12 Reasons Why ‘The Perfect Proposal’ Video Was Actually The Worst Proposal

It’s not abnormal for me to spend the larger portion of my day scoffing at the articles and videos that have gone viral on Facebook; Sometimes it’s a riveting ‘What kind of sandwich are you?’ quiz; Sometimes it’s a (surprsingly believable) article about how the death of a recent celebrity was all a hoax; Sometimes it’s a video of a guy coming home to his dog from the war -it all varies. But yesterday it was ‘The Perfect Proposal,’ and girls went nuts. 

http://candlelightfilms.com/the-perfect-proposal/

I honestly don’t even know where to start... There is just so much wrong with this proposal video.

1. The Couple.

Um, do they even know each other?

I guess we should begin with the text prelude so kindly provided for us (our first warning that this is a nightmare)-

“After numerous Skype dates, phone calls, and 350,000 sky miles, Levy decided it was time to ask Tiffany to be his wife.”

I mean, do I even need to waste the energy explaining how ridiculous this sounds? Here are two young people who have never even lived in the same city, let alone same apartment and Levy thinks it’s time to get married. Where’s your logic, Levy? This is a terrible idea. He doesn’t even know what her breathe smells like, she doesn’t even know if he snores! This is going to be a disaster, and I hope they make a divorce video.

2. Him

I hated him as soon as I saw him. Everything from his tucked-in shirt to his underbite, it's all disgusting.

3. Her

Why is she dressed like a tween? Why is she so awkward and uncomfortable?

Wait, I’ll answer that. She’s experiencing the worst proposal ever, to a complete stranger. Also, why can’t this bitch walk? She looks like a drunk baby giraffe

4. A 13.5 Hour Long Engagement

Let me get this straight...she knew the entire day that she was going to be getting proposed to? This raises my blood pressure and now I need a snack.

5. The Limo

A proposal should not have the same vibe as a Sweet 16 birthday party. This is so wrong and so tacky.

The only good part about this video so far is that he said “mimosas” …but then quickly ruined by the worst part when he says the sweet 16 limo proposal limo is “stocked with tissues."

At this point, I just want to punt this guy in the shin.

6. The waste of money. 

Hello guys, when it comes to your proposal, please spend most cents on the diamond. Being optimistic, I’m assuming it was him who paid for all of her friends to fly out and that’s adding up to a couple grand in my head. Not to mention the several mani-pedis and lunch bill. While some girls might like this idea, all this is doing is adding dollar signs in my head to how much bigger her diamond could have been.

Her friends don’t seem like the ‘salad and water’ kind of gals either.

7. Scratch the nail salon, entirely.

This is fucking weird. This should be the best friends duty. It’s her job to figure out a way to make sure her friend has a nice manicure before her left hand makes its debut on Instagram.

Guys, just get a dope ring. Most girls I know always have their nails painted anyway. I mean, if you don’t have a gel mani on right now, then honestly what are you doing with your life?

8. ‘The Proposal Dress’

Oh, I didn’t know you got to PICK OUT what you were going to wear the night you got proposed to BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SURPRISE.

(I could write a whole other article on her dress choice.)

9. His Friends.

Well, they all look 14.

And why are half of them in athletic clothes and the other half in suits? Now I’m annoyed at how much it probably cost him to hire the local high schools Mathlete team to play as his friends for the day.

These are all expenses that could be being added to the diamond.

10. He Proposed on a Football Field. 

...HE PROPOSED ON A FOOTBALL FIELD.

11. Basic Boring Speech.

Everything he said was all things I’ve heard before. I couldn’t find an sliver of passion between them, it was like a bad Drew Barrymore movie. I don’t even think he knows her favorite color. I’m honestly not quite sure she knows his name!

Also, his grand plan of having both their parents there is a disgusting way for them to meet for the first time. Her poor father.

12. The Ring

Just because I’m on a hating roll, the ring looks like a stale Cinnabon...and that’s all this video did for me, was make me want to go get a Cinnabon.

Getting proposed to is supposed to be one of the most intimate and magical moments in a girls entire life. This video is actually my nightmare proposal, a big part of it being that it’s on video and available for a girl to write a critical blog about. I don’t want a random camera crew around when I’m getting a pedicure (mainly because I’m ticklish) but definitely not when I’m being proposed to on a stinky football field. It was clearly all about him and what he wanted. I really only have one requirement for my proposal-- it's that having hate-YouTube-comments on the most important moment of my life to not be an option. The whole thing was awful except for that she was able to get a little tipsy along the way.

Understanding why no one would want to propose to me,

Kelly

XO

How Modern Day Love Has Turned Into A Game…Who’s Winning?

Nothing feeds our generations anxiety more than the classic apprehensiveness of the if/what/when to text the person you’re maybe, kind of sort of crushing on game.

“Should I text him first?” the flustered girl will ask. “What should I say!?” And here is when two or three of her best girlfriends huddle around her and try to concoct the most perfect, well-calculated text.

Girl sends: ‘Hey, what’s up?’

Now, the waiting begins.

One friend is saying he’s probably just in the shower, or he’s not by his phone; another friend might be saying that he’s purposely not answering, or he’s just not into it. Either way, we are all dying with suspense.

