Shmitten Kitten

Things We Tell Boys We Hate But Secretly Don't: When You Scarf Down A Hoagie

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 03:30:00 +0000

What we tell you:

What are you, an animal? Can't you eat a sandwich like a human being? Watching you attack this hoagie is like watching a lion feed on a gazelle on the Discovery Channel. You have mustard all over you. I'm barely two bites into my sandwich and you've already wolfed yours down. You look like a caveman, all hunched over and grunting, jamming that hoagie in your mouth. Why am I dating such a pig?

What we really think:

It's kinda hot how my man has such a healthy appetite. I wonder what else he has an appetite for. Rawr. I wish I was that hoagie. His love hoagie. Did I just say the phrase, "love hoagie" in my head? Haha. Oh man, I think I just grossed myself out.

Things We Tell Boys We Hate But Secretly Don't: When You Load The Jukebox Up With Grunge Songs

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 03:00:00 +0000

What we tell you:

Pearl Jam? Really? Why don't you just play the entire Singles soundtrack while you're at it. Wait, is this "Would?" Oh, you totally are playing the Singles soundtrack. You know, just because it's on the jukebox doesn't mean that you have to play it. Everyone in the bar is looking at you and shooting you daggers with their eyes. Well, I don't blame 'em. You're forcing them to listen to a 9 minute song called "Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns." If anyone asks, I don't know you.

What we really think:

Around 4 and a half minutes into this grunge opus, I saw the light. "This is my kinda love/ It's the kind that moves on/ It's unkind and leaves me alone/ Yes it does." I forgot how much I love this song and the entire bar should be thanking you for letting them hear this '90s gem for free. I think I'm going to download this song when I get home so I can rock out to it when I walk to work in the morning.

[Update: This post was partly inspired by my friend Andrew, who is known for his grunge-loving ways. Well, I just received word that he eloped with his girlfriend and my good friend, Mikki. Little known fact: I played a part in their matchmaking. Mikki confided to me that she had a crush on Andrew. One night, I blabbed to him that I knew a secret about him but that I couldn't tell him. He bought me a beer in exchange for the information, which I gladly accepted. Judas had his silver pieces, I had a Mad Elf from Johnny Brendas; we all have our price. "Mikki has a crush on you. Hit that shit, yo." With my encouragement, he made a move on her. And, they got married today. It seems that my Cupid-ness now has a proven track record. So, in a way, we all win. Congrats to the happy couple! I love you both very much.]

Shmitten Kitten Pin-Up Girls: The Center City Chick

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 17:07:00 +0000

Here is the third girl in our Pin-up Girl series drawn by our very own Jenna Davis and seeing as how she's a downtown worker bee, she needs to hustle to run her errands on her lunch break. You can see her breezing by chugging an iced coffee, bopping into MAC to grab some more foundation powder (she knows her shade by heart).

This beauty has a real 9-5 job and she is a total weekend warrior: she starts planning her Friday night on Monday morning. Happy hour is her cat nip. She bops around from bar to bar, sippin' on fancy drinks and complaining to her friends about how all guys she meets are dbags. She loves to walk her dog in Rittenhouse Square so everyone can shower it (and her) with attention. Meet the Center City Chick. Double-click on the image to make her bigger.

Bonerkiller: We Get The Sense That You'd Rather Date Your Bike

tndrbttn@gmail.com (Baby J) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 12:12:00 +0000

I get it: riding a bike is a quick, eco-friendly, and inexpensive way to get from place to place. I understand that along with these desirable attributes, you also get to have fun while in transit. But sometimes, Bike Dude, you take it a little too far.

At first I’m impressed with your passion for bike riding. "He’s so totally not lazy and he looks good on that thing," I’ll think to myself as you pedal your way around town. I’ll daydream about us cruising along together, exploring unfamiliar parts of the city that bikes make more accessible.

But the more we hang out, the more apparent your obsession becomes. You spend all your days off tending to your bike: greasing the chain, pumping up tires, and tweaking things I didn’t even know were necessary! You soup that thing up like one of those crazy car fanatics. My old cruiser is an embarrassment to you and your hip, brakeless wonder. On the occasion that we do ride together, you zoom off, leaving my little old Schwinn and me in the dust. Is it so the two of you can have more alone time? When I start to feel like you would rather spoon your fixie than spoon me, something has got to give.

