Relationship Advice No One Asked For

By: Ali Benz

Cuffing season is over and spring has sprung. I said it. Honestly, people in relationships are annoying AF. Having a mate is fun and all, but have you ever tried not having one? Let’s get dramatic for a minute so you can stop whining about your break-up and start wallowing in your single-ness. Wallow.

Most importantly, and I can’t stress this enough, is your Instagram feed. Studies show that posting a pic with your s/o cuts your likes by nearly 50% (not yet confirmed statistic). If your likes/comments are that low, there’s no way swimsuit brands will reach out to you to become an ambassador with a 40% off discount code. Tragic. Boyfriends/Girlfriends make you poor via social media. It’s basic math.

If you are out at a bar with your man, there is absolutely no way the lead singer of L.M.F.A.O. will buy you a drink. This is a true story and I was the victim. I’m still working through the pain I felt when the greatest artist of our generation sent tequila shots to all my single friends as I just sat there, sober and afraid. Redfoo, if you’re reading this, I need you to know that guy was my cousin and you hurt an innocent girl that night.

Does anyone know if Facebook is still a thing? All I miss about that platform was its ability to remember my aunt’s birthday and put relationships on blast. Back in my day, you’d broadcast that sh*t immediately and claim your bae. Then, when your two-week high school fling came to a shocking end, everyone and their mother knew instantly. This was great because you didn’t have to tell anyone you broke up, Mark Zuckerberg handled that. A gentleman and a scholar! Nowadays, you’re forced to personally reach out and tell your friends you got dumped, or risk suffering alone.

Still not convinced? This one’s for all you club-rats. You cannot get into the clerb with your boyfriend. Stop trying. It’s embarrassing. You can beg the doorman all you want, but having a guy that can’t pay cover is not cute. Why stay home when you could be at Marquee covered in cranberry juice and Ciroc? A promoter once texted me “1 Oak with Lil Romeo tonight” and I had to give that up. Why? Because I was in a relationship. I had to sacrifice a night of partying in the presence of a king all because I slipped and fell in love. Lesson learned. Side note: this promoter still texts me every night to this day, and I haven’t lived in LA for six years. This poor guy must be like 40 now. “Justin Promo”, if you’re still out there, please disregard all previous advice and get married. Asap. You make us uncomfortable.

What the Smollett…

By: Ali Benz

I need to come clean: I walked around with a black smudge on my forehead on Ash Wednesday for personal gain. It wasn’t that serious, I just had to convince my trainer I gave up cardio for Lent. Genius, I know, but if I was a celeb it might’ve been cultural appropriation or some sh*t. It also didn’t help that I work out at the Jewish Community Center.

My little ash stunt wasn’t nearly as bad as recent scandals. I feel like we live in the Purge. Never seen that movie but I assume it goes something like this. There are literally no consequences for anything—especially if you have money. Jussie Smollett got away with his fake hate crime for the small price of 10k. Pretty good deal for a staged attack, don’t ya think? Must have been Black Friday (not a pun).

The Mueller Report essentially exonerated President Trump. This was a bigger let down than 7/11’s ban on Mango Juul pods. It’s fine that they found no collusion etc., but like why be so dramatic about it? There was this huge build-up for literally nothing. Does Robby Muellz just like the spotlight? Everybody is a star these days; My dog, hot lawyers, idiots on Summer House that blackout in the Hamptons—anyone. And it’s not even their fault. All of us want a story, so they give us a show. It doesn’t matter what’s wrong and what’s right, just keep it interesting.

Aunt Becky did not disappoint. Lori Loughlin bribed USC to enroll her daughter and now she’s more relevant than ever. She might even get a show! I tried to bribe a teacher once and he reported me. Still unsure how “If you round that up to a 90 I’ll cover your tab” is inappropriate, but I guess that’s what happens when you bump into your professor at a Ruby Tuesday. Although Loughlin’s “influencer” daughter, Olivia Jade, lost her make-up sponsors, she’s still winning in my book. I have literally never heard of her. Now I’m writing about her. I got waitlisted from USC and I slipped a twenty in my application but nobody wants to talk about that now do they? OJ (can I call her that?) slips a casual 500k with her Common App and all of a sudden she’s a BFD. Go big or go home I guess. Tragic.

