Because a catchy song isn't enough anymore?

While in line at Target today, I noticed that the Mentos package looked different. Not that I eat Mentos a lot. I guess we went through a lot of them when the Foo Fighters did that parody video? Anyway, I examined the new packaging for mint Mentos. And what did I see? A red heart and the words, "Kiss Me."

SERIOUSLY? Are you kidding me, Mentos?? What are you now, the candy for couples? Kissing mints? Explain yourself here. Am I not allowed to eat Mentos unless I'm planning on doing some kissing? Or is it strictly the mint kind? Am I still allowed to get the fruit flavored ones? Joke's on you, Mentos--I always liked those better! What if I was enjoying the strawberry flavored ones and decided that kissing was on the agenda--will those do in a pinch? Or are you advising against mixing kissing with non-mint Mentos?

I'm just looking for clarity here. Jerks.

Lazy dating.

Dating has become a lazy endeavor.

Seriously, consider how it's done today. The whole ordeal can be arranged largely in our sweats, in front of a computer. It is not uncommon for relationships to blossom after a casual, unspecific routine of hanging out. It has become acceptable to shoot someone a text or facebook message. This is followed by meeting up somewhere, sometimes with other people.

I'm not saying the old school system of chaperones and calling on a girl should be brought back, but at least then you knew who was truly into you. A guy had to make an effort! He had to come and visit you and speak to the appropriate people. He had to choose a time and location for a date, then come and pick you up. There was none of this "hanging out" nonsense.

And as if this all wasn't lazy enough, someone out there is catering to and encouraging further apathetic dating habits. During some recent research, I stumbled across a shameful website called "Text My GF." I just HAD to check it out. I now wish I hadn't. According to the common douchebags who run this site, women judge the quality of their relationships on how many text messages they receive from their boyfriends. This is simply too much work for the average man! Who has the kind of time and energy required to maintain a relationship??

If you're nodding in agreement, fear not. For a monthly subscription fee, you can have a third party send trivial, saccharine text messages to your girlfriend! Don't worry, they'll all look like they come from your phone, and you can schedule the times and how often. But after you fix your settings, you don't have to worry about silly things like feelings and what to say to your girlfriend. And for the gentleman courting several ladies? Well, just set up another account! Easy!

Seriously? This is what dating has come to? Why not just hire someone to hang out with your girlfriend, too? Think how much time you'd save there! Come on, America (this service is unavailable outside the US)--is this something we're comfortable with?

Let's bring our standards back up.

Sentimental Drivel

An Open Letter to Recent College Grads, on the Occasion of my 5 Year Reunion:

I understand. I watch you standing uncomfortably in your cap and gown, unsure of the outfit and all that it means. I see the frenzied packing, having a million things you'd rather do instead of cram four years into boxes and suitcases. You're excitedly introducing your parents to a favorite professor, showing them all the places you had classes, met friends, found your way. And I remember it fondly. It was five years ago--long enough to merit a bit of nostalgia, but not so long that I've forgotten it all.

And then. The end. It's all different on Sunday afternoon, after you've flipped that tassel to the left. As I walk around my beloved campus, I witness countless goodbyes. They run the gamut--some are loud, laughing, spinning hugs full of excitement and proclamations about visiting. Others are still, quiet, tearful. They all break my heart because I understand. None of this will help, but trust me--I get it. I was you, remember? And I know you're sad for so many reasons--your whole life is changing. You're leaving this life you've created, only to create a new one. Scary. But you'll do it. You'll do it well, too. Because even though it's terrifying, that's the best part. I was scared shitless because I didn't even know where to start on that new journey.

I remember feeling like I was parceling out my heart, leaving a bit of it with each goodbye. My college friends were my family--the family I chose, who could easily (and probably should have) left me at any time. But they stayed. So to leave them, knowing that tomorrow they would be across the country and not across the hall? Was not ok.

But here's the dirty little secret, the part no one tells you: it's not over. No, you won't have dinner together every night and Sunday brunch. But you'll see each other. You'll travel. You'll meet up. You'll find the time. And if you're lucky, like me, every time you're together it'll feel like no time has passed. You'll pick right up where you left off. You'll remember what each other orders to eat, make fun of the same things, and go home with a plastic Spongebob Squarepants in your luggage.

You won't believe me now, because you're a Graduate now and you don't need the wisdom of an alum--and it all sounds crazy anyway. But trust me on this--the world is not ending.**

It's just starting.

**It's not ending because you graduated, anyway. It's ending because of the Rapture, but that would have happened no matter what. You shouldn't be blamed for that one, guys.

Clarity.

I just read an article about the top baby names for 2010. Are you ready? Jacob and Isabella. Now, in case you don't know any preteens and never read People Magazine, it would seem that Twilight fans are having a lot of babies.

