Sunday, March 16, 2014

Frozen is Indoctrinating Kids in the Most Adorable Way Possible.

Have you seen the movie Frozen yet? If so, there's a good chance you're now gay. Congratulations!

I know you're probably thinking, that's not how human sexuality works--but it is. At least that's what Kevin Swanson, the batshit insane host of the talk show Religious Right, suggested Wednesday.

Let's go over some of his talking points, shall we.

  • I think this cute little movie [Frozen] is going to indoctrinate my 5-year-old to be a lesbian or treat homosexuality or bestiality in a light sort of way. Why do these assholes always put homosexuality and bestiality together?
  • I would buy Disney. If I was the Devil, I would buy Disney in 1984, that’s what I would have done. Who spends a large portion of their time thinking about what they would do if they were the Devil in the '80s.
  • I’m guessing the majority of American parents don’t want their little boys turning into sodomites, at this point. My guess is that 60 to 70 percent of them would say, 'That would be my worst nightmare. Uh Oh, he's breaking out made up statistics. Watch out!

You can listen to the entire conversation here if you have a strong stomach.

I can't say for sure that Frozen isn't indoctrinating children with some type of anti-right gay agenda. I haven't seen it yet, so the jury's still out. However, I did just watch Blue is the Warmest Color, and I was super indoctrinated, if you know what I mean. Ladies, hit me up.

But I can say, that Disney has pulled this shit before.

Who didn't watch The Little Mermaid and immediately want to have sex with a fish? King Triton. Oh my God, I don't know how it would work out anatomically, but I want to be on him.

Aladdin. It totally explains my soft spot for men that lie. And steal.

Pocahontas. Let's just say that I've been banned from going anywhere near several reservations after trying to make a John Smith-Allie-Kocoum fantasy happen.

Cinderella. How many foot fetishists did that movie create? 

The Beast. Let's not even go there.

So obviously the Devil is at work acting as the entire Disney corporation, but now we're on to him.

You hear me, Devil Disney! Stop indoctrinating our young with your sexually-charged, animated movies. They're too adorable and tantalizing.

But seriously, who thinks this Kevin Swanson dude shouldn't ever be allowed in a children's movie again if he's seeing this much sexual metaphor in Frozen? He probably shouldn't be near playgrounds either. 

But who knows, that might just be my indoctrination speaking. 

Friday, March 7, 2014

My Proposal to a Polygamist.

Anyone who has read this blog for any period time knows that I love the channel TLC. Mainly because I love learning. And polygamy. It's my favorite combo.

Anyway, it should be of no surprise that TLC is premiering a new show called My Five Wives. The network originally aired a special by the same name in September, which is when I used my voodoo magic to predict that it would become the network's next original series--but I was hoping it would be titled 'Gangbangin' for Jesus'. You can read that previous post here.

Obviously, this is not the first time I've written about televised polygamy, but I think I've been too hard on the husbands in the past, going as far as to suggest that the only way these dudes landed wives is because of chloroform and Stockholm's syndrome.

But I'm starting to have a change of heart.

Maybe these ladies are on to something. And I'm not just saying this because barista-ing isn't panning out and my reality show pitch about me sitting on my couch, watching Netflix, and eating mac and cheese out of a coffee cup got rejected. (Eat a dick, AMC.)

In fact, I think I would be an excellent addition to this show. So, Brady Williams I'm proposing marriage. Here's why I would make an excellent sixth wife:

