Playlist

Put Your Shooters Up 🦊

Last year around this time I revisited my golden years of partying in TogaTown from 2015-2019, refresh yourself on that bangpiece of a playlist here: Pub Nights. This year’s nostalgic playlist goes out to my college years. From 2009-2013, I spent many weekends (and lots of weeknights) in frat house basements that looked like they belonged in a hostage video, fist pumping at college bars, sardined in a 4-row utility van that I paid $1 for trying not to puke, and never wearing a coat no matter how cold it was because it would ruin my outfit and the vanilla Svedka would keep me warm. So KoLLeGe.

What makes me create these throwback playlists? Obviously, each winter when I start going to the gym in order to not KMS, I absolutely need fire flames tunez to keep me chugging away on the elliptical. As it turns out, the big hits of my peak drinking years just so happen to also be a phenomenal exercise soundtrack. Since I’m old and no longer do the Jersey Turnpike to Billboard’s Hot 100 each year, I must create eras playlists to commemorate my youth. Perhaps next winter you’ll be delighted with my early 20’s Boston era (heavy on the Jason DeRulo), but for now, enjoy this musical journey through a very expensive (but PAID OFF, BABY!) four year dalliance with higher education and reminisce the beginning of Instagram, Snapchat, and the art of the 200 pink digital camera-captured Facebook album after a night out with me. Out of respect for Marist College’s dopey fox of a mascot named Shooter (later changed but I refuse to recognize a name change for overly sensitive people who read into mascot monikers) go ahead and PUT YOUR SHOOTERS UP and get ready to do the Red Fox Rrrrrrrrrumble!

1. Tik Tok – Ke$ha

Did we know that the title of this song would a decade later be the app that changed doom scrolling foreva?! No, we did not. Did we know that a decade later we’d be watching a documentary detailing how much of a dirtbag abusive nightmare Diddy is? No, we did not. Did we know that a decade later Ke$ha would reveal that she was abused in her early music career days and legally take down the music producer who did it? No, we did not. What we did know is that this song fucking WENT. Ignorance is bliss, baby! And that can pretty much sum up why college is so amazing. If you go away to college like I did, you live in a little campus-wide bubble where the biggest scandal is the girl who got wasted and smeared her shit on the walls of Sheehan Hall, widely known as the Sheehan Shitter. Yes that really happened, and yes we talked about it for an entire semester. Sorry to that girl. I should stand in solidarity as a survivor of IBS, then again, I’ve never gotten so turnt on Four Lokos that I smeared my own feces on the wall like a toddler. So, nickname deserved, unfortunately. Anyway, I really got off the rails there and we need to get back to this EPIC pop debut by our glittery hippie with a dollar sign in her name. Glamorizing being a party girl in my very first year of college set the tone for lots of fun nights out and also a clear boundary of when to draw the line. Have fun, go to parties, but if you’re brushing your teeth with a bottle of Jack, you’ve gone too far, babe.

2. Give Me Everything – Pitbull (feat. Ne-Yo, Afrojack, Nayer)

It pains me to give any sort of shoutout to Mr. 305, that little bald nugget who preceded DJ Khaled for most annoying musician shouting the same phrases in every single song. Dalé. Mr. Worldwide. HOW-EV-ER, you cannot deny this man’s ability to make an uplifting dance number. This may not apply to everyone, but I happened to attend college in the perfect location for all of New Jersey, Long Island, Staten Island, and various Brooklyn/Bronx students to gather. For them, it was just the perfect distance away to get a taste of freedom but also bring their laundry home to Mah on Sunday and enjoy gravy dinner (or sauce if you’re anywhere other than North Jersey.) If you might recall, this was also the beginning of The Jersey Shore on MTV. Combine a bunch of Italian Americans, and the invention of guidos on our televisions, and you can picture what the dance floor looked like on any given Saturday night. Big poofs and beating the beat. Fist bumpin to a Pitbull song? Unparalleled. That’s livin, baby.

3. Like A G6 – Far East Movement

Never heard a Far East Movement song before this, never heard one after this. But Thank God these nobodies put out this mediocre song about getting drunk therefore giving a bunch of white college kids the PeRfEcT Facebook Album Title. Getting Slizzered?! Couldn’t sum up my first year of college any more accutately. Even better, coming from the snow belt of Syracuse where school was never cancelled to the very panicky southern NY Po-Town who cancelled classes every time there was a storm prediction also gave new meaning to “poppin bottles in the ice like a BLIZZARD.” You know what’s better than a snow day? A snow day that’s announced the night before so you can go out and get drunk with your friends to celebrate not having class in the morning. Duh.

“Dredding” AKA Drunk Sledding

4. Bottoms Up – Trey Songz (feat. Nicki Minaj)

What I’m quickly learning as I construct this playlist is that if there was one theme of this four year period of music, it was singin about boozin. Which tracks because we had a whole-ass assembly where an announcement was made about how many Freshmen were carted away in an ambulance after the first weekend. Amateur hour. Apparently my fellow classmates had never gotten slizzered in their parent’s basement before off a plastic handle of vodka. If they did, maybe they could’ve done the first weekend of college without involving first responders. Def wouldn’t recommend those n00bs try living out Nicki’s verse in this song where she lists every type of alcohol imaginable. What’s sad is that 18 is THE time to mix all of the spirits. No hangovers. I mix a glass of wine and an espresso martini these days and wake up with Sahara boca and an anvil on my brain. But I will tell you something that is timeless…If you bring up a margarita around a millennial, you’ve got a 99.9% chance they work “salt all around that RIM RIM RIM RIM” into that conversation. And that’s probably one of the many reasons Gen Z mocks us. And ya know what? I’m ok with it cause Nicki MADE this song.

5. Club Can’t Handle Me – Flo Rida (feat. David Guetta)

By including all of these spicy songs about clubbin, you would think I was cutting the line and strutting through the velvet rope to my regular table at the clerb every single weekend. Could not be further from the truth. It wasn’t the club can’t handle me, it was I can’t handle the club. Being on a crowded, loud, dark dance floor in stilettos with flashing lights is actually my nightmare. I tried it on for exactly one month because that’s where all the 8th floor girliepops were going and we traveled as a pack until we made real friends. Then I said you know what’s actually more my vibe? Drinking warm keg beer in a basement that looks like they kidnapped women and chained them up in those shady crevices. (No, srsly, one place actually had an underground bunker where we hid from the cops.) Then I graduated to partying in the well-lit kitchens of on-campus residences. I would’ve been at normal bars except that I lost my sister’s ID and I had a very humbling experience of borrowing a friend of a friend’s fake that said I was 5’4″, having a bouncer give me the ole up and down, smirk, and go you’re not 5’4″. I smoothly replied, “I’m wearing heels.” He then said, “Ok, take them off.” This would’ve been a solid time for me to realize I was being hazed, but I was too drunk to pick up on the sarcasm/too stubborn and actually took my heels off on the pavement and slouched down as if I would miraculously be 5 inches shorter. He sent me packing and I memorized a stranger’s address for NOTHIN.

6. We Found Love – Rihanna & Calvin Harris

I had forgotten just how many bangers Rihanna had until she did the Super Bowl halftime show a few years back. Rahn might’ve taught us all at this time to “never fall in love at the Jersey Shore,” but might I take that a step further and say “never fall in love in college.” I can say that because I FUR SURE didn’t. Obviously I know of college sweethearts who are now married with children, but if you were to see what happened on the d-floor during this beat you’d know what it’s like to find love in a hopeless place (Hatter’s, that hopeless place is Hatter’s.) For all y’all non-Red Foxes that was the clerb of Poughkeepsie that did a re-brand halfway through my collegiate career. They redecorated and changed their name to Union(?) but I’ll always have fond memories of going to that grim place every “Hatturday” for the first month of college before I learned I’d rather be at a house party gabbin than mmst mmst’ing in a sweaty crowded dance floor. Also, one time I was dancing with a guy and he thrusted into my backside so hard that I fell over. We did not find love that night. He found a very dirty look from me and probably a new victim to dry penetrate.

7. Party Rock Anthem – LMFAO

There was a moment in time for two white goons wearing zubaz and neon prescriptionless glasses to become famous and it was the 2010’s. Neon parties and house music was the SHIZ, so these idiots really struck Gold with their party anthems like this one LITERALLY called a party anthem. And it was, baby. It was. Do I sound like a grandma in her rocking chair talking about the good ole days? Because that’s basically what I’ve come to. The last time I went out was Labor Day Weekend and I took a fireball shot with some 80 year olds, lasted about an hour at the bar and promptly puked in my kitchen sink upon my arrival home. Even my dog who watched and judged was like wow bitch, you’re so old I bet everyday you were shufflin in college. YOU KNOW IT, GURL. I also probably screamed SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS when the fireball was presented to me. LMFAO was full of binge drinking bops and we loved those curly-headed fucks for that.

