NOOOOOO! Goodbye, “What Not To Wear”.

I’m going to go cry now.

After 10 seasons of amazing style and personal transformations, Stacy London and Clinton Kelly are closing up shop on “What Not To Wear.” This is massively depressing on so many levels.

First, I’m sure Stacy and Clinton are totally spent. They’re practically glorified therapists and style customer service reps. Can you imagine preaching the same damn rules to nearly 350 people over the course of 10 seasons? SHOOT ME NOW. There’s only so many times I would’ve been able to say, “Dark wash jeans, NOT light wash jeans” or “You’re not fat, you just don’t know what to wear” or “Dresses aren’t the devil’s work!”

Frankly, I’m so impressed with Stacy and Clinton’s patience, and it’s been tested. As someone who has worked in customer service in the great city of Sin, I know what it’s like to hear the same goddamn thing over and over. The bitching, the complaining, the creepy guys asking what I was wearing and if I wanted to meet at the club later that night. That last one was strictly Vegas, but I’m sure Stacey and Clinton still catch my drift. The fact that neither of them ever punched any of their guests square in the fucking face is an incredible accomplishment.


I started watching WNTW back in 2003. I was at a friend’s house and she had it on while doing some crafty stuff. I was immediately hooked. I was also immediately aware of what I was wearing and the clear fact that I should probably be nominated for the show.

Then I started paying closer attention to what’s in my closet and how I wrongly justified buying shit. Your shirt doesn’