and just entering your F-Word era is weird and embarrassing. You should know the art of a swear now and when to insert it to make something funnier or angrier. Otherwise, don’t use them at all. “That’s a real fucking legacy to leave” just doesn’t do it for me.
Best Lyric: And I wake with your memory over me
3. Anti-Hero. Her first “single” off the album if we can even call them singles anymore when you release every song you’ve ever written in a journal to the entire world and radio is essentially dead. But that’s neither here nor there. This song is PEAK genius Taylor. Pretty much every female ages 25-35 has or is currently dealing with some type of anxiety, depression, insecurity and is actively in therapy or has been or should be. And Taylor writing a song about the exact intrusive thoughts that every female battles with every single day is just good business on her part. She knows her audience like nobody’s biz and this song caters right to it and has them eating out of the palm of her giant monster hand. “It’s me, Hi, I’m the problem it’s me” will be seared into pop culture history and she damn well knows it by immediately releasing a music video and fanfare over this song. The music video was pretty weird but top cinematic quality that has come to be expected from her productions these days. Bonus points for a little comedian bit to break up the unicorn blood and hijinks.
And now I must address the elephant (monster on the hill) in the room. When I first heard her sing “sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby”, this was my reaction:
I mean I get it. According to the selection of Snapchat and TikTok filters, guys only want to bang babies and cartoons…but still, this wasn’t a visual I wanted painted lyrically. After a few more listens it’s more digestible and makes me want to puke less. Plus, I actualy am a monster on the hill who towers above everyone else. See: every single time I’ve worn heels out and been asked if I was a basketball player. Unfortch I’ve taken my first go-around on Hinge and found that every single male is averaging 5’6″ for height so I guess I’ll continue to monster on the hill alone for the rest of my life while all the sexy babies get married. (I’m the problem, it’s me.)
Best Lyric: When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room
4. Snow On The Beach (ft. Lana Del Ray). Apparently snow at the beach is rare just like falling in love at the same time someone else is falling in love with you. Tay Tay, girlfran, come on over to the Northeast, snow at the beach ain’t that rare, it’s called winter. But I digress, this song is light and airy and is Lana Del Ray even on this song because methinksnot. It’s like when Chris Stapleton was featured on “I Know You Think About Me” and was allowed to duet on the chorus and that’s it. No one runs the show like T.Swift. Gets top artists to come sing backups on her album. Also, it would be wrong of me not to point out another stupid use of the F word. “Rare but fucking beautiful.” Are you a stoner now, ma’am? Yooooo, look at those waves, they’re fuckin beautiful, man!
Best Lyric: Life is emotionally abusive / And time can’t stop me quite like you did
5. You’re On Your Own, Kid. This one hit hard and I wasn’t expecting it to. Buzzy pop beat with lyrics that are a real throat punch. Hey, you’ll always be on your own so get comfy with that. WOOF. This song is loneliness as an art form.
Best Lyric: ‘Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / Everything you lose is a step you take
6. Midnight Rain. I’m incredibly weirded out by this synth voice that is either her voice very manipulated or Jack Antonoff’s and for that reason I’m out on this song. Also can’t really relate to a song about focusing on making a name for yourself in Hollywood instead of getting married and popping out kids in backwoods Pennsylvania.
Best Lyric: And I never think of him / Except on midnights like this
7. Question…? Big fan of asking questions over here so I appreciate Taylor trying to normalize the annoying female phrase “can I ask you a question?” Does that justify the use of “Fuckin’ situations”? Nope sure doesn’t. BUT “Fuckin politics”? YES MA’AM. FINALLY! Using the f word as an adjective in an appropriate manner. Because FUUUUCKKINNN POLITICS, BRUH. I’ll also fully support the lyric “some dickhead guy” because calling a guy a dickhead will always slap. So even though this song isn’t a 10/10, we got fuckin politics and dickhead guys and sometimes it’s the simple things that bring the most pleasure.
Best Lyric: ‘Cause I don’t remember who I was Before you painted all my nights A color I’ve searched for since
8. Vigilante Shit. Alright I know I’ve mostly sounded like a hater so far (I mostly am), but this Vigilante Shit is Good Shit. I SCRAMBLED to get to my phone to type “I don’t start shit but I can tell you how it ends.” That line has some STANK on it. Sheesh. I felt like I got knocked right back to 2017 black lipstick wearin, hood up, I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me, Taylor. I love it when she gives us badgrrl ‘tude. Get your revenge, BB! I’ve read two theories here. One is that she’s singing about ruining Scooter Braun’s life and teaming up with his ex wifey and the other is that she’s singing about ruining Kim and Kanye. I think she’d sooner saw her arms up with a butter knife than team up with Kimmy K so I’ll go with the Scooter theory because I can see her being besties with Yael. “While he was doin lines” (Scooter seems like a real big coke guy) “someone told his white collar crimes to the FBI” (she sued Scooter over selling her masters and not letting her buy them back) and apparently Scooter cheated on his wife with Erika Jayne from RHOBH (WORLDS COLLIDING) and that’s what ended his marriage. I will laugh my ass off if Taylor had a hand in his wife finding out that little nugget. Of course we will never know the truth but at least we have this badass revenge song to jam to foreva.
Best Lyric – Every lyric in this song is an A+ cold hard burn but obviously the best one is: I don’t start shit but I can tell you how it ends.
9. Bejeweled. Don’t ask me to explain this because I truly cannot but this song makes me think of the Nick Jr. show Shimmer and Shine. A flash in the pan obsession for my niece but it features some middle eastern cartoon princesses with bright jewel tone ponytails. ALL of the words in this song and the kind of peppy childlike beat to it is eerily cartoon-like.
Best Lyric: Didn’t notice you walkin’ all over my peace of mind In the shoes I gave you as a present (the only one without a reference to sparkles, jewels, diamonds, gems, etc…)
10. Labyrinth. Full disclosure I had no clue how to spell that word and when I looked at Spotify to cheat I said out loud “labby-rinth” so I would remember where to put the Y. STOP MAKING ME LOOK DUMB, TAYLOR. Obviously a real breathy number. I’m fine with it mostly because I’m scared to say I hate so many of these songs. If it hasn’t become clear to you yet, Midnights is not a top album for me overall. Plus, we get weird synthy-man voice again in this song. I wish that voice would go away. It makes me think of when a movie wants to show the character is high as balls and distorts everyone’s voices as if all of us watching the movie at home are not smart enough to notice when someone is tripping their face off without that detail.
Best Lyric: I’ll be gettin’ over you my whole life.
11. Karma. If you thought I was being a bitch on this track by track so far BUCKLE YO SEATBELTS because I’m about to throw hands over this song. Karma is listed as about 100 things in these simpleton childish goofy ass lyrics but not once does she tell the truth which is KARMA IS STUPID. This song BLOWS and of course it’s the song most likely to get stuck on a loop in your brain until the end of time. Much like the 30 second refrain from Hocus Pocus 2 that my niece wouldn’t stop singing last weekend…the only lyrics were “the witches are back” and thankfully that is now out of my head but unfortunately this trash took its place. I’m not even holding back how much this song made me want to rip my ears clean off my head. We can’t have Vigilante Shit and Karma exist on the same damn record. Vigilante Shit is BADASS we ride at midnight and kill every single man who has wronged us. Karma is pigtails and suckers skipping through the mall giggling about Steve from Language Arts passing the note to Jennifer B. when it was meant to go to Jennifer L. to ask her to the homecoming dance. Karma is my boyfriend! Lolz. BOOOOO THIS SONG. BOOOOOOOOOO. And the part where she says “Karma’s on your scent like a bounty hunter” the idiotic way she sings bounty sounds like bouncy and for probably 4 rotations of this song I was like WHAT THE HELL IS A BOUNCY HUNTER and kept picturing Elmer Fudd bouncing through the forest with a rifle and his big ole hat bopping atop his head.
Best Lyric: NONE. Every single word in this song makes me want to bang my head against the wall because me and walls vibe like that just like Taylor and Karma vibe like that EYE ROLL OF THE CENTURY.
12. Sweet Nothing. Thank the Lord we came back down to earth and got off of Bubblegum Planet for this one. Back to the basics with warm hug relationship storytelling. Taylor is in her forever relationship so we’ve been getting a lot of wistful “I finally know what true love is” types of songs. She found herself a mans who wants nothing from her but looooooooooove. Happy for her but also she can stop acting like she went through hell and back to find a man because she found her LP at 26 while us women in our thirties are fighting for our lives to get a guy taller than them who won’t send a creeptastic pervy first message. But seriously tho, happy for her.
Best Lyric: I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings (this song was a whole lot of sweet nothins for lyrics so it was slim pickins)
13. Mastermind. TOTAL SPIN MOVE to go from lalala we love each other and he’s my home and it’s sweet nothings to I manipulated all of this so we ended up together. Listen this song could be fiction and playing into us thinking she’s a real witchy mastermind, but I wouldn’t put it past her to also have set her sights on Joe and MADE.IT.HAPPEN.MAMA. The best part is she waited 4 years into the relationship to drop this little nugget and now it’s TOO LATE FOR JOE TO THINK SHE CRAZY AS HELL AND LEAVE! MUHAHAHHAA. That is the work of a mastermind. Anyway, this was the end to the album until 3 hours later on Friday when Taylor was like but wait, there’s more! If I had to judge the album solely on these first 13 tracks I’d give it a thumbs down. I basically only loved two songs. Not great. But let’s dive into the extras because it might help her chances on getting a Salty Ju stamp of approval.
Best Lyric: ‘Cause we were born to be the pawn In every lover’s game
14. The Great War. Good start to the bonus songs because I like this better than half the ones that made the original album cut. Groovy beat in the chorus and the sassy uh-huh really gets me goin. Fighting that brings a couple closer together, love that journey for them. (Spoiler & self promo alert: I’m about to drop a new humor piece that directly references that. Cause what says true love like fighting?!)
Best Lyric: Spineless in my tomb of silence (There’s so many lyrics that just sound cool in this song. It’s chill of Taylor to write a song about fighting about petty shit and make it poetic as hell.)
15. Bigger Than The Whole Sky. This one pulls at the heartstrings because it’s most likely about a miscarriage, essentially losing something before you’ve even met them, mourning what could have been. It’s sweet in a ‘cry your eyes out’ kind of way. Once again, would’ve happily taken this song over any of the others on the original album, jus sayin.
Best Lyric: Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears (Could’ve said tears here but “salt streams” is just, chef’s kiss. I have no notes. )
16. Paris. Another bop, TBH. Who was advising her on what tracks would make the cutting room floor? I mean I know it’s a moot point because she releases every word she records anyway, but I’m digging the bonus tracks WAY harder than the album tracks. Not only is this fun but it also makes me think of Lauren not going to Paris and also at the same time just makes me think of studying abroad and actin a damn fool in a foreign country but calling it an education. Kicking off the song with this little ditty: “And all the outfits were terrible – 2003, unbearable – “Did you see the photos?” – No, I didn’t, but thanks, though” was nostalgia in the best way. No one wants to remember 2003 fashion and yet we’re all reminded of it BECAUSE IT’S ALL COMING BACK NOW. But seriously though, I laughed out loud at that and pictured Lizzie McGuire traipsing around Rome in her corduroy newsboy cap and low rise bell bottoms. Terrible. Cheap wine make believe it’s champagne? That sums up my entire study abroad experience. Cheap wine and kebabs. This song has transported me to so many different places (none of them, Paris)–Bravo, Tay!
Best Lyric: I wanna brainwash you Into loving me forever (We’ve all been there amirite?! Just me?! Coolcoolcool.)
17. High Infidelity. Cheating Tay is back! After a dalliance in Folklore’s Illicit Affairs, she’s dabbling again and has risen the question that EVERYONE IS DYING TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO. Where the hell was Taylor Swift on April 29th. Inquiring minds NEED to know. Honestly by the time this is published I have absolutely no doubt that her psychotic sleuth fans will have video footage and timestamped photos from that date for every single year Taylor has been alive curated into a powerpoint presentation on TikTok. (Immediately as I typed this I went back to Lyrics Genius to copy my favorite lyric of the song and found a lengthy description about how she was dancing with Tom Hiddleston 3 days before the Met Gala on April 29th, 2016 and was still dating Calvin Harris at the time.) I don’t think ya girl has it in her to be a cheater but sure we’ll play along. (I stand corrected.) Another catchy little beat. I feel like it’s important to note that I dusted the ole bike tires off this weekend and took my teal lady for a spin on the boardwalk twice since the weather finally allowed it and both times my bike ride was scored by this album. So if we’re rating these songs on ocean breeze cruising down the boardwalk vibes, they get a 10/10. What doesn’t get a 10/10 were the two wedding parties spread out taking photos mid-boardwalk and the number of families who walked five across as if they own this public stretch of wooden planks. Nothing kills a T.Swift Groovin Bike Vibe like coming to a screeching halt and having to walk your bike behind someone who has zero self-awareness and won’t get the hell out of the way.