Fourteen minutes later, he texts back: “Chillin, hbu”. Obviously she’s going to wait at least twenty minutes before sending her next meaningless text, trying to compete on being more breezy and casual than he is and then it continues into an awful snowball effect.

…This is a prime example of one of the countless times we play ‘the love game.’ It’s a game that we are all losing because our generation doesn’t even know we’re playing. I’m just starting to figure it all out, but I can tell you that we’re definitely all losing.

First of all, aren’t we all exhausted? We are all so focused on making sure that we are ‘playing it cool’ and keeping it casual that it’s not cool at all.

We are all at fault. The female population blames guys for love never working out because ‘they are all horny douchebags and the nice guys are boring’. What girls are saying here is that they basically crave the game, they crave the anticipated time lapse between texts and wondering what he’s doing.

I’m a perfect example of this because when a guy texts me back TOO FAST, I get creeped out and think he’s too eager but when a guy takes TOO LONG to text me back, I freak out and think he’s not into me or he’s with someone else; ultimately making me want him to want me more. It’s fucking twisted.

We all want what we can’t have. I’ve heard the story too many times where the nice guy is annoyed that the girl doesn’t like him and she’s obsessed with a guy who doesn’t treat her right. I’d like to bet that if the girl decided to like the nice guy, he would lose interest because it’s not a chase anymore.

Do we want to be dating and be in control and be the one who is being chased or do we all really want that flawless deep love relationship with our soulmate and best friend? Does that even exist? Is any relationship even flawless?

Girls, don’t be pathetic. It’s no wonder you’re all single and complaining about it. We know that we all have those ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ decorations all over our apartments so how are we only Bitching, Whining, and Complaining?

Here’s a tip: Stop tweeting/instagramming dumb quotes about what you ‘deserve.’

Example: “A guy should ruin your lipstick, not your mascara.”When you do this, it paints a picture to me that you’re sitting around, staring into the sky holding a grudge on some frat guy who ‘didn’t treat you right’ and you’re now thinking of all the things he SHOULD be doing. On to the next one, sister.

Guys, Stop acting like it’s wrong to have real feelings for a girl, especially when a special one comes along. You think sleeping with random blacked out girls makes you cool? It doesn’t, it gives you HPV. If you want to walk around feeling like a boss, then take a look at the real bosses among you. Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, the list could go on. The most bad ass men in entertainment are devoted men to a strong woman by their side.

We both have unrealistic expectations. Girls expect to be spoiled by some make believe knight in shining armor. Guys expect a make believe girl who looks good naked and also orders a bacon cheeseburger. Honestly, we are all fucked when it comes to real relationships. Once we get over the initial game of getting one another, we fight to have the control in the relationship. The game doesn’t end, it just escalates to a different level. It’s not really about love, it’s about power and how others view you and your relationship. So until shit changes, looks like we are all single for life.

Live Laugh Love,

Kelly

XO

Chelsea Handler Retiring: The Ground Break Is Worth The Heart Break

After Chelsea Handler’s seven year run as an innovative woman talk show host, I think it’s time we show our sharp and witty homegirl a little gratitude.

I have personally been a fan of Chelsea from the very beginning. I deem her to be this generation’s most influential female in comedy. She has had a huge impact on my life as I am a female pursuing stand up comedy along with writing about my sexual endeavors. Chelsea inspired me to do the above without feeling an ounce of shame.

Being shameless is what Chelsea has always done best. The reason why masses of people react and respond to her shtick is not entirely because of her jokes or her smutty attitude, it’s the fact that she hurled into speaking out and owning her refusal to dovetail into societies traditional notions of a female’s code of behavior.

It wasn’t Chelsea’s fame and fortune that earned my respect, it was how she made me feel like it was okay to not shun that little voice in my head that always made me feel set apart from the crowd. I have always felt that I didn’t fit in with big groups of people; it felt like I was living alone in my head and observing my peers with a high degree of distaste.

I remember hearing Chelsea once say in an interview that if you have a little voice in your head that’s constantly making fun of the idiots around you, you should bring that voice to life because chances are, other people are thinking the same thing.

Chelsea made it okay for women to say whatever they were feeling or thinking and to have no apologies for it. I don’t know if I could have put that faith in that voice if it wasn’t for Chelsea being on my TV screen every night. To be a comedian isn’t necessarily to be an asshole, it’s to be an observer with a distinct point of view.

The recipe of comedy is to deliver a smart premise (something that makes people nod their head in agreement with you), and then make them laugh. Comedy done right is making someone think, ‘Oh My God, I thought I was the only one who thought that/did that.’ Chelsea said what everyone else thought but didn’t have the balls to say.

A lot of people have muttered that she slept her way to the top and is undeserving of her success. To ‘make it’ in the entertainment business is all about luck anyway and shit, if I could get to the top WHILE having sex, I would do that too. I must just be sleeping with the wrong people because the only perk I’ve gotten from sleeping around in Hollywood is tacos half off at SaddleRanch.

People may also have a problem with Chelsea’s churlish persona, but you’re talking

about her and that’s the point. I’d like to set something straight here. In Hollywood, if your job is to be a ‘personality’ (which is what ‘Chelsea Lately’ was) then you have to commit to that personality. Chelsea’s job was to portray a loud mouthed, vodka drinking, promiscuous sex-having woman. It wouldn’t fit if she was overly sweet and gracious, it just wouldn’t make sense.