1. I'm a freakin' hoot. I have at least seven people who read this blog and probably three or four of those people can vouch that I have a terrific sense of humor. I could really add some color to the show. 
And by color, I mean profanity. Boom, ratings! 
2. I'm kind of a sex expert--sexpert if you will. Now that doesn't mean I'm actually any good at sex. I'm mediocre at best and there's usually a lot of crying, but I will talk those other broads into doing all kinds of weird shit. Seriously, it's a gift. I have this unbelievably trustworthy face. I'll be all like, "hey sisterwives, I read in Mormon Cosmo that it's totally normal for your husband to want to put it in your armpit." They will eat that ish up. 
Sidenote: I will never be intimate with you. I mean, if you've just got to have some Allie action, I'll offer one no eye-contact handjob on a birthday of your choosing. That's non-negotiable. 
3. I'm smart. I graduated college and have read books that don't have any pictures in them. I could probably do your taxes and help your 30 kids with their homework. I just saved you $100,000 in tutoring fees. You're welcome. 
4. Speaking of kids, I'm great with them! I myself am like an 8-year-old girl with boobs. I love to color. I dig on naps and cookies. I love swings and don't know how to sit properly in a dress. They're going to love me.  
Also, I can take care of all those uncomfortable sex talks. See: number 2. 
5. I'm from Florida. We've got people doing bizarre stuff on lock. Me joining your little clan will not even be a blip on the radar. 

Now that we discussed all my pros, I do need to fill you in on a few minor cons. 

1. I will never have your children, because I'm slightly repulsed by the idea of our genes mixing.  
2. Also I'm not one for rules, so that husband is in charge stuff won't fly. Me and Kelly Clarkson, Miss Independent, ya know. 
3. Once again, no sex. Ever. I would rather Sylvia Plath myself.  
4. Speaking of sex, I'm going to need access to other dudes. Also, I might turn out one of your wives. We'll just see what happens on that front. 

But other than that, I'm totally game. Balls in your court, Brady.

My Five Wives premieres on TLC Sunday at some time during the day, you could probably Google it. I'm too busy waiting on that dreamboat to call!

Friday, February 14, 2014

HELP! It's Valentines Day and I've Got Problems.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked people to send me their questions regarding love/sex/relationships and anything else that you felt comfortable asking someone who is in no way qualified to give advice.

And then some weird stuff happened, which I'm totally into. So in honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I would get your hearts-a-beatin' with some questions about turtle fucking. You read that right.

Take the day off, Cupid, I've got this love shit covered.


What would be the most reasonable, yet bat-shit crazy thing I can introduce into lovemaking with my wife?

Midgets. Wait, I don't think that is politically correct. A little person. I would introduce a little person into lovemaking with your wife. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Allie, I thought I said reasonable." And you did, but I'm not exactly sure what the dictionary definition of that word is, so I'm going with midget-fucking. Listen, your wife is gonna love it, because it's not quite a threeway, it's more like a two-and-a-half-way and that's called taking it slow.

So go now, scour Craiglist, but remember a lot of these super-sexy little people are basically walking tripods, so bring your A-game. If not, that little rascal might be making some height adjustments to your house in the near future, understand?

Scientifically speaking, what are my chances of hooking up with Rihanna?

Here's  a checklist. Have you ever been arrested? Have you ever been arrested for assaulting a woman? Have you ever thrown a chair out of the Today show dressing room window? Do you like throat tattoos? Were you ever on the Canadian soap, Degrassi? Has anyone ever looked at your naked body and compared you to a horse?

If you answered yes to any of the above questions, you have a 97.6 percent chance of being able to hook up with Rihanna. If not, there's always the video where her and Shakira pretend to have lesbian sex.




My wife wants to introduce a turtle into bedroom affairs. What do I say? Why do people want to bang animals anyways?

I've never thought of a turtle as a super sexual animal, maybe a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, but that's mainly because they have masks and I've had a fetish for bank robbers ever since I saw Point Break when I was a kid. (Oh Keanu, you're so dumb and dreamy). Wait, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, fucking turtles. Don't do it. She'll never respect you.

And why do people want to bang animals? Um, I blame that hot werewolf from Twilight.


My wife just stumbled upon my huge selection of '70s pornography. My huge selection (it filled up the trunk of my Honda Civic at one time). She wants to divorce. I want her to grow an amazing bush. What do I do?