I’d love to say this was a theme party but I genuinely wore a Zebra print bandeau to a party and I blame LMFAO for bringing animal print to the forefront again.

8. Levels – Avicii

It was during my junior and senior years of college, that blackout parties really blew up. Done on a smaller scale by most frats before making it mainstream and Barstool Sports monetizing it with the Barstool Blackout Tour, this was where coeds wore neon, got super wasted, maybe took hallucinogens, and writhed on each other in a pitch black venue with strobe lights to house music. In some circumstances, foam was also added. I made sure to never be present for a foam party because that’s absolutely disgusting to have dirty bubbles shot at you and go into your orifices in a public arena. A regular blackout tho? Sure, why not. Mostly because I was a Barstool fan from the creation of the blog and would give them money anytime they had an idea. I detailed it in my Thirty, Flirty, & Full of Anxiety blog, but I took the assignment quite literally for my first Barstool Blackout and BLACKED out. I may not remember most of the night, but I do remember hearing this chick rippin, “OOoooOOOHHHhHHH sometimes…” in a sea of glow in the dark drunks. Everyone loved this song, it stood the test of time, but I didn’t know a damn thing about the guy behind it until I watched his doc. I know I previously yapped about it in my Winter Watch List but Avicii was a friggin musical genius. Gone way too soon, but his legacy lives on in this GOAT beat.

9. Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It) – Beyonce

I’m fudging the rules a little because technically this song hit our ears in October of 2008, but it also wouldn’t be a true snapshot of my college experience to not include it. That’s because for my very first Halloweekend (where you must have multiple costumes for multiple Halloween parties), my main event of a costume was Beyonce in the Single Ladies music video. Only an 18 year old with a body in peak physical condish could be so bold as to wear just a leotard out to the bar. Shocking to no one, I’ve always had a bloated belly full of farts so I still had to suck in for photos, but proud to say I nailed this lewk and got to wave my ring finger around and do the Single Ladies dance all night long. This song and that video were a cultural moment, and thankfully I looked better in a black uni and heels than JT and Andy Samberg did.

Here’s some other Halloweekend captures (bonus points for me repurposing that leotard 3 years later):

10. Thrift Shop – Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (feat. Wanz)

What a time to be alive for this song’s debut. Still hands down one of the weirdest topics for a song but oOoOh baby that sax HIT. Gotta be honest, did not and will never think thrift shops are kewl. Every time I step into a thrift store (be it Goodwill or one of those “we want to look better than Goodwill so we only take certain brands” secondhand stores) my nose is immediately accosted with the sent of other people’s body odor and musty pre-worn clothing stank. I don’t understand how one can comfortably buy something in that environment, let alone pay more than $20 for someone’s throwaways that smell like R. Kelly’s sheets. PISS. Anyway, a moment of silence for Ryan Lewis. He’s not dead, but let’s honor him for making a career out of getting credit for music / being onstage at awards shows for a solid 5-7 years with no one actually knowing what it is that he did.

11. Bad Romance – Lady Gaga

Gaga was on the rise in my college years and what a time it was to see her meat dresses and weird music videos and borderline scary performances. Since no one turns mouth noises into a chorus quite like our homegirl Stefani Germanotta, out of all the bangers that she released in this 4 year window, I had to go with RA-RA AH AH AH, ROMA, ROMA-MA for the feature on this prestigious playlist. Don’t have to feel self-conscious about singing with your pals in the car on the way to the mall to buy a new $8 spandex skirt from Forever21 when it’s just a bunch of gutteral gibberish. And since our girl paved the way for fashion risks, I’ll let you know that if you scroll all the way to the bottom of this blog, I’ll let you laugh at all the things that were “fashionable” from 2009-2013. Laugh it up now because in 5 years all the girlies at college will be wearing the same stuff because IT ALL COMES BACK AROUND, YO! Even filets. Just kidding. I can’t afford to buy a sirloin to grill for myself for dinner, let alone adorn my body in them. But the blazers and the corset tops are back…so it’s only a matter of time until you see that bandage skirt come ROARIN back too. CAUSE I’M A FREE BITCH, BABY! (That teal Coach wristlet that had a chokehold on me, on the other hand, will never come back.)

12. I Love College – Asher Roth

This song slows the momentum of this playlist WAY down, but I would be remiss to have a playlist about my college days and not feature a song called I Love College. I mean, I’m not an idiot, yanno? This is the ONLY Asher Roth song I know, but I must point out that he was the beginning of QUITE an epidemic. And that epidemic was white preppy boys who rap from their college dorms about drinking, smoking weed, and bangin chicks. Which realistically for the male species, sums up the college experience. So it really sparked joy for that era. This song is basically just a day in the life of a college student. It perfectly captured the culture that we quite literally take out loans to experience. (Fun fact about me, I didn’t know that loans were taken out on my behalf for my small private liberal arts school, so when I had an exit interview senior year where the financial aid staff member handed over a piece of paper with the sum of money that I was responsible for paying back, I was quite literally floored. Welcome to the real world, indeed. THANKS FOR NOT BUYING COLLEGE FOR ME OUTRIGHT, DAD.) Anyway, back to dollar slices of pizza…I’d give my left tit to go back to college discount pricing. I paid $1 for cabs, pizza, beers, and tanning. YES THAT’S RIGHT. TO BAKE MY SKIN OFF IN A BED IT WAS ONE DOLL HAIR. God I miss the dollar tree life I led for four years. Wouldn’t go back to a time when Four Loko was legal though (the real shit, not the watered down version available now.) Honorable mentions of white boyz who didn’t make the cut for this playlist because one was enough: Sammy Adams, Hoodie Allen & Mike Posner. Love you white frat boy rappers. Miss ya lots. NOW CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG.

We just tossed a dolla bill at the driver, climbed into the third row of this van and trusted we would be transported safely.

13. Tonight (I’m Fuckin’ You) – Enrique Iglesias, Ludacris, DJ Frank E

Since the last song was a little snoozier, popping this one in to shock you back into party mode. There should be a case study done on the transition that Enrique made from the swoony heartthrob who whispered, “let me be your hero” when I was in middle school, to the guy who says tonight I’m FUCKIN’ you to a club beat in my college years. Enrique came back HAWT in the 2010’s with songs about cheating and one night stands. I particularly love the artistry behind the song title here. Does putting “I’m Fuckin’ You” in parentheses mean that it’s an afterthought? Will he definitely be fuckin’ me tonight? Or only if we’re both drunk? LMK. PS making a radio version that changed it to “I’m Lovin’ You” did NOT maintain the same BDE that Enrique was clearly going for here. GOTTA listen to the uncensored, ALWAYS.

14. We Are Young – fun.

Every era of everyone’s lives deserves an anthem emphasizing just how young and fun they are. My Saratoga Nights era had “we ain’t ever getting older” and my college era had this epic singalong. It came out at the PERFECT time for me. Twas second semester of senior year, I was just starting to face the reality of getting a job after college and where I was going to live and if I could even afford to get my own apartment, which are all stressful things that (spoiler alert) I still deal with. And then this funky tune comes out that doesn’t sound like all the other songs and gives us the perfect reminder that just for right now, we’re still in a fake life bubble of no responsibilities and making memories with our friends. I can clearly remember scream singing TONIGHT WE ARE YOUNG at Darby’s. And guess what? It WAS true. I was young that night. I’m not anymore. Excuse me while I go sob over my tax return.

15. Call Me Maybe – Carly Rae Jepsen

There are ‘had to be there’ moments and being in the right age range for this song was one of them. CRJ was a nobody until Bieber, Selena, Ashley Tisdale & friends made a home photobooth-esque YouTube video singing and dancing to this song and it BLEW up.