Chelsea leaving E! is not a bad thing and neither is the way that she went out.  She kept it professional and worked until her contract was up. What more could we expect? She knew she couldn’t handle talking about the Kardashian’s and Justin Bieber anymore. It’s not her ditching her fan base or hating on the E! network, it’s Chelsea being the Chelsea we all fell in love with in the first place. She is going to do what Chelsea wants to do-travel the world and experience new things, new men, strong drinks and hopefully write about it so we can all be entertained throughout her escapades.

I think a lot of us will miss Chelsea being on every night at 11 but I’m on board for where she will take us next. So let’s all thank Chelsea for making a girl feel like it’s okay to do what she wants with her mind, voice and body. You’re a real gem, Chels. Can’t wait to watch you kick ass at your next enterprise, Xo.

A Letter To #FitChicks

Dear “#FitChicks”,

First of all, don’t worry; I’m not about to scoff being fit. 

I am also not going to go on an annoying rant about how you should all stop talking about being fit. (I already did that, before it became cool.) Now it’s actually not the fitness freaks that need to calm down, it’s everyone thinking they are being funny and original by complaining about the fitness freaks that need to calm down.  

Having said that, I am simply just going to offer some advice to all of the girls who are mad into fitness right now. Here we go...

Don’t stop working out, don’t stop eating healthy, and don’t stop instragramming your protein and motivational quotes if you don’t want to, but do think carefully about the method that I am about to share with you... 

It is my considered opinion that the more you express through social media about how fitness is your life and how you are going to the gym to ‘keep calm and go lift’ (...all camouflaging the real message that you’re trying to send: 'someone please give me attention!') --the more you’re doing it wrong. 

Here’s an idea: don’t post about how much you’re working out. When you do this, you're raising expectations for how good your body better be looking next time you post a mirror selfie. 

A more chic technique is to keep your hard work and clean eating on the DL and just show up to a party one day looking bomb as fuck. This way, no one is annoyed by you, no one has expectations and everyone is like ‘DAYUM.’

That’s what you want. You don’t want people knowing how hard you work to look just ‘basic’.

The truth: I wake up five days a week at 5:23am and I workout before work. I really do that-it’s insane. I don’t post about it because what if I ever have arm fat in a picture? Oh, hell no. If I posted about it constantly, everyone would be thinking, ‘yikes, she works out THAT much and still can’t manage to lose all of her study abroad weight. Poor girl.’ No thank you!

Life as a lady is just one big mind game. Be a mental slut and never let them see you sweat. (DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE!?)

Keep it chic, chicas!

Making the world a better place,

Kelly 

XO

ONCE UPON A LOUBOUTIN: My Date With A Millionaire

Sometimes it’s nice to take a look back and reflect on where you were in your life a year ago to observe how much you’ve grown (or not grown). I am doing that today which has inspired me to share this silly story. 

This day last year, I went on a date with a multi-millionaire. And it was ridiculous. 

Who was this guy and how did I stumble upon him, you ask?

At the time, my friend was working as a personal assistant to this crazy rich guy with crazy demands. She spent her days shopping for him, getting his cars washed and essentially just wiping his ass. I was just a bartender at the time and doing some freelance production work. (In LA, if someone tells you that they do freelance production work, it’s just a really fancy way of them telling you that they are unemployed.) To come to the point, a lot of my days were free so I would just cruise around with her and watch rich people be rich people- it was actually pretty fun.

I had also just broken up with someone who I thought was supposed to be the love of my life, so I was pretty sad and needed to keep busy and stay around people. A year later, I just let go of another someone who I thought was supposed to be the love of my life, so clearly my rationality levels haven’t changed much. Anyways, I was pretty heartbroken and didn’t want to date anyone else. I just wanted to drink whiskey, cry and watch Rachel McAdam’s movies. My friends were getting pretty tired of me being hungover by 4pm so my friend told her crazy rich boss to take me out to dinner. At first, I was like, ‘absolutely no way.' Then, we went to happy hour. After I got a couple drinks in me, she convinced me, ‘it’s just dinner, you don’t have to marry the guy.’ So, I drunkenly agreed to go to dinner with her rich asshole boss. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Day Of Date:

I for sure wasn’t taking the actual date seriously but I did know that I wanted to look GOOD. I mean, it’s not like we were going to Panera. I started getting ready at about 3pm. I wore my most comfortable wedges from Marshalls and some skinny jeans with a 20 dollar backless top I bought on Melrose the day before. My whole outfit put together probably cost 80 bucks. (But trust, I made it work.) From there, I pretty much just raped my face with foundation and then dipped it in bronzer. I had hair extensions in, fake eyelashes on and tit cutlets--just enhancing everything to make me look like I kind of, sorta, maybe fit in to wherever we were going. If someone were to ask me that day, “are those real?” it would have been quite the loaded question. But man, did I look good. 

