With so many rumors constantly swirling around about Beyoncé, her upcoming HBO documentary, “Life is but a Dream” promises to be a huge hit with her stans, fans, and haters alike. According to USA Today, this documentary goes into a lot more detail about the usually private entertainer than we ordinarily get to see. Two of the issues she discusses in the documentary are her miscarriage two years ago and the surrogate rumors going around about her. According to the USA Today article:
“Most notably: She opens up about her miscarriage two years ago, saying that one week she heard a heartbeat – and the next, nothing. And she talks about how devastating the loss was to her and how she retreated to the studio to deal with it. Read the rest of this entry
Ok. So maybe the title of this article might seem contradictory at first, but hear me out. We are increasingly living more and more of our lives online, sharing our most and least significant life events with hundreds of our closest friends through Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Thanks to social networking, I now know that my ex-boyfriend from 8th grade had leftover pizza and Guinness for breakfast this mornining, that my friend’s ex’s babymama’s sister just broke up with her boyfriend… again, and that my coworker just got her first Brazillian wax and now she’s “sooooo smooth”. Back in the day, we used to call this TMI (Too Much Information), but now the online community has dubbed a new term for this sort of exibitionism; “oversharing”
I think I just broke a world record and a toilet bowl at the same time.
And directly proportional to the increase in the amount of oversharing on the web is the increase in the number of people complaining about people oversharing on the web. You know, the self-appointed “oversharing police” who’s duty it is to shake their internet finger at anyone who airs more than the acceptable threshold of dirty laundry on the internet? You’ll know the sharing police when you see them. They often say things like “I can’t believe she’s putting all her business out there like that” or “She should be ashamed” but try as they might, they just can’t seem to find the “unfollow” button. Read the rest of this entry
For the past six months or so, I’ve been an active part of the Pinterest community. I’ve found it to be a wonderful place full of DIY projects, outfit ideas, domestic tips and tricks, and yummy recipes. I mean, where else can you get weight loss tips and an Oreo buttercream cupcake recipe on the same site? Pure genius!! In my relatively short time on the site, I have amassed an array of boards that cover just about every topic you could think of, but lately I’ve been giving one of my boards the serious side-eye. …my Fitspo board.
For those of you who don’t know, “Fitspo” is short for Fitness Inspiration. It’s where people (mostly women and girls) repin, Instagram, or post pictures of beautifully chiselled, youthful, cellulite-free female bodies in minimal clothing as inspiration for exercise and healthy eating. Many of these images have inspirational quotes on them and come from fitness ads for athletic apparel companies. Not quite as controversial as it’s Thinspo predecessor, the Fitspo craze has been making more and more of a presence on the online photo-sharing community. A quick google search will yield over a million results for the term, ranging from sweaty women in sports bras running up a mountain or working out in the gym, to pictures of super-skinny models with phrases like “would you rather eat that bag of chips or look like this?”
These photos of scantily clad, rock-hard bodies are supposed to inspire me to work out and eat right. They’re supposed to motivate me to be a healthier person, but more and more lately, I’ve been feeling like they’ve pretty much just replaced music videos and Calvin Klein ads as the newest unattainable body image I’m supposed to aspire to. Read the rest of this entry
Bitch don’t kill my vibe, bitch don’t kill my vibe
I can feel your energy from two planets away
I got my drink, I got my music
I would share it but today I’m yelling
Bitch don’t kill my vibe, bitch don’t kill my vibe
So here’s the all too common scenario: It’s Friday night. It’s been a long week and you and your friends are going out to this new lounge downtown that you’ve heard so much about. You put on your hottest outfit and head out on the town with your besties, excited about what drunken debauchery the night might bring.
Halfway through the night, that one friend (who everyone told you to leave at home) starts chiming in:
“Ugh… these drinks are so weak”,
“This music is giving me a headache”
“There are no attractive guys here”
“Who picked this place anyway?”
“I should have just stayed home.”
Nothing pleases her. She is having a terrible time and is intent on making sure everyone present not only knows it, but feels it as well. Even though she’s miserable, she would rather sit around with her arms folded and complain than actually do something about it.
You and your friends try to cheer her up: You order her a shot, try to get her to dance, make silly faces at her. Whatever you have to do to turn her into the fun-loving version of her you had invited and wished had shown up. But, despite your best efforts, the corners of her mouth refuse to budge. Now there is a palpable tension in the air, and all hope of an epic night out with the besties has turned to a pity party because of your friend Debby D. Downer, Queen of the Buzzkills. Read the rest of this entry