Hate to bring up this rando again, but Jordyn Woods—WTF?! This girl dragged us through a devastating cheating scandal and now she’s America’s next top model? I fought for you, Jordyn! I cried and battled multiple strangers on the internet for you, Jordyn! Where is the loyalty? You played me for a fool, Jordyn! But you knew what you were doing. You caught the scandal bug. I respect it, considering you drop-kicked the Kardashians, shed a few tears for the people back home, then rose to fame overnight. I just wish some of us got the same treatment: When Woods blacks out at a party and hooks up with someone, she calls Will Smith. When my friends blackout at a guy’s party, we call Planned Parenthood. I just feel like it’s slightly unfair but whatever.

One minor step backward, two huge steps forward. Give us a good scam and we’ll sling you to stardom. I finally get why they say no publicity is bad publicity. Keep the people talking. I just wish my therapist understood. Every time I get kicked out of a bar she says I need to quit drinking. Jokes on her because all of downtown has been talking about me for weeks. If my calculations are correct I should be a star by noon.

PSA: Failure Becomes Success

By: Ali Benz

Not sure if it’s because my mom signed me up for a 21-day meditation with Deepak Chopra or because I’ve been binge-watching The Bachelor, but I’m feeling extra positive today. Sit back while I spread some awareness. Hopefully this informational blog will help you follow your dreams or at least inspire you to do reality television. Welcome to my Ted Talk.

If you’re alive right now, congrats. You live in a world where everything you do is publicized and rated. Nothing is real. Some may say it’s a simulation. Some may also be on acid. The point is, this digital age is a blessing and a curse. Where it was once only possible to gain fame and fortune through talent and skill, it is now just as easy through failure and exposure. Not following? Allow me to explain:

The other night I was googling if I could ride in the HOV lane with my dog. You can’t. I did. Why? The Bachelor. I needed to get home in time for the finale. Tragic, but true. I don’t care about Colton or who he deflowers, etc. My excitement was strictly in seeing the girls that lost. Those are the real stars. The wild ones who will continue to shine through failure, absurdity, and sometimes nudity. They’re set for life and we can’t get enough.

Do I think Chris Harrison is that inspirational? No, but it does go to show that it never hurts to put yourself out there. How does that stupid quote go? “Reach for the moon, even if you miss you land with stars” or some BS? I used to think it was just some obnoxious banner in the classroom, but as I’ve gotten older and wiser, I’ve realized it’s really about reality TV. All those failed bachelorettes have landed stardom, and that’s what they were trying to teach us all those years in middle school. Thanks Mrs. B.

Still not buying it? How about Bar Rescue, ever heard of it? My dream has always been to open a bar (since about two weeks ago) and now I know that I can and I should. Here’s why: The business will most likely be a success because I’m a professional at alcohol. However, in the slight chance it fails, the world will do me one better. They will send in a screaming Jon Taffer and make me a celebrity overnight. It’s a win-win in my opinion. SHUT IT THE F*CK DOWN. Thanks Jon.

One (wo)man’s trash is another (wo)man’s treasure, and one’s pain is another’s pleasure. I’ll be here all night. I’ve got sayings for days on my vision board. Remember, those who can do; and those who can’t, go viral. Just make sure it’s always recorded and it’s always the most dramatic season ever.

Repeat this mantra: If I do anything stupid in a Walmart, I will end up on Ellen.

If I do anything stupid in a Walmart, I will end up on Ellen.

Namaste.

Into the (Jordyn) Woods…

First of all, I want to give a huge shout-out to Jordyn Woods for completely dominating the media. In a time of outrageous scandals from Jussie Smollett’s felony to Michael Cohen’s testimony, all the world can talk about is this random girl that lives in Kyle Jenner’s pool house. Side note: Where is 21 Savage?