This is basically the last time you’ve seen a song so organically pop in a wholesome way and OH IT POPPED. It was on repeat for the last two months of my junior year and most of that summer. And ya know what? Can’t deny that it still slaps just as hard to this day. It’s so stupid, yet so adorbs. I have a crush, I like you, I’m gonna give you my number, Call me, MAYBE?! Ugh. I die for the nostalgia this song brings. Below is a real text I received on March 9, 2012 from my friend and not only does it solidify Call Me Maybe becoming a whole personality, but it also makes me want to ditch all of these terrible ios updates that just make us sound dumber in our texts and go back to the AIM style fonts and bubbles we started with. This was my very first iPhone and I miss that brick with a home button every damn day.

and anotha one

16. Forever – Drake, Kanye West, Lil Wayne & Eminem

RARE occurrence and really on this playlist to hold in our hearts and memories forever that every rap giant of this time hopped on a track together. And they all KILLED it in their verses. This was before one was accused of being a pedo, one went full Nazi bipolar, one became a grandpa, and honestly I don’t think anything has changed about Weezy F Baby. He’s still out here doing the same shit, diff decade. Naming your fave verse in this song will tell me more about your personality than a Cosmo quiz. I obviously have a favorite line from each section but for me, nothing tops literally screaming “but what should I scream for? This is my theme park!” Thank you for your service, gentlemen and showing us that even though the rappers of the 90’s couldn’t stop shooting each other, we had evolved in the early aughts to all share a track and manage to sound completely different and incorporate all styles in one. And since then we’ve never been able to replicate that magic.

17. Counting Stars – OneRepublic

Was this song the most popular or memorable song of college, let alone that year? Absotutely not. BUT it marks a memory for me. In the spring semester of my senior year, I did a tryout for the real world with an internship at The Rachael Ray show. I took the 2 hour train ride from Po-town to Penn Station 2x a week and spent those days sneaking bagels from crafty, sitting in a jail cell sized “office” with 1 computer and 7 other interns, and returning piles of clothes with cut-up receipts. I used HopStop to know which subways to take, ran up and down the stairs 9 zillion times because it was faster than taking the ‘vator, and for one VERY exciting day when I got my parents ticcies to the show, I got to be the tea-tern, walking out onto set to deliver a 9000 degree cup of tea to RR herself. It was thrilling and also humbling to be an intern on a daytime talk show. As you might have already assumed, they did not choose to offer me a job after my internship came to a close and I did not go on to have a blossoming career in TV production.

In another exciting day in the life, I got to sit 5 inches away from Ryan Tedder as they performed this song. I’ve always loved OneRepublic and Ryan Tedder is a total babe soda so I was GASSED to be doing this. So gassed that I emailed EVERYONE I’d ever met telling them to tape or watch the episode to catch a glimpse of the back of my head (fake flower prominently clipped in my hair) as I bopped along to this performance. I’m not saying I’m famous from that chair grooving, but I’m not NOT saying it either. At my very first “industry” job at a local news station in Albany, I caught a re-run of this episode and had to grasp just how far I’d fallen. From RR to news channel 10 *temp* receptionist behind bulletproof glass. Put THAT in the alumni pamphlet.

PS if you ever see a morning segment where they show off new trends…think of the unpaid intern who has to schlep 8 bags of clothes back to the JCPenney in Union Square and get the stink eye from an underpaid cashier whose on her last straw. Real life evidence below:

18. Party in the U.S.A – Miley Cyrus

I try my best not to cross-pollinate my playlists with the same songs, but I also am realistic enough to know that no one else listens to these playlists or reads these blogs so who even cares that my bangerz-only “Quaran-tunez Dance Party” also featured this bop. It pains me to reveal this because this song turned out to be a generational hit, but I hated it at first. Couldn’t stand it. It became big my first month of college and for that first month and many after, a chick on my dorm floor blasted it on repeat at all hours of the day. It made me want to hurl myself out of the window and I lived on the 8th floor. I even took to Facebook status (it was cool at the time, don’t @ me) to air my grievances about hearing Party in the USA one more time. It was my first time sharing space with strangers and I didn’t acclimate well, sue me. Once I wasn’t being tortured with repeat play and had free will to choose the songs I wanted to listen to, this song became a clear party starter that now I’ll NEVER GET SICK OF. Don’t test that theory tho.

Screenshot

19. Ni**as in Paris – Kanye West & Jay-Z

I mean, maybe the most identifiable sample in the history of all songs. You hear this sound and it’s instant recognition. Can’t publicly say the title, but you CAN skate to one song, and one song only. Another collab reminiscent of the times when we were blissfully unaware of both the mental illness and the for SURE illegal and predatory activities going down with our favorite rappers. But while we had our blinders on, we were gifted with so many as the kids these days call vocal stims like: That shit cray, what’s gucci, ball so hard mf’ers wanna fine me, and for me personally, i’ll never pronounce the word mall the same ever again.

20. Dance (A$$) – Big Sean (feat. Nicki Minaj)

“Wobbeldy wobble” can apply to draggin a wagon AND having Bambi feet in platform stilettos. God Bless to my feet and my ankles for somehow managing to wear heels out every weekend. By senior year my dawgs were like THAT IS ENOUGH. I had a night where my legs literally gave out from under me and I started taking off my heels and going barefoot in the bar and that’s when I knew it was time to hang up my Steve Madden patent leather pumps. Shortly thereafter, I started wearing cowboy boots often. 2012/2013 was a HAWT time for “country girls.” (Coming back again, of course.) Remember the wedding aesthetic where the bridesmaids wore cowboy boots even in places where they don’t know what a farm is?! I’m so grateful for that trend to save my feet which never should’ve been shoved into grown-up heels, even now that I’m a grown-up. Also, if I were to pick a walk-up song for baseball, it’s this one because I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve got quite an A$$.

21. Clarity – Zedd & Foxes

Instead of talking about this song which is obviously another EDM BANGER, I’m going to tell a tall tale, which somewhat sparked this whole playlist and blog to begin with. As you might’ve heard me mention in passing, I’m still single in my mid-thirties. Due to that unfortunate fact, I’m inundated with the type of social media content that targets single women of a certain age. That’s how I found myself not once, but twice being served a photo of a man who apparently lives in NYC, owns a gym, and is being hawked as an eligible bachelor who would just like to find his Mrs. Right. I recognized this man because I have a photo with him circa February 2009. Let’s hop in our rocketship and zip right back to that time. It was the second semester of my freshman year of college, which makes me 18 years old. Like most girlies my age, my favorite TV station was MTV and I would rabidly consume every program they produced. From the TRL days of high school to the trailblazing early days of reality TV with The Real World, My Super Sweet Sixteen, The Challenge, Made, Teen Mom, Room Raiders, Next, Parental Control, Newlyweds, Laguna Beach, The Hills, Pimp My Ride, etc. I could literally go on forever. I watched it all. And like I previously mentioned, they were just hitting their stride with the debut of the Jersey Shore. For whatever reason, there was an MTV promoter who had some sort of deal with the local bar and would regularly have cast members do appearances on a random Tuesday night. I LIVED for this. I went to my first appearance right when I got to college and spent an entire evening talking to Bronne from The Real World Cancun. I remember him being super nice and very willing to take a hundred selfies on my pink digicam in my bubble hem dress.

The next semester, I just HAD to meet Kenny from The Challenge. I’m fuzzy on the deets of the circumstances, but somehow, some way, me and several other girls from the 8th floor of Champ dorm ended up getting an invite to his hotel room. I have to imagine we went to the appearance and he asked us out the following night or maybe this was after-party? All I know is that I had absolutely no business taking a $1 cab to whatever cheap hotel in downtown Poughkeepsie and going into the bedroom of a complete stranger. I was HIGH on the VIP moment and really just wanted to know BTS tidbits about one of my favorite shows. I remember him flirting with one of my gal pals clearly looking to close the deal, and all I wanted was to get a picture with this man who at the time felt like a celebrity to me, and talk shop. I tried SEVERAL times. Probably too many times. He was LESS than interested in talking to the reality TV nerd in an oversized business blazer and getting him to pose for a photo was like pulling teeth. I remember finally grabbing two friends and being like we need to bounce, this guy is a dick. I also distinctly remember questioning why an old guy was hanging out with a bunch of teenager like a perv. Well folks, I’m a grown up now and as I see this man all over my algo looking for a wifey, I’m hit with the cold hard truth that he is only 6 years older than me. In college, that’s creep status. In adulthood, that’s marriage material. I remember telling my ex-boyfriend this story like wow I did some shady shit in college I’m surprised I didn’t get drugged and raped in that hotel room. And after hearing about how obsessed I was with discussing this garbage reality tv show and cockblocking him from the girl he actually wanted to score, my ex-boyf assured me I was never in danger of being raped. If anything, this dude breathed a sigh of relief when I huffed out of his hotel room. THAT’S clarity. (See how I managed to bring it back to the song?! MAD SKILLZ, YO.)

PS Can confirm after seeing Kenny at an event last weekend that he IS still attractive and he still does NOT want to speak to me.

PPS He got a lifetime ban from The Challenge soon after this hotel party sesh for SA’ing another cast member. People don’t forget.

PPPS I never stopped fangirling over reality “stars” cause here’s me and Snooki’s BFF Ryder my senior year and post-college I took a photo with Audrina. RIP MTV, Gone2Soon.