I do admire your dedication to '70s pornography, kind sir, but I think you need to let your wife know that you're not some kind of sexual deviant obsessed with powermuffs. Maybe lay off the porn for awhile, donate your collection to the Pornography Historical Society and let her know that you love her for who she is, not her bush.

Then hide all of her razors.


I'm afraid that my boyfriend might be cheating on me. He's always texting but never tells me who it is, keeps his FB annoyingly private, and hasn't had a lot of time for me lately? What should I do?

I don't think you should be so quick to judge, maybe your boyfriend is a spy. Have you ever thought about that? He's out making sure the world is a safer place for the both of us and you're too busy worrying about the privacy settings on his Facebook. Just kidding, he sounds horrible. Unfortunately, there's no way to find out for sure if the scumbag is cheating. I'd say trust your gut in this scenario, because if something doesn't feel right it usually isn't. 

Now for what to do, I've got one question ... how's your pubic hair, because I think I might have the perfect rebound guy for you.


I've always dreamed about experiencing erotica in a public establishment, preferably an airplane, train, or some other mode of public transportation. Maybe even a tricycle. How and where do I go to find someone who would be interested?

I don't know, maybe the Internet.


***

And that's it, ladies and gents! I hope each and every one of you have a special Valentine's Day or at least a special day after Valentine's Day once candy is 75% off. 

I love you all and would totally put a hand-written valentine in each one of your lockers if this was 7th grade, but it's not, so you wanna take whatever Miley Cyrus is on and watch that Shakira video on repeat?

No? Okay, worth a shot.



P.S. If after reading this you think, I'd like to get some horrible advice from the girl who makes my coffee, then write to me at notreallyabarista@gmail.com. And as always, you will remain anonymous.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Top 12 Ways for the Internet to STFU.

I'm a failure at life.

I feel like we all know this by now and just to set the record straight, I'm in no way looking for encouragement or someone to negate the aforementioned statement. I'm cool with it. I have plenty of time to stop being a failure, and if not there's always cake, so either way I'll be good.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way and you know that you can take this post with a grain of salt, let me begin my rant.

If I see one more article titled "100 Ways to Live Your Best Life Before 100," I'm going to burn some shit down.

At first, it wasn't such a big deal, it was kinda endearing. I'd open the link thinking, "I'd like to know the 25 things you wish you knew before 25," maybe it will help me figure out what I should do with my life, aside from making latte art.

But then the article was just filled with haughty bullshit. "Go on adventures.""Travel the World." "Take a salsa class." "Buy a vibrator." Really? That's the life lessons you felt you had to offer the younger generation? Take that shit elsewhere.

And despite the fact that this fluffy garbage isn't really helpful, it is everywhere. In fact, I'm pretty sure I just saw a New York Times headline read, "How to out-Beyonce Beyonce before 35 in 5 easy steps."

Is this the kind of content they think millenials are craving? How stupid do they think we are?

"Top 17 Things to do B4 You're 29."

"8 Ways to Not Suck at Life."

"30 Lessons You Must Learn by 30."

"65 Thing You Have to do or You Should Put a Gun in Your Mouth."

I have a problem with these types of articles for a few reasons. Firstly, it's not a real piece of writing--it's a list. I make one of those when I go grocery shopping. Furthermore, it's fucking bullshit.

Bullshit in my opinion, at least.

I don't dig blanket statements. I don't like to ever assume that because something was right for me, it is right for everyone. We all come from different places, different backgrounds. My story may not resonate with someone and vice versa. And that is okay, that doesn't make my truth any less valuable.

And while yes, I do believe somethings are universally true--people are equal, don't be an asshole for no reason--the faux wisdom of these "articles" make me insane. Mainly, because I don't think any of us really know anything for sure. Aren't most of the ideas about life fluid and easily altered? And isn't life about experience and making mistakes and learning our own lessons, instead of living by numbers based on someone else's advice.