Honestly, up until a week ago, I thought Jordyn Woods was a trail in Israel or some sh*t. Guess I can cross that off my Birthright bucket list and extend “float in the dead sea with Shlomo.” Jordyn with a Y (super edgy spelling—love it) kisses Khloe Kardashian’s psychotic, serial-cheating baby-daddy and my whole life gets flipped-turned upside down. Now, this is a job for Jada-Pinkett Smith, thought literally no one ever.

Wait, I just realized this is starting to sound like the theme song to ‘The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air’—which is a coincidence since Woods considers Will Smith her Uncle. They’re def not blood-related, just super dramatic like when you go to a party and introduce all your best friends as your cousin. “Hey Siri, add this to my list of conspiracy theories.”

I’d like to take a minute just sit right there, I’ll tell you how Jordy got evicted by a dumb billionaire. I don’t know what goes down in the Hidden Hills, but what I do know is that if every mistake I made when I was 21 was publicized…. I’d have a killer reality TV show as well—or be in jail, not really sure. This young, insecure girl was consumed by alcohol and the attention of a B-list NBA player, causing her to make a sporadic decision that would damage her entire life. When I was 21, I dumped a full vodka-cran on Chris Brown at a club because I believed my loyalty was with Rihanna—but no one wants to talk about that anymore. Woods’ entire being has consisted of Kardashian left-overs, so I don’t know why this is even such a big deal. Let it go. As for me, turned out it wasn’t even Chris Brown, but still Team #BadGal all the way. Slight mix-up.

There was a lot of speculation that this whole thing was a publicity stunt for KUWTK Season 675, but if Kris Jenner is responsible, we can’t even be mad. Why is nobody talking about Jussie “stage a hate crime on myself” Smollett? The homosexual with the voice of an angel actor from Empire? He literally put a noose around his neck and pretended he was attacked in MAGA hats, all for higher ratings, yet we still just want to know if Jordyn and Tristan used tongue. Tragic.

The Trump Administration works hard, but Kris Jenner works harder. Seriously, ever since Woods went on Red Table Talk with Jada and was slut-shamed by the Kar-Jenners, I can’t even remember why Michael Cohen was screaming at me through the TV for two hours. And, once again, where.is.21.savage?!!!!

This whole situation is honestly wild and makes me miss thicc Rob Kardashian. Jordyn Woods went from being the least interesting person in the world to becoming my phone background. She gives the little people hope just like the return of the Jonas Brothers. Kevin Jonas is back! Thought you’d seen the last of him? Think again, bich!

By: Ali Benz

WTF is Galentine’s Day

By: Ali Benz

I know everyone’s February 15^th tradition is buying V-day candy on sale, but mine is usually apologizing to whoever took me out the night before. This holiday really escalates quickly. I didn’t mean to scream at that kid for taking me out on a Groupon date. I guess I just expected more from someone I’ve met once.

Why is it so crucial to have a boyfriend by the second month of the year? We literally spend all of December blacking out followed by an awkwardly sober January. How the f*ck can I develop a relationship when the months are so unstable? I doubt whoever liked me during my December bender was still there for me in my new year sobriety. I mean, come on, that’s literally two different people we’re working with. What is this, Split?

Then we have everyone and their mother posting about ‘Galentine’s Day’ like, can you not? Every day is G-day, b*tch. If you need to create a fake holiday out of an already fake holiday to black-out on CVS wine then you probably need better friends. Mine drown themselves in Barefoot Moscato and cry at least twice a week no matter what. Keep up.

And don’t get me started on flowers. What an insensitive gift. What am I, a f*cking bee? I’ll pass. Get me something I can cherish, like an Amazon gift card. It’s really not that hard. If you want to be my Valentine, get me a Valentino. It’s literally spelled out for you. Roses are cute and all but I can’t even eat them for f*ck sake. What’s the use?

This dramatic-ass holiday is also super awk for new relationships. You suddenly have a deadline to DTR. You’re either proposing or ghosting. There’s no in between. If you take your bae out, you’re saying it’s the real deal. Facebook official by the morning. If your boo-thang doesn’t make plans with you, it’s safe to assume you’re a classic side-piece. Ain’t nobody putting a ring on it. Sorry but it’s true. Get out of that one. We don’t do last calls.