Best Lyric: You know there’s many different ways that you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough (THE TRUTH IN THIS. YIKES.)
18. Glitch. My first NOPE of the bonus tracks. Can’t get down with this one. It’s slow and clunky and I gotta be honest I’m not a big booty big ole fan of when Taylor goes into her highest octave. Sounds kinda whiny. So I’mma go ahead and pass on this friends with benefits tune.
Best Lyric: I’d go back to wanting dudes who give nothing (Oof hits a lil close to home to probably every girl singing “I’m the problem, it’s me” with their whole soul.)
19. Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve. Last year was Jake’s reckoning to be dragged in 10 whole minutes of brutal and apparently now she’s firing shots at John Mayer? As Swiftie Sleuths pointed out, Taylor was 19 when she was with John Mayer (track 19) and she’s 32 now, which was how old he was at the time of their *affair*. Look, I think it’s cheap shots to double back to a relationship that happened 13 years ago (oh, I see what she did there) just to drag the guy but also I’m not going to not sit here and pop my popcorn. John Mayer went through a REAL asshole phase and has probably had to answer to that a lot in his elder years where I think he’s calmed down quite a bit but releasing brand new music (not from the vault) about a guy who probably just wanted to get laid at the time is a scooch overdramatic. I think maybe it’s time to let sleeping dogs (Jake & John) lie. Good song though for being a giant F U to Johnny. PS This would’ve been an IDEAL time to drop a real F bomb. For example: “The tomb won’t fucking close.” Now THAT packs a punch. Not saying Taylor should have me in the writers room with her but not not saying that either. If there’s one thing I have an eye for it’s where to insert a swear for dramatic effect… for proof look no further than the time I broke up with my 6th grade boyfriend on AIM and said “I’m so fuckin sorry” when he wah-wah’ed about it. Then promptly got grounded and internet was ripped from my little trashmouth fingers for MONTHS when my sister narc’ed on me. So long story short, I’ve been through the trenches and would’ve happily weighed in on how to achieve the best Parental Advisory for this album.
Best Lyric: Memories feel like weapons
Best J.May Burn: I miss who I used to be / The tomb won’t close / Stained glass windows in my mind / I regret you all the time (OoF, Johnny Boy that can’t feel good to hear)
20. Dear Reader. Honestly what the hell is this song. Respectfully. She’s trying to close out with sage life advice I guess, but if we eliminated Dear Reader in every aspect of this song I’d like it 1 zillion times better. Like we don’t need to feel like we’re reading Dear Abby while listening to your music, booboo. It also makes me think of Britney’s song Dear Diary where she literally sang “Today I saw a boy” and my God if I knew I could make millions and become famous off of the garb I wrote in my diary, I would be laughing all the way to the bank. That’s why I can’t support this lazy trope for a song. You’re better than this, Taylor. You have the ability to take an emo journal entry about a boy breaking your heart and spin it into lyrical gold. Dear Reader is beneath you.
Best Lyric: Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart (I think this is why no one comes to me for advice.)
Overall Album Notes: I mean it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out from this rambling betchfest that I’ve fallen off a little bit with Taylor and this album wasn’t really hitting for me. She’s really been inundating us with new music and I think I’ve finally reached my breaking point. I’ll say it until I’m six feet under that the chick is BEYOND talented in songwriting and taking either a simple premise or experience and telling it in 100 different relatable ways through words that just seem to roll of the tongue. HOW-EV-ER, there’s also a limit to the amount of times we can draw from the same well before it gets a touch overplayed. I don’t think I realized how eh I was about this album until I started this blog so thank you for joining me on this lengthy journey of discovering that I might be aging gracefully out of my Taylor stan era. I mean, shit, 5 albums in two years is a lot. (Yes, I’m counting Taylor’s Version albums as well because they all had new tracks on them.) I’m tired, BBGirl!
I gotta be honest I didn’t know the Emmys were last night until I did my typical dinner-time IG scroll and saw red carpet looks. I’m embarrassed to admit that but I like to always keep it real here and the truth is I think I’m getting too old for this shit?! These days Taylor Swift drops a brand new album announcement at midnight after an awards show that I finally realized I’ve aged out of (VMA’s) and I don’t know about it because I’ve been snug as a bug in a rug fast asleep since 10pm. I am ashamed that I’ve fallen off and I will spend this awards season clinging on for dear life. IT’S NOT MY TIME TO GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT YET.
WORST.
I love mint as much as the next basic bitch but this pastel cupcake gown is TOO MUCH. It’s like when everyone in the 80’s thought it was chic to wear a hat and white gloves on their wedding day. The time has passed, bb.
This hair is unforgivable. Jean Smart looks great and has kept it TOIGHT, but my god is that an old lady updo. I can literally smell the aqua net just looking at this photo.
Oh honey, you get that on SHEIN? Use that free shipping code?
I’m gonna be real contradictory when you get to the best dressed and see some white lewks on there but this screamed geekburger to me. I know he’s trying to be chic with his bleached hair and clear framed glasses but it’s all just making me wanna scream NERD. And black loafers to finish it off. Woof.
AH MY EYES! MY EYES!!!! This color is loud and puketastic to begin with and then a translucent human being was like lemme give it a try though, bet I can make it work.
What fresh hell is combining black tights & heels with a cream gown? And the JoAnn Fabrics flowers hot glued to it really are the pièce de résistance.
Alright Julia is trolling a fellow Julia here, right? Like this is a perfectly crafted prank for my red carpet blog. Setting up a BELLY BUTTON DIAMOND HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF A DRESS. I repeat, A DIAMOND CUTOUT WITH THE BELLY BUTTON DEAD CENTER AS THE MAIN EVENT. ARE YA KIDDING ME, HOMEGURL? I literally cannot even begin to break down the rest of this outfit because BeLLy BuTtOn.
Oh get the hell out of here ole placemat over your shoulders lookin’ ass.
Those hard flares really threw me for a loop, I’m not gonna lie. And the tiny jacket.
I hated this when I first saw it and then it caught the light when she was onstage and the top loofah ruffle has a plastic shine to it and that reignited my hate.
This is a preschool ballet recital costume and you will never be able to convince me otherwise. Grow up, Kaley.
There is a time and a place for this outfit and that time is never and that place is nowhere.
It’s the v-neck of feathers for me, dawg.
I’ll give a million bucks to the person who can locate this good sir’s legs and/or ankles somewhere in this sea of pantaloon fabric.
Look, if your outfit compels me to google “pink outfit lady from Harry Potter” ya know it’s gonna be on the worst dressed list.
Peplum and tiered skirts need to DIE AWAY FROM ME because they are HIDEOUS.
No thanks to the pinned and curled hair and her cape/gown situation looks like a vagina. Sorry, not sorry.
Connie did us all REAL dirty by pulling those luscious locks out of sight. Gurlfrand, your hair is PERFECTION and you’re gonna hide it from us?! RUDE. Also, the dress and cape look cheap AF and we know Connie is TV royalty and will spare no expense for a red carpet look so this is really an off year for her.
Please scroll up and see my fury for peplum and tiered ruffles because THIS DRESS WENT AND DID BOTH. Puke city, population: me.
Black and white gowns will not hesitate to liken you to a killer whale even if you’re the skinniest person alive and I don’t know how no one has learned this yet. Also she’s about 4 inches from a belly button cutout and ENOUGH IS ENOUGH WITH THE MIDSECTION PEEPHOLES.
Not Worst But Also Not Best
I was conflicted on enough looks to create this fun middle category this time around. (AKA something pissed me off about each look to disqualify from best dressed, but they weren’t diamond belly cutout status.)
This is super boring but she looks good. And LOLZ to the Kristin Cavallari 2004 black choker.
I would L-O-V-E this dress if it didn’t have a lumpy butt cape attached to it.
She looks good but we can definitely just snip snip that netting at the top because it is supes unnecessary. Also kinda would’ve respected her more if she showed up in a white button down with sloppy hair & red lip and spoke in the Elizabeth Holmes low octave monotone in her acceptance speech.
Very into the color of this dress and the way her boobs stand at attention perfectly as if she’s got a wax figurine rack. Very not into the slicked back bun and whatever jingle jangles were glued all over this dress.
This is kind of a bitchy post (what’s new) but if everyone is going to SLOBBER all over Zendaya and her fashion sense, wearing a plain black gown with a high pony is a real low-risk snoozeroni. Naturally she looks beautiful and you can’t go wrong with a classic black ball gown but also not impressed and I better not see ONE SINGLE think piece on Zendaya’s high brow fashion choices here.
She’s not posing at a great angle here but I’ve always had a “that’s enough” attitude toward unnaturally high slits. A rhinestone pony though? Hell yea, chick! My humble opinion on her look went right into the trash when she won and got up onstage and BELTED. Queen owned the stage and she can wear whatever the hell she wants.
I’m obsessed with a Barbie pink as much as the next Elle Woods but haven’t been a fan of the variations of matronly blazer dress that we’ve seen in this shade so far this year.
A Jessica Rabbit moment that would’ve KILLED with soft waves and WHY IS EVERYONE PULLING THEIR HAIR BACK HONESTLY MIDAS WHALE JUST WEAR A BASEBALL CAP IF WE’RE GOING TO KEEP SLICKIN IT UP.
SEE ABOVE HAIR RANT.
BEST
God I hope this material is like shapewear and slurps it all in because I can’t even imagine having a midsection that cinched. Lily probably doesn’t eat cheese.
S’cute for Chris to bring his daughter and for that daughter to not ruin this special moment by dressing like a hooch. Supes heartwarming in this day and age.
Purple is having a moment right now ever since Miss Flo blew up Venice with a sassy poutfit so let’s all get down with this sparkle suit.
Obviously we need to address the areola(s) in the room first. I can really only see one, but I imagine both are peeking out. I encourage nipple coverage when there is flash photography involved but I’d be a real a*hole to throw this one away over a little highbeam situation. Dress, hair and red lip are stunning but maybe slap on some pasties next time.
Amy wears a basic primary color dress pretty much every year (much like Reese) and still looks like a babe soda so I accept.
Ooh YES I live for a coordinated handbag moment.
Chessie is an American Treasure and she could’ve worn a curtain from the parlor of the East Wing with a bejeweled belt and a seashell clutch and I’d still bow down. Cause that’s what she did. But damnit if she’s PULLING IT OFF.
Love the colors of this dress and the longsleeve curveball. Plus ever since I unfollowed Chrissy on all social media, I’ve become much less hostile toward her.
Don’t know what the hell this side tie is but it’s working for him.
I mean, come on. It’s actually unfair how hot she looks. DAYUMMNNNNNNN.
This is a restitution pick. For the almost 8 years (yoikes) that I’ve had this blog, I’ve ripped apart Maggie Gyllenhaal on the red carpet each and every time. And it’s time for me to throw her a frickin bone. She looks good here. Her brother is still a butthole and I’ll remember it all too well forever, but Maggie, good job.
Reese kills it every time but I’m loving this little spice in the dress pattern. Get down with your bad self, Reese, branching out from the plain gown.
I am mesmerized by this dress. It’s not the most flattering shape but I can’t stop staring at it. Really wish I could get my digits on it for a pet cause I gotta know what the texture is like. What it looks like is a hard shell that she’s clunking around and we really should be allowed to just show up to the red carpet and get a grab in for research purposes.
Can’t explain it. Don’t know why. But this look is doing it for me. He’s essentially wearing the black version of the outfit that I roasted on Seth Rogen but WHAT A DIFFERENCE color and a cool sexy stare with tousled hair makes. Oh yeah you put that hand in your pocket, Adam.
Equally as into the nude and black combo. Basically the next portion of this list is just me horning it up over men’s fash.
Andrew’s giving off real Malibu Barbie hits Hollywood vibes in this casj cream suit.
Host of the show got the purple memo.
Sexy lil snakeskin coat.
Again, TOTAL CONTRADICTION cause Seth in this trend is yucky, but Cousin Greg looks suave as hell and I don’t even care that he tossed on black shoes with a whoutfit.
SERVING that pattern.
Bob was literally at death’s door like 4 months ago and he’s really lookin chic here.
GORGE.
This man wears a classic black tux like nobody’s biz.
Wooooo buddy, the cast of Ted Lasso sure knows how to dress.
V. flattering style and just enough pizazz not to make it boring. The queen of TV really nailed it.
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
I guess I’ve matured out of the days when my sister and I would see a brown outfit and call it a poop suit because Quinta was the clear winner of the night for me. Not only am I a fan of Abbott Elementary and was excited when she won, but my girl ate that. (For those of you OLDS, that’s what the kids these days say when someone looks good, according to my sources.) Makeup and hair on point, coordinated shoes and jewels, plus a leg moment and I’m very captivated by that candy wrapper shiny texture on the bodice. Top to bottom beaut.