22. 22 – Taylor Swift

Obviously I had to make a 22-song playlist to end on “22,” because OCD. I don’t mean to brag, but every time a girliepop turns 22 and uses this song or the lyrics to celebrate that milestone, I think about the fact that my graduating year was the OG 22 crew. This song was released the year we all turned 22 and there’s nothing more iconic than being able to say Taylor Swift wrote a song about your exact age in the exact moment you’re turning that age. Happy, free, confused, lonely? YUP. All of the above, babe! Minus the cat ears, Tay nailed what it feels like to be 22. And sure, that’s what makes the song stand the test of time, but Taylor and I both know, she wrote this song for the girls that turned 22 in 2012 and 2013. *Our little secret.*

Congrats on making it through another 18 trillion word blog and 1.5 hour playlist (if you did.) If you just scrolled through, it still counts as a click, so it’s all Gucci. As a reward, here’s a BUNCH of pics of me with my bra visibly showing, my tongue forever out (Miley made it cool during her wrecking ball phase), my arms gangling, and taking a knee and CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUGGGING everywhere I went.

If I may, a moment of recognition for the Shotski, gifted to me on my 21st birthday by my brother-in-law who handmade it. It was EASILY my most prized possession. So much so, that I hung it on the wall as soon as I got back to school. My RA immediately told me to take it down because it promoted binge drinking, but it was a friend maker and a party starter all in one and I loved it so. One of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.

Ok now here’s all the reasons my professors told me I’d never get a job. And yes, I cropped everyone else out of the photos. Not trying to embarrass anyone but myself here.

The first year of Instagram in 12 posts:

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Red Carpet

Golden Globes Red Carpet 2026

HNY! Let’s start off 2026 on the right note, judging celebrities for what the team they pay chooses for them to wear one time for photos. And while we’re on the topic, may I make a sound argument for the broke bitches of the world who NEED to have a new ‘fit for every photographed occasion but for sure do not have the budget to purchase said ‘fits? We need a rental program that’s for the cheapskates of the world. I know these platforms exist like Rent the Runway, Nuuly, StitchFix, etc. But they’re for people who have money to spend. Where’s the library for fits? Free or discount only, pls. Can someone get on that and invent it so I can stop renting from Amazon and surely putting myself on a no-fly list for Prime next year? Since I’m sure you guys are DYING to see my top fashion this holiday season, here’s some of my fave rentals.*

*Note: I do not condone purchasing, wearing, and returning. That’s dirtbag behavior. Only reserved for desperate times (which I am currently in.) Also, to be fair, the skirt and the jumpsuit were supposed to be keepers but their quality was subpar and they fell apart in one hour of wearing. So can you really blame me for asking for my money back for those rags? Every penny counts in these trying times.

Anyway, check out clothes that are above a $30 price point below. Bet you can’t even spot the difference.

WORST

Hey, just a head’s up that if you wear a dress with a built-in bejeweled whale tail, you’re immediately going to be tossed on the worst dressed list. And if you win a friggin GOLDEN GLOBE and spin around onstage in front of Hollywood’s elite to show off said bejeweled butthole, you’ll earn the boo’s I shout at my television.

Kate Hudson can throw heat and this ain’t it. I’m assuming she’s going for a theme from her movie where she’s a singing duo with Hugh Jackman, but the fringe is not hitting for me.

I hate doing this because this sweet cherub took enough heat for her chompers when White Lotus hit the airwaves, but I really hate this choice. I’m on record saying that child bearing hips is not a fashion trend and I feel like she really blew it here.

While I can appreciate taking a swing as a male trying to stand out from the black tux, but this is straight up blinding. If you’re going for red, at least match the shade of the carpet, my man.

What is this geometric bullshit? I can get down with the black optical illusion part of the dress that looks like the shiny, rubbery skin of a killer whale, mostly because Free Willy is my favorite flick…but the top is BAD.

Speaking of Willy…

This is a Deb prom dress circa 2002. The NEON SASH?! Adamn looks fine but I can’t stand the “you can still fully see my eyes” sunglasses that the men of Hollywood have in a chokehold at this show.

Lil Paulie looks like an 8 year old trying on Dad’s suit.

This drop waist sitchie makes PriPri look like she took a dumpdump. You were thinking it too, you’re just too mature to admit it.

Her hair looks like perfect mermaid sunshine and yet I cannot stop looking at the crotch crunch.

Never need to see nipples at a formal awards ceremony. Call me prude. Don’t caaare. #UnFreeTheNip

Is homegurl wearing a zigzag headband?

This look is bad from head to toe. Black and brown, slits down the front, ill-fitting. Bleh.

Sry, cast of Abbott Elementary, but do better next time. This is a tropical beach sarong.

TELL ME THE TEENY TINY SKINNY SCARF IS NOT COMING BACK. PLEASE.

Ole dragon wings on the shoulders. Gotta be honest, I initially typed dragon gills into Google picturing like the side of their face that pops out when they’re angry, also realizing that I’m probably just thinking of the yellow spotted lizards from Holes. Turns out, such a thing doesn’t exist and it made me realize that Miley is at the Globes for her song for the new Avatar. And it all makes sense. Doesn’t make me like it tho.

Kinda looks like a lil punk, tbh. Knowing how seriously he takes his acting, I have to assume this is in theme for his nominated role. Since I have not and probably will not see Marty Supreme, I’m just judging the ‘I stay out past curfew smoking cigs outside the mall’ look he’s rocking here.

The pointy witches hem on this dress is really grinding my gears.

Is that a shimmery clit?

We get it, JLo. You’re still snatched. But I don’t need to almost see your snatch to know that.

This is a thrift store night gown.

Imagine trying to sit in this mosaic umbrella?! I’d actually pay for footage of this. Bet it’s super entertaining.

It’s giving Mummy and oh boy do I wish she had her hair down.

This neon cartoon puke shade of green would be unforgiving on everyone…even if it wasn’t accented by an orange clown lip, which certainly didn’t help matters. Stylist did Rose so dirty with this.

What am I looking at here? Is the top half what they wear in a Civil War reenactment porno? Don’t answer that.

What happens when the Civil War porno goes wrong. Get it???? CAUSE SHE LOST HER ARM!!! I’m reaching. It’s getting close to my bedtime. I guess I’m not high fashion enough to understand this one armpit free, one covered aesthetic. I think it looks dumb as hell. I bet it’s just because if she caped both arms she’d be operating like a T-Rex and that seems unsustainable for tossing champs back over the next 3 hours.

I’ve never been a fan of the long coat on a man and I will most certainly continue to express my distaste for these stupid glasses. Jacob is not hot enough to get away with them. Sarry bout it.

I don’t think white is her color. She looks better in jewel tones. And that’s my expert fashion opinion.

Hate to break it to J.Law but she was on the best dressed and then I did a double take and bounced her. Momentary lapse of judgment. I wanted to like it but I just don’t and I can’t even pinpoint why. Maybe it’s the comforter chunks on each wrist. Or the fact that she has a woodland forest covering her woodland forest.

This will be a niche reference for my fellow MTV stans but in the critically acclaimed Andy Milonakis Show, he did a bit where he pretended to be a coupon and all he shouted was, TAKE ME WITH YOU, I AM A COUPON! And all I think about when I look at this dumbass bow is OPEN ME, I AM A PRESENT!

Oh ok, Sydney Sweeney Lite.

BEST

Get IT, Kathy!

A solid, safe host choice for ya girl Nikki.

I friggin love Walton Goggins and it’s mostly because he played the MOST ridiculous character Uncle Baby Billy and I will miss him water skiing with his lil Baby Billy bouncin around on my TV screen. That being said, he can wear whatever the hell he wants and a Gold lamé shirt is perfect.

Selena has the old Hollywood glam in the bag. Kills it everytime.

Pretty sure Brett wears a navy blue suit every red carpet and I throw him on here each time because it looks good and also because I have a crush on him. Completely biased as most of my men fashion nods are.

Love this bedazzled bee!

What a cutie patootie! It’s like a meadow full of wildflowers. How Bella and Edward of you!

DESPITE the middle part and the STUPID tinted see-through glasses trend, I cannot in good conscience put a beefsteak like Glen on the worst dressed. From the mouth down he’s crushing.

Speaking of glasses, I love the fact that Mel Robbins is SO committed to these obnoxious dark frames even though they photograph HORRIBLY. Every time she’s in a photo she has this harsh dark shadow on her eyes and she has had at least a year to realize this but has maintained the commitment to her brand. Great color dress though.

Stunning as always.

I like the off-white switch-up for Plop.