I mean, sure some things are a give-in. Don't date Chris Brown. Don't give yourself at-home highlights. Don't do meth. But I think everything else is pretty fair game.

But then again, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe these lists contain advice that some people are desperate to hear. I've been there, reaching out, hoping for some type of clarity in this crazy fucking world--but I can say that my longing was never satiated by some thoughtful piece written by a performance artist/mime on HuffPo.

However, if I was going to give advice for people before whatever age is the new freak out age, it would be this. Be kind to yourself and to other people. Don't be afraid of failure or uncertainty, because we can pretty much survive anything. Learn empathy. And listen to your gut, because I honestly believe that everything you need to know is already inside of you.

But what do I know, I'm just a barista.

P.S. I want to end this post giving a big Thank You to all of the people who reached out to me when I mentioned I was having a bit of writer's block lately, i.e. being super lazy and binge-watching Netflix. It really means a lot to have people take time out of their day to encourage some girl who makes coffee and writes about dicks on the internet.

And I want to give a special thanks to Greg writing over at 28 Days at the Bar. Greg was one of my recent cheerleaders, who wrote me a short novel giving me all the encouragement my parents never did. So thanks, Greg, we're now in love, just so you know. But seriously, go check out his sports and entertainment blog or follow him on Twitter! Who knows, some newfound sports knowledge might get your laid. You're welcome.

Friday, January 31, 2014

I'm Like Dear Abby with More Swearing.

Remember that fun thing I used to do when I answered readers' love/sex/relationship/etc. questions here? Wasn't that fun?

We laughed. We cried. We were thankful for our long term relationships.

Well, I want to do that again! And not just because I can't think of anything to write about. Okay, mostly because I can't think of anything to write about, but also because I feel I've been given a special gift, to answer super weird questions about your or your partners genitals.

And it's not fair to not share my God-given gift with the world.

So, please, write to me at notreallyabarista@gmail.com. Or have your "friend" write to me. Or your cousin. Or your dad. I mean, really I don't care if you make something up, I'm just having mad writer's block and desperately need everyone's help to make sure my blog doesn't die and go to the Land of Misfit blogs!

Ohh, and you will remain anonymous.

Here's some previous posts in case you need to verify my totally bullshit credentials.


Help! My Hymen is Growing Back.

Help! My F#ck Buddy is Turning into a Cuddle Buddy.

Help! My Boyfriend Doesn't Want to Eat at My Lady Buffet.

Help! I'm DTF a D-Bag.

How Can I Get My Boyfriend to Punch me in the Face.


Convinced, yet?

No? Too bad! Email me, anyway. You can also message me on Twitter or Facebook.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

American Apparel is Bringing Back the Power Muff and I'm Super Psyched.

Fuck shaving forever.

Yep, you heard me. I'm done. American Apparel is trying to bring back '80s porn bush, and who am I to argue?

I know I'm not alone when I say that shaving my lady junk is easily my least favorite thing of life, mainly because I don't like doing advanced yoga in a shower while welding a razor blade. It's dangerous. I've nearly given myself a clitoridectomy more times than I care to count.

You may be curious what I'm rambling about, which is a typical response when I start screaming about my distaste for pubic grooming, so let me clear things up. An NYC American Apparel attracted a lot of attention Thursday when a window display featured lingerie-clad mannequins rocking full-fledged vagina sweaters.


Now I know what you're thinking, "Wow, those mannequins must be part werewolf, because that is an impressive cooch carpet." And you're right, that bitch looks like a Kardashian between waxes.

And then, "I bet people freaked the EFF out." Also correct.

Everyone with a Twitter account lost their mind because American Apparel--the company that previously sold a shirt featuring a bleeding vagina--did something provocative.

Shock! Gasp! Awe!

I DIDN'T KNOW WOMEN EVEN GREW PUBIC HAIR ANYMORE! DIDN'T IT GO EXTINCT IN THE LATE '90S? I FEEL SO LIED TO, PORN!