Whale hello there! I’ve been chugging away at my New Jersey Bucket List, just trying to earn my stripes as a Jersey Girl and my next big check, my white whale so to speak, was peeping some big booty big ole humpbacks. My affinity for sea mammals begins and ends with my obsession with the cult classic, Free Willy. Ever since 1993, I’ve made it my life goal to become besties with a killer whale, set him free from greedy waterpark captivity, only to call him with my harmonica anytime I want to grab onto his fin for a quick ride or just talk through my hardships while I pet his smooth rubbery back. As it turns out, my life is not scored by Michael Jackson, and orcas don’t make great pets. So, I had to settle for taking a spin on The Royal Miss Belmar to feast my eyes on what guido and guidette whales are cruising around the Jersey Shore.
I had been casually slipping whale watching into conversation for a solid year, hoping someone would think that sounded like a krill-iant time. I had no takers and I finally decided to seas the opportunity and stop feeling so tide down. My sister (who went whale watching in Cape Cod) confirmed that it wouldn’t be weird to go by myself because everyone is looking at the water anyway and not the loser with a fanny pack full of snacks. So I decided to take the day off Monday and have myself a breachin’ time. Alright, I’m done with the whale puns…OR AM I? I found the top-rated whale watching tour in my area and when I went to purchase my ticket I saw the options were: general admission for $55, reserved seating for $85 and a “best view of the house” upper deck seating for $125. I wanted to guarantee as best as possible–within budget–that I’d have a banging view for ample pics and vids. After texting with the company (their only form of contact, big yikes) they advised me that there’s still an opportunity to get good seats with general admission but you’d have to arrive early, whereas the reserved seats are all at the front of the boat. I decided to splurge and laid down that extra cold hard cash to get myself those tip top seats. $95 later, I was ready to see some mother-F’in whales on a mother-F’ing boat.
I got to the marina, circled twice looking for a parking spot and finally found one under the bridge at the train tracks…the furthest away. I was *very* excited for this fancy whale watching experience that I paid top dollar for and kicking things off by emerging like a troll from under the bridge, huffing and puffing on a 10 minute walk to the boat ain’t it. A precursor for what was to come. I was met with the crew upon boarding and when I gave them my name, the Captain started to tell me to follow the rest of the general riffraff but then stopped and went, “OH, you’re VIP.” Yes, sir, I most certainly am. I sit VIP or I don’t sit at all. I’ve never felt more elite than that very moment. I sauntered up to the front of the boat behind my whale watch escort and he pointed to the roped off section and told me to take my pick.
I sat down with a healthy distance from the next group, thinking I was being polite, then promptly said F that and scooted as close to the bow of the boat as I could get, remembering that my sister told me that’s the hot zone for prime peeps. Then I sat in the direct sun for 30 minutes and roasted, sliding all over my VIP seat before the trip even blasted off. I’ve never felt like a bigger dirtbag imposter than when the deckhand came around to collect the reserved flags off the seats that I had accidentally been sitting on top of and I pulled it out of my swamp ass and handed it to him sopping wet. At least I managed to face my fears and ask the couple next to me to take this adorbs pic of me on the bow pre-swass, so the image I curated was very shi-shi even if my slippery limbs couldn’t cooperate.
We set sail and the ocean breeze was life changing for my overactive sweat glands. A woman sat down on the bow of the boat and declared that she didn’t show up early enough to get a good seat so she’ll just make her own. Ope, ok. This was my first indication that my expensive reserved seat meant absolutely nothing. That point was hammered home even further when the boat suddenly turned into a zoo of activity. I don’t know what it is about moving vessels or confined spaces that make people feel like they need to get up and jazzercise but it is downright infuriating. As we were on a modestly sized boat, the seating was similar to a row at a concert or the aisle of an airplane. Every time someone wanted to get through I had to shove my knees up into my eyebrows so they could scoot on by. No exaggeration, I spent an hour crunched in the knees to chest position as every passenger on this boat bee-bopped back and forth because they couldn’t possibly just SIT FUCKING STILL IN THE STUPID SEAT THAT THEY PURCHASED. At one point a guy stopped and stood directly in front of me and leaned over the boat, not only obstructing my view of the water, but putting his butthole in my face. That’s when I finally had enough and stood up to stretch out my legs which had been slung over my shoulders like a continental soldier to accommodate the “I just want to feel how the air is on this side of the boat” general admission crowd and stake my spot for prime blowhole views, not to be confused with prime butthole views.
Was there a ticket option for “I’ll sit where I’m not supposed to and you can’t stop me?”
We were an hour in and still hadn’t seen no stinkin whales and our naturalist (a PhD student from Rutgers) had been eerily quiet on the mic. Knowing that they don’t guarantee a whale sighting, but they offer a free trip if none are seen, I didn’t have a GREAT feeling about it. Finally with the NYC skyline in sight, the naturalist got over the loudspeaker and told us to keep our eyes peeled because 80% of the whales they see are in this area. Why humpback whales would kick it near a large city is beyond me, but I’m no expert. More time passed with no whales and she popped on again to say that we’re approaching a busy shipping channel and the whales like to hang here because it’s deep. Again, an area with tons of big-ass boats cruising through doesn’t seem ideal for a 30 ft whale to sunbathe. At this point the jig was up. I knew these fools had no idea what they were talking about or where they could find us some whales. I had been duped. I mean I could’ve cupped my hands to my face and spoke “whale” into the breeze like Dory and attracted more whales than this crack team could find with all their fancy boat equipment and the eyes of 100 amateur passengers searching the waters. They slowed the boat down and started circling a certain area and that’s when the naturalist nervously announced, “Obviously we don’t know where the whales are on any given day,” to which I laughed and replied out loud “NO SHIT.” But they decided to lurk near the shipping channel hoping to catch one, Chris Hansen style. Since they changed direction to go against the wind and try a different angle, they told the left side (my side of course) to be careful of waves. Not two minutes after I snarked the naturalist, I caught a little sea spray to the face. It was enough spritz for me to decide it was time to sit my ass down.
I wiped off my glasses after taking this silly little splish-splash selfie and no sooner did I put my phone back down that I got full on waterboarded by another wave. I was securely in my seat and looked like I got dunked under water. And then another one hit. I paid $95 for a VIP super-soaker seat.
After getting womped about 3 times, and one particularly spicy wave getting past the barrier of my sunglasses and hitting my eye, making it burn so badly I basically went blind, I decided it was time to find a new location. The boat had now been put in neutral and was rocking back and forth quite a bit, so with my one good eye, this disabled drowned rat hobbled over to the bow of the boat and latched onto what I believe was an electrical post. I turned to the couple who snapped my pic and told them “this is not a fun time.” They uncomfortably laughed, probably wondering why a sea urchin in need of an eye patch was speaking to them. It was at this point, drenched and blind that my sea sickness decided to turn up full blast. The bow where I was clinging for dear life was slapping up and down and we still had yet to see anything other than some crusty old balloons floating on the surface of the water. Don’t need binocs for those! As I tried to dry off and also not throw up or fall over, the naturalist continued to urge us to do her job for her and find us a whale. KEEP LOOKING! THEY’RE OUT THERE! It’s as if she wanted to rub it in that I only had one working eyeball.
We start to creep back to shore, already late for our 4pm return time, when finally the lady who made her own seat on the way there pointed out a whale off in the distance. Credit where credit is due, at least she was pulling her weight cause I was 100% over scouring the sea for a spout. We got all up on that whale and stalked it like their “complimentary next trip if you don’t see whales” policy depended on it. This company was not about to lose another cent. I learned that several people on this boat were on their second trip after not seeing any whales on their first so clearly this is much more common than they lead on. Shocker. We rotated around this whale who was lunge feeding and took turns with each side of the boat having a view. In my fake world brain, I was imagining I’d have a front row seat to whales flopping around the boat and I’d leave with amazing pictures. The reality was incredibly underwhelming. I had finally regained vision in both eyes but 20/20 really wasn’t necessary here. Everyone was crowded around each other, pushing to see, while also playing bumper passengers trying to keep balance. My phone almost fell overboard every time I snapped a picture and every picture that I took was of the water with a teeny tiny glimmer of a whale blending in with the waves. You could never tell when it was going to pop up and when it did (usually not where your eyes were) it dipped back down 3 seconds later. I’ve never been more unimpressed with something in my whole life, but that didn’t stop me from taking 100 pictures and videos of nothing, hoping for the miracle money shot that never came.
As the whale got closer to the boat (still not close at all), the naturalist chose that moment in time to share that this year in Plymouth a humpback flopped onto a fishing boat out of no where. She emphasized that whale was a juvenile just like this one and you just never know what could happen as the whales are only focused on getting fed. READ THE ROOM, LADY. While I’m on a boat choking back pukes trying to stay upright, the absolute LAST thing I want to hear is that the whale we’re trying to get closer to could just come aboard and launch us into the bowels of the ocean. Did I laugh at the YouTube video of this incident in Plymouth? SURE DID! But I was cackling because I was safely on land and the possibility of this ever happening to me was almost nonexistent. There is a TIME AND A PLACE for sea monsters can kill us without even trying stories. Gawd.
After we spent far too long watching this whale do virtually nothing but eat fish underwater, we found a second whale to creep all up on. This was one they’d seen before. Whale #91 to be exact. Y’all can’t even name your whales?! Come on. We watched him also do virtually nothing but eat fish underwater for another half hour (now an hour off schedule) and I counted down the minutes until I could get back to my seat for the hour ride back and hopefully eat my Ritz bits snackpack to stop myself from hurling. As someone who went on the Himalayan at the boardwalk last month and QUICKLY learned that I’m way too old for rides without getting motion sickness, I’m not sure why I thought being a first mate for the day would be kewl and not stir up my insides. Ya girl may be called The Salty Ju, but she was not cut out for the boat life.
I sat down for our journey back, relieved that we were in the final stretch, and my seatmate turned to me and genuinely said, “That was worth getting wet for!” Uhh, no ma’am. Without a doubt it was not. Did she also get salt water in her eyes because there is no shot anyone could’ve been impressed with what we saw. And as if she manifested that same fate into the air just by speaking it, within 1 second of the boat going full speed, I got the dunk tank treatment again. One little girl was standing in front of my seat with her head over the side of the boat LOOKING to catch waves to the dome and this is why kids are beyond stupid. (PS there was not a safety speech or lifejacket in sight on this ride and all of the children on board were running RAMPANT without parental supervision. Almost made me wish one got tossed over the side on a rough wave to teach those parents a lesson. ALMOST.)
This is it. This is the best whale picture I got.
Obviously there was no chance I was going to sit underwater for an hour and everyone else had already gotten the memo to get the hell away from that side of the boat. Unfortunately, the combo deal of high speed boat and lack of balance pretty much guaranteed I wouldn’t be making any big moves. I was able to essentially run/crawl to the dry half of the bow, lean my body weight into the side and get a two-handed death grip on the edge. Picture “I’m the king of the world” positioning but instead of a majestic cruiseliner gliding slowly through the air, the wind was whipping in my face and I was bruising from the amount my body was slamming into the side trying to stay upright. F-U-N! I somehow managed to “stand” this way for about a half hour. There was no one in sight, as they had all figured out a better way to endure this ride. All of a sudden, the boat went from full speed back to an even more nauseating halt and the naturalist hopped back on the hot mic to tell us they’ve spotted another whale and they want to photograph it for their own records. Oh ok, sure, babes! I guess I’ll just live at sea now while you do research and find another whale to assign an inmate number to. A three hour tour, indeed.
Now that the boat had somewhat stabilized, it was time to try and find a seat since the one I overpaid for I was only able to sit in for about 10 minutes. (In case you somehow forgot I got ripped off hoard.) I went to the inside part of the boat where some of the staff took one look at my about-to-Ralph face and said everything ok? Certainly not, Skipper, thanks for asking! I told them I was feeling a little nauseous and was looking for somewhere to sit. They directed me to the back of the boat, said it was less rocky there and told me to look at the houses on land to feel better. I told them it probably didn’t help that I was sitting in the splash zone and the deckhand goes, I did notice that. SIR, IF YOU NOTICE A PAYING CUSTOMER GETTING BOMBED WITH SALTWATER AND VISIBLY NOT ENJOYING IT DON’T YOU THINK IT WOULD BE NICE TO HELP HER TO ANOTHER SEAT?! Guess not. I thanked these two jabronis for absolutely nothing as they were about as useful as a poopy flavored lollipop and wobbled to the back of the boat, where everyone else had already migrated long before me. I found a seat on the very end and dropped into it, met by an incredibly dirty look from the lady next to me, even though I left ample space in between. Oh, exsqueeze me, is this real estate taken?! God forbid I take your precious buffer away from you for the last 20 minutes of this shitstorm.