He picked me up in his 911 Porsche convertible and his entire outfit loudly expressed that it cost more than my entire life savings. I was a little nervous because it’s not really my style to just go out with a total stranger (unless we met on Tinder) all I knew about this guy was that he was a needy rich asshole who drove my friend nuts. Nevertheless, he was being very sweet to me, so masal tov! Let’s do this. 

We went to dinner at some bougey steakhouse where Beyonce eats. My friend had told him/warned him that I’m a big vodka drinker so he ordered me a Grey Goose Cosmo and it came with dry ice and this made Kelly very happy. I had four of them in less than an hour and didn’t feel bad about it at all. I mean, this guy had to know that I needed to be fucked up to live through this evening. 

As the Cosmo's were flying back, he was becoming more and more interesting and my jokes were getting funnier and funnier. I tend to like people who like me so I wasn't hating this guy, I was actually enjoying myself! I also knew this mother fucker was going to feed me right, so I showed up with an appetite. I don’t know if any of you have drank with me before, but I don’t just eat when I’m drunk, I EAT when I’m drunk. Bring on the steak brotha!

I don’t remember too many details, but I do know that there was a seafood tower and a 600 dollar bottle of wine. I sure do love my wine, but no wine is worth that much money. My 300sq foot studio apartment at the time wasn’t worth that much money. Do you know how many wedges I could get from Marshalls for 600 dollars? This guy was trying to get his dick wet and he wasn’t fooling anyone. I started to feel slimy for even being there with him, I was totally that girl-the young niave girl in Hollywood wearing Forever 21 out to eat with a sleazy old rich guy. I could feel the servers talking about me and judging me. It felt similar to college when you'd walk past a clique of girls from your rival sorority on a Monday afternoon in the library after a weekend of blacking out and embarrassing yourself and maybe making out with one of guys that they were in an undefined relationship with. Perhaps you can visualize the look I’m talking about. 

The bill came and I’m not exactly sure how much it was, I just know that I saw a comma. (Yes. A comma. On dinner.) He dropped me off and I went right to my bathroom and threw up. Looking back, I should have sold my puke. If there is anything I learned that night, it’s that sometimes it takes waking up on your bathroom floor to realize what a catch you are. 

Day After Date:

My birthday was just a few days away (July 5, message me for my address and you can send gifts). He asked me if I wanted to go on his private jet with him and go to Cabo. Well, I would like the private jet and I would like Cabo but I didn’t want him to be there. At this point, I was viewing him as a cool buddy to have, but the thought of kissing him or even just touching him made my vagina curl up into a dry dusty ball. It actually stressed me out. Like, my vagina felt like it needed a cigerette just thinking about letting him enter us. I don’t care how much I drank or how much I was in Cabo, nothing was going to make me attracted to this guy. His American Express was a different story. I politely declined his offer to Cabo and he said, "Ok, well I'll get you something else instead." After just one date, this dude bought me a pair of Christian Louboutins (which are like 1300 dollar shoes at least) to wear on my birthday. I don’t know what he was smoking thinking that I would wear those on my birthday-I have my game face on for my birthday and sandals it is! 

I can’t imagine what I would have gotten if I slept with him. Actually, I probably would have gotten a Mercedes G Wagon and a nose job. 

What's my problem with all of this?

I was well fed, groomed, massaged and owned a pair of shoes that only escorts and celebrities have--but I hated everything about it. The outside of me loved it. I loved Instagramming my shoes, I loved telling the story to my friends...but the inside of me felt shitty, he did all of those things voluntarily but I still felt like I was using him. I felt like one of those hoes that Chris Brown keeps whining about. Those hoes really aint loyal. 

I felt like it was wrong to accept all of these lavish gifts from a person I had no intention of sleeping with (don’t worry, I’m not an idiot--this decision was made after the spa day). I told him about how I didn’t feel right accepting the shoes because I wasn't romantically interested in him and that I was going to return them. This made him irate. He went off on me and called me ungrateful and said that I had issues with men. Um, first of all, his first tip on my "issues with men" should have been the fact that I was going out with him in the first place. I’m pretty sure not fucking him and not accepting the shoes was me doing something that my father would actually be proud of, so Bye Felicia. I went to the store to try to return the shoes. Long story short, they did not accept returns so I’m stuck with these ridiculous shoes that are just sitting in my closet reminding me of the puke I should have sold. 

Moral of the story:  

Los Angeles has a reputation for being populated with some of the worst human beings. This is because it’s a materialistc town where you are judged by how much money you have, or come off to have. In reality, your true character is regardless of the enviornment you are in, you choose to be the kind of person you want to be. From my experience, money makes people crazy. Although this guy was waking up in a Beverly Hills mansion every morning and driving the nicest cars and wearing the most expensive clothes, he was not happy. His money was all he had. Money became his character, what he thought women would see in him and what he used to impress them. There is no reason for a man to be dropping that much bread on a 22 year old girl he knows is only there for the story to tell/blog to write. He enjoys being 'the rich guy'. Pretty pathetic. If anything, rich guys intimidate me because I know it’s not my personality that’s going to sell them, it’s probably my personality that’s going to ruin any chance I had in keeping them. The purpose of the date was just to have a fun night and try to move on from the guy I was upset about. It had the opposite affect. I would have rather been sitting at a sticky Quizno’s with the other guy than at some fancy Hollywood restaurant with the rich guy. 

