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.

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

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 2nd? 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!

Casamigos On The Ice

By: Ali Benz

Reality star Brett Kavanaugh made it very clear that he likes beer. Boys and girls like beer. V cool revelation. I, however, only drink Casamigos. I could go on about its vanilla undertones and sh*t, but seriously, you’ve got to try this tequila. Life-changing.

If you didn’t blow all of your summer money on Juul pods and sparkling seltzer, chances are you’re back on your bullsh*t. With this cold weather approaching, we are all gearing up in our best liquor blankets. No coat-check necessary.

As I made my triumphant return to nightlife, strictly for investigative journalism purposes, I grew extremely disappointed. Finding: people are still ordering bottles of Vodka to the table. I don’t care that your Tito’s is gluten-free, Sebastían, I want some f*cking Tequila. More specifically: Casamigos.

When I asked if any good alcohol would be coming, this uncultured swine of a bottle girl offered me a shot of Patrón. Tragic. I mean, did I take it? Yeah—there are sober children in Africa. I’m not a monster. But it was awful. My palette is clearly way too refined.

At least it wasn’t Vodka. Tequila comes from the agave plant and is way better for you according to, like, science…and Pitbull. Dalé.

If only Casamigos knew how much (of other people’s) money I’ve spent on their products. Maybe then they wouldn’t have left me on read when I slid in the DM. Over it.

Anyway, if you don’t idolize Mr. 305 the way I do, then maybe you should know that this tequila was founded/blessed by silver-fox George Clooney himself. So, if you’re having trouble stomaching silver-sex-offender Kavanaugh this week, grab yourself a bottle of Georgie’s Casamigos, and try to black-out the way poor little Brettski never could.