But this leaves me perplexed. I was under the impression that more people were on Team Edward than Team Jacob. (I won't lie to you, I'm Team Edward all the way. But that's partially because I think both of them would be pretty terrible boyfriends. My recent viewing of a few episodes of True Blood has led me to the opinion that any vampire, really, would be a terrible boyfriend. Hey, stop getting off track. I'm just saying, it's Pattinson over Lautner.)

If you trust Google (and I do) then Team Edward is more popular, with nearly twice as many results showing up than when you search for Team Jacob. I'm not planning on doing any more research into the popularity of Edward vs. Jacob, so we're trusting this data.

So. Edward is more popular and dreamy. Then why is Jacob a popular baby name? Why didn't Edward take the top spot?

I'm reminded of one of my standby arguments about men--they fall into two categories. Han Solo and Luke Skywalker. Han Solo is maybe not the best choice you could make, on the surface. He's a little too full of himself and definitely wouldn't call you when he promised he would. He likely won't notice your haircut and probably doesn't want to have dinner with your friends. But dammit if he doesn't somehow charm you with that smirk and make you consider all the bad choices you could make together. Now Luke Skywalker...he doesn't exactly make you consider bad choices. Luke does call when he says he will, he is totally down with escorting you to that family reunion where he'll sit with your aunts and charm them. He's devoted and loyal and, just like Han, charming, but in a very different way.

Not to make anyone cringe too much, but Edward and Jacob are a bit like this, in their own way.** Edward is moody and possessive, sulky and prone to temper tantrums. But he's got that sexy vampire staring thing going on and then you're all sucked up in Bad Decisions. Jacob is the nice guy and reliable and your parents would like him so much more and he also has non-human issues but whatever.

So back to baby stuff. (Sentences I never thought I'd construct.) Edward isn't a top baby name of the past year. (Or probably the past few decades? You think?) I can only think of one explanation--demographics. The baby-having group of Twilight fans must fall more into Team Jacob territory than Team Edward. I mean, think about it! If you're having a baby, you're (probably) more stable, settled. You're looking for Good Choices! You're looking for Dependable Jacob.

And then you're going to name your baby.

So, readers...do you prefer Han or Luke? Edward or Jacob?

**It should be noted that Han Solo and even Luke Skywalker will always be 100% more awesome than Edward and Jacob. Don't even worry about it.

They can't all be charming...

Lately I've been learning more about body language, in the hopes that knowing how to send closed off signals will cut down on the amount of time I spend ignoring men talking at me. It's been quite interesting, although I think being aware of my own body language has led to me hiding it a bit more. (Not a terrible side effect, when I think about it.)

Last week, I stole away from my real life and spent the week in Denver with a good friend. M and I went to a brewery for a tour, which I totally recommend. (Boulder Brewery, look it up.) Post-tour, guests are seated at a table with pitchers of beer--it's a family style beer tasting. The three of us--M, A (another Colorado friend) and myself--were chatting with those around us, until A took a phone call. When he vacated his seat, the man at the far end decided to shake things up.

"Is anyone sitting here?"

"Um...yeah. My friend? Who just got up? 15 seconds ago?"

"Oh, ok." He pushed my friend's glass aside and sat down. Oh. O...k...

I'm introduced to Craig. Craig compliments my Boston Red Sox t-shirt (who can blame him there?) and tells me he's from Massachusetts. After no more than 45 seconds of benign conversation, I decide that's plenty long enough to be trapped and I turn my body away, towards M. As Craig continues to not get the hint, my body turns more and more, fully facing away from him. A comes back and Craig hands him his glass.

Craig keeps trying. He eavesdrops and throws comments in whenever he can. "What?? Amanda's never been ice skating? How is that possible? Come on, Amanda!" He is loud and uses my name so much I tire of the sound. I stop any contact with Craig other than throwing a "Stay out of this!" his way.

Every single aspect of my body language is saying, "Stop talking to me. I am uninterested." But Craig doesn't get that. My head, arms, torso, and legs are firmly pointed away from him. I don't even turn my head to ask him to stay out of our conversation. There is no eye contact AT ALL. Craig, evidently, likes a challenging woman. (This is why Craig likely has terrible luck with women. )

Craig, I promise you I was not playing hard to get. Ignoring you was NOT code for "please try harder." Men, if you read this and thought, "Well, she should have given Craig a chance!" then you also suck at reading body language and would do well with a quick google search.

**the more you know**

Movie Review: Sanctum (Spoiler Alert!)