But for every newscaster made horribly uncomfortable for even having to talk about a mannequin's bush, there was someone on Tumblr rallying behind the brand for advocating pubic hair acceptance--which is an actual thing, just so you know. In fact, Cameron Diaz and Gwyneth Paltrow have both went on record endorsing a more natural look for their nether hair.

Well shit, if it's good enough for Gwyneth, it's good enough for Allie. I'm 'bout to throw out all my razors, and let that junk get long and luxurious. I'm gonna deep condition it with organic coconut oil and brush it 100 times a day. It's going to be beautiful like Rapunzel's, except when I let down my hair for a handsome prince, I'll get arrested. Because apparently, only mannequins can show their power muffs in public.

Wanna do something about that bullshit, American Apparel?

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

I Might Get Married. I Might Buy a Cow.

I might get married this year.

But don’t go planning the Twitter bachelorette party just yet, it’s still a pretty big might. I’ve been engaged for nearly nine years, but for the first time in that span, me and the Dude I Share A Bathroom With are actually talking about making it official.

When people find out that me and DISABW have been doing the marriage tango for as long as we have, they usually jump to the conclusion that something is wrong with our relationship, that we are commitment-phobes waiting to throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble. Those people are usually on their third marriage. They’re also assholes.

Let me clear some things up, I’m not against the institution of marriage. It seems cool enough—tax breaks, monogram towels, the chicken dance. I’m not mad at it. In fact, I’m extremely vocal about my support of marriage equality. I think everyone is entitled to legally bind themselves to someone forever (except for that creepy guy with like seven wives, he should be uninvited to the marriage party), but there’s always been a part of me that’s a little uneasy with the whole “until death do us part” thing.

Death? Fuck, that’s pretty permanent. What if he starts doing meth, can I leave then? Or worse, starts voting Republican, can I throw up the deuces without giving him half of my shit? 

I think the main problem is that I’ve always assumed people are untrustworthy, probably because my parents used to do a ton of smack when I was a kid—but I’m working on that with a trained therapist and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. But that fear of permanence is still there, and it’s just something I have to get over in my own time. 

But besides the fact that marriage is super weird and scary, can we can talk about the real problem? White washes me out, y’all. I tend to look more radiant in a jewel tone. And I don't think people who talk about dicks on the internet can even legally buy a white wedding dress. It's one of those old laws like not being able to own more than six dildos in Texas.

Plus weddings are stupid expensive. I don’t want to feed my second cousin steak because I tied myself to one penis until the end of time. How is that fair? Shouldn’t we at least go dutch for my random sex funeral, BYOB, something?! Also, I don’t like wedding food. I like burritos. I will only get married if we can all eat cheap, questionable Mexican food afterwards, deal? 

More issues: I like my last name—Allison Wilson is not happening. I don’t want people to immediately start asking when I’m getting knocked up. I’m not even sure I like kids. I want to still be able to dance to the song Single Ladies. I have no need for two waffle makers, can’t I just register for a new ukulele? Most of my family are raging alcoholics and getting them together with an open bar is going to end with me crying on COPS. 

But with this ever-growing list of marriage drawbacks freaking me out on the regular, I can’t stop myself from watching shows like Say Yes to the Dress, mainly because I enjoy saying things like “that seems reasonable” to a $10,000 dress, while my boyfriend silently has an anxiety attack next to me, but also because all the cons don’t quite measure up to the one big pro. 

I kinda want to marry him. 

LAME, I know. But even so, I can’t help but think it would be nice to make the big commitment with this man who has put up with me for the last decade. So maybe this will be the year after all, and I'll become an honest woman and we can buy a cow or some milk or something. 

Cows are pretty cute. I wonder if I can register for one of them? A cow, a ukulele, six dildos, and zero waffle makers.

God, I'm going to be a great wife.