Unrelated to love and all the BS on the 14^th, this day really screws with my social calendar. This guy invited me to a BTS concert on Thursday. Then, when he realized what day it was, he told me the show was canceled. Relax buddy, no one’s trying to get with you, I just enjoy some good K-pop. Get over yourself. Safe to say all plans were canceled and rescheduled for…. literally any other day. Tragic.

Luckily, it’s all over now. Broken hearts everywhere and romantic Tinder rebounds galore. What a time to be alive. At least we have the remainder of Black History Month. And isn’t it Spring soon or something? What was good with that groundhog? Was he seeing shadows or nah? Either way, I’m getting out of town. Catch flights, not feelings. Peace.

You’re in Love with a Criminal

By: Ali Benz

People will believe anything these days. It’s too easy. I once told my younger cousin that Grindr was an app to order marijuana. He found out the hard way that this was very much not true. He’s still not talking to me, but Pierre, from West Village, is still trying to track him down and give him “something that will help him sleep”. Whoops.

Plain and simple: When something seems like it’s too good to be true, hate to break it to ya, but it probably isn’t. I’m not sure which was more disappointing—buying a ticket to Super Bowl LIII or Fyre Festival. At least one of them saves you the cringe of seeing Adam Levine do a striptease. If I wanted to see a scrawny, topless, Jewish boy rock-out to Maroon 5 I would’ve gone to my high school reunion.

What bugs me most about fraud like Fyre is the way the world responds. Sure, we get some hilarious memes and a chance to explain to the younger generation who the f*ck Ja Rule is, but the backlash never outweighs the opportunities. Billy McFarland, the psycho who created the “festival”, is still living his best life. Homie received hundreds of thousands of dollars to participate in interviews for documentaries, the media, etc. Last time I got caught doing something wrong, my boss gave me ten bucks and a gift card to Red Robin to keep my mouth SHUT. Meanwhile, this evil genius is STILL stacking his bank account. Why? Because our society is obsessed with criminals.

Let’s look at ‘The Ted Bundy Tapes’. Why are every sociopath and their mother drooling over these documentaries? My best friend has been referring to “Ted” on a first-name basis as if she knows the guy. To make matters worse, some perv decided to cast sweet angel Zac Efron as Bundy in the movie! How dare you cross-contaminate Troy Bolton with a necrophile? The only thing Zac is guilty of is murdering the iconic choreo of Kenny Ortega (refer to HSM 1-3).

We need to stop romanticizing criminals and start glorifying heroes—like Kirpa from the Bachelor. Home-girl literally ran on wet rocks so she could get injured and finally be interesting enough for some airtime. She and Colton have probably never actually met, but I’m Team Skirrp all the way. #Kirpa2020

It’s about time the media stop throwing money at delinquents. Did I fall in love with the ‘Hot Felon’ in 2014? Absolutely. Do I think Zac Efron looks hot AF as a murderer? You’re not wrong. It’s not my fault though. If Jeremy Meeks’ baby blue-eyed mugshot didn’t get more publicity than the ‘Walmart Yodeling Kid’, I probably would have had no idea who that handsome Crip was.

The jokes on us. We are the ones who keep these maniacs in business, desperate to lay eyes on the next villain. Why are we like this? I’m not sure. Maybe we get a thrill from seeing vicious acts played out, knowing we are all capable physically, but not mentally. Tuning in may give you that adrenaline rush of a roller-coaster, or hitting 10,000 steps on your Fitbit if you’re a suburban mom, but watch at your own risk. Remember, somewhere someplace there’s a serial killer spinning on his Peloton, AirPods in, looking down at you, laughing from a Penthouse apartment filled with human body parts and Dom Perignon. Tragic.

What do R. Kelly & a thicc Otter have in common?