The whole situation just made me feel uncertain about what the hell I was doing in LA in the first place. Reflecting a year later, I still don't know what the hell I'm doing in LA--but I think it's the same thing I would be doing anywhere else- sitting at work, not working and blogging instead. But fuck, it is nice out! 

Two Truths And A Lie:

I’m not mad about the stores no return policy. I did however exchange the black pair he got me for a nude pair. The purpose of this wasn’t solely so I could get two Instagram pics out of it, making everyone think I owned two pairs. 

In a really good place, (I think?)

Kelly. 

TIS THE SEASON: BREAKUP SEASON

Every year when the weather gets warmer, the couples become fewer. I like to call this time ‘breakup season’. It deserves to be it’s own season because without fail, it happens every year. And I love it. It's sort of fun to watch. Personally, I get pleasure seeing that annoying couple who was always #mcm'ing and #wcm'ing each other finally break up. Healthy? No. True? 100% 

But it's not just them…Usually breakup season is just a convenient way to end an unhealthy relationship.

I should preface this article with saying that this is only regarding most relationships. Very seldom are relationships totally pure and honest (besides me and my boyfriend. He totally doesn't SnapChat any other girls...Just kidding, I don’t have a boyfriend). Anywho, problems within the relationship have probably been marinating since even before Valentine’s Day but who’s going to breakup right before Valentine’s Day? The cold drinks and crop tops are just the catalyst to most breakups. 

It is my theory that warm weather is just bad news bears for relationships. Only the strongest relationships can survive summertime. If you want a relationship to work, start dating after right after summer is over, like in September. This is the best time to start a new relationship because it's like starting a new school year. You're over the spontaneity of summer and are kind of craving some routine. Being single is really only tempting during the summer time. Once September hits, you've got holidays in literally every single month to keep you busy and you probably want to share that time with someone and there are so many opportunities for presents! (And excuses to over eat and drink too much red wine.) 

Let me calendar this for you:

September-Perfect weather, boots and scarves all day long, you look cute and skinny in everything you wear. You also still have that sunkissed glow on the apples of your cheeks. Perfect time to start a relationship.

October- This is when you make your debut as a couple when you show up to your friends Halloween party in a couple costume. If true love isn’t dressing up like Tinkerbell and Peter Pan, than I honestly just don’t know what is. 

November- Perfect time to meet the fam at Thanksgiving. You guys are getting more serious by the holiday! 

December- Christmas time is the best time to be in a relationship. And that’s very obvious and no one can argue with me about that. You can be cold and cuddle up together. You can drink Christmas flavored lattes together. You can take snowy walks outside together. The list goes on. If you are not in a relationship during Christmas time, you’re probably somewhere feeling depressed. It’s okay, you’ll get em’ next September tiger! 

January-Can’t breakup before New Years! It is legit to have a midnight kiss (and please don’t try to tell me that you’re ‘totally cool’ with your midnight kiss being with your best girlfriend. She has probably been going ham on the sour cream and onion dip all night.) Besides, it’s still so cold in January, this is the perfect time to binge watch a new series together. 

February- HASHTAG OBVI!!! As if anyone would ever break up before Valentines Day! That is romantic suicide. Even if you hate the person, just down a bottle of cough syrup and power through it. 

March-A lot of couples are still rolling with it...trying to act like they still like each other but sort of noticing a wandering eye. A lot of the passion and heat has probably fizzled by now, and that’s totally natural. 

And then, April showers bring....May and June breakups.

You can blame it on the drinks, the bikinis, or the jealousy but warm weather brings on a lot of anxiety in relationships. We are all only human. It’s hard to maintain a relationship when there are people walking around half naked; not to mention when you’re downing Orange Crushes and Mai Tai’s left and right. You don't want to deal with the anxiety of a relationship in the summer-that's what the fall is for! The fall is perfect for anxiety. You should only be two things in the summer: drunk and tan. 

So, I say we all respect what the planet wants for us during these summer months....Go be drunk and tan. 

Two Truths And A Lie: I just got out of a (mini) relationship. Now I really need someone to come over and fix my printer. I'm cool with it all because it's not like I was daydreaming of having picnics on the beach with him or anything. 

Shalom. 

I Love Lucy

Thirteen years ago, I met a sweet little furry friend named Lucy who began to fill my life with so much love and joy (and even more dog hair). Lucy and I had an instant bond and the story behind it is not your typical 'Girl Meets Dog' story.

It was summertime and my Mom found sweet little Lucy walking around on a neighbors driveway. It was raining outside so my Mom brought the wet little pup into our warm home where she got dry and hung out with our beagle named Hank. We checked her collar and called the number of her owner. No answer. We kept calling and calling but still were not getting an answer. In the meantime, Hank and Lucy got along very well and I remember being overwhelmed with how cute she was, like I could have eaten her, she was so cute.

After hours and hours of having her in the house, we finally got a call from a woman who stated she was Lucy's owner and she was in town from Florida visiting her daughter who was having her first baby. She had been in the hospital all day which is why she never got back to us. Lucy must have gotten out and randomly wandered over to our neighborhood. Eventually, when she was done at the hospital, she came to our house and picked Lucy up. I was sad to see her go but I also felt lucky to meet such an adorable little doggie.