Maybe that sleek paint job and those brightly colored rims really get you going, but what about your gal all dolled up in a cute summer sundress? If I had two wheels and handlebars would you be more apt to take me out for a spin? Seems like my lady-loving is of no use to you; your bike-girlfriend has got you covered.

Unscientific Poll: Invite Confusion

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 20:59:00 +0000

Guys, bros, men: I have a question for you. When you invite a girl to your dj night/ show/ concert/ house party are you inviting them because you specifically want them there or because you just want as many bodies there as you can get?

Personally, I can never tell. If a guy I like invites me to hear his band play, I usually don't go because I don't want to seem like a groupie. In fact, I avoided this one guy's band for FOUR YEARS because I thought about how ridiculous I'd feel if I showed up and he had a line of girls waiting to talk to him after his "gig." What. am I gonna wait in line to talk to him like I'm in a Mr. Big song? Fuck that!

Is this flawed logic? Am I totally misreading it? Weigh in!

Quick Rant: Creepy Winkers

noreply@blogger.com (bianca) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 18:10:00 +0000

A knowing wink can be cute, when it's from the right guy. Today a strange bearded man on a motorcycle thought he was being super suave and winked at me. I easily made the worst face on the planet at him. NOT COOL. It's the same face I make when I smell the women's restroom at Macy's on Black Friday. Sorry for that mental image, but I couldn't help it! A wink from a stranger almost always comes off as creepy. Not a new skool kind of creepy--like he's going to lurk on your blog and riddle your page with inane comments--but an old timey kind of creepy, like the last time that wink worked was when a cup of coffee cost a nickel.

Men of Philadelphia: if you aren't somehow comparable in looks to the Fonz, please do us a favor and keep both eyes open or closed simultaneously. When you wink at me, I don't feel a flutter; I reach for my mace.

Things We Tell Boys We Hate But Secretly Don't: Getting A Hickey

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 03:45:00 +0000

What we tell you:

Great. Now I have to go to work with this huge welt on my neck. Didn't you listen? I have an important meeting with my boss tomorrow. No, dabbing concealer on it won't help. It looks like I'm in the beginning stages of leprosy. What kind of woman goes to work with a goddamn hickey on her neck? It's the summer; I can't even wear a turtleneck. Why did you do this to me? What are we, in sixth grade here? Stop laughing. It's not funny. Ugh! *huff and puff around his room as I collect my things*

What we really think as soon as we step outside of your apartment:

Smile smile smile smile smile high-five. I HAVE A HICKEY, BITCHES! It kinda looks like I got bit by a vampire or something. I'm like a True Blood outtake. I never use the word vixen because I think it's kinda corny, but I totally feel like a vixen right now. Oh man. I think I'm gonna stop and grab some ice cream to celebrate my hickeyhood. Hickeyhood! I think I just made up a word. Haha. I can't wait to check it out when I get home.

Bonerkiller: Philly Sports Phanatic

Lora.Burns@gmail.com (Lora) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 16:17:00 +0000

Remember when the Phillies won the World Series? Of course you do! It will likely go down as one of the most thrilling moments in the lives of all Philadelphians. But there comes a point when you have to realize that a dream has been fulfilled and life goes back to normal. It's okay to move on, well at least until the next season (and this season is great, btdubs).

I was at Bishops Collar the other weekend and they had a rerun of Game 5 on the television. It was fun to watch and everyone cheered at their favorite moments. It was almost like watching your favorite movie for the trillionth time. Except for one group of guys. They were SOOOO into it that you would have thought they had lived under a rock for the past year and were watching the game for the first time. I mean, they were pounding their beer on the tables and kicking stuff and screaming expletives at one moment, and then going rip-roaring crazy with excitement at the next. Um, you do know the outcome, right guys? Spoiler alert: THEY WIN.

After getting an entire beer doused on me from these dudes' frantic celebration at the final pitch--complete with chest bumps and fist pumps and jumping and howling like rabid wolves--I realized that no matter how much I love the Phils, I would never want to date a die-hard fan because that takes some serious guts. And I'm not just talking about stomaching warm beers and dollar hot dogs on your "dates."

When quality time is equated with tailgating by the romantic warmth of a collapsible bbq grill and his idea of a great birthday present for you is a Chase Utley bobble head, it's time to call it quits. This is the type of guy that knows all the RBI stats since 1980, but can never remember your birthday (or your anniversary if you last long enough to have one.) He can also rattle off rosters from the past three decades, but can't remember your sister's name. Becky? Beth? Beatrice?