My ass hit that plastic seat and I’m about to focus on the shore and take a deep breathe when I’m distracted by the woman two seats down launching into the air and projectile vomiting off the side of the boat like a velociraptor. Not only did I get to see her red puke soar through the air, but I also got to smell it! Then I got to jam my thighs into my brain so she could get by me and probably go upchuck some more. And it was in that very moment, as I tried not to start a chain reaction of vomz, that I decided this blog must be written. The rest of it could be chalked up to a crappy experience, but this horrible day being capped off by moving locations and sitting down in the exact right moment to catch the backsplash of an off-boat gommick?! PURE GOLD. That’s sitcom-quality no good, very bad day right there. There is no other way the experience could’ve ended. After the crew selfishly got their pictures of the whale (that they didn’t even tell us where to look for), they sped us back, making sure to hawk their merch and shove their tip jars in my facehole. Everyone on the beaches waved as we passed by, probably smiling and saying “what a bunch of IDIOTS” under their breathe. But I didn’t care because LAND HO, I finally got off that damn boat from hell. I would’ve kissed the ground if I thought I’d be able to without crashing into it.
This wasn’t the first, nor will it be the last time my unrealistic high hopes for a mediocre activity gets the best of me. The good news is that I’ll always turn my disappointments into entertainment for the masses (family members that read this blog) and the even better news is it wasn’t me who red wedding retched all over the Royal Miss Belmar. I’m proud of myself for going alone especially because if anyone went with me I would’ve had to tell them to shut the hell up because I was so naush anyway, which probably would’ve been less than enjoyable for them. But at the end of the day, I went whale watching and all I have to show for it are 75 identical mediocre pictures of the ocean, some of which also include my own finger. If I ever get the mermaid urge to go under the sea again, I’ll just stick to a Free Willy 1 & 2 dubz feature, pretend my BFF is a killer whale and call it a day.
For anyone who read the angry novella of the worst moving experience of my life, not only did I somehow make it through that, but it was ONE YEAR AGO! I survived a whole ass year in New Jersey. And let me tell you, after almost dying every time I dared to get behind the wheel in my first few months, I did not think I would live to tell the tale. Luckily for all of us, not only did I survive, but dare I say THRIVED? I dare not. I’m totally kidding. I did not thrive in my inaugural year as The Jersey Ju. I waffled at best. And even though I believe I’ve become a more aggressive driver, and grown thicker skin (just a touch) like the combative people of my new home state…I have not forgotten my roots. And if there’s one thing I’ll do no matter where the hell I live, it’s create a bucket list in order to force myself (and unwilling victims around me) to explore and take a bajillion pictures. Since I haven’t blogged about my life in a hot minute, I decided to chit chat about all the things I’ve done in my first year as a Jersey Girl!
Can we call me a Jersey Girl now? That’s for you to decide and me to find out. I suspect no one truly becomes Jersey until they’ve completed a “locals only” journey of experiences much like Robin on How I Met Your Mother became a real New Yorker. What Maury Povich is to NYC, The Boss is to New Jersey and I trust that as soon as I catch that sweet goatee trolling around Asbury, I’ll be well on my way to being a true New Jerseyan. (Good news I have this hilarious Bruce shirt I got at a boardwalk tourist shop that definitely doesn’t scream BENNY and one can only hope I’ll be wearing it when I see him.) But for now, please accept the fact that I embraced my new home state in bucket list form as a giant first leap to becoming JERSEY STRONG.
Someone felt left out.
Since I am nothing if not extra, I split my list into 4 categories. The first three categories I ripped EXCLUSIVELY from an NJ.com series that was published when I first moved here where Peter Genovese pointed out *the* thing to do in every county in New Jersey. I furiously scribbled down the ones that were up my alley (wine, food, biking) and then let friends and co-workers add in their own recommendations.
Obviously you have a set of eyes and can see that these two lists remain largely unchecked because both eating and boozing in public require an iota of a social life. I’m fine going out alone when I’m traveling because I’m moonlighting as a work jetsetter AKA #TheCorporateJu. Going out alone because I have no friends to join me?! MORTIFYING. There will never be a time where I’m out solo dolo and do not think every single person in that establishment has turned their chair to stare at me and wonder why I’m such a smelly loser. This is a hump I am yet to overcome and it would be cool if you could just support me in my insecurities here. If you recall, I did boldly show up to Taylor Swift Trivia alone. And it didn’t go well so that really set me back on my progress. Regardless, here’s a highlight reel of the Eats and Booze bucket list items.
The Shrimp BoxMarina GrilleWharfside
Pete & Elda’s (Neptune City) Staring out hawt by ruffling some Jersey feathers…WHAT THEY SERVE HERE CANNOT BE CALLED PIZZA AND I WILL THROW HANDS WITH ALL OF THESE CENTRAL NJ NUTS WHO TOLD ME I JUST HAD TO TRY PETE AND ELDA’S IF I WANT TO KNOW WHAT REAL PIZZA TASTES LIKE. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. The sauce was weird, the crust tasted like a sweet croissant with flaky pastry consistency and I honestly could barely choke down my normal 2 slices that at a good pizza place I can delete in mere minutes. Sorry, not sorry.
Laurita Winery (New Egypt) is bumpin with events. I attended 90’s night in the dead of winter where I dressed like it was ’97, drove 45 mins with 2 brand new friends only for them to promptly tell me upon arrival that they actually don’t really like 90’s music and we should split. I drove more than I grooved in my overalls that evening so we’ll guh ‘head and take an L there. Still looking for any takers who want to attend line dancing night at Laurita so I can check line dancing off of my master bucket list (much alcohol will be involved.) Hit me up if you want to boot, scoot, & boogie.
Windmill Hot Dogs is the Hoffman’s/Heid’s of the Jersey Shore. If you know me, you know why I absolutely NEEDED to go there. A hoffies hot dog, cheese fries and a medium birch beer is my death row meal and I don’t think I’ve ever gone more than 3 weeks without tossing that five star cuisine down my gullet.* So it was time to see how the Jersey version fared and folks, it was NOT good.
*I just received my routine bloodwork results from my annual physical and my cholesterol was high. Can’t imagine why. My doctor noted that perhaps I’d had a greasy meal or alcohol in the days prior to the test. Uhh…yeah babe. All of the above. She also suggested I eat more leafy greens & legumes. I’ve never laughed harder at a doctor’s note in my entire life. A LEGUME?!
Not only was the hot dog about a solid foot longer than the bun, but this wrinkled ween looked like it was not a day under 100 years old. That dawg was on the rollers for a cool 8 hours just shriveling out of existence yet ironically, not getting any shorter THUS CREATING MY NIGHTMARE OF A HOT DOG. What am I supposed to do with that? Just take a raw dog bite until I hit bun a foot later? Get outta here with that trash. This wiener was so hard to stomach that I did something I’ve never once done during feeding time, I shared. Charlee Girl got to try her first two bites of hot dog (after I bit it off and peeled the skin because I was terrified she was going to die eating it) and you know what? She approved. So at least someone liked Windmill. Wasn’t a total loss but rest assured I will not be returning (sober.)
Alright, now we’re cooking with gas, a list exclusively of things I can do without companions! Although, the most disappointing discovery this year: both climbing activities have been ripped from my greasy little paws. Barnegat Lighthouse AND Lucy the Elephant are currently undergoing renovations and will not be open for climbing in the near future. My legs thank them, my excitement for taking a photo from the inside of a metal elephant trunk does NOT.
Manasquan Reservoir is not for casual bikers who take their beach cruiser out for a stroll as my vagina may never recover from the uneven gravel and overgrown tree roots for all 5 miles of this trail. Also I had Covid when I went so I really deserve bonus points.
Mantoloking Bridge County Park is actually just a boat slip (Thanks, NJ.com 🙄) and I really wish I hadn’t driven 40 mins with an over-eager pup looking for a walk to learn that. Even Charlee was like this place stinks.
Ocean Grove is the cutest G-D Victorian house beach town and I creeped the HARDEST on all of the adorbs porches and front yard gardens. (I’ve also been touring each beach town with Miss Charlee Pervs and so far Ocean Grove is #1 for quaint views & vibes.)
Thompson Park (Lincroft) became one of my go-to bike routes in the fall except for the fact that I still never figured out how to loop around it and got lost in it more times than I’d wish to admit. One time someone stopped me as I was putting my bike away and asked me which way to go on their bike and the jig was up. I was forced to confess that even though it was maybe my 5th time there I am directionally challenged and shouldn’t be allowed to bike without a GPS guiding me every step of the way. Gr8 golden fall views though.
Visiting Cape May Historic Lighthouse was the byproduct of REALLY wanting to see NYC at Christmas for the first time ever (an unchecked item to come in the next category) but Omnicron taking a giant dump on those plans. I settled for Christmas in Cape May instead and of course had to squeeze in a beach visit for lighthouse views on a freezing December day (after warming up with espresso martinis first obvs.) 10/10 would recommend taking the trip to Cape May regardless of the weather. Their downtown area was beautifully decorated for Christmas, they had lots of cute restaurants and bars to pop into and catching the sunset at the beach was the cherry on top. I took about 15 billion photos in the 6 hours I spent there and *not to brag but definitely to brag* my shot of the lighthouse from the sand has been posted on Cape May Point’s Insta & a random Cape May fan account no less than 3 times. So I am basically a Cape May legend. I mean this was their Christmas social post:
Not sure why they didn’t want to post this Buzz Lightyear selfie with the lighthouse instead, but whatevs. I accept.
Here’s a small sampling of photos I snapped that day:
Holland Ridge Farms (Cream Ridge) found itself a new seasonal sucker in me. A farm full of in-bloom flowers and photo props? SIGN ME UP. Fall gave us a Salty Ju birthday sunflower photoshoot (and a lesson learned that cutting your own sunflowers is basically an arm workout.) And Spring transported us right to the Netherlands with Tulips as far as the eye can see and a full day of Mother/Daughter flower bonding and modeling.
Mt. Mitchell Scenic Overlook (Highlands) has a nice view of New York City across the water (I confirmed this after texting a fellow Jerseyan because I would’ve hated to be the nerd who’s like check out those city VIEWZ and it was a peek at Red Bank or something.) There was also a 9/11 memorial and patriotic flower arrangement that I especially thought was cool as I was exploring it near the 20th anniversary of the attacks. I took about seven thousand pictures for such a small spot so clearly I enjoyed it.
And last but certainly not least, the bucket list that I created from my own brain, the experiences that I decided were vital to becoming a Jersey Girl AKA shit that I wanted to do now that I live 15 minutes from the ocean and one hour away from two major cities.
Eat a Philly Cheesesteak in Philly was my first check off the list at a social media summit last August, and it felt right to kick things off with a greasy food item. It felt even more right that after INHALING this cheesesteak, my boss witnessed a mouse scurry across the floor behind my chair. We were just starting to get to know each other and she got to learn real quick how afraid I am of creatures as I played can’t touch the ground and Usain Bolt’ed right down the stairs and out onto the street without a backward glance. Grateful the rodent waited until AFTER I finished my meal to show himself. Could’ve really ruined the experience at Jim’s South St.
See a show at The Stone Pony, a seedy rock club known for its affiliation with Springsteen. I knew I wanted to see a live show there but the usual suspects who perform there are *much* cooler than I will ever be. So all I had to do was wait for my middle school crush and favorite musician (former lead singer of Something Corporate/Jack’s Mannequin) to swing through. Happy to report I didn’t have to wait long because Andrew McMahon stops at the Stone Pony on every tour. I got to see him stomp all over his piano for the first time in four years and also learn that this historical music venue looks and smells like the basement of a frat house.
Place a bet in AC. Pretty spicy of my job to send me to both Philly and AC so that I could mix business with pleasure and accomplish two items on the BL. Knowing that AC is the epicenter for white trash gambling addicts, I was not all surprised to walk into Harrah’s on a Wednesday afternoon and instantly be smacked in the face by a cloud of cig smoke and a bunch of degenerates placing bets. Other than my tried and true $1 WPS bet at the Saratoga racetrack, I was a gambling virg and wanted nothing more than to have a very main character-esque on a heater at the blackjack table movie scene. I recruited my boss to document this which resulted in walking around looking for the easiest game to play but having no clue what we were doing and eventually asking a pit boss to direct us to a table for baby’s first gamble. He pointed us to craps and said they would explain it to us because there wasn’t a big crowd. They did not explain it but thankfully a fellow gamblin librarian held my hand and told me what to do. Within seconds of a stranger rolling the dice, I lost $10 and was frowned upon for bringing a paparazzi with me to the table. (Peep the pit boss holding up his hand, the universal sign for “cut the shit.”) If there’s one thing that I know about gambling, it’s to always walk away on top. I had a taste of the juice and I needed to finish my glass. So we found the ever-classic slot machine so I could feel the rush of pulling a lever and seeing dolla dolla bills, y’all. And lo and behold, I won $22 on my third spin. It’s a miracle I didn’t quit my job right there, saddle up to this machine for the rest of my visit and yank that lever on repeat with a fag hanging out of my mouth. Instead, I collected my cash (to be spent on a rubbery bagel and a water the next morning) and rode the high of being a winner for the rest of the week. See below for my US Weekly, Stars They’re Just Like Us photo spread.
Also important to note that I talked MAD shit about how boring this conference was going to be because there’s no way librarians get turnt, and then was proven very wrong when I took advantage of the awards ceremony open bar, got fuzzy on the deets, made a bunch of new work friends and stayed out until 1AM. Took me two days to recover. #IssaVibe AC, BAYBEEEE!