Great hair, great shoulder action. Whatta babe!

Does it look like she’s wearing a white bedsheet? Yea. Does she pull it off? Hell yea.

Power pose in a power pantsuit, BABY!

This dress fits her like a glove. Love the choice to just do a simple diamond choker and let her bangin body do the tawkin.

This is a FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF coat and I respect the hell out of it. Gr8 color too.

I love that this is basically a t-shirt dress but make it formal. And her face isn’t doing something weird like it did for the entirety of The Beast In Me.

The dubz hang loose (the right hand is doing a remix) and bulldog embroidered velvet slips solidified this as a best dressed for me and I don’t care if you hate it. It’s my blog and I wear hot dog purses in public, so I can appreciate a good fashion gag.

Obviously these two are never going to look bad. It would be against Hollywood law.

Hot take but I love this messy side pony sitch. Old hockey trick, go into the ceremony with wild hair so that when you come out toooooasted at the end of the night, no one can tell. Dress is a great fit for her too.

I mean, duh.

Have not seen a proper leg slit in a minute and kinda wish she posed with her stem on display, but nonetheless total babe soda.

If I had more time/energy/cared more about this blog maybe 5 of you will read, I’d put a supercut of every red carpet Leo has attended in the past 5-7 years and it would probably look like carbon copies of the same photo over and over again. Always wears a black tux and bow tie, looks exactly the same. He’s drinking from the fountain of youth. Literally.

I shit on Rashida a lot and I gotta giver her flowers for looking fab this time around. She often is styled more matronly but I love her hair and this gown, so happy to see she’s got her groove back.

I’m really geeking over the hunter green, I guess that’s my color choice of the moment. Looks so good on the blondies. Also really wish Kirsten wore her hair down because I’m V confident she has the same exact hair style as her husb Landry. #twincutz

L-O-V-E a leather moment!!! Is that the only one of the night? Get down with your bad self, gurrrrrl. Mac looks handsome as well and I very much appreciated “Return of the Mack” playing as he walked onstage to present. Underrated heater of a song.

Oh, ok peekaboo belly!!! How fun! Great color and style change-up from the typical dress. Also count this as my formal petition to bring back the crop coordinates of 2015 because that was such a sassy time for women. We still love a matching set. (Is this an excuse for me to post my favorite blue and black striped crop coord that I only wore twice but demanded it be photographed both times? Perhaps.)

As is true for every single trend, black people make it cool, white people ruin it. Tinted sunnies where I can see your eyeballs on Michael B. Jordan? Panty melter. On a white guy? Pre-Crime. Shades aside, the brown suit is fire. Brown is the new black and everyone knows it.

See? Even the Sandman knows it. Cleans up well.

Mila looks like a hottie, Ashton looks like he went four rounds with a toddler who refused to put his shoes on this morning before school.

Love that she went a full step above the huz to show everyone who wears the pants in this relashe. This is a new vibe for Meliss and I appreciate the risk with the slick back pony and gold stitching.

I can’t explain it but this pose put an immediate smile on my face. The hands on hips and million-dollar smile enhances her whole vibe and is so not Hollywood in the best way. We don’t need sucked in cheeks or angles, she’s like here’s my dress babes, read it and weep! Total hourglass figz.

Ole Pammy is continuing to buck the Hollywood face painting scene and I think she looks lovely here. I like the frosty blonde updo with the whoutfit. It’s giving clean easy breezy beautiful CoverGirl.

The kind of preggers every girl aspires to be. A glow and a teeny bump. Stunner.

God I want to rip her hair off her head and put it on mine. In a super normal way, of course. Luv the red and black too. But mostly…hair. Gimme.

I think I speak for everyone when I say THANK GAWD THE GLINDA ERA IS OVER. No knock on Ariana’s talent at playing that role but the shade of blonde she was rocking and the pastel pink were washing her OUT. Suh happy to see her back in black.

I have ONLY one gripe about this and it’s where the hell are her feet? Like truly how is she walking? Other than that concern for her wellbeing as an upright human, I friggin love this straight up white crop and black pants number. Not only is it casj cool, but firsthand account, I wore basically this same outfit this fall and my elderly neighbor who is quick to comment on my weight should it be getting out of hand stopped to ask me if I lost weight so I can confirm it is an optical illusion.

No I didn’t watch Stranger Things because I don’t get down with monsters, but I am alive with two eyes and forever scrolling so I know everyone has a raging boner for this guy and I’m not about to piss off the Internet. He does have a swagger to him and I’m not just saying that because he’s able to pull off boy band bleached hair.

I would wear this JUST to spin and smack everyone with my glitter fringe.

A SHOE MOMENT! Props for the coordinated pumps and pastel blue.

P Squared is a legend for this. Dressing as a literal curtain hanging in the parlor with the matching Isadora diamond is iconic. She’s not meant to live an uncomfortable life.

FAVORITE LOOK OF THE NIGHT

Oh she is SERVING. I’m obsessed with this look. Even the way her hair is tossed to one side. It’s all working flawlessly.

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Salty Stories

The Salty Ju Turns T E N!

Although it’s true I’ve been salty my whole life, today marks a decade of being salty in a permanent and very public forum. I’ve never once deleted a blog or retracted anything I’ve said, even when it was probably blatantly ill-informed or incorrect. And that my friends, is the beauty of the people’s internet. Say whateva ya want and keep it moving. Since I’ve made this milestone a BFD and hyped it up for several months and forced two celebrations down your throat, it only made sense to also memorialize it on the thing that we’re celebrating in the first place. So, humor me in this reflection/summary of 10 years of doing something…the longest I’ve ever done anything. Or don’t humor me and buzz all the way off, ‘CAUSE I DON’T EVEN WANT YOU READING MY BLOG IF YOU DON’T SUPPORT IT.

The Origin Story

Let me paint a picture of what ten years ago looked like for ya girl. I had moved to Boston in September of 2014. For a job? No. For a boy? That’s very rom-com adorbs, but also no. To get my masters degree at Harvard? HAHAHAHAHA. Nah. I did exactly one calendar year out of college, 8 months of that year living at home and working my first “corporate” job with my sister as my colleague and I said, that’s enough of that. So, I packed up a truck and hit up Allston Christmas, which by the way, was about as terrible as everyone says it is. Moving shit off of a truck on a tiny street with cars parked on either side while everyone else does the same exact thing is stressful AF. What was even more stressful was living off of my savings for the first month there with no job prospects. I’ve had so many hot flings with unemployment, it’s almost hard to keep track at this point but at 23 years old, this was my second or third and that’s already too many for being a fresh college grad. Also, this detail has nothing to do with my employment status, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that I was skinny as hell when I moved to Beantown. Like, so skinny that I could wear a hard crop top that showed my belly button and pull it off. This was the last time I could do this. I peaked at 23. Which is also the age I lost my virginity. Coincidence? PROBS NOT.

Ok, back to professional speak now that you see how snatched my waist was. Luckily, I landed a temp gig doing admin work at Boston College and it was while I was doing mind-numbing data entry that I revisited the idea of a blog. To be perfectly honest, I was a HUGE Barstool Sports junkie and had read it every day since I had discovered it in 2009, relating the hardest to blogger KFC, who blogged at his full-time job as an accountant until they finally started making some money and he quit to go FT smut. He was my inspiration not only for his style of writing that was super conversational, but also sneaky blogging while getting paid by another company. He also followed me after I tweeted the below shout-out and clearly read some of my blogs or knew me well enough that when I went to a meet and greet after his comedy show in 2016, he goes IT’S THE SALTY JU and that made my LIFE. Didn’t get me a job. But a semi-famous internet persona knew who I was for a brief moment in time in the 2010’s and we’ll always have that.

I’d be lying if I said when I mulled this blog over that I didn’t have future goals of actually turning it into a job one day. At first I was aiming for the E! News, TMZ, Perez Hilton upper-echelon of celeb goss. I figured, if I ran my blog exactly like they did, that’s just a resume to submit if there was ever an opening for a writer. A few months in, I was setting my sights on Vulture or even Buzzfeed, really moving those goalposts from websites that draw a penis over Lindsay Lohan’s face or report a celeb death before the family is informed, to websites that write quizzes titled “choose a bunch of baby names and I’ll tell you which Disney Princess you are.” FOLKS, SHE IS GOAL ORIENTED.