Then, the next morning, my Mom went to leave for work and there was little Lucy--sitting on our front porch wagging her tail, looking at my Mom like, "I'm back!"

I was still in bed. Lucy came running up the stairs, slid into my room and jumped on my bed and I was being woken up with sweet wet kisses. My Mom called her owner, let her know that Lucy got out again and assured her that Lucy would be safe at home with me. I probably just sat and talked to Lucy all day telling her how cute she was and letting her lick my face.

This went on for about four days. Lucy would get out in the morning, come to our porch, hang out with me. Then at night, her owner would come and get her. I was falling in love with little Lucy. I remember being amazed at how cute and precious she was, she would sleep in a little ball next to me weighing all of maybe seven pounds.

One day I came home after playing in the pool all day and my parents sat me down and asked, "If you could have anything in the whole wide world what would it be?" Lucy was on my lap and I was petting her and I said, "for Lucy to be my dog forever." I remember being so surprised when they said "Ok. You can keep her."

Apparently her owner saw how much I was growing to love Lucy and was enjoying our summer days together, not to mention how well she was getting along with our dog Hank. She told my parents that if they wanted to, I could have her. She was sad leaving her behind (I cannot stress enough how stinkin cute Lucy was) but I do think she noticed the bond that Lucy and I were creating.

My brother was away at Boy Scout Camp (he has a girlfriend so it's okay that I say that publicly) and when he got home, we had to tell him that we had gotten a new dog, which wasn't like our family to do. Clearly, Lucy was the exception. Of course, my brother loved her as soon as he met her. (Seriously, you guys, Lucy was so cute.)

Lucy became the perfect addition to our family. Her and Hank were truly little partners. They would go on sniffing adventures together and made quite the team. Lucy came to all of my field hockey and lacrosse games and sat in the grass and watched me play. I remember my Mom putting her paws together like she was clapping whenever I scored a goal. Lucy was always my little cuddle muffin. She would spend weekends with me when I was in college and I would have Skype dates with her when I was studying abroad. If a boy broke my heart, if I was sick or just feeling down, Lucy was always my little cuddle bug. She always gave me kisses and snuggled right up to me. I always called her my little ball of love.

Yesterday, Lucy was hit by a car and floated off to doggy heaven. I'm sad because I don't believe it was her time to go but I'm holding onto faith that there is a reason she went when she did. I think Hank hit the jackpot in heaven and wanted her to get in on the party. I wish the both of them infinite Beggin Strips. I hope that Beggin Strips are the confetti at the party. They loved Beggin Strips.

I can't express how heartbroken I feel but I also feel comforted in knowing that she felt loved. She had a good life and a great home. I hope she knows how much I adored her and appreciated all that she did for me. If Lucy had a laptop, I know that she would be a big fan of my blog and would like every picture I post on Facebook. She was my sidekick.

Dogs are just the best.

R.I.P. my sweet little Lucy girl. I'll miss you forever.



P.S. Taylor Swift, if you're reading this, I think you should write a song about Lucy and I. Our love was a true fairytale.

Closure

Closure is usually just an excuse for people to do something dramatic in hopes to get a certain someone's attention. In fact, closure is literally scheduled drama in your life. When you decide to have 'closure' with someone, you're just scheduling tears and an eruption of your nervous system- both paired well with a dark episode of binge eating.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could always schedule our breakdowns? Like, you know that you can't just have closure with someone and then take a quick trip to Target for more ink...(mainly because finding parking with high emotions is just not an ideal situation.) Trust me, I do it 9 times a day. I'm an expert.  

For the longest time, I thought sending a text that said 'k' was perfectly good closure. Then, I got a therapist. A therapist tries to guide you into being a person who is open and honest about your feelings and it's total bullshit. So, I decided to take her advice. 

Here is my closure e-mail:

Time sent: During the day on a weekday to prove (or convince) sobriety. 

Subject line: How To Increase Your Penis Size Up To 6 Inches for just $9.99 with Raspberry Ketones!!!!!

Hello, person who has destroyed me emotionally. 

I am writing to you to let you know that while I wish you well, I also wish you a lot of other things. 