Go blueberry picking. Once I found out that the NJ state fruit is the blueberry, I knew that plucking my own was a must to become at one with my new roots. Turns out no one cared to share this experience with me, so I went ahead and did it by myself on the very last day of the season. And it showed. Pickins were real slim. But I got to dress like an actual blueberry, saunter around a farm on a Sunday morning and pick a healthy snack for the beach later. Win, win, win.
Try pork roll sammy. I learned immediately upon moving here that one of Jersey’s greatest and most fiery debates is over a piece of meat. South Jerseyans (and most of Central) call it Pork Roll, North Jerseyans call it Taylor Ham (a brand of pork roll.) It’s basically like calling those things that hold your boogz a tissue or a Kleenex. As a tried and true crispy bacon lover, it was going to take a lot for me to invite in a new breakfast meat…especially one that looks exactly like Canadian bacon. (Yea I got a lot of dirty looks for that, but I stand by it, COME AT ME BRO.) I asked several people how to order my pork roll and practiced it in the mirror so I didn’t look like a noob at the deli and there was literally no reason for me to get so worked up because the second I stammered out “pork roll egg and cheese on a bagel,” the guy behind me ordered a Taylor ham egg and cheese and the owner goes “A WHAT?!” The guy immediately apologized and said he just moved down this way and hasn’t adjusted to calling it pork roll yet. I giggled nervously thinking the owner was just messing with him. He WAS NOT. The owner legit almost kicked this poor soul out of his shop for ordering his breakfast sammy wrong. He shouted, “TAYLOR HAM IS A BRAND, YOU KNOW, SO IT’S JUST WRONG.” And before I could bear witness to a pork roll slapping, my sandwich was ready. I scurried out of there to enjoy my first PR with a side of fisticuffs over the name. I’ve grown to love a good pork roll egg and cheese, salt and pepper on a roll (bagel is too thicc) so I’m glad I gave it a chance.
Find Jersey’s best espresso martini. I got the best espresso teens on LOCK in Saratoga, so it was only natural that I begin the quest for the best in New Jersey. Since spressy marts (workshopping some sassy names here) are all the rage with the millennial crowd right now (may I remind you, I’ve been drinking them since I was in college, trendsetter 4 lyfe) NJ.com curated a list of the best spots. This was a good start for my list (see below) but I also like to go off the cuff and just order one anywhere I go for a full rating. This bucket list item is checked off because it’s a work in progress. I won’t stop until I reach the top, but trust that I’m working on it every chance I get. Very sorry to report that I got lost in the sauce and forgot to formally review at Wharfside, Birravino, The Shrimp Box or the second bar whose name I don’t remember in Cape May. Guess I’ll just have to go back and get anotha.
Eat crab legs. This one got added to the list after I admitted to my boss that I’d never tried a crab leg because I was intimidated by all of the tools needed to eat it and never want to be stressed while eating. Shouts to my girl Tiffany who was like oh we’re going to getchu some crab legs and I want to walk you through this v. buttery experience. So that’s how I found myself having a big ole plastic bag full of crab legs and shrimp for lunch on my birthday and then going back to the office with butter stains on my dress, smelling like a crustacean. Did it taste like buttery garlic deliciousness? YUP. Did I struggle the most to get even a morsel of meats? Also yes, which is why I don’t think I’ll be a regular crab-eater. If I can’t toss food down my gullet at warp speed, I don’t want it.
Mets Game @ Citi Field. Having been to a game at four major baseball stadiums, but not having checked both NY teams off the list, I knew seeing the Mets at Citi was a must and waiting until they were having a hot streak of a season really worked in my favor. Despite my dad peeling open a nanner on our drive to the train station and almost ruining the day completely with this stench-filled car snack, I’d say my first Mets game was a great success. Even though they lost, they held their own against a top MLB pitcher and I got to see what Mrs. Met is twerkin’ with when they brought in the trumpets for Diaz. Also GREAT game day dawg. WAY better than Windmill’s trash wiener. Next up to round out the Northeast: Citizens Bank Park in Philly.
Nascar at the Wall Speedway. Never even knew what the Wall Speedway was until I switched up my route to work and passed a sign that said Nascar was coming soon. As a born and bred people watcher, I knew this was a can’t miss and just needed to rope someone else into it. Luckily, I made a new friend from the South who was itching to watch cars spin around a track and we got ‘er done. Before I even entered the stadium I saw a gentleman wearing jean cargo shorts and I knew I was about to be in for a real visual treat. Follow that up with a kickoff prayer over the loudspeaker (because, and I quote: we put God before country) and 5 hours of cars driving in circles and spinning out, it was surely a sight to see…one time and one time only. Unfortunately I didn’t do my research and learned when I got there and looked to buy a beer that the speedway is BYOB, so I had to raw dog this night on pure exhaust fumes with no alcoholic lubricant. Fear not, I channeled my inner Ricky Bobby and got through it. SHAKE N BAKE, BABY! I saw a wife lap her husband in a race (who run the world? GIRLS) and this guy pictured below in a wheelchair yelled at my friend and I for standing too close to him. A true Jersey night.
Oh, did you think this marathon blog was done? YA RIGHT. Those were my formal lists so that I could get that orgasmic satisfaction of physically checking a box every time I accomplished something. But OBV I haven’t lived exclusively by a list for the past year. So here’s noteworthy things I did that didn’t come from a list! Honestly if you’re still reading at this point, God Bless.
See a show at Starland Ballroom. This venue has no historical significance and it’s on an old country road across from a VFW (I’m not sure if that’s true or if that was just one of the many jokes my sister and I made when she asked me where the F I was taking her because it looked like deliverance out there.) We caught Breland and Russell Dickerson on a cold wintery night and it was without a doubt the most fun, high energy concert I’ve ever been to. If you ever have the chance to see Russell throw it down onstage, GO. There’s a reason he calls his shows the RD Party. Also FWIW, this venue was way better than Stone Pony–ample parking, space to stand, and multiple bars for booze refueling.
Do a Jersey Shore Vacation fit for a 5 year old. The last time my family and I did a beach vacation was the summer before I went to college where I was fresh off of my wisdoms being pulled (still swollen) and we all wanted to murder each other on day 3 of sharing a rental. So it’s been a minute since I’ve seen the magic of a beach vacay, which I got to do when my niece came to visit. It was her first vacation and pretty much first time doing every single thing we did. We quickly learned that she’s a woo girl in training by all of her excited outbursts for each and every activity. It’s cool when you get to do childish things but no one gives you dirty looks because you’re with a child. From finding treasure in the Metedeconk River (not worth the $25 ticket price if you’re over the age of 5) to almost ralphing on the Himalayan and learning that I’ve finally aged out of theme park rides, this viz was easily the most jam-packed 3 days of activities since I moved here. If you want to see pure baby’s first vacay joy, check out the home video I made like it’s 1993 and I’m Uncle Joey carrying around a camcorder to document everything my nieces and nephews do. Honestly there’s never been a better description of me, so whatevs. Everyone will thank me someday, probably not after wasting 14 hours getting through this blog, but SOMEDAY.
PS save yourself from Jenks Aquarium…I’m not sure we can officially call this place an aquarium as it was giving basement apartment of a guy who lives with his mom and keeps a bunch of snakes vibe. I should’ve known from the second I walked in when they had a guard at the stingray tank and told everyone they could only go wrist deep and only touch the rays that come to the surface. BRO. What stingrays are coming to the surface at a crowded boardwalk aquarium? Ya gotta get your grabbers down there and rassle em up. Amateur hour.
Beach it up at least once a week…even in the dead of winter. Look, you can’t talk a big game about how you’d be infinitely happier if you could just live near the beach and then get here and not take full advantage of that. I specifically chose to live 45 mins away from work so I could be as close to the beach as my bank account would allow and even that hasn’t been satisfying. That 15 minute drive is a real boner kill when there’s people who can just walk outside their home and hit sand. I couldn’t manifest living at the beach harder if I tried. Anywho, I walked, biked, lounged, swam, peeped many sunrises and photographed the beach like nobody’s biz this year and if you don’t believe me, here’s proof of my love affair with all things sandy and salty. (For the elite few who received a Christmas card from me, I wasn’t kidding, I basically lived on the beach like a crab this year.)
P.S. When I went in January and the only other soul on the sand with me was a seagull that was keeping pace with me on a walk, I legitimately questioned my sanity. I also may or may not have cried because that was the terrible day that I got my mugshot NJ license photo and Roz from Monsters Inc wouldn’t let me smile or switch my registration over and my only companion was a damn sky rat on a deserted beach. Real talk though, this was easily the loneliest year of my life so big ups to that salty bitch the sea for being there for me on good days and a whole lot of bad days too. Yup, sure did just personify ocean water like a total looney toon but there’s a reason waves crashing is auto-programmed onto every sound machine…it’s soothing as hell. It’s also super loud and great for drowning out the sounds of an ugly cry, jus sayin. All in all the beach is my favorite place on this earth and is probably the main reason why I’ll be sticking around here for years to come.
Champagne spray on the beach. Seems fitting to address this activity after yapping about how I pretended to own beachfront property all year rather than shoving a beach cruiser into my car and driving into the land of the rich from sketchy Neppy. I paid off my student loans this year which means ya girl is 100% debt free and ooh baby is it sexy to be financially stable for the first time in my life. So I celebrated by tossing on a tutu, buying a bottle of champs & hitting the beach to give myself a little extra in a rap video booze-soaked dance. Best part about the beach in the winter? No one else is there. So I got to take a bunch of champagne spraying videos and sashay around like an idiot without any witnesses. It was a good time until my hands were sticky and frozen so I scampered back to my heated vehicle to regain blood circ.
See the Twin Towers Lights on the 20th Anniversary. As someone who grew up 6 hours away from NYC, I had a very distant perspective of 9/11. I was 10 years old and I couldn’t quite grasp the magnitude of what had happened and instead of observing and shutting my yapper, I decided to ask my parents to take me out to dinner that night to celebrate. Before you can compare me to a terrorist, I quickly backpedaled when I saw the look of horror on their faces and added “you know, to celebrate the people that survived.” I’m not gonna try and dig deeper on what was banging around that middle school brain of mine but it was obviously nothing profound. Regardless, I was able to go to a park in South Amboy that overlooks the NYC skyline and see the lights of the twin towers and talk to someone who had a much different perspective of that day, which really opened my eyes to how people were affected far beyond the site of the attack. It was a very cool night and although my pictures are absolute dogshit, and it wasn’t the clearest of views, it was nice to step outside of my idiot child brain and see the bigger picture. I’d still love to go to ground zero and walk through the museum, so maybe that’ll be on my list for this upcoming year.
Drink out of a stein at Oktoberfest. I always wanted to go to the real Oktoberfest but also didn’t have any friends that could be trusted to control themselves and not die of alcohol poisoning, so I’ll settle for a local version at a biergarten. Mostly, I’ve just always wanted to drink out of a honkin stein while wearing a trendy Euro hat and I feel like the extra I paid to get said stein of a beer that I didn’t even like was well worth it for the photo opp. PROST!
Get solicited for feet pics on Facebook marketplace. This one is really a reward (happy ending, so to speak) for the few, possibly none, that read this entire blog which pretty much turned into a scrapbook of my entire year. It doesn’t surprise me that it wasn’t until I moved to New Jersey that an innocent posting of brand new Sperry wedges catapulted me into the seedy underbelly of foot fetish internet.
And since I’m me and I live for content, rather than immediately blocking my podiatry perv, I played it through.
I’d like to say I’m a comedian who’s committed to a bit, but realistically, if I can snap a well-lit photo of my tootsies in a pair of trendy wedges and cash in on $50 without even leaving my couch, I’mma do just that. As it turns out, my man Tito decided after looking at my profile picture, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free. What I thought was a tasteful sneak peek (the first one’s always free, it’s the next one that’ll cost ya) apparently was enough to get the job done without exchange of currency.
I’ve changed my profile picture to one with closed toed shoes and going forward, I’ll drive a harder bargain. YOU WANT A SHOT OF THESE POINTED PEDICURED TOES? WIRE ME $100 OR KEEP IT MOVIN, FREAK. DON’T PUSSYFOOT AROUND THE DEAL. So whatdya think? Am I a Jersey Girl yet?
If this ratchet flip phone shot circa 2011 of me in my authentic Seaside Heights Shore Store pinny (personalized with my last name on the back) tells you anything, then yeah I’m JERSEY, bitch.
Proving that you do not get wiser with age, you just learn to trust the internet to be smarter so your brain can hold onto important things like every lyric to an N*SYNC deep cut.