Anyway, after polling everyone I’ve ever met and asking if they’d read a blog if I wrote it and of course feeling super insecure about it, while also wondering why the hell I chose to make a video for my capping project in college instead of a blog, which is perfect for me and EVERYONE else did it for an easy A… The Salty Ju was born. It certainly didn’t hurt that Taylor Swift dropped 1989, her much-anticipated foray from country into pop and I immediately had material to blab about. Realistically, you couldn’t stop me from blabbing those first few months of blogging. It was like a dam had broken and my 23 years of opinions NEEDED to be released in long-form blog or I would be killed by the Boston strangler. It also set the precedent for me to create Taylor content for every move she made. Something I’ve very much cooled off on, but those eras are forever sealed into the interwebs, which honestly is fine because in comparison to what her fans do now, I was tame.

If I may, I’d like to really detail how into this blog I got, and how much I assumed it would bring me a blossoming writing career. I started by unloading years of pop culture takes like dissecting what the Olsen Twins wore in the 90’s (my second most viewed blog of all time.) Pre-Internet content was a gold mine for me in the wee Salty Ju days. Then, I was inspired by another writer I had been following, Julie Klausner, a Housewives recap writer for Vulture. I thought, I watch a TON of TV. I could do that too! I started by recapping Real Housewives of Beverly Hills–just like her, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Then, all of my college roomies had been obsessed with The Bachelor and urged me to start watching so I could blog that, too. Didn’t have to ask me twice! My very first season of The Bachelor was Chris Soules in 2015. Being a fresh set of eyes to the Bach universe made me the perfect candidate for recapping because I was gleefully entertained by every trope and had not yet realized every season is exactly the same. Once I was hooked on that, I also added in the network shows I was watching at the time like Nashville or Empire. That’s how I found myself watching TV almost every night with a notebook taking notes, then going into work the next morning and immediately typing out a recap to be posted by 9am the day after a show aired. I reasoned that all of the big pubs make sure recaps are posted by the time you start work the next day (so people like me can read it at their desk.) If you’re a part of Bach Nation, you know that they LOVE a 2 or 3 hour episode. There were some Monday nights where I was staying up until midnight to get as much pre-written as possible so I could still get it published first thing the next morning.

An example of the hard-hitting notes I was taking. Thank God I saved these precious words all these years.

AND DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON AWARDS SHOWS! Realizing I could turn two blogs from one awards show in a red carpet AND a recap, I was doing the most. I’d be sorting through hundreds of red carpet photos while watching the show, taking notes for a recap, AND live tweeting. In the early Twitter days, EVERYONE was talking about the show in real time. Accounts were letting comedians and writers do “takeovers” to give their commentary and obviously, I thought this was my moment to shine. I literally get exhausted thinking of how much I was working on a Sunday night fo free. I feel like this is a nice time to remind everyone *once again* that I have never made a dime off of this blog, nor have I ever been offered any sort of opportunity from it. Instead, I pay an annual fee for the domain and WordPress hosting just simply for this space to exist. But sure, let’s give kids millions of dollars to make ‘get ready with me’ videos on TikTok. 🙄

The Evolution

Now that we’ve established I’m the type of person who has put more time and effort into this website for 10 years than she has into any of her paying jobs combined, I think it’s suffice to say, this blog is incredibly important to me and has been a MASSIVE part of my adulthood. Of course, if this WAS a paying job, I’d probably grow to resent it and lose the spark I’ve managed to keep for this long. I write about exactly what I want to write about, no word count (clearly), no editorial feedback. And if someone reads and likes it, GREAT. And if not, I can remain blissfully unaware that no one likes what I wrote. Unless, like the commenters on my running errands during the workday humor piece, y’all are a bunch of dicks and comment that you hate what I wrote. Thankfully, my salties have only been positive commenters through the years and I truly appreciate that.

Since The Salty Ju’s inception, I’ve had 17 different jobs – honestly, it’s possible that number is higher because even I lose track of how many FT and PT gigs I’ve bounced through in the last ten years. That being said, I’m sure this blog has also cost me job opportunities. If I had a nickel for every time I said “it’s a very specific type of humor and it’s not for everyone,” I’d be able to pay for this domain for the next 10 years. I wear the logo on my sleeve (jean jacket). I changed all of my social media handles to The Salty Ju and at some point came to accept the fact that this isn’t a heightened version of myself for entertainment, it’s really just me. I am the Salty Ju and she is me. I put my actual personality out there for all to see and judge in every snarky blog. Which can work in my favor, like when the only boyfriend I’ve ever snagged supposedly started reading my blog long before we began our courtship, and it became a way for us to flirt and compare notes on classic 90’s flicks in our early dating days. Tip to all future suitors, ya better be a fan of the blog cause it ain’t going anywhere and complimenting my writing is the fastest way to my heart. And let’s get real…in 2019 and 2020 when I was going through a breakup from said boyfriend, then quit my job and moved back home, then that sly minx of a pandemic hit to really solidify the suckfest that was my life, this blog became my lifeline.

Between actual therapy, and me sitting on the couch of my parents guest room every night until 2 am writing “diary” entries that would soon become chapters for a book and eventually “Salty Stories” on the blog, writing was the only thing that kept me moving forward. That year was when The Salty Ju evolved from bitching about People’s Sexiest Man Alive to talking about shitty things that were going on in my life that felt like the end of the world, and trying to make it entertaining enough for others to relate to and laugh at. And thank God for that, because if I hadn’t hit my rock bottom (800 different times), I wouldn’t have thrown every minute of my life into writing a book, which wouldn’t have led me to getting connected with the satire community, which wouldn’t have resulted in getting published on websites other than my own and I never would’ve started taking myself seriously and calling myself a comedy writer. I still mostly do it as a bit, because I have imposter syndrome, but if I may be so bold to put this in writing, my end goal out of this whole adventure is to eventually publish my book. How long will that take? Beats the hell out of me. One thing’s for sure, if I can stick with a blog for this long without turning a profit, and put up with people asking me if I’m Jewish every time I tell them the name AND spell it, I can keep working toward becoming a published author.

The Stats

I’ve always been a numbers nerd because I’m type A and I love the shit out of accomplishing things. That’s why I’ll tell you that in 10 years I’ve published 625 blogs. 200 of those blogs were posted in 2015 (I TOLD you I had a lot to say!) For comparison on just how nuts I really was, in 2023 I published 15 blogs. BIG DIFF. Also, I’m laughing at the stats that WordPress gives me. According to them, my most popular day was February 4, 2019 with 331 views, which is odd because I don’t even think I published a blog that day. And, I’ve had a total of 144,288 visitors. S/O to all of you for finding my corner of the internet either completely on accident, or on purpose. Even if it was to hate-read.

The Highlights

For newcomers, the OG crew, or anyone who can’t remember 625 blogs (ME), below are 10 sleeper picks that hold up, or are just so ridiculous and uniquely me. To be fair, when you blog about timely pop culture events or happenings, with many links to social posts or YouTube videos that inevitably get removed, not much ages well. So I’ve tried to avoid linking to those. One thing that never goes out of style? My annual Hallmark Holiday movie blog that I’ve done all 10 years.

Since I’ve put so much blood, sweat, tears, and diarrhea into this labor of love through the years, it’d be a missed opp not to toss one last promo of old material into the mix. My TV recaps can still be relevant in the binging era as people re-watch or discover old TV shows. So if you happen to dive into the perils of reality TV or BAD scripted music-themed dramas, please don’t forget to follow along with my episodic rants.

And lastly, I’ve curated several playlists to match literally any mood you ever might have. From throwbacks in rap, pop, and punk, to TV specific soundtracks, to summer paloozas, to breakup songs. These are playlists I still have in rotation on the reg, and some I even created weird hype videos to promote. I really will stop at nothing to be embarrassing. Regardless, these playlists are timeless and still slap, so if you have Spotify, check them out!

The Kudos

AHright, I’m wrapping it up now, I swear. A couple months ago I took a sweatshirt to an event where a vendor does chain-stitching on the spot. I asked her to stitch The Salty Ju, because I can never have too much branded swag. Natch, I had to explain what that means and as I shared that it’s my 10 year old blog, she replied “oh, that’s cool that you’re still blogging, I remember back when it was big and I HAD to read my regular blogs every day.” Most people would let this backhanded compliment fly, but I’m not most people. *in Michael Jordan voice* And I took that personally. I thought she was being condescending AF telling me oh that’s cute you’ve hung onto a dying medium that absolutely no one cares about anymore. And I simmered on it until right now. She’s not wrong. Long-form writing was very much a fad that got WOMPED by the age of social media and audio/video content. Once people realized they could watch a 30 second video, or listen to a podcast while they did other shit, the blog pretty much died. RIP.

