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 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!


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. 

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

My Failed New Year's Resolutions

Happy New Year! Umm, like, a week ago. 


I meant to write, guys! I really did, but it was my birthday, and I was doing a spot-on 2008 Lindsay Lohan impression, which takes up a lot more time than you'd think. I'm basically just regaining my basic motor skills.

But there is something about being a week late to this whole New Year's post thing--we don't have to pretend that we've stuck to our resolutions.

New Year, new me? Nope! New year, same me--now with this one fucking line on my forehead that's going to force me to buy a botox Groupon.

However, I'm sure some of y'all are overachievers and have yet to give up on your promises to become a better version of yourself in 2014. Well, good for you! Also, you're probably in the wrong place. I hear there's some interesting, socially-conscious shit happening over at Upworthy.

Now that those assholes are gone, let's get back to business. Don't feel bad if you've decided to go back to drinking and watching reality TV by January 3rd, you're in good company. Over half the people who make resolutions break them in less than six months. That's science. I think.

So in the spirit of personal failure I thought I'd disclose the resolutions I've already given up on.

1. Quit Starbucks Unnamed Coffee Shop. I came home from work smelling like mocha and broken dreams today. I was also hit on by an older gentleman without teeth. Basically it was a good day.
2. Get Healthy. Work Out. Etc. I had a chocolate muffin that was filled with melted caramel for breakfast. It was delicious. It tasted like feelings.
3. Be Nicer. Not happening. See: This blog.
4. Use Time More Wisely. I spent over an hour pouring through the hashtag #nomnomnom on Instagram today. See: Number 2 
5. Write More. Blog More. Publish Something. Hahahahaha. I write about dicks on the Internet. I'm gonna be a barista FOREVER.

However, I am blogging right now so maybe there's still hope. But probably not.

Oh well, at least I still have some leftover birthday cake.