By: Ali Benz

What an interesting world we live in where one can body shame an otter. I’ve been reflecting a lot these days. Not by choice, but we’re over a week into dry January and I literally have nothing better to do. It’s amazing how much free time you have when you’re sober. Who knew! Anyway, back to the otter: an absolute unit. How is it that an aquarium is facing extreme scrutiny over posting a thicc sea creature yet R. Kelly, a serial pedophilic rapist, has received minimal backlash after decades of abuse? The only thing I’m thankful for regarding this monster is that the six-part “Surviving R. Kelly” docuseries came out on the first weekend of Sober January. That was the first time I’ve ever told my friends I couldn’t go out because I was watching Lifetime. No one believed me. So, thank you Robert, but also f*ck you, you piece of trash.

Let’s compare these two breaking stories. On one hand, we have Abby, an innocent otter with the same publicity and curves as the Kardashians. She’s an icon. Abigail is an unapologetic female who will not conform to impossible beauty standards, and her PR girl gets that. After the Monterey Bay Aquarium released one of her tasteful nudes, the internet quickly turned the otter into a victim. Although I’m sure the picture was meant to empower women of all sizes, Instagram trolls quickly did what Instagram trolls do best—ruin a good thing. Thus, the #OttersLivesMatter movement was born. The aquarium was quick to issue a public apology to the furry feminist to silence the trolls. Abby has since become the most influential sea otter on social media and is predicted to be the first aquatic member of Congress. She is set to have lunch with Michelle Obama at Nobu to talk strategy. Fingers crossed for another tell-all.

On the other hand, we have Robert Kelly, the Harvey Weinstein of RnB. While the sea otter content had me falling out of my seat, laughing, the R. Kelly documentary had me sinking into my couch, crying. This man abused tons of vulnerable women without seeing any consequences or remorse. His fame and fortune allowed him to hide in plain sight. Loyal fans protected this creep for years and constantly shamed his victims. It literally took thirty years and a six-part docuseries to shed light on an infamous rapist, yet just hours to shame an aquarium for accidentally offending the otter community. Tragic.

Just because you don’t want to remove “Ignition” from your throwback 2000’s playlist does not mean you need to support a predator. While Abby thrives in aquarium boundaries, R. Kelly should rot in a cell. If Instagram trolls spent even half as much time destroying R(apist) Kelly as they do tearing apart a random aquarium, the world would be a better place. He may sing like an angel, but keep in mind he’s just another Bill Cosby behind a pretty voice. I strongly suggest everyone continue the fight to #MuteRKelly and protest this sick man to death.

On a happier note, I just received word that Abby will be the new face of OtterBox. She will be collaborating on a new design for thicc, plus-size iPhones, available exclusively through Fashion Nova. Oh lawd she comin.

The Most Dramatic Season Ever

By: Ali Benz

The blog is back by popular demand. Shout-out to my three (sometimes four) super-fans that keep me grounded. Has the fame changed me? Yeah, a little bit, but getting six likes/comments from followers in Argentina will do that to a girl. You wouldn’t get it. Anyway, this is a holiday blog (I just decided) so get festive b*tchez.

How do I feel about Hanukkah, you (no one) asked? Hanukkah is super dramatic. Eight days? Why? Relax big fella we could wrap this whole thing up in one but you need a week and a day. I know I’m kind of a hypocrite because I’ve been celebrating my birthday since July, but that holiday revolves solely around me so it’s like way less stressful.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m down to get as lit as the menorah and gamble my Bat-Mitzvah savings away on the dreidel, but this year I just wasn’t ready. Why did Hanukkah have to make a dramatic entrance on December 2^nd? I legit still have stuffing in my fridge and a few more costume parties to attend. Welcome to Halloweentown. That might be a personal issue, but seriously who doesn’t enjoy a nice Christmas/Hanukkah collab? Now all I can do is hope one of my random Catholic friends invites me to their ham dinner or whatever. I don’t want to spend the afternoon with that mall Santa again— Although he does have some dank weed.

I don’t smoke, but that man must be high as a chimney to jump down…. all those chimneys? Sorry, I’m Jewish I don’t know how these things work. I have Amazon Prime though so I’m not too worried. I can order six Kylie Lip Kits and have them here by Friday without feeling obligated to prepare a midnight snack for the delivery guy. My house is gluten and dairy-free anyway so that thicc St. Nick probably wouldn’t even enjoy my spread. Tragic.