Oh, and your sex life? It only exists after the game...if they win...only after celebrating the win...only after he sobers up from celebrating the win. If they lose, forget about it. Besides, it's kind of hard to put the moves on a grown man who is pouting about a sports team's loss.

Don't get me wrong: I looove the Phillies. But love and batshit crazy obsession are entirely different things. On the plus side, these dudes are really easy to shop for (tickets/jerseys=love.) They have excellent commitment skills, even through the tough times and dry spells. One thing's for sure though: stick with this dude and there's a 99% chance you'll get proposed to on the Jumbotron at the ballpark. Here he is, drawn in all of his glory:

Yay or Nay: Shmitten Kitten Monthly Speed Dating Party aka ShPeed Dating

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 20:45:00 +0000

So, we've been kicking around this idea to start a monthly speed dating party, except we'd call it ShPeed dating 'cause we'd be doing it (har har.) Each month we'd feature a different band to speed date to, like Black Sabbath, The Smiths, Lifetime, Minor Threat, the Descendents, The Cure, etc. Basically, you'd have to chat with a person for one whole song then switch. It'll be like musical chairs but with dating undertones. We'd try to organize it in different bars around the city and kick it in different neighborhoods. So, if you are opposed to dating Fishtowners, we'd be in South Philly the next month.

You could bring your friends and they can just hang out by the bar. We'd like to play hostess, but we imagine that we could rotate host duties with other Philly personalities. My question: would people be into this? Personally, I think it sounds like a ton of fun. Maybe I can have my own pool of suitors and they can all charm me in the time it takes to listen to "Rodeo Clown." At the very least, you'd meet some cool people who are into the same music as you. And, how awesome would it be to hear these bands in a bar? If we weren't running it, we'd probably show up just for that part alone. Email me your thoughts to anna@shmittenkitten.com or leave your ideas in the comments. Thanks, guys!

Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller: You Live In Delaware

noreply@blogger.com (bianca) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 20:20:00 +0000

Normally I dislike Delaware the same way I dislike guys who wear dad jeans: unconditionally. It might be because every trip I've ever taken to our nation's first state has been an absolute disaster. *Cough--remember that time I got lost in Newark at midnight by myself?--*cough. It also could have something to do with the fact that it seems like the entire state is always under construction.

As a general rule, I often steer clear of boys who don't live or work in the city. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I ditched my car for a SEPTA pass some time ago, or maybe because I found that out-of-city dating cramped my style. But you, Mr. Delawarean, you are makin' this happen. I met a nice boy finishing his master's degree at UDel, and I'm suddenly feeling less and less disdain for our nation's second smallest state.

My apologies, Delaware: you may have the longest red lights on the planet and are only the size of South Jersey, but you've somehow managed to eliminate sales tax at the Apple store and currently house, educate and employ the boy I like. So, let's take the R2 and hang the eff out.

Things I’m Terrible At: Turning Down A Date With A Really Nice Guy I Have No Interest In

tndrbttn@gmail.com (Baby J) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 15:26:00 +0000

Normally, I think of myself as a pretty direct and honest lady. For the most part, I know what I want. This decisiveness usually applies where dudes are concerned too. But every now and then, a really nice guy comes along. Not just a nice guy, but a bonafide sweetheart: he opens doors, he pulls out chairs, he magically pops up at your job just to say "hi,” and he even calls his mom on the regular. This guy is a dreamboat of niceness.

But despite his sweet nature, you’re just not attracted to him. When you glance his way, instead of butterflies in your stomach and fireworks going off in your chest, you’re overcome with, well nothing. You just can’t get into Mr. Nice Guy despite your best efforts trying to convince yourself of his desirability. You look like a crazy person as you debate his finer points to yourself. "He's great with kids and he'd make a great dad," you reason. "Yeah, but for someone else's kids," you mutter under your breath.

Aaaaand right around then is when he usually asks me out on a date. Logically, my answer should always be a cut and dry, “No,” a “Sorry, I can’t” or a “Golly, I’m busy forever!” But instead, I panic. How can I turn down someone THAT nice?! Mistakenly, I think, going out with him once won’t do any harm and instead of handing out a short but sweet rejection, I say, “Sure, why not!” I end up regretting it faster than when I chug a city-wide Philly special--PBR and a shot of Jim Beam for all of you out-of-towners--on a Friday night.