Last night, I sat through the movie Sanctum with some friends. Hmm. This oddly paced, James Cameron-produced movie would be more appropriate if it carried the title Sanctum: Or, John Garvin and Andrew Wight Hate Women.
Wight and Garvin, responsible for the choppy screenplay, must have been seriously burned by women in their lives. Probably women who considered diving a hobby. I mean, that's the only excuse for their treatment of women in this movie.
There are three women in Sanctum. Three. Alright, fine. Maybe there really weren't a lot of women present at the cave dive that inspired this movie. I'm comfortable with that. But really..it's the way these women progress throughout the movie that bothers me. (Here's the whole spoiler alert part, in case you're planning on seeing it.)


This movie is not a feel-good movie. Just about everybody dies. (Not terribly surprising, considering how most "based on a true story" movies go.) It's an unexplored cave dive gone wrong. There are bound to be casualties. The men who die go in a heroic way, or a manner they deserve. (Less than heroic.) The women?
Let's start with the woman who dies during a dive because "her heart wasn't in it." That's what they say. They lament her death with, "her heart wasn't in the dive." At least her body is brought back to the base. And then there were two. The next one to die goes in such a casual manner that I can't recall any single detail concerning her death. (This speaks volumes, considering this made for 3D movie relies heavily on gory and somewhat disturbing images.) I've got nothing. She's a bit like a glorified extra. One minute she's there, on the dive team, and the next...down to one lady.
This last one...oh man. She spends the movie flirting, playing by her own rules, screwing up, and throwing temper tantrums. (Lovely.) She's a tag-along girlfriend thrown into the crisis. An unexperienced diver, she first screams about refusing to wear a dead girl's wetsuit, then bitches about wishing she had a wetsuit. (In her near-hypothermic state, they strip her down to her underwear and cuddle her for warmth. But she's hot, so nobody minds.) Some stressful scenes later, she doesn't listen to timely advice and dies because she gets her hair stuck in a carabiner and pretty much scalps herself. ...What? As a friend put it, she might as well have died because of her menstrual cycle. (Not to mention, the scene was hugely traumatic for anyone with long hair.)

Thanks, Sanctum. What a special movie-watching experience. You may have just inspired this girl to write a screenplay! Now, off to recall the potentially dangerous hobbies of my exes...

A word on douchebags.

Let's talk about douchebags.

I am, as you might imagine, not in favor of douchebags. However, there are varying levels of douche. If one must spend time in their company, I recommend The Harmless Douchebag. These are the charming sort. You see right through them; you're not under any illusions but they are generally cute and fun to flirt with in social settings. They're not getting anywhere with you, but they either haven't noticed that or don't care.

The Malicious Douchebag is to be avoided at all costs. These are the sorts of men (and women, I suppose, although I find there is a whole separate hierarchy in the female realm) are the ones who do things that are intentionally mean-spirited and pretty much terrible. These are the men who break up with you at your grandmother's funeral; bring a date to your birthday party even though you were under the impression he was dating you. Steer clear of this breed.

This brings me to The Common Douchebag. There is nothing remarkable about this sort of man. They will wreak havoc on your life, but not really in any truly awful ways. The Common Douchebag is, at best, an annoyance to be dealt with.

This week, I have found myself dealing with the remnants of when a particular man was more or less in my life. Until now, I was unaware of the label he deserved. I had suspicions, but my knowledge of this manchild was not comprehensive enough to accurately judge. He was someone I spent a bit of time with many months ago, who has occasionally popped up in my life. It serves as a constant reminder of what a weird situation we were in. Because he pops up in the conversations of others, in my inbox, at my table during dinner out, it has been rather difficult to delete him from memory--valuable brain space as I age. He never remains in my space for long, just long enough to muck things up a bit.

Several encounters in the past week have left me wondering what the hell? But no more. Ohh, no longer, dear readers.

Please use the following as a cautionary tale.

I said it was a weird situation, right? A big part of the weird is that this guy knows my father. Like, they see each other with a disconcerting regularity. However, I have kept my father in the dark on any and all details--a wise move, whether you know my father or not. Today I learned that Dad decided to get involved.

"I asked him why he never called you." Oh sweet Jesus. "He said, 'Well she can call me.' And I told him that attitude wouldn't get him very far with women." Dad's got the right idea. "But he said "it's a new era" and told me his girlfriend calls him and comes to his place all the time."

Well. I think that's all I need to know. You? That's what I thought. This attitude renders him a Common Douchebag--generally clueless and unthinking. Not worth putting on eyeliner and changing out of your pajamas. The Common Douchebag considers himself Quite a Catch and thus doesn't put forth much effort. This automatically drops them several points on the attractive scale. For the sake of having an example, let's say some guy is a 6. A 6 who doesn't call women and says they can call him? Well, he's a 3 now. To call feminism into it and suggest that because women are allowed to vote and wear pants they should also be the pursuer in a relationship? That dude is now a 1. And I think it goes without saying that having that whole conversation with a woman's father? Yeah.

Kanye may be toasting all the douchebags, but I'm not encouraging any of this behavior. It's time for guys to act like Men.