Also, we need to talk about gift etiquette. Wrapping paper and holiday cards are extremely dramatic. Eight dollars for a sparkly card with some BS haiku about winter? Thank u, next. You can miss me with that one. That’s why I have mad respect for my grandma. Homegirl wraps our presents in tin foil, throws down some fire lyrics on scrap paper, and calls it a day. Now that’s what I call Christmas: Volume 4.

The only one who hustles harder is Mr. Claus himself. He literally works one night a year and has “travel blogger” in his bio, right after ~wanderlust~. The man is clearly a trust fund baby with the work ethic of a millennial. How old is he anyway? I wouldn’t be surprised if big Nick was giving out promo codes for Fit Tea. After all, he did tell me he lives in the North Pole but summers in the Hamptons. At least his sleigh is cleaner and greener than the Jitney, but would it kill him to throw down on a table at Gurney’s once in a while?

I know I sound like the Grinch or something, but I’m not. TBH I love this sh*t. I’m wearing a Santa hat and pounding Manischewitz as we speak. I’ve been listening to the Justin Bieber Christmas album since November and I’m not apologizing for it. The truth is, holidays are overwhelming. Your family is insane and you have to see your weird uncle but it’s all good ‘cause, like, presents. Duh. So, go ahead, send that annoying holiday postcard that your mom signs ‘Love, the Bennett’s & Boe!’ as if your dog was the mastermind behind the photo and not a victim to your dramatic tradition. Buy your boring co-worker that stupid snow globe for secret Santa. Hook-up with your Rabbi’s first-born son. Get it all in while you can, because come January, we’re starting all over again and what a disaster that will be. Happy holidays!

Sexy Ruth Bader Ginsburg

By: Ali Benz

Halloween is amazing. The costumes get crazier and more confusing every year. For example, last night, I met a black man wearing a sweet George Washington costume. Naturally, I asked him if he was George Washington Carver. He said, “No! I’m Ric Flair (b*tch)!” Then I jumped off a bridge. Just kidding. I’m not racist, just an idiot. I’m not even sure who GW-Carver is but I’m sure he’s a lovely guy. We then preceded to get a ~ spooky ~ drink together and he followed me on Instagram and I’m buying his mixtape. All’s well that ends well!

I just love how it’s socially acceptable to dress up like an idiot, consume your weight in chocolate, and black-out on a Wednesday all because of this random holiday. I mean, to me, that’s just another day in the life, but it’s great to see the community getting involved.

I’ve never actually planned a Halloween costume. I have no idea how you psychopaths do that. My method is to throw on all black (shocker), douse myself in paint, find the nearest headgear, and call it a day. Then, you go out and whenever someone asks who you are, you obnoxiously say “What does it look like I am?” However they respond is now what you are. Basically, that’s how you become a skeleton, pirate, cannibal, and sexy pumpkin all in one night. That’s just showbiz, baby.

Lucky for me, my Italian hair-dresser saved the day. She legit stuffed one of her black smocks (smock is a weird word) into my bag and said: “Here, have a cape.” Sexy witch, here I come. Stylist Deb doing G-d’s work—I love it. Clearly, her selfless act did not go unnoticed. I caught the attention of a guy dressed as a sexy cop. He asked for my full name, address, birthday—and then I realized he was indeed not in costume at all and I was indeed receiving a fat fine for public intoxication. Stupid hot narc.

Bottom line, Halloween is the best holiday of the year. A bunch of weirdos running around half-naked or covered in blood—you never know what you’re going to get. Also, holiday-hack: if you’re a girl in your twenties and put on a mask and channel the voice of a small boy, you will never have to stop trick-or-treating. I don’t do that, I just heard one of my friends did it. And I was there. Don’t judge me. I have no idea where else to get 100 Grand bars without knocking on a stranger’s door disguised as a ninja turtle. Gender roles, am I right?