Why do I feel compelled to say yes to guys who ask me out simply because they are nice? There must be some part of my brain that agrees with the backwards logic that thinks going out with him once is not leading anybody on; if anything, it's just being courteous. Once the influx of texts, calls, and Facebook messages begins after that “harmless” first (and only, I hope) date, I kick myself. I am not good at turning down dates with nice guys. In fact, I'm terrible at it.

Dear Shmitten Kitten: He Moved Home and I'm (Surprisingly) Moved

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 02:08:00 +0000

Dear Shmitten Kitten,

I met a great guy this weekend and thought of you! It was one of those Surprisingly Not a Bonerkiller moments. We were chatting about the usual bar conversation topics and everything was going swimmingly. Then, he let it slip that he had moved back in with his parents. While this normally would have had me moving off my stool faster than a cat dropped in a full bathtub, I found myself sticking around to hear the full story. I don't know if it was his blue eyes or knowledge of early punk rock that propelled me to stay, but either way, I'm glad I did!

He recently got laid off and had to settle with a job making half of what he was before the economy tanked like a bad date. Deciding to move back home to save money for a year seemed better than ranking up some serious debt. With the economy hitting everyone hard, I would rather have a guy with who possess the capacity for forward thought then one who has big debts down the road. As long as you have actual plans and an EMOD (Estimated Move Out Day), I'll give you some leeway. Hey, everyone needs a helping hand every once in a while. Down due to the economy dudes, I'll happily give you mine. The strapped for cash cutie even sprung for a round! If you're willing to dish out some of your saved dollars for my beer, I'll gladly return the favor; preferably on date number two.

Love love love,
Ok with PBRs As Long As There Is An EMOD

We totally agree that this dude sounds radical. You kind of made us jealous that he's an old skool punk rocker because that's our soft-spot too. [As a side note, we've been meaning to do a Tip Our Hats to old skool punk rockers and you, my dear, just reminded us to get on that ASAP.] That's great that you are so understanding about his situation. It seems that he's the lucky one here.

Additionally, you make a terrific point: If the guy is watching his dollars and still buys you a beer, it means more than if he were rolling in cash and took you out to Le Bec Fin. We give him two thumbs up. Thanks for the awesome letter. Oh, and let us know if he has any hot, single ex-punk friends. We could use someone to serenade us with Descendents songs on command.

Bonerkiller: Your Giant, Uncaged Iguana

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 18:59:00 +0000

Two minutes into this, I can tell that this isn't going to work out. You have a lot going for you: You have a cool job, we hang out at the same places and we even have some friends in common. But, I cannot overlook the fact that you have a giant iguana just chillin' on the windowsill of your living room. Dude, it's staring at us!

It's like you have a scaly, slow roommate who's shit you have to pick up around the apartment, literally. It smells like a mixture of woodchips and dried skin in here. *gag* It's just walking around the place like it's re-enacting scenes from Jurassic Park in slow motion. Why on earth is this thing not in a cage?

Next time I open a door and see this reptilian moodkiller, I'm gonna make like the Kool-Aid Man and bust out the side of the wall. Just kidding; there won't be a next time. Consider my boner murdered.

[Btdubs, this post is not one long, elaborate euphemism. There really was a freakin' lizard just hanging out like it was trying to sell me a Budweiser.]

Flippin' Our Shades: Joe Stakun

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 18:52:00 +0000

Hubba hubba. We see a lot of rad guys around Philly. Usually we just flip our shades at 'em, all Diamond Dave-style to let 'em know that we are feelin' it. Well, we decided that we should spotlight our faves and let other girls know about them too. We know, we're nice like that. So, for our first Shade Flipper, we think that it's fitting to profile Joe Stakun. We're pretty sure if you checked his diet, he must eat 100% awesome things because they say you are what you eat and this guy is totally awesome. Did that even make sense?

When not making videos and movies, he can be found zipping around town on his bike. In fact, he just released his first feature length documentary about the BMX bike culture called I Love My Bicycle. It also helps that he's incredibly handsome. That's kind of a big part of being a Shades Flipper. Let's meet the man behind the camera.