I wish that you would get fat and I want you to lose your job. I want you to get chlamydia from a girl with a shiny nose. Then, I want you to get chlamydia again and this time- it doesn't even matter who it's from. I want you to feel pain when you pee. I hope you get extreme food poisoning on a crowded flight full of babies. I hope you walk through a spider web every time you leave the house. I hope you can never find your keys, I hope you're always frustrated and running late. I hope you have to take a shit during rush hour traffic (when Obama's in town.) I hope every time you go to peal the skin off of fruit, the citrus juice squirts you in the eye and it stings for a like half of a second. Maybe longer. I hope your dog scoots on every inch of your floor and leaves little shitstains everywhere. I want you to just always have a sticky spot on your hand. Everyday. I want you to just constantly be wiping this sticky thing off and being like, 'what the fuck is sticky?!' I don't want you to ever figure it out. Just a sticky spot on your hand, all the time. I want your hand to fall asleep every night and I want you to wake up with a dead hand and just for a second I want you to freak out and think that you had a stroke. I hope you face plant on the treadmill in front of a group of middle school bullies. I hope you get two parking tickets in one day. I want the bank to deny you a lollipop. I want every table that you sit at to be wobbly, you're always going to have to put sugar packets under neath, everywhere that you go. I hope that your nail on your fourth toe constantly digs into your third toe whenever you're walking somewhere. I want you to always have a really thin piece of hair stuck in your mouth and I hope you're never able to get it. I want you to step in puddles with a new pair of shoes that you just got for Christmas, the pair that you Instagrammed with a Hudson filter. I want your ice cream to just fall right off the cone, just fall right off of it. Not even one lick. No ice cream for you. I want you to lose something small and significant in a shaggy rug. I want you to not have a writing utensil during a very important multiple choice test that determines your future. I want you to randomly projectile vomit when you're alone in a crowd. I want your grocery bag to get wet on the bottom so your groceries fall right through, specifically while you're crossing a hectic intersection. I hope you always drop your phone under your carseat when you're driving. I hope you can never reach it. I really hope you respond to this telling me you still love me. 

Sitting in my studio apartment devouring almond butter with a plastic knife,

Kelly.

P.S. Please delete the pictures I sent you.

Sent from Kelly Alto's iPhone in the Target parking garage.

#GOODMUSIC

Click on these links when you get sick of hearing 'Chasing Stars' or 'Timber' on the radio:

Chocolate-The 1975

Kill It-The Cinema

The Wolf-The Cinema

Running Back To You-For The Foxes

Robbers-The 1975

Save The Night-John Legend

Gun Is Loaded-Walk Off the Earth

Things We Lost In The Fire-Bastille

Timeflies-We Can't Stop

I'm in a weird place. 

GOT YOUR FAQS ON CLEANSING

I know what you all were thinking, "No Valentines Day post?" She must be falling in love with a hot surfer guy in Venice and all she's doing is making love and eating strawberries, she doesn't have time for a silly blog. Good for her, she deserves it!"

You're right. I have been eating a lot of strawberries. 

I guess technically, I've been drinking strawberries. I was on a juice cleanse. 

So many bitties these days seem to be super curious about cleanses, so I'm going to let you know what's up.

I deal with a number of insecure girls on a daily basis; it's called texting my friends back. These were some of the questions I kept getting:

"Was it hard?"

It wasn't a picnic, that's for sure. Like, literally, there was no basket filled with adorable snacks on a blanket accented by natural sunlight. The first day was the hardest. I was cold. I had a headache. I hated children. I hated lights. I hated that I couldn't find my chapstick. I hated balloons. I hated everyone around me, and they hated me back.

It got better. Once you commit yourself to it, it's fine. Not great, but it's fine. 

Surprisingly, I was never SUPER hungry. It was actually a challenge for me to finish all of the juices because I got so full from them. It was like an ocean of distorted body issues floating around in my tummy. 

"Why are you doing a juice cleanse?"

Because I'm overwhelmed with my high self-esteem; why do you think I'm doing a juice cleanse? I really wanted to lose four pounds. 

"Did you lose any weight?"

Not really.

I don't recommend a juice cleanse for weight loss, I recommend cocaine and self-hate. 

(Follow me on twitter for more deets @kelly_alto )

"Can you eat at all?"

Can you ask a question that doesn't reveal how dumb you are?

"Would you do it again?"

Sure. But not for at least another three months. 

Things I Learned While On A Cleanse:

-You can get out of any social situation by saying, 'I'm on a juice cleanse' because not only will people understand that you can't eat or drink, no one wants to be around you while you're cleansing.

-A lot of people carry this weird resentment for you being on a cleanse. I can't tell you how many times someone would try to convince me to break my cleanse. It got irritating. I mean, I'm always irritated but this was significantly irritating. There was a girl in one of my writing classes who became adamant. There were cookies on the table and every other minute she would be nudging me saying, "just have the cookie. There's only one left. It's so good. Have the cookie. You sure you don't want one? You really think your juice tastes better than this cookie? Cleanses are dumb, just have a cookie." Um, like, okay bitch, what the fuck did you put in that cookie? FOR REAL. 

-You can want to stab a complete stranger just because they are wearing a color that annoys you. Additionally, you can get annoyed by colors. 

-It makes you realize that you normally put total crap in your body. If I ate McDonald's right now, my body would feel like it was being anally raped by an angry black man with no lube. (This imaginative feeling makes me have so much compassion for Ray Rice's, hopefully ex-fiance.)  

In all seriousness?

It was actually quite delightful. It was almost like a mini 'me-time' vacation. I didn't even want to put myself in a situation where I was out being tempted by food or alcohol so I pretty much just laid low- went to work, came home, and dreamt about melted cheese. Now, I feel mad refreshed and I have the pregnant glow on my skin without the drunken regret living in my stomach.  

I know you guys, this post is a dud. I just want my enemies to think that I'm skinny and successful because I was worried some of them were finding out the real truth. 

From my colon to yours,

Namaste. 

Assholes vs. Nice Guys

(Disclaimer: Get rid of any high expectations for this. I'm having a busy week.)

Whatever. Let's do this real quick.