Super depressing that it’s over, but at least it’s about to get worse. All your slutty pics are about to surface and literally ruin your life. Bad weekend to be a school teacher. The best is coming into the office after all your ~ spooky ~ activities. All the Karens and Toms ask you what you did and you tell them “nothing special,” as if three hours ago you weren’t funneling handles of Fireball dressed as a sexy Ruth Bader Ginsburg and vomiting into a pumpkin. Life experiences are everything. Happy Halloween!

Advanced Guide to Resume Building and Job Applications

By: Ali Benz

If you don’t have ‘Proficient in Excel’ on your resume, did you ever even create a resume? Just because you made that mailing list for your step-sister’s Quinceañera, doesn’t mean you’re an Excel pro, but you better believe it’s on my list of skills, right next to ‘Works well with others’. Doubt it.

Applications are just too confusing these days. I love how, in a desperate attempt to appear less prejudiced, forms will put ‘White’ as one of the second to last options. This is cute and all but I can literally never find it. Sometimes, for the sake of time, I just circle a random race so I’m not late to the interview. It was only awkward that time I chose Pacific Islander because I thought it sounded like a cocktail at Red Lobster.

The questions just get harder and harder. Do you ever get hit with the ‘Hispanic or Non-Hispanic’? It might as well say can you dance or not. I always feel a little offended by this one. They’re basically asking if you’re exotic or a basic b*tch. Not slick. Also, I never really know how to answer this super personal inquiry. In my heart, I do feel a little Hispanic—I did spend that one summer in Punta Cana and I might have dated a Salvadorian—but the question isn’t clear as to what qualifies. My advice is to just leave that one blank. First amendment type sh*t. #KnowYourRights.

It seems I’m not the first one to be confused by an application. Senator Elizabeth Warren was clearly a bit rattled when applying to Harvard. Maybe she wasn’t sure to what extent Native American they meant—just like I’m still confused if I could be considered Latina. Then again, I was just trying to get into Costco, not an Ivy League school. What she did was probably wrong, but I bet she would’ve been accepted even as a Pacific Islander. You can’t always just name-drop Pocahontas and get the job. Sometimes, you have to actually meet the requirements. For example, Jamie Lee Curtis is my fourth cousin and I still didn’t get the part in Freaky Friday. Lindsay Lohan is just a better actor, dancer, activist and—this is how you throw a party in Mykonos, b*tch.

Anyway, I’m not sure how much you should exaggerate on a school/job application. Maybe just enough? Like, if your idea of fluent in Spanish entails watching Narcos without the subtitles, then, by all means, throw it on the res. Just don’t apply to any positions that specify bilingual as a requirement. That’s a bigger let down than a Starbucks in a Target. No one wants a caramel macchiato from the place that sells tube-socks in bulk. Know your audience.

Race and name may influence some outcomes, but with all these ancestry tests who even knows what’s real. I’m surprised they don’t require you to attach your results to the common-app. Had there been a 23andMe kit back then, I would’ve checked off way more race/ethnicity boxes and really expanded my horizons. White girl from Connecticut just never had that “wow” factor. Luckily, my grandma forbids this testing because “why would we just hand our DNA over to the government?” Once again, I do not know what secret opps she’s running out of Boca Raton, Florida, but I continue to respect the hustle.

It’s no secret that everyone exaggerates a little to get a foot in the door. Just look at Paris Hilton. She managed to convince the whole island of Ibiza that she was a DJ, when really, she had spent the past ten years blacking out at Ultra Musical Festival and occasionally dancing near one of the Chainsmokers. All you can do is work hard to surpass the lies that are your resume. Get that job you are completely unqualified for, then become so great that you don’t need a last name, like Dunkin’ Donuts. Did they really change their name to just Dunkin’? Who do they think they are? Cher?

Hopefully, this helps you land your dream job. Takeaways from this post: always lie just enough to get inside, subtle brag that Jamie Lee Curtis is my fourth cousin, don’t rely on DNA testing. Anything is possible. I’ve received opportunities way out of my league, and I thought Big Pharma was the name of a rapper. Tragic.