SK: So, Joe, what have you been up to?
Ummm. I am on the tail end of a feature length documentary I've been making for the past two and a half years. It just premiered in NYC and Philadelphia. At this point, I'm looking around for distro and fine tuning the film. Hopefully it will be out on DVD before 2010. After that, I'm just going to take it easy and go back to doing more music videos.

SK: What bums you out that girls do?
Hmmm. I'm not a big fan of make-up and when girls dress up fancy every time they leave the house.

SK: What do you love that girls do?
When they are funny, cute, original, and talented.

SK: What would you wear on a first date?
Probably just jeans and a t-shirt or flannel. I'm not sure the typical first date really exists.

SK: What would you put on a mix tape for a girl that you liked?
Depends on the girl.

SK: Tell us a secret.
No secrets here.

SK: Oh man, not even one?
I don't have any secrets; I'm a pretty open book for the most part. Is this photo alright? It's quite a metro posture.

SK: Yup, this photo is just great.

Little Known Fact: We Don't Mind A Little Bit of Back Hair On A Guy

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 04:57:00 +0000

There, we said it. In fact, we think it's kind of manly in a grunting caveman way. Hey, our ancestors used to kick it with neanderthals, right? Maybe there is some kind of evolutionary gene buried deep within our subconscious that is attracted to fuzzy wuzzies. We can't explain it, but we can't deny it either. Guys with moderate amounts of back hair are totally welcome in Casa de Shmitten Kitten.

Don't get us wrong, a full-on ape cape is still a tough sell. If we can braid your back hair into a friendship bracelet, then we are gonna have to have an uncomfortable talk with you involving the words "shave" and "it off." We ain't tryin' to get with no werewolves, but a few sprigs of hair peeking out over the top of your shirt collar are not horrible.

Guys out there with back hair, we just wanted to let you know that it's cool; you can take your shirt off poolside this summer. Don't be shy: Fly that fur flag! Strut around like the manimal you are. We dig it.

Are we crazy? Where do you guys land on the back hair debate? Is there even a debate because last we heard, no one else has talked about it.

Shmitten Kitten Pin-Up Girls: The Fishtown Free Love Fairy

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 14:40:00 +0000

Here is the second girl in our Pin-up Girl series drawn by our very own Jenna Davis and she arrives just in time for the the ultimate Freedom-lovers holiday, July 4th. You can find her making frequent trips upstate to camp, to get loose, and to be one with the children of the sun. In high school, she was a bit of a hippy, attending festivals, bonfires, and beer busts at the moontower. Now, she has an amazing collection of '70s vintage bellbottoms, platform shoes, turquoise jewels, Gunne Sax dresses, and feathers which she pins in her flowing mane.

In the fall, she throws pumpkin carving parties, replete with good vibes and mulled cider. She loves yoga, taking photos, and growing her hair out. No Fishtown hang would be complete without her. Meet the Fishtown Free Love Fairy. Double-click on the image to make her bigger.

Little Known Fact: I Will Judge You By Your Email Address

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 01:14:00 +0000

It's pretty much Gmail or bust over here in Shmitten Kittenville. If you use anything else for your personal email, we will judge you accordingly. Having a Gmail account means that you appreciate functional design and progressive technology. I'm not saying that we'll be a perfect match--and, we won't hesitate to block you on gchat if it doesn't work out--but, it's a promising start. When we see that you have a Gmail address, we let out a little sigh of relief, like maybe you won't show up to our first date wearing the dreaded blue-o duo: a bluetooth and a shiny blue button down shirt. Yesssssss!

A Yahoo address is eh. It's alright. It's not the worst, but it makes us think that you're still stuck in the '90s. You've probably had that address since high school and you're too clueless to upgrade. Let me guess: you still have a Blockbuster card too. Let me take another guess: you probably have a CD binder in your car and a polyphonic ringtone on your chunky Nokia. And, if it's something silly like scoobydoo14@yahoo.com, I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that you're secretly a teenage gamer that slams Mountain Dews by the bottle.

On the shitlist: Hotmail, MSN, Comcast, and--cringe cringe cringe--AOL. If we see any of those email addresses written on the cocktail napkin, it will raise an eyebrow. This email address is ancient. You probably didn't even pick it; we bet that it was set-up for you by your techie cousin in 1996. You probably only use the Web to check your email, check the weather, and to monitor your stock portfolio. Just thinking about you logging in to Hotmail bums me out. And, your email address is telling me that you basically hate the Internet. Already your prospects are dimming.

