So it's Friday night. Our girlfriends are rallying. If it's a "who, what, wear" kinda night, maybe it'll be sushi and sake followed by drinks at the new hotel bar. Or tapas and sangria, and then drinks at the other new hotel bar.
However, it's also the end of an arduous work week spent in high-waisted pencil skirts or slacks and pointy-toed office pumps. The last thing we want to do is apply glue and false lashes to our eyelids, put on special underwear, squeeze into a cocktail dress and tiptoe around town in 5" YSL platform sandals.
Certainly by now, most single girls understand both the merits and disadvantages of a girls' night out (or GNO). On the positive side, many of our epic drinking tales are a result of the shenanigans, mischief and mayhem derived from a girls' night out. And what single girl doesn't enjoy a good chortle retelling such stories?
If the intent and mission of a GNO is to "meet guys," some single girls neglect to realize the size of their party is indirectly proportional to the level of success in meeting said guys. With these expectations, failure to meet a definite caliber of male on a night out could lead to some, if not total, disappointment.
For example, when a large group of girls heading out to a bar together collide with a comparable group of dudes, one would hope this to be an opportune turn of events - until it resembles a junior high school dance in the cafeteria with boys on one side of the room sneaking fidgety glances at girls on the other side of the room.
Ladies, it's a simple formula of proportion and mathematics: we all know it's easier for two guys to approach two girls, not two guys to eight girls (much to everyone's chagrin). Unfortunately, a girls' night out can become a complete clam jam session when too many women are involved.
Albeit, there are those nights where we abandon "Operation: Man Hunt" because we're not in the right mood to potentially meet the man of our dreams at a bar. Maybe we're feeling bloated, maybe our favorite dress is at the dry cleaner's, or maybe we're just totally over "girls' night out." (Gasp! How could this be?)
These are the nights we step out of the house in leggings and tastefully oversized t-shirts with our favorite accessory (a bottle of wine) and head over to a girlfriend's house. If she's the Martha Stewart of the group, she will have a lasagna, casserole or something equally starchy baking in the oven. Otherwise, it's most likely she fake cooked or ordered take-out from somewhere calorically fantastic.
It's no wonder why single girls like "girls' night in." Benefits include opening that fifth bottle of wine (when there are only four of us) AND indulging on a third piece of lasagna with nobody (really) judging us. (And the fact that we showed up in elastic waistbands is no coincidence.)
The ability to converse on certain topics in the privacy and safety of someone's home is quite liberating (especially after that fifth glass of wine). We can talk about birth control (because abstinence is not an option), Brazilians (not the people), penises (yes, we compare notes), blow jobs (yes, we share techniques) and battery-operated "boyfriends."
We can exchange bad date stories, deliberate about the guys we're seeing or gossip about former sorority sisters without worrying about a bartender, waiter, busboy or stranger overhearing our blunt, and often bawdy, exchange. Unfortunately, when a specific person is being discussed in public, there is always a chance that someone within earshot is acquainted with the subject, specifically in a small town such as Los Angeles.
Another advantage of girls' night in? We can have our cake, and eat two. Carpe noctem!
Oh my god, you guys, are you just as upset as I am that The Hills is, like, absolutely dunzo? I mean, I would totally be wearing all black in mourning but it's, like, 100 degrees outside. (Duuuh.)
Okay, so some of you are, like, probably thinking: Are you for real, Single Girl 1.0? The Hills, REALLY? You're college educated (so?), and aren't you a little too old to be watching that stuff? First of all, shut your face. Secondly, just because I'm old enough to remember when MTV used to, like, actually show music videos, it doesn't mean I'm "too old." Whateveeeer...
You see, guys, The Hills is kind of a big deal. It's, like, a cultural phenomenom recognized by legitimate publications such as Rolling Stone and important people like the President of the United States. I KNOW! Obama watches The Hills! HUGE, right? I wonder if he hosted viewing parties in the White House like I did? (Hey, senators, take a drink everytime Lauren rolls her eyes! Or have a shot when the cast arrives at an SBE-owned nightclub or restaurant!)
The reason why single girls like The Hills is because the producers created something that we can actually RELATE to. I mean, that show about pregnant 15 year olds is, like, totally gross and crazy, and My Super Sweet 16 is just ridiculously tacky (and makes us jealous that our dads aren't billionaire record producers, those lucky bitches).
The Hills is essentially OUR lives, reenacted by thin, young, surgery-enhanced blonde chicks. (And the token brunette. What's up, Audrina!) All of the drama we've sustained with frienemies, boyfriends, girlfriends, girlfriends' boyfriends, etc, is, like, ALL there - in neatly packaged, 30-minute episodes. It's like the producers read our diaries or weblogs. Or something...
The Hills is basically a disclosure of what we single girls truly are: emotional masochists with a penchant for unneccessary theatrics, douchebags and expensive designer shoes. Seriously, think about it.
Remember that episode when Justin Bobby told Audrina he would go to a party with her, then said he couldn't go to the party and she was, like, understandably, a little upset so he "surprised" her and showed up with his completely inappropriate combat boots ON THE BEACH? And then they got into a fight and he ended up leaving ANYWAY and then disappeared on her for DAYS. Oh. My. God. So frustrating! That, like, totally reminded me of a "Justin Bobby" I used to date.
And let's not forget the "Brody Jenners" of our dating repertoire. You know, that guy who is a total player and gets away with hooking up with our girlfriend after he breaks up with us because he is "Brody Jenner." And because he is "Brody Jenner," we remain friends while not-so-secretly pining after him. Meanwhile, he is, like, dating Playboy models and ex-wives of punk rock musicians, and all we can do is sit next to him in a booth at a club giving him the stink-eye over the rim of our martini glass while he checks messages on his Blackberry. (I know! Why does it always have to be so complicated?)
In true single girl style, every piece of dialogue spoken on The Hills was, like, incredibly intense, not to mention poignant. And reflective of our own lives, not everything said was as articulate as it could have been. Example: "He's a sucky person! I hate Spencer, I will never like Spencer!" Wow, LC, that was, like, really sucky.
But then she would redeem herself with gems such as: "The only thing left to do is forgive and forget. I want to forgive you and I want to forget you." Oh, snap! So harsh, but totally something I'd want to say to a girlfriend who was getting married to a guy who spread nasty rumors about me that were published, like, in Us Weekly. Yeah, I KNOW.
Even Audrina - sweet, sorta cross-eyed Audrina with the perpetually vacant stare - once told Justin Bobby: "You're gonna be incapable of loving someone. You're gonna grow up and be a lonely, old man. I hope you do fall in love someday 'cause then maybe you'll actually feel something." You tell 'im, Audrina! Although I wonder how many times she had to practice that speech...
You know how sometimes you, like, find yourself in a situation where you just pause for a moment and think: "Huh. This is my life." Like that time when Whitney got to model an Oscar dress on television on television? (Not being redundant, she was being filmed being filmed on a TV show for a TV show.) Remember how she tripped walking down the stairs? During a LIVE BROADCAST? Oh my GOD, that would totally be, like, something I would do. I felt for her during that episode, I really did.
Or that time when Lauren ruined the Givenchy dress she borrowed for the Crillon Ball in Paris and had to hustle back to the store for a new one? I, like, TOTALLY felt for her in that episode. No, really, I did.
So now that the series is over, what's next for the stars? More nose jobs or butt implants? Most importantly, what's next for us?
- Posts : 61
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Join date : 2010-02-23
Location : India
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