We’re closing in on the first anniversary of my 30th birthday. Please send your condolences in the form of straight cash to my Venmo, homies. (@Julia-Giantomasi) Since last year I dug real deep and got vulnerable with all of my insecurities about aging and accomplishments (Thirty, Flirty & Full of Anxiety.) I thought I would keep the tradish alive and bare my soul again. Everyone knows revealing your search history is more embarrassing than admitting in a public-facing blog how many times you’ve pooped your pants so you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be ousting last year’s edition. I started this piece during a comedy writing sprint (where you write every single day) in February and when I reviewed it for submission, I realized there was nothing satirical about it. I just straight up copy/pasted my Google searches and then roasted myself for them. So in the spirit of making fun of myself no matter how much closer I get to being an Old Maid, here’s actual things that I Googled this year to prove that we don’t need to grow up or even be smart to survive this thing called life, just as long as we have the World Wide Web at our fingertips.
Name of (insert ‘actor/singer/character/title’ as needed)
This has because almost a daily occurrence. As much as I religiously check IMDB to refresh my memory, it’s hard to admit but sometimes I don’t even remember enough to plug into IMDB and find the answers. But at any rate, about 99.9% of the time I can’t remember the name of something or someone in whatever I’m watching at that current moment and I want to fire off a funny tweet about it but I don’t want to have egg on my face for misspelling or mixing up actors.
Natural ailments for memory loss / How young can you be to start showing signs of dementia
Were you concerned when I just said 99.9% of the time I can’t remember something? Yeah, me too. Hence this very real Google search. Seriously did my brain just fall out of my head when I entered a new decade? Is this normal? Should I get an MRI? LMK, because my mom banned me from checking WebMD and I think this is a cause for concern. Also, if your only recommendation is fish oil pls see yourself out because the thought of taking a pill that either smells or tastes like fish makes me want to be braindead for the rest of my life.
What’s it called when you start to fall asleep and have hallucinations?
Turns out this one is “hypnagogic hallucinations” and the cure for it is to be less stressed. LOLZ. Guess I’ll be seeing bugs in my bed or on my walls as I drift off to dreamland forever and for all of eternity. I even started blind folding myself for bedtime (ya I know they’re called sleep masks but let’s call a spade a spade) and what’s fun about that is I now have a prop to rip off of my face when I wake up with a jolt, launch from my bed and yell, “WTF IS THAT?!” (referring to the made up creatures sharing a bed with me.) At least I provide a midnight show for my dog, so there’s that.
Can you mix Sudafed and alcoholic beverages?
It is not recommended, but research shows (2 sudafeds followed by 2 rum and cokes and a bud light) that you’ll probably survive, you just might feel like a real snoozy suzie at the bar. Probably still safer than the time I took my heels off in the middle of the bar on Halloween then proceeded to walk 5 blocks home barefoot.
Things that are cheugy
Thanks, Gen Z, you’re all a buncha judgmental a*holes. If you are also above the age of 25 and don’t care enough to fire up the ole Google to find out what this means, I’ll give it to you straight, it’s a stupid made up word that the youths created to describe every single trend, personality trait and interest of humans in their late twenties and onward. Parting your hair on the side? Cheugy. Using the crying laughing emoji? Cheugy. My ENTIRE persona? C H E U G Y.
Matching your coordinates to your environment? Cheug City.
What’s a BENNY
Welcome to New Jersey, where they created a nickname specifically to insult anyone who didn’t grow up at the beach. Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newarkand New York. Let it be known that Bayonne, Elizabeth and Newark ARE IN THE STATE OF NEW JERSEY. These people bully their own! You live 40 mins North of the beach in the same state? L O S E R. Within one month of living in Jersey, I bought a table off of Facebook marketplace and the seller told me that she’s from North Jersey but has lived at the Jersey Shore for 20 years…TWENTY YEARS…and her husband’s family still calls her a Benny. RUTHLESS.
BENNY with ATTITUDE.
How to make new friends as a single adult
Honestly there were many variations of this search and all of them were equally as weird and sad. No answers were found, yet many cringey efforts were made. 10/10 DO NOT recommend joining BumbleBFF unless you want to feel like you’re courting someone just to have a gal pal to talk Housewives and drink wine with.
How old is someone if they were born in 1970?
The ‘how to make new friends’ search and this search go hand in hand because after joining “meetup”–an app where you can find groups of people also seeking new friends based on your interests, I sashayed into a “Young and Fun in Monmouth County” group. Judging by the title, you’d think it’s a classic group of whippersnappers who are looking to grab drinks and sing karaoke and do game nights, count me in! I RSVP’ed to the new members meet up at a dive bar AND 90’s dance night right off the bat feeling like this was an easy layup for friends. Until I saw the collection of members out in the wild and immediately wondered if there was an age cutoff to “YOUNG and fun.” I doubled back and read the fine print. Members have to be born in 1970 or after. Hence this search because no matter what the decade, math will never be a strong suit of mine. FIFTY TWO. THIS GROUP OF YOUNG AND FUN PEOPLE ALLOWS PEOPLE WHO COULD BE MY PARENTS. NO OFFENSE TO THE OLDS, BUT IF I WANTED TO MAKE SOME FRIENDS IN YOUR AGE GROUP I’D SIT ON A BOARDWALK BENCH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY AND CHAT UP THE RETIREES THAT ARE SWARMING THE BEACH ON A WEEKDAY ITCHING FOR SOMEONE TO DISCUSS THE WEATHER WITH THEM. I WOULD NOT HIT A DANCE PARTY WITH A GENT WHO COULD BE MY DAD AND FEEL ALL SORTS OF UNCOMFY WATCHING HIM GYRATE TO GOOD VIBRATIONS. So as I previously said, meeting people your age in a new city NOT through work? Insert fart noise here.
Crushed the 90’s dance party wardrobe tho, too bad there was no one young enough to appreciate it without readers
How can you see if someone unfollowed you on Instagram / How can you tell if someone blocked your number
Breakups in 2022, man. So many avenues to contact or check in on each other and since I’m probably still Facebook friends with the kid who bullied me on the bus in 7th grade, I clearly don’t have a grasp on what it looks like to cut anyone from social media. Listen, at the end of the day, anyone who unfollows me on social is missing out on quality content–flowers, beaches, sunrises, and the occasional video shaming my dog for being an uncoordinated doofus. Their loss. Quick PSA though: if you are the dumper and you block the dumpee’s phone number for literally no reason, you are a real flesh dumpster. (Say dump again.) I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them. Who made the rules, you may wonder? Taylor Swift, Queen Bee of breakups, obviously.
Was this just an excuse to post the GOAT of breakup song music videos? YUP.
How do you spell Jake Gylenhall/Gyllenhall/Gylenhaal
And speaking of…honestly couldn’t Taylor have shaded a man with an easier last name to spell? November was FRAUGHT with spell checks on this man’s name. He’s one notch below Matthew McConaghey(sp?) as my most googled name for spellcheck.
After seeing a dermatologist who confused me with another patient then proceeded to cut me open and stitch me up with 0 explanation, my shirt pulled up over my head and the door wide open, I was FIRED up to report this doc to the medical version of the Better Business Bureau. Unfortunately if you choose to spend half of your life in school and the other half of your life paying it off, you can pretty much do whatever the hell you want. What a letdown to find out that I couldn’t pull the ultimate Karen and tattle on this doc to the reigning doc association, so instead I used my PHENOMENAL writing skills to blast off a very detailed response to the office’s “how did we do?” survey. Guarantee no one read it, but it made me feel a teensy bit better even if I will forever have a raging scar in the middle of my back from the drive-thru hack job biopsy I received. Whoops, guess I’m still not over it. (Peep a snippet of my scorched earth feedback below)
Boom. Roasted.
Do dolphins rape people?
I actually googled this in 2014 (see tweet below for proof) after visiting a particularly sassy dolphin named Nick at the Clearwater Aquarium. However, I included it in this list because if I hadn’t searched this exact phrase then, I absolutely would’ve this year as I planned my dolphin swim excursion to check it off the ole bucket list. I swam with a female dolphin and she was quite a lovely lady, but I will say out of all the whistles that were blown that day, none of them were rape whistles. So I think we can officially put the rumor that dolphins are feisty rapists to bed once and for all. I cannot vouch for dolphins in the wild so protect your bishop, Glen if you ever find yourself in the open sea.
This is a real thing. Killin dinner convo with the dream team about dolphin rape. pic.twitter.com/KbGFpWdVnI
Everything was consensual here, but tbh I really would’ve appreciated a face smooch. Hand kisses are for prudes.
Iodine smell after Covid
Couldn’t tell you one single thing about iodine except that it’s the word I pulled directly out of my ass after an entire afternoon with a weird chemical smell stuck in my nose a whole 5 months after I had Covid and recovered from it. Google was also like, do you really mean iodine, boo? This one remains a mystery.
Praytell
No explanation and absolutely no memory of this one. Other than using the interwebs as spellcheck sometimes I just pick a random phrase that I don’t really know the definition of or where to use it but I feel like it might work somewhere in my life. I’m assuming this was for a blog but who knows, maybe I was just trying to spice up my everyday conversation vocabulary, I do declare!
What time does the Super Bowl start?
Honestly throwing the super bowl in a day before Valentine’s this year really messed up my internal clock. It’s never that late in the month, right?! Football is stupid. At least I didn’t need to look up anything associated with that Halftime show because it was TAILOR-MADE for my age demo. Make that lineup into a tour and I’d buy tickets faster than an upside down Fiddy can say, “Go Shawty.”
The girls who get it, get it, the girls who don’t, don’t.
Shocking to no one: I don’t. Another stupid Gen Z thing. When will I stop googling young people phrases? WHEN I’M SIX FEET UNDER, TRICK. Seriously, there’s a reason friends and fam text me and ask me what these sorts of things mean. They know I hate having FOMO and have no shame in my Google game. So if you’re ever embarrassed about searching something on your own, just shoot me a textie text. (This also applies to celebrity nudes or sex tapes. Chances are I’ve already done the dirty work to search such smut and I’m happy to share and keep your browser history clean.)
Opened my photos today and forgot that I screenshotted a pic of Orlando Bloom's willis and doodleberries. That's one way to wake up.
My sister just requested that I text her Chr*s Ev*ans d*ck p*c and when I immediately stopped in the middle of Wegmans to do so, she replied “What a wiener”. And yet for some odd reason we still don’t have our own reality show. 🤔
At first glance I figured the makeup artist who had a severe issue with gluing my fake lashes on for a wedding this past fall left a glob of glue behind…then three weeks later when it was still lingering on my eye, I was excited to find out if I’d discovered an inconvenient pimple to burst. Seriously, I think I salivated a little at the thought of embarking on new pimple popping real estate on my face. As it turns out, it’s ill-advised to pop and guess what is still living rent-free on my eye 6 months later? THANKS FOR TELLING ME TO LEAVE IT ALONE, MOM, NOW I HAVE PERMANENT CHUNKY EYE.
Can I get pink eye from my dog?
For those of you who have had the pleasure of knowing me for many years, you’ll know that 2018 was the year I couldn’t seem to stop getting pink eye. I’ve been a ferocious eye rubber my whole life (not sorry bout it, my eyes be itchin) and it turns out itchy eyes doesn’t mix well with touching people’s dirty towels at a spa. The summer I worked at the spa I picked up “the pink” twice and then had PTSD for anytime my eyes watered that I had it again and would immediately started splooging cream into my eyeball as a precaution. It also coincidentally was one of the times in my life I was sans health insurance and that goopy eye cream was EXPENSIVE so I really wanted to get my money’s worth. But I digress, back to the real issue here, my dog licks her butthole roughly 900 times a day. I’d say if her tongue isn’t caressing me with sloppy kisses, it’s cleaning out her nether regions. So when a rogue lick caught me in the eye when I wasn’t paying attention, you bet your bottom dollar I was hopping on over to Google in fear. Happy to report dogs cannot pass pink eye but also it is not recommended to let their tongues grace your moneymaker because they carry a whole lot of bacteria. Whatever. Respectfully, I decline. I didn’t get a dog to not get on the ground with her and let her all up in my grillpiece with smooches.
*Also I refuse to reveal everything I’ve googled since procuring the pooch because the limit does not exist to what I won’t ask the Internet. From “what can’t dogs eat” to “why is my dog dipping her paw in the water dish while she’s drinking” to “how do I get my dog to stop biting me” there is not one thing this dog has done that hasn’t been researched. And boy oh boy it’s a slippery slope, you’ll go from thinking you’re a great dog mom who wants to be proactive and knowledgeable to feeling like you traumatized your dog because you pushed her butt into the crate one time. The great news is I’ve had her for almost two months and she’s still alive and thriving so shout out to me for that. I also rescued her from living on the streets with a homeless drifter so I’m not saying I’m a hero, but I’m not NOT saying it either.