Leave it to me to join a trend at its downfall and then never let it out of my cold, dead hands. I DID consider other mediums many times. I attempted a podcast in 2018 and immeds started crying because I hated the sound of my voice. In 2020, I got way more into TikTok, unfortunately attempting dances 😬. I think we can all agree that ain’t me. Writing is what I like to do, and if that’s not cool then in the words of my sassy 7-year-old niece, WHO EVEN CARES?! What’s cool about this decade-long run is that people (you) still read what I have to say. Even if it’s just one person. Even if that one person is related to me and had a direct hand in bringing me onto this earth. HI MOM! 👋🏻 I write because it makes me feel better and if one person gets a case of the HAHA’s from it, that’s pretty awesome.

SO THANK YOU, READER! To my subscribers who get my ramblings delivered right to their inbox, GRAZIE MILLE. Even if those ramblings are delivered right to your spam folder. Still counts. To anyone who has commented or liked or reposted or interacted with any of my work at all on social media, MERCI. I see you, and you’re doing the lord’s work. The algorithm–especially on Facebook–is that the more interaction there is on a post, the longer it will live in a page’s feed and get resurfaced for new people to see. So every little bit helps for my quaint fanbase of Salties. Also, words of affirmation, though not my love language, gives me the warm fuzzies to keep writing. And of course, thank you to anyone who made an effort to celebrate this accomplishment with me IN PERSON in either New Jersey or Syracuse. Showing up to have a drink so I didn’t have to ring in this anniversary alone meant the world to me! If you didn’t make it, please know that you were swiftly added to the list of people who are dead to me. Last but certainly not least, to family and friends who have been a part of blogging fodder willingly or unwillingly, who have been forced to take countless obnoxious solo shots of me everywhere we go, who have been co-stars in my lil videos, who have had to edit writing or give feedback, I quite literally couldn’t have done it without ya. YOU DA REAL ONES.

My salty era is far from over. I’m gonna keep being publicly salty…and vulnerable, messy, self-deprecating, goofy, obnoxious, emotional, opinionated, sarcastic, and keep oversharing out loud for hopefully another decade. ❤️

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Salty Stories

I’m A Side Hustlin’ Hack

As luck would have it, exactly two weeks before I moved to a more expensive apartment, I got shitcanned by my freelance social media job that I had for 3 years, a supplemental income that I very much needed. But bad things don’t happen in isolated incidents, they happen in three’s, everyone knows that! At the same time I got swindled out of that, I was also told by my therapist of 6 years that my insurance dropped her and I owed her $700 for appointments that they didn’t cover and we’d have to break up. And THEN I made a compelling stats-heavy presentation at my full-time job asking for a raise and was given a pat on the head and told keep up the good work. YAY! Suffice to say, fulfilling my goal of moving to the beach came with an inner voice in my head that sounded a LOT like that little shit Stilwell sneering “you’re gonna lose” and “you stink” over and over again. And since I’m doing life by myself, it’s up to me to pull a Jimmy Dugan and whip a glove at that voice.

The cool thing about my generation is that when we’re forced to work a minimum of two jobs to survive because inflation and the housing market/rent prices have soared to astronomical levels and an average salary for a job requiring a college degree (that most people are still paying off) is $40,000, is that there’s a plethora of apps capitalizing on the need for fast cash. And instead of calling it like it is, pure desperation to pay our bills on time and not go into further debt, we call it a side hustle to sound sexy and mysterious. And some of these apps ARE sexy and mysterious! OnlyFans and Feetfinder just to name a couple…but the rest: Rover, GrubHub, Uber, DoorDash, Lyft, Care, Wag, Instacart, Shipt…not so much. After serious consideration of the aforementioned apps (cause nudes and toes are where the money’s at) I realized that I’ve seen far too many true crime docs to trust that one of these pervs wouldn’t somehow track me down and wear me as a skin suit. And so I opted for the safer route of snuggling pups via the Rover app.

I paid the overpriced $30 for a background check, uploaded a bunch of delfies, and tried not to sound like the kind of gal that used to sneak-pet dogs in Italy when their owners weren’t looking. I succeeded because suddenly I had a hot weekend with 5 drop-in visits booked. It was during this weekend that I had to take a hard look at myself in the mirror as I was yelling at my own dog to HURRY UP AND GO POTTY so I could walk other people’s dogs. Only to come home cloaked in the scent of a cheater. The air was thick with betrayal as Charlee came to the realization that not only was she forced to squeak out a dump under extreme duress but I was rushing her so I could step out with not one but two strange dogs in the same day. Chuck, if you’re reading this, please forgive me, Mommy’s sorry! You’ll always be my favorite dog to smother.

Not worth the wasted travel time or neglecting my own pooch, I dropped my Rover distance down to less than 5 miles continuing to hope that someone down the street with a full-time job that pays them enough to live off of would scoop me up as their regular lunchtime dog walker. I had already collected three 5-star reviews from my knack for writing a super cheesy report card and snapping an array of portrait-mode doggie pics that belong in an art gallery. Eat your heart out, Annie Leibovitz.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting any hits so it was time to move onto a new venture. After a very nerve-wracking night where my mom convinced me a dog owner I was doing a meet and greet with was going to be an axe murderer rapist, I was extra vigilant about doing apps where my probability of getting snatched was on the lower end. After sharing my concern with a friend of the program, he quickly pointed out that anyone who snatches me would give me right back after 10 mins of me yappin. So I’ve got that goin for me, which is nice. I decided on DoorDash. I figured I could bring people their food and drop it on their doorstep (minimal human contact=slight chance of being adult-napped) Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. DD hazed me by giving me a half hour shift 8 towns over to kick things off, which I took like a frat bro champ, desperate to pledge Delta Delta. In a half hour I delivered two Wendy’s orders to people who lived next door to each other and made $15. Needless to say, after this short stint, I had a real false sense of confidence that I could crush it as a dasher and make millions.

Which brings me to the real reason for this blog: my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of panhandling on the apps. Still active on Rover, I happened to get pinged for a drop-in visit with 3 dogs, all above 80 lbs. I certainly don’t think I’m Cesar Milan but I figured it wouldn’t be difficult to let these dogs out into their own backyard. The night before my scheduled meet and greet, the dog owner reached out to me and asked if instead of dropping in at their house, I could actually just take their 2 year old husky to my house for the day. Exsqueeze me? I’m not on the app to bring strange dogs into my home, I’m on the app to see how the top 1% (homeowners and people who can afford a dog walker) live. AND obviously to overwhelm their dog with affection for a nominal fee. After a phone conversation where she explained this dog was fresh from the shelter and still “in a destructive phase,” I told her that I also have a dog and happen to like the things in my home, including my overpriced Christmas tree that I (my mom) had just worked really hard to put up. Charlee was destructive for one month when I rescued her and after she ruined this piece of rare art curated by Christmas Tree Shop before I even had the chance to hang it up, I nearly sent her packing right back to Mississippi. So no, I’m not willing to bring another chomper riddled with separation anxiety into my new apartment.

We agreed that I would bring my dog to her house to meet the others and we’d go from there AKA I’d tell her I would be more comfortable watching her dog in its own home where it belongs. So I brought Chuckles to meet some new pup pals knowing that she’d never see them again but just trying to repent for the weekend I cheated on her so hard. This did not put me back in her good graces, in fact, I think at one point she gave me a look that very clearly read, “what the fuck, mom?!” It looked kinda like this:

As it turned out, these dogs were A LOT. They were big and loud and immediately ganged up on my little Chooch. She hated every second of this playdate and snapped her teeth like a croc to get them to back off, to which they said NOPE! In this high-stress and very barky few minutes, I learned that the husky has escaped their backyard several times now by attempting an Olympic trial-level high jump over the fence and also tunneling under the fence. This dog was giving Andy Dufresne a run for his money. Legend says that before she dove below sea level to resurface on the other side of the picket fence she turned to her doggie sibs and said, “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

As I was processing these deets amidst the chaos of howling, snarling, and my dog trying to crawl up inside my womb, I was simultaneously being asked to commit my whole Sunday to watching these giant furry a*holes rather than the previously requested hour, for a paltry sum of money. As many loyal readers of The Salty Ju know, I hate confrontation and awkward stranger interactions. I’d rather deteriorate into a skeleton than politely remove myself from an uncomfy sitch and saying no has never been an option for me. So when faced with this ultimately terrible dog watching set-up, I was ready to be like, “sure, babes, whatever you need!” instead of, “I’d rather die.”

