ESB: Emotional Support Boyfriend

By: Ali Benz

We’ve now made it to Thanksgiving and I hate to break it to you, but if you haven’t secured a bf/gf by now, it’s safe to say you are single for the holidays. Times up. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it just means you have no excuse when you return to your hometown and that one kid from high school hits you up on Facebook messenger and asks if you want to play beer pong in his stepmom’s basement.  Also, you are guaranteed the couch while your wifed-up siblings are blessed with whatever childhood bedroom wasn’t turned into an office/gym.

If you did snag a companion before December, you could be playing a dangerous game. After 2020, it seems that everyone’s type is the same: an emotional support boyfriend that will temporarily cure your seasonal depression and follow you around like a lost puppy. It’s kind of genius, and way cheaper than therapy.

Kim Kardashian is a prime example. She recently got divorced from Kanye West and was heading into holiday season stag—but not so fast! Pete Davidson saved the day. The scruffy, loveable SNL star has become Kim K’s best accessory. Who would’ve thought such an established lawyer would need this reinforcement? After a very public breakup and the constant stress of balancing nude photoshoots with litigation, she needed to get herself a Pete. He is the perfect combo of musty and precious. He’s just like my service dog, Lola, who only bathes every couple of weeks and walks outside barefoot but gets to sleep in the bed because she’s cute and makes me smile.

The Law Offices of Kim Kardashian-West were not the first to discover an ESB. Big sis Kourtney Kardashian paved the way when she latched onto America’s bad boy Travis Barker. Not sure if he’s really a “bad boy” I just don’t know anything about this vampire-drummer specifically because the year is no longer 2006. Unfortunately, the stress of being North West’s aunt and running Poosh has taken a toll on the firstborn. Somebody check on Rob. Kourt found the perfect emotional support boyfriend to lean on in these hard times. She adopted her own personal little drummer boy to bring home for the holidays and coddle her while Caitlyn discusses her stance on gay marriage over a Christmas ham. Tragic.

As for me, I’m still in the market for an ESB of my own. It might be too late, so I’m willing to be someone’s ESG—as long as their family makes good food and lives in a tropical location. Especially if that Omicron variant is creeping in. Time to get that booster shot and cozy up with someone unstable. It’s that or listen to a ten-minute Taylor Swift song while crying about your ex and cyber-bullying Jake Gyllenhal. Did anyone ever find that scarf? Could be used as a nice mask against Omicron (Taylor’s Version).

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.

 

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!