Super Tongue Sneak Attack
Bonus: A behind the curtains peek into the Google shitstorm that occurs just to write ONE blog. Here’s my search history from the night I wrote the Met Gala Red Carpet blog:
Does gilded mean gold
Are flappers in the gilded age
Does the gilded age include the 1920s
When is mid century
Did cars exist in the 1800s
The British are coming meme
Honestly I would feel embarrassed about how LITTLE I paid attention in History (Sorry, Mr. Muench) except for the fact that judging by that red carpet no one in Hollywood paid attention either and they pay people to make them look smart and good so, HA. The Salty Ju would not exist without the power of the Internet (both to answer all of my dumb questions and to publish all of my idiotic words) and I wouldn’t have it any other way! Seriously if an apocalypse happened and I didn’t have an iPhone with 5G in my hands at all times, I would die within 5 minutes and I don’t care who knows it. Onto 31–excited to see what another year of a deteriorating brain and body will bring me 🎉
We’re back for another rendition of everything that’s douchey about Hollywood. An elite guest list, a theme, and a red carpet for pretty much no reason. IT’S THE MET BALL, BB’s! And this year we’re sWiTcHiNg things up on The Salty Ju. Instead of doing the classic best and worst dressed list, we’re going to stick it to these b*holes who get invited to this EXCLUSIVE red carpet by Anna Wintour herself and show up wearing whatever the F they want. As someone who dresses exceptionally well for a theme, it really grinds my gears when people blatantly disrespect it and decide they’ll look better in their own thing. So this year, we’re rewarding the rule followers, and honestly this was an eye opening experience as I was sorting, to come to the realization that almost NO ONE adheres to miss Anna’s very specific dress code. Between you and me, Ms. Wintour, I’d be doing a personal door check and bouncing anyone who went rogue. Oh, you want free booze and an A-list gift basket? Read the invite and dress appropriately, homeslice. But I digress. According to Vogue, this year’s theme is: “In America: An Anthology of Fashion,” with the dress code being gilded glamour and white tie. Channeling the time period between 1870 to 1890, the event “will ask its attendees to embody the grandeur—and perhaps the dichotomy—of Gilded Age New York.” Let’s rock n roll with these snobby anti-themers.
WHAT IS A THEME?! I’m FAMOUS!
Kicking things off is Hailey Bieber in the ever popular with her age group, silky slip dress, nips perked. Is she having a very dramatic moment with the feathers and the wind? Sure! Is she on theme? Sure isn’t.
This fair gent is wearing what looks to be a Goodyear on his head. Cars didn’t exist in the Gilded Age. They were still buggying around with horses and shit. I rest my case.
Apparently this woman is an actress in the show entitled “The Gilded Age.” It really can’t get anymore straightforward than that. And yet, she interpreted the theme into THIS. Her hair is very on point. Her gold leafy nudity, not so much.
Dude is so committed to the bit of being a 70’s smooth operator that he spit directly in the face of Anna Wintour by wearing the exact same wrong decade getup that he wore to the Grammys. The disrespect is so real. Take that stupid wig and sing your story walkin, Anderson.
Oh alright, bud! Head to toe peptol bismol! I guess that’d be approps if you were heading to a medicine cabinet themed party. But alas…
He gets famous for wetting the bed back in the 90’s, makes a comeback as the snarkiest Roy sibling and now suddenly he’s got a 2 kewl for school attitude? Get lawst.
I am very perplexed by this getup. It tells about 10 stories in one. Auto shop employee meets mid-century prince dismounting his horse? Did he for reals tuck what looks to be scrubs into riding boots? Don’t answer that.
This walking octo-condom did not understand the assignment.
This is what KILLS me. She was the leading charge of the Gilded Age last year. Bridgerton was a hit sensation and she was serving all of the pristine looks (save for those horrific micro bangs) and HERE WE ARE. YOU GET PAID TO WEAR THE PERFECT OUTFITS FOR THIS RED CARPET AND YOU JUST WANTED TO LOOK HOT AND SHOW EVERYONE YOUR BOD, ADMIT IT!
Another common theme I found is that celebrities heard Gilded Age and immediately went, ah yes, Flapper! Cause you know, the 1870-1890 somehow equals 1920. Hand up, I did have to google this because my history knowledge has been edged out by useless pop culture trivia. And apparently the Gilded Age can extend all the way to 1920. So they’re not COMPLETELY wrong. But also, there was a clear time cutoff and it was before the 1900’s, soooo, still no.
Everyone hates you and showing up off theme and wearing F off shades and telling everyone you’re just here to drink MEANS YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE. Ugh. Don’t get me started on this asshat.
Cute! Love the color coordination. But not gilded.
A sparkly hood! Fun! But off theme AF.
Another flapper.
Get it, you flamenco queen, you! (somewhere else because you can’t follow instructions.)
I’m just gonna wear black and look hot. K, bub.
Beautiful! A spring dream! For any other red carpet but this one.
Vanessa Hudgens has been a real sex machine on the red carpet this past year. She’s looking like a hot tamale but I don’t see how lacy nipz would’ve been acceptable at a time when women weren’t allowed to be in a room alone with a man unless they were married. Just a hunch.
Classic black pantsuit. Totes wouldn’t fly in the corset so tight you can’t sit down days.
Dakota was clearly like I just want to shimmy my tassels all over the carpet in this cool jumpsuit. Shimmy back to the limo.
More nips, more black.
Did Kylie Jenner just invent the type of veil I’ll wear at my wedding should a man ever want to marry a girl who wears a backwards hat at her wedding?! Yeah she really did. Ain’t nothin gilded about that though.
Oh, uh huh. Yep. Eskimo dominatrix for sure. WHAT DID SHE SEE ON THE INVITE TO INVOKE THIS?!
I am too stunned to make a comprehensive snarky comment to this. What on God’s Green Gilded Earth are we looking at here?
Season 2’s Bridgerton darling. Again, babed up a storm during the season, caught herself a foine-ass man with all of her beautifully bright gowns, and felt the need to show us what was hiding underneath those gowns on the red carpet. THE QUEEN WOULD NOT APPROVE.
Peek-a-Boo! It’s another defying the theme look.
WE DID GOTH ALREADY, KARLIE.
Haven’t done dominatrix yet but apparently the Hadid sisters felt that since they’re supermodels, they could just adhere to their own rules.
No. Just no.
The “I’ll just wear gold or silver” Crowd
Kim bleached her hair and is wearing one of Marilyn Monroe’s dresses. Oh, honey. Please.
These people aren’t being called out directly because an effort was made. They heard gilded and went literal. And that’s obviously much better than going hot pink tuxedo or plain ole awards gown. So we’re giving them halfsies points. Megan looks fierce as hell in these gilded wings.
I will not award any points to this Tiger King garbage though. Let me make that clear.
Disney star who has pretty much no business being there and she wears a gold bra. BOLD.
We’ve got a Jessica Rabbit in gold moment happening here. Stopping at the choker of cherub wings would’ve been fine.
I realize I said that we’re giving this group half points but that only applies to the “gilded” looks. Anyone who heard the theme and just chose silver or sparkly doesn’t have a brain and that’s obvious. They are not the same. One is silver and the other’s GOLD.
Also this is pastel yellow so nice try and IS KRIS JENNER CHANNELING JACKIE O?! What the hell were Kim and Kris going for here?!
GILDED NIPPLES!
Those waist training days really paid off for the Kardashian clan! This dress is theme-adjacent and out of their whole goon squad who showed up, Khloe nailed it the best.
Bonus points for this looking like the most uncomfortable gown on this planet. Just draped in gold chains. We’re getting warmer, folks.
Lots of regal boob accents at the Met Ball. I imagine double sided tape was working overtime last night. A modern Gilded Age would be AFLUSH with flesh, clearly. (I know, I need to put myself down for a nap.)
I’ve made this reference recently on a red carpet but when you get a head to toe metallic look, you can’t help but think of Zenon’s #1 popstar crush Prota Zoa. Cole’s got everything but the silver spiky hair. Galaxy theme, bruh.
Silver flapper with 70’s flair! But not 1800’s Gilded.
That is a gold-embossed Queen jacket.
Flap-Flap-FLAPPER
She looks stunning and the best of all the Gold beauties!
The Girls Who Get It, Get It (CONGRATS TO THESE THEMESTERS)
Here we are! We’ve made it! We went through nearly 40 blatant theme disrespecters to keep our eye on the prize. Corsets and petticoats and head pieces, oh my! I will say one thing that I know for sure from my vigorous research (binging seasons 1 and 2 of Bridgerton the minute they dropped) nothing screams 1800’s more than knockers literally being pressed up into a woman’s chin. Corsets are great at shutting down that rib cage and creating an unattainable waist to hip ratio, but ALL THAT FLAB GOTTA GO SOMEWHERE AMIRITE?! Did you really tie your midsection so tight you can’t breathe unless your areolas are scraping your eyebrows? No you did not. Well done, Billie.
Lady Whistledown could’ve served a hell of a more accurate outfit than this but at least she outshined her counterparts. WHERE ARE THE DRAMATIC UPDO CURLS?! And the yellow dress?! I’m guessing she never wants to don another yellow dress for as long as she lives. This is edgy LW.
I think I’ve just gotten to the point where I see a head piece and I’m like yeah she’s doing it. That’s the theme even though she kinda just looks like Miss Cleo.
Really didn’t need a full hand pose for his coordinated mani but the double layer jacket has a Prince Charming “may I get a slot on your dance card” babeness to it. Take me for a twirl, Shawn.
The top of this getup looks like something one would wear to bed in the 1800’s so yeah it counts. Turning it into a crop is SO 2022. God I hate this year. Also not for nothing but is she alive? LMK.
Good work Ansel, looking like a straight up castle servant.
CHECK OUT THAT HEADPIECE. That’s it. Nothing about this near cooch slip dress is Gilded. But that frisbee on her head says it all.
Pretty sure she’d be burned at the stake for wearing this back in the day but I LOVE it. She’s rocking that “The British are Coming” bedazzled coat.
Down with this updated flair on the ole classic. We’ve still got full coverage and a corset but we’re having fun with it, ya know?! Lime green heels, jazzy feathers and diamonds, darling. How Parisian of her.
I think we can all comfortably assume why everyone ignores the theme each year when the host of the damn party barely even follows it. I’ve talked shit on Anna before and I don’t care who knows it. Each year I’ve covered the Met red carpet, I’ve come for Anna. She wears what she wants to wear. Obviously, she’s the top of the chain in fashion…so she can. But don’t throw a theme party every year, make a BFD and then wear the same color palette and style of a dress year after year. TAKE A RISK, ANNA. Technically because she’s wearing a tiara she’s “on theme” but the rest of this is her same old shit. I’m WATCHING YOU ANNA WINTOUR.
I love that she basically took a nightgown and turned it into a showstopper of a dress just by making it lime green.
It’s the fan. I’m telling you props are EVERYTHING. Surprisingly Kacey was the only attendee to be tossing that shade around and that would be the very first thing I purchased if I were attending this event. Cool ass fan and cool ass dome piece. Anyway, the rest of this firework situation is giving me very sixties vibes.
Ok so here’s where I got confused. I saw these next two looks first and immediately assumed the theme was New York City. I guess this falls into the “New York” part of the Gilded Age which no one else seemed to tackle. Alicia Keys with the NY skyline on her cape is such a badass move and I’d be swishing that cape all over the joint.
My queen. My first girl crush. And I guess Ryan too, whatever. Blake explained the back story to her look and I literally lost track of all the NYC references it has. She’s got the statue of Liberty and Empire State Building and she lost me when she started describing how the number of diamonds in her crown reflected the continents or some shit. Either way, it was obviously very meticulously designed and she looks like Miss New York. I’m obsessed. (This doesn’t take much as she posted a photo of herself wearing overalls a week ago and captioned it “Overall…it was a good day” and I was first and foremost mad at myself for never captioning one of my overall pics with that clever play on words and secondly it further confirmed that she is my soulmate.)
A wet dream for Carrie Bradshaw, an event where headpieces are the most welcome. Let us all have a moment of silence for the bird from her original wedding where she got abandoned at the altar. Carrie invented fabulous headwear and yes I KNOW that SJP and Carrie aren’t the same person but I’ve been watching a lot of SATC and just let me have this moment, ok? And just like that, I learned, the higher the hat, the closer to the Empire State Building. Ok, I’m done. I’m putting myself in timeout.
Morticia and Gomez over here are giving me the willies but technically I guess they’re following the rules even though it’s nightmare fuel.
A table top skirt and bonus points for originality because she’s the only one who tackled a shapely gown. I’m sure she immediately regretted it after reaching the end of the red carpet and not being able to sit down but FASHION IS PAIN.
This dress is making curtains and tablecloths look chic as hell.
If mansion wallpaper were a dress. Love it so much.
A chair of the evening, and Mister NY himself via Hamilton, Lin played it safe and kept it very on theme with this Gilded formalwear.
And that’s all she wrote, folks. No best dressed award of the evening because it’s not a fair fight when 90% of the attendees just pick something out of their closet the day of. Maybe if Anna led by example and we got a little bit more crackdown of outfit judging at the entry points, people would take this seriously. Even though May is the month of ME, I’m willing to take some time off and zip on a train down to the city next year to help out with this. I’ve got a mean resting bitch face and I won’t have any problem telling celebs to march on back to their penthouse and throw on something more appropriate or I’ll take all of the photographers off of the red carpet for them SO HA.