So I nodded along like an idiot and when my dog was literally about to be eaten alive, I suggested putting her in the car before it got ugly. I went to bring her to safety and who trotted right out behind me but the escape artist herself in her easiest disappearing act to date. I was in shock. I hadn’t even been responsible for this dog yet and I already set her free into the wild. Knowing she had about 10 seconds before her mom realized what happened, she said SAYONARA, SUCKERS and took off down the road. What ensued next was straight out of a movie. The dog owner and her toddler son were not yelling the dogs name but speaking it at a normal volume and walking toward it at a casual ‘I just recently learned how to use my feet’ pace. There was no air of panic coming from them, meanwhile I was THE MOST frantic. I hysterically asked the owner if the dog would chase me if I ran in the opposite direction, seeking any sort of resolution, even one that might show what an uncoordinated blob of mashed potatoes I am. It was so far away at this point it wouldn’t have even seen my chicken legs take off to chase.

Not knowing what else to do to be helpful in this scenario and also riddled with guilt from being the gate-opening monster, I joined the search and rescue team that had more of a ‘hopefully this dog just runs back toward us’ energy about it. Several friendly neighbors stopped as they drove by and made things even more awks as they asked me about tendencies of a dog I’d met 5 minutes ago and told me to hop in with them to get it. Uh no sir, I was taught to never get in vans with strangers. Feeling rather useless, I took over toddler duty as I realized losing a dog and also having your 2 year old clipped by a car as he weaved all over the road shouting, “DOGGIE FREE!” might actually ruin this woman’s life. I held his little hand and vowed to not also set him free into traffic. After what felt like hours but was probably 10 mins, one of the neighbors got the dog into her car and happened to have a leash in there as well to prevent ole Seabiscuit from gunning for the Triple Crown again. As we walked back to the house the owner asked me if I babysit as well since I was so good with her son (read: I didn’t lose him) and I had to break it to her that I only babysit for families who I’ve vetted bring their A-game with a fully-loaded snack pantry. I’m kidding, I told her I actually hate kids. No but seriously, there’s a reason I didn’t join the Care app and it’s exclusively because it would be inapprops to say in my profile that I would only be willing to watch sleeping children so I can get paid to binge Netflix and my non-negotiable rate is $35/hr.

After that whirlwind, I thought FOR SURE she was going to state the obvious: that I was not cut out for this dog-sitting gig. But unfortunately for us all, she was ready to give me a tour of the house when we got back and I had to put my big girl panties on and do a lil practicing of the word no. I shared that I did not have the experience required for a 90 lb dog who would rather roam free like a Quileute shapeshifter than be constricted to a home. And then I beat it out of there as fast as I possibly could but not before I could think to myself, why would anyone with two kids under two add a third large breed dog to their wolfpack, a SIBERIAN HUSKY nonetheless, which was literally BRED to run?! This MF’er is pulling jailbreaks just so she can stretch her damn legs and stay in shape should she ever be called upon to sub in for the Iditarod.

Anywho, although it may be easy to dwell on the fact that I went along with this FAR longer than I should have, it’s important to celebrate my ginormous win here. Sure, I traumatized my dog with a 3 on 1 gang bang and showed that I’m inept at latching a gate BUT rather than saying sounds good, super excited to get underpaid to wrangle your poorly-behaved mutts who may or may not also wreck your house or run away and then texting her a cop-out once I was safely in my home…I said NO THANK YOU MA’AM right at her face. Round of applause for me.

Ok, now hold your applause because later this very same day, I tackled my first (and last) dinner shift for DoorDash. Scheduled for 5-7, I took my cocky delivery driver ‘tude out to the mean streets of Brick and was IMMEDIATELY humbled. I think it’s important to lay out my disadvantages for you right off the bat: I’m not from this area or this state in general, so not only do I have no clue where I’m going and have to rely on the GPS, but also I’m still on a learning curve with all of New Jersey’s stupid traffic patterns. The jughandle being the biggest culprit of my frustration. Sometimes you can take a left turn, sometimes you can’t. There’s no rhyme or reason to if it’s allowed or not, I just know that I’ll forever assume incorrectly and have to do an emergency three-lane sweep. Also, NJ loves to make an additional lane for .45 seconds and then taketh away. I’ll move over thinking I have to be in that lane for said jughandle and then BAM, lane is gone. I mean seriously, look at this ole ballsac lookin’ route just to hang a GD Louie. Not to mention the handful of times I’ve gone to the wrong location and realized I passed the right spot on the same side of the road, starting the whole crazy eights over again. It’s a miracle I haven’t yakked while driving here. Get your shit together, Jersey.

Secondly, I don’t eat at restaurants. When you live paycheck to paycheck, the easiest thing to save money on is takeout and if I’m gonna splurge on a night out I’d like to drink my hard-earned cash in the form of an espresso martini. So that means I don’t even have a general idea where restaurants in my area are because I don’t frequent them. Thirdly, and this is one I genuinely underestimated, I’m night blind. In my teen years I went to the eye doctor and got a pair of placebo glasses. They had no prescription but “glare resistant” lenses that were supposed to help with headlights at night. Mmk. Obviously I stopped wearing them almost immediately because they were basically what we now know as blue light glasses and they didn’t do shit. I also just figured no one can see at night?! I mean, is anyone really crushing it vision-wise in the pitch black cloak of night that starts at 4:30pm for half of the year?! You can get back to me on that.

Now that you understand my disabilities, let me now point out that basically nothing is in my control on DoorDash. They send me orders, I accept them all so I keep a 100% acceptance rate and I can’t see where they’re going to be delivered to until I pick the food up. Could be 5 mins away, could be 45 mins away. I have no real control over the timing of anything as restaurants could be busy, traffic could be bad, etc. I have no clue where I am so I just have to listen to the GPS even when it stinks and tries to send me on the Parkway. I refuse to give the state of NJ any more money on my own day to day travel so over my dead body am I paying a toll so you can get your burrito 2 minutes faster. All that to say, I’m at the mercy of all of these external factors just because I’m hard up for cashola.

Ok, enough exposition, here’s where the night went off the rails. I was dinged for an order at a diner, promptly got lost on the way because it was on the left hand side of a divided highway and GOD FORBID we be able to get across the street in this state. When I got there the order hadn’t even been started yet. Being the good lil dasher that I am, I messaged the recipient to tell them it wasn’t my fault. In the time I spent waiting, DoorDash was like hey how about you pick up another order on top of this one that’s clearly not on time, making it even more late! OK, SURE! Eventually I scooped both foods then followed Google Maps 30 mins away to a gated community where I had to give the address to even be allowed in.

Naturally my cool confidence was still oozing out of me as I nervously blabbed to the security guard that I’m new to the Dash game and didn’t know what I was doing…did he need my ID or a crisp C-note to open the gate for me? He took pity on me and opened the gate probably sensing that I was about shout FIRE IN THE HOLE and toss the food out the window to get the hell out of there. As I’m winding through this elite village, I finally stop when the GPS announces in her holier than thou voice “you have arrived.” Oh, have I, bitch? I was in a cul-de-sac and most certainly had not arrived. I circled once in my car then said fuck it and started pounding the pavement to get my blind peepers closer to the numbers. None of which were the address listed. I can only imagine how much the NextDoor app was popping off with olds raising alerts for the chick in a full sweatsuit circling with wild eyes. (JK there probs wasn’t any commentary because I’m a white female.) I was stressed and knew I had someone else’s chicky parm sub still sitting in my car getting cold. And if there’s one thing I vowed to never be again, it’s stressed out by a job that doesn’t even give me health insurance. It ain’t worth it, BB. So I dropped the food, snapped a pic and hoped this person’s actual house was close enough that they could just walk two doors down and snag their food. As I’m whipping out of there to get to my next delivery, I receive the following text:

CRUSHING IT. What’s comforting to know is that at least we live in a world where everyone is super rational and very kind and forgiving to those in the service industry. SIKE! I woke up in a cold sweat later that night remembering that she could make my career as a dasher very short-lived with just one shitty review because I couldn’t find her dumb gate-kept house. And not for nothing but who orders disco fries for delivery? I did her a favor by delivering it to the wrong house and saving her from a styrofoam container of cold wet socks. After that peak dashing faux-pa, I closed out the night by paying a toll to deliver Chic-Fil-A and missing the road because I couldn’t see the street sign, again trolling very far on foot to circle back (because of course it was a one-way road.) Struggling to find house numbers, I finally stumbled upon the right one only to be plunged into blindness once again as a security flood light flashed my eyeballs right out of their damn sockets. As my corneas burned through my skull, I managed to snap a picture of their sogz waff fries and drink that I almost spilled on my little apartment 5K that I didn’t even get a medal for and ended my dash. At the close of this banner day, I was awarded $30 for a whole lot of sweatin’ and squintin’ and the harsh realization that I can’t hack it on the apps. UNLESS…anyone out there wants to pay to see what I’m workin with down below. 😏

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