If your hobby is referenced in your email address, like surferdude98@hotmail.com or njscooterkid@aol.com, we will assume that you are barely legal. It's like Chris Hensen will jump out of a kitchen if we even think about emailing you back. We also will assume that you slather gel on your bangs so that they are all stiff and pointy.

The only exception to these rules is if you have your own customized account, like donald@trump.com or joe@totallyawesome.com. The other exceptions are if you have a school address or your work address. We are neutral to positive about that. Although, it's a little puzzling why you're using that instead of Gmail. To paraphrase Busta Rhymes, if you really wanna party with me, get a freakin' Gmail address.

*Apparently, my Mom thinks that I'm being way too judgmental in this post. She frowned when she read it. (Just between us, she has a Yahoo address so I think she's being defensive.) What do you think? Am I being too critical or am I right on the proverbial email address money?

From One Awkward Kisser To Another

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 23:27:00 +0000

R.I.P. Michael Jackson.

Everything You've Wanted To Know About Shmitten Kitten But Were Afraid To Ask

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 17:44:00 +0000

I'm two greyhounds in and I think that this is a good idea. I might change my mind. But, in this post I will answer any questions you guys have. Anything (well, within reason and as long as it's not too vulgar.) Having trouble with your dude or lady and want some terrible advice that will probably backfire? Ask away! Want to know what shoe size I wear? It's a women's size 11.

Leave your questions in the comments. I'll answer 'em. Guys, I'm pulling the curtain back. What do you wanna know?

Here, I'll do the first one. What it's like to write a story about a guy then run into him at a party? It's awkward. Alright, ask me something else.

Funny Story: I Would Do Anything For This Grilled Cheese Sandwich, But I Won't Do That

amandagoesboom@gmail.com (amanda mello) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 14:06:00 +0000

We sat down for dinner at the Royal Tavern and I ordered my old standby, the Royal grilled cheese. Waiting for our meal was a lesson in tolerance and patience I had not signed up for, but I tried my best to smile and nod at my date's boring tales of his mediocre, Beatles-esque band.

Then, my grilled cheese came and nothing else mattered. I was in a cheese heaven. As I stared lovingly at my sandwich, I said, "This is like, the greatest meal ever." When I took my next bite, I caught my date's gaze and saw his eyes widen to puppy dog proportions. "What do you mean?" he asked me, with a quiver of excitement in his voice. And I realized that what he thought I meant was that the meal we were currently sharing was the best meal I'd ever had.

Eager to dispel this horribly incorrect assumption, I quickly blurted out, "This sandwich, this is my favorite sandwich in the world." Surely that was enough, and I hoped that he would drop the whole thing so I could go back to stuffing my face.

As I watched the crushing disappointment overtake him, I wondered if I should've felt some kind of remorse. Then he said, "Oh. I thought you meant this meal that we're sharing. Together. Right now." His inability to comprehend what I'd said absolved me of any guilt that I'd thought I should've had.

"No," I said, "it's just this sandwich. This is a really good sandwich." Crisis averted.

Bonerkiller: Guys Who Won't Watch A Movie With Me If I've Already Seen It

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 04:01:00 +0000

I have no idea why you are being so intense about this. Yes, I saw The Hangover last week, but it was really funny and I think that'd you'd enjoy it. Honestly, I would like to see this movie with you and I want to watch it again. It'll be fine. *take a deep breath*

No, I won't elbow you during the film and say, "Oh my God, this part is so funny." Yes, I swear. Seriously, I won't do that.

What? You have a rule against seeing a movie with someone who's already seen it? That's straight-up fucktarded. Well, what else do you wanna see? There's nothing else playing that would be as much fun. Let's just see The Hangover. Oh man, you are being such a baby about this! Just see the movie with me. I don't care about your rule. In fact, I hate your rule. It's anti-fun. You're like the Taliban of cinema. Aaaaaaargh! *mimic pulling my hair out and make a scrunched up angry face*

Summer Mix Series Volume One: Sunshinin'

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 13:55:00 +0000

As a present to you, our loyal readers, we've asked some of our favorite deejays around town to put together a summer mix for y'all. First up in the series is our good friend Joel from Rocktits! Boasting both an impressive vinyl collection and an impressive chest hair collection, Joel is pretty much our go-to guy for booty shakin' tunes. Besides being one of the nicest guys we know, he can also throw down a mighty mix that seamlessly transitions from '60s psychedelic rock to, like, an instrumental version of "Hey Ya." Seriously, it's all in there. You can see (and hear) Joel and the Rocktits! gang every Wednesday at the P.O.P.E. in South Philly, occasionally at Kung Fu Necktie, and at the Making Time parties.