Editors Note:After JLo texted me the below video urging me to email her, I wrote this piece and submitted it to a pop culture satire site to be published. They accepted, said they would publish it in about a week. That was over a month ago. In light of the recent updates in JLo’s relashe status, I felt it was necessary to do a scooch of editing and fire it off myself. Cause yeah it’s nice to be validated by outside publishing, but also by the time they post this piece, JLo could be on her 7th engagement so time is clearly of the essence here. ENJOY.
Hey girl,
It’s me, the one (out of thousands) that you text when you’re on a marketing blitz or when you just want to say, “Merry Christmas, Baby” with a sparkle emoji. Recently you texted a video to your inner circle (me) that you want to create a community through email where you share your most personal news that you wouldn’t share on a talk show…#OnTheJLo. Although I feel humbled to be chosen as a part of your inner circle, I also have to be true to our close friendship and keep it 100 with you, like I would any other BFF. Typically when a close gal pal is acting out, I gently keep her in line with a passive aggressive text. If the behavior persists, I’m forced to stop liking her Instagram photos for a week to show that she’s on thin ice in our girl gang. That gets her attention REAL quick. Now that I’m someone you feel like you can confide in, I owe you the same respect. Except something tells me if your glam shot had one less like out of the 1.9 billion, your feathers wouldn’t be ruffled. I guess that means I’ll have to take a more tough love direct approach with you. Sliding right into your Yahoo inbox like the rest of your inner circle does without a doubt.
So I just have one question to start and that question is obviously WHY BEN? BBGurl, you are a QUEEN. You are on top of the world and still crushing it. You’re 52 years old with a body in peak physical condition. Your skin is flawless, your hair is shiny, you’re still touring, churning out bangers AND creating relatable rom coms. It’s like nothing can stop you, except of course, for the 250 pounds of dead weight on your arm with a cig in one hand and a Dunks icey in the other. When you started flaunting your reunion, I entered the first stage of grief and sat in denial that a total boss babe like you would ever take back her sloppy ex-fiancé from almost twenty years ago. I let it slide because nothing will get under a man’s skin more than moving on IMMEDIATELY from a relationship and I knew that ARod must’ve been seething from this revelation. It also seemed super charitable of you. Fake date Ben Affleck fresh off of a breakup and give that sad sack some good publicity after he got dumped by a total hottie and has been in and out of rehab. I thought, good for you Jen! Find a way to write this deed off in your taxes this year. (Do superstars pay taxes? You can get back to me on that.)
Except here we are almost a year later and y’all are still together. Not just still together. Y’ALL ARE NOW ENGAGED. We can no longer brush this off as a publicity stunt. It has now made the full transformation into a good ole fashioned bad decision. And listen booboo, we all make them, especially when it comes to love. Usually, if we make some bad moves in our twenties and thirties, it’s just called growing up. If you’re still making the same mistakes (cough cough 6 engagements) in your forties and fifties, it might be time to get a better therapist, girliecat. I know this may sound harsh but I gotta spill the tea…cuz I’m real—just like you taught me to be in your smash hit with Ja Rule circa 2001. You know what’s also real? The tattoo of a dragon that covers Ben’s *entire* back. Jen. Jenny. JLo. Be honest with yourself. Do you want to wake up 15 years from now spooning a wrinkly golden dragon back while stale cigarette smoke clings to the drapes in your bedroom? I don’t want to put words in your mouth but no you do not.
I’ll level with you here because I don’t want you to think I’m coming strictly from a place of judgment. I’m only coming at you from a place of experience. No, I’m not from the block. And no, I didn’t star in movies with my ex or plan a multi-million dollar wedding at risk of being mobbed by paparazzi. Lastly, I certainly didn’t have an adorable couple name like Bennifer seared into pop culture history. However, I know firsthand what it’s like to keep going back to a real slob kebab of an ex-boyfriend with some questionable ink who didn’t deserve me. I know what it feels like to want the comfort, nostalgia, and chemistry of an old flame. And yeah, it can be distracting when the whole world loses their damn minds because you two are canoodling on a yacht off the coast of Italy just like in the Jenny From the Block music video. But I gotta give you a peek into the future from a gal whose seen this film before and didn’t like the ending—it ain’t your fairytale, homegirl. It ain’t even one of your phenomenal blockbuster chick flicks from the early aughts. Your leading man isn’t Matthew McConaughey in The Wedding Planner. Your leading man is Matthew McConaughey in Magic Mike. He’s seen some shit. He’ll drag you down.
And as you most recently said in your acceptance speech for the iHeartRadio Icon award, “Let me tell you something else, I am just getting started.” YEAH YOU ARE, BABY! Dump that trash into the Boston Harbor like he’s British East India Company tea and take an unburdened strut right toward world domination, you beautiful princess warrior with an ass that won’t quit. GO ON WITH YOUR BAD SELF. You got this. I believe in you.
Love,
A Concerned Bestie
PS Shoot me a textie whenever you want to take a post-breakup tropical getaway with your inner circle because we all know a green diamond does not a lasting relationship make. I’ll be there with a beach bag packed and a pump it up playlist of your best sassy single jams when it all falls apart. 💋
Alas, an awards show with music I’m actually familiar with and don’t feel too old, washed up or uncool to consume! Can always count on the trusty ole CMT Awards to inject the true spirit of Nashville into our veins with a side of sparkles.
WORST
Honestly this isn’t the worst but I’m putting them on here out of spite. I get that they’re a group but unless they’re N*SYNC at the VMA’s circa early 2000’s wearing coordinated outfits, they’re ALL SEPARATE PEOPLE AND THEIR OUTFITS SHOULD BE JUDGED AS SUCH. Stop only releasing a foursome photograph from the red carpet. I don’t have time to crop a pic and drop half of them on the worst and half of them on the best. For instance, the left side of this photo (the blondes) would get razzed for the puffy sleeves and Dorothy stripper heels and the what appears to be Jaclyn Smith linen leopard top for middle-aged women. While the right side (the brunettes) would get kudos for looking chic as hell. See? Exhausting. Pose separately next time or you’re getting CUT FROM THE LIST…
FOR-EV-ER.
Not everyone can pull off the long hair, babes. Clean it up.
Bold of the guy who made a career off of making fun of other celebrities to show up to a red carpet lookin like ole hipster Indiana Jones headass.
What in the actual fuck am I looking at here? Riddle me this, on top of the mish mash of fabrics…what’s the point of tucking each pant leg into the cowboy boot differently? Is there really someone who is like WAIT!!! Tuck the black cargo pant in up high so you can see more of the boot and the denim can have a tapered jogger effect right around the ankle. PERFECTION!
KEWL! A LITE BRITE! How these guys became famous for giving makeovers is beyond me.
Head to toe this is an outfit straight out of 2009 and it sent a shiver right down my spine. Leggings, pointy pumps, and the big booty big ole chunky belt that serves absolutely no purpose but to give me sweaty flashbacks to a permanent underboob indentation because I pulled that bitch as tight as it would go and slapped it over every piece of clothing I owned.
Boy oh boy do I wish someone would’ve told me to give that black Miss Trunchbell belt a rest that year. (Realistically I bet my sister did a number of times and I just rolled my eyes at her and told her it was fashion and she didn’t understand because she was still wearing men’s clogs from American Eagle with flare jeans on the reg.)
Jason. Jase. J-Money. You couldn’t have possibly looked at your wife with a straight face and not asked if this was a Halloween costume. WHO THE HELL WEARS THIS IN PUBLIC?! And more importantly, who the hell marries a man who doesn’t tell you when you look ridiculous?! God forbid I ever lock someone down but I’d divorce their ass RULL quick if he looked at me and was like lookin good, babe. Give me a man who laughs directly in my face when I look stupid or give me spinster status. And a SHOULDER BOW?! REALLY?
PS unrelated but the color of her feet are why spray tans should be illegal. How we as a society have shamed women for using tanning beds but the “healthy” alternative is spraying their bod a different color and making *just* their hands and feet look like they were dipped in chocolate is criminal. IT’S 2022 THERE HAS TO BE A BETTER WAY TO GET BRONZED.
(Forever bringing everything back to me) I’ve gotten like 3 spray tans in my life and I still haven’t figured out how to prevent this mildly offensive black face*
*hand.
Love Ryan’s pink suit…goes without saying that I hate Maren’s outfit. Have I had a grudge against her pretty much ever since she hit the scene and strutted all over Keith Urban’s stage in hot pants? Sure have. But even I can be a bigger person from time to time and admit when she’s killin a look. Unfortch, this doesn’t occur often. If this skirt wasn’t basically a mermaid tail, I’d be ok with this look.
Keep your enemies back to back on the worst dressed list is what I always say. Miranda’s been dead to me since she left Blake and started homewreckin all over the joint. Can’t stan a country music hooch and errebody knows it. And coincidentally, hooch pretty much sums up this dress for me.
WHOA BABY my eyes have been assaulted by each half of this coups. Guess that means these two are soulmates in tacky fash? Typically I’d be razzle dazzled by this sparkle suit but I am DROWNING in his chest hair. Never have I ever wanted to see chest pubez porking out of a wife beater on a red carpet. And the gold chain. What are you in Goodfellas? When you’re done gasping at the goomba on the left, rollerskate on over to Miss 70’s velour leisure suit on the right. My lanta it’s BAD.
CMT Awards or Middle School Dance? What fresh hell is this loofah madness with neon plastic jewelry most certainly from Claire’s?!
The scrunchie high pony is the best part about this booger suit.
Let’s just allow this unflattering as hell denim dress speak for itself. And I’ll speak for it as well because I just can’t help myself: DENIM IS UNFORGIVING AND SHOULD NEVER BE A SKINTIGHT DRESS. And rhinestone denim boots…those really do speak for themselves.
Nothing says Nash Vegas like a poop-colored gown and 10 gallon hat. Pray tell, are those supposed to be spurs on her metallic heels?
I don’t know that I’ll ever get on board with this sheer curtain dealio. Sorry for being a prude but it looks like a nightie that you wear on your wedding night when you lose your virginity as we ladies do (wink.)
BEST
RAWR. Carrie combined my favorite color and my favorite animal print so she’s good in my book, y’all. (If you look close, I believe she also perfectly coordinated her mani and I damn near almost fainted at that discovery. Truly a girl after my own heart.)
Having a hard time understanding how the chick who was Covid Positive and hosted via teleconference from her home got a red carpet pic and looks this snatched. (Did I use that term right, youths?) It’s like Jesus resurrecting. Kelsea’s like SURPRISE Y’ALL, COVID-who!? And then apparently went right back to her home where she mailed in her duties from the comfort of her living room.
Can’t go wrong with classic black/silver and a wife half your age. ZING.
Taylor looks sauve AF, could take or leave the lava lamp disco ball on his arm.
I love the shit out of Wynonna taking a backseat to her flashy as hell mom. Also the fact that I had to google if that was her sister or her mom because **plastic surgery**.
The suit he wore onstage was 100x cooler IMO but I guess he decided to play it safe for the carpet. It’s a classic but I wish he went with this bold patriotic zoot suit for the carpet as well:
Elegance and class from head to toe! I love everything about this.
Diggity down for the pop of red.
His signature plain baseball cap to hide the baldz and is that a fire flames coat?! I approve.
Brownie points for an eggplant suit but honestly I’ve never seen a worse host. I realize he stepped in to cover for Kelsea but my lord what a monotone voice on this fella. Let’s only give him a mic if he’s gonna sing into it from now on, mmk?
What a wittle teddy bear of a babe soda. A perfect combo of casj & fance.
I’ve always been on the outskirts of the Carly Pearce fandom. I followed her hasty union with Michael Ray and abrupt divorce soon after but after seeing her SASS on all over the stage singing a song about how she’s keeping the diamond after a breakup I wanted to shout YAS KWEEN into a megaphone. The drama she delivered should have Michael Ray shakin in his boots. Also she looks like a bombshell. This is Carly’s year. Get it gurl.
That jacket is cool as cool gets. PULLING IT OFF.
I saw Breland live and he’s the cutest little ray of sunshine I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s just happy to be here and I dig that energy. Even dressed as an asparagus I can’t throw shade at him. Look at that megawatt smile.
I cannot get past JJD’s legs. Like I honestly don’t even really love the dress but my jaw is permanently on my living room carpet from these damn stems giving Carrie a run for her money.
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I always love a fun dazzling party frock. The dubz peace sign can kick rocks.
Nelly’s been dressing like a G-D goon since the dawn of time. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, country grammar. I’m mostly just impressed by how strong a neck he must have to carry that pendant that’s probably equivalent to wearing a dumbbell on a chain. (If this was Ludacris I could quote my fave lyric of all time “feels like a midget is hanging from my necklace.” But I don’t want to disrespect Luda by hinting that the man can be outshined by a reckless medallion.)
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
GOES TO A COUPLE! The subtle spring color coordination between these two made me gasp. They are perfect little preppy angels and Lauren’s fresh glow didn’t come from Zoom Tan so bonus points for that. I mean that mint jacket and her mint heels. WOO BABY. We really need spring to get here quick, I’m getting a head rush just from some florals and pastels.
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The Salty Ju 