Nice guys are always wondering/complaining why girls are always dating assholes. Don't worry, nice guys-let this champion break it down for you. I'm like, so good at this stuff.

For the majority of my dating career, I've dated assholes (SHOCKER! I know).
I feel like over the years I have developed a very special set of skills. Personally, I think that I deserve a plaque. In my mind, it would look a little something like this:

Name: Kelly Alto

Title: Professional Dick Dater

Major: Manipulation

Minor: Crying

Special Thanks: My father.

Here's the thing; no girl actually WANTS to date an asshole. However, every girl wants to be the girl that changes the asshole. I'm totes that girl. I love a good project. Sure, I guess it goes without saying that I am single.

Dating a nice guy would just be boring for me. I feel more of use in a relationship when the other person needs fixing; it keeps me busy-it's like a little part time job. 

(I thought about having a garden…..but it wouldn't yell back at me.)

Nice guys are already fixed and that's no fun. Dating someone who doesn't need fixing would be weird because it's not really yours, it just feels lived in. Gross. 

Dating an asshole is sort of like taming a wild horse-you meet out in the wild, you work to gain their trust and respect, train them a little and then you brand that mother fucker. 

….And then live in fear wondering if they're going to beat you. Who doesn't love a little adventure?!

Nice guys are like old golden retrievers. They're all loyal and fun-loving and you know that no matter what they're always going to be there waiting for you with their weird unconditional love. 

I don't know about you guys, but I want a wild beast of a horse not some old shaggy dog.

Assholes are scared of feelings and girls are scared of getting hurt. The whole sitch just makes for a fiery, passionate and zesty concoction. It's like spicy hummus, I love it!

The sex with assholes is also always better because I dunno-isn't there just something kinda hot about hating the person you're fucking? (Just me? Cool. Got it.) 

I've found that assholes are always messing things up within the relationship and girls are always being stupid and forgiving them. Basically, we're all just having make up sex all the time. Everyone knows that makeup sex is the best sex, so here's a twisted way of respecting your body. 

The best part about sex for me is knowing that they aren't texting another girl. 

(Did I mention that I'm in a really good place emotionally?)

Save all that boring love making (aka mess messing) for when you're married…probably to a nice guy.

Two Truths And A Lie: This blog serves as my diary and might escalate to a suicide note later on. I only posted this so this nice guy would stop asking me to get lunch. Now I'm having second thoughts because I could go for a free panini. 

CROSSFIT

You guys want to know how to be able to tell if someone does Crossfit?

Don't worry, they'll tell you.

In fact, they will make sure to tell you-within seconds of meeting you, and then they'll proceed to talk about Crossfit and nothing else but Crossfit. This just happened to me on my lunch break-I was just going to ask for no onions on my sandwich but cool, you flip tires in your spare time; now I know. Thanks and I'll take my sandwich to go.

I don't know when exactly it happened but Crossfit is a real big thing now.

At least here in Los Angeles, Crossfit studios are popping up everywhere. Left and right, here and there, POP! POP! Just in my neighborhood alone, there are AT LEAST 4 Crossfit studios within walking distance of me.

I'll just be strolling along going to get a coffee and I see a group of girthy people running on the sidewalk carrying tires above their head while moaning and groaning with veins popping out of their necks.

(Do the veins come with the Crossfit T-shirt?)

Is there anything more obnoxious than this? It actually startles me; I always feel like I'm about to be abducted by an angry linebacker. 

Crossfit is for sure a cult and nothing else.

Here, I'll prove it to you. Have you ever met someone who just mehhh dabbles in a little Crossfit?

No. Everyone you meet that does Crossfit is a little something like this:

(while clenching fists, thrusting, bouncing and probably spitting)

"YEAH I DO CROSSFIT! TRAIN EVERYDAY MAN! IRON PLAYGROUND! I LOVE IT! WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT PALEO DIET?! HASHTAG PALEO. HASHTAG CROSSFIT. CROSSFIT IS A LIFESTYLE. ITS MY LIFE. CROSSFIT, FUCK YEAH."

 --just a mild preview for you. 

Look-I totally comprehend how it's a 'manly' thing to do Crossfit and have that ridiculous body but if you're showing up to a cookout primarily for the protein and not the cleavage and sundresses, you are not a real man. You're just a random guy with aggressive veins eating too much chicken. 

It's interesting to me because I feel like a lot of the guys who do Crossfit are doing it to have great bodies and ultimately have sex with lots of girls. 

This doesn't quite add up for me. 

While I consider myself an active and fit person, I would never get naked next to a guy who does Crossfit. I would just look so soft compared to him. (Really by soft, I mean human). These guys are just way too intense for me. Now, I'm not saying I can't take a good beating, but I'm also not saying that I would enjoy being treated like a kettle ball in the bedroom.

Actually, I briefly dated a guy who was doing the Paleo diet and his farts smelt like dead scorpions on fire. So, there is that. Never again. 

I still have one of his "Crossfit" T-shirts and I put it on thinking that if I wore it around, I would acquire the Crossfit body. Needless to say, my butt still jiggles when I walk up steps. 

It took years for me to realize that wearing yoga pants didn't mean I had a yoga body. You can't dress the part without putting in the farts. 

Am I right, ladies?