Check it out: Stream it below and click on the picture to download. Listen to it, share it, LOVE IT!

Tracklist:

Lalo Siffre - "I got"
The Spits - "Let us play your party"
The Who - "My Generation"
Beastie Boys - "Hey Ladies"
Jackson 5 - "I want you back"
The Meters - "Chicken Strut"
Fatback Band - "Funky Drummer"
The Charlestons - "The only one I know"
Loving Spoonful - "Summer in the city"
Donovon - "Wear your love like heaven"
Neil Young - "Mr. Soul"
Stealers Wheel - "Stuck in the Middle"
Co Real Artists - "What about you"
Cajmere - "Percolator"
Triangle - "Peut etre demain"
Snuki Tat - "He's the groove"
David Bowie - "Rebel rebel"
Ronettes - "Be my Baby"
Beatles - "8 days a week"
Shadows of the night - "Shake"
Commodores - "Keep on dancing"
Rolling Stones - "Let's spend the night together"
The Nerves - "Hanging on the telephone"
Frankie Valli - The Night"
Shawn Lee's Orchestra - Hey Ya"
Belle and Sebastian - "Legal Man"
Google Rene - "Smokie Joe's Lala"
John Barry - "This is how you dance"
Ballin Jack - "Found a Child"
Loving Spoonful - "Summer in the City"

Shmitten Kitten Pin-Up Girls: The West Philly DIY Darling

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 16:00:00 +0000

We are really, really, really excited about this: Our very own Editor-at-Large, Jenna Davis, has drawn a series of Shmitten Kitten pin-up girls where each girl embodies the essence of a Philly neighborhood. We'll post one up every week. And, we are gonna kick things off with this beauty, the West Philly DIY Darling.

Inspired by our friends Chloe from the crust/metal band Atakke and our girl Sarah, this fiesty lady can throw together a killer vegan dinner with pretty much zero notice. Her clothes have the coolest screenprinted patches and pins affixed to them, and if you ask nicely, she'll make some for you too. She can cut a pair of Carharts into a hot ass mini skirt in a matter of minutes--which she'll wear even though her legs are bruised from crashing her bike. She doesn't mind playing hostess to bands on tour, even though she secretly intimidates them with her ability to thrash it up with her superhuman ability to pound whiskey and cheap beer.

She stagedives, she talks back, and she is loyal until the end. We love her.

Tip Our Hats: You Have A Barbershop Quartet Vibe

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 20:30:00 +0000

As my bff Jenna recently observed, I totally have a thing for guys that look like they'd be in a barber shop quartet. I guess I'm a sucker for a fella with a cool hat, groomed facial hair, a bow tie, and a singing voice that harmonizes well with three of his peers. What's not to love? See what I mean? All I need is some sarsaparilla up in here and I'm set.

Quick Rant: Dude, You Are Not Good At Giving Massages

noreply@blogger.com (Anna) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 05:22:00 +0000

You just made us dinner, you're cracking us up with your A+ funny stories, but we're gonna have to pass on your offer to give us a massage. You know why? Because you are terrible at giving massages. In fact, you somehow manage to give the least relaxing massages we've ever had. Your "technique"--if that's what you want to call it--is basically to beat up our muscles with your fingers, one knead at a time. It's like you learned how to do this by just mimicking what you've seen on TV. And, for the record, these are yelps of pain, not relief. Who yelps when they are getting a massage? That should've been your first clue.

And, you keep slathering our back with Vaseline Intensive Care lotion out of an old, crusty bottle. This is probably the worst-smelling lotion you could've picked. It smells like a medicine cabinet farted. And, seeing as how it's our fourth date and the bottle is nearly empty, we assume you used it on your last girlfriend, too. Great. See? This is the kind of stuff running through our head as you pound our back with your hand hammers. This is the opposite of relaxing.

We would've said something to you about this earlier, but you seem so confident about your massage-giving abilities. In fact, you downright boasted about them. Who are we to crush your ego like that? We might be smelly and sore but at least we're not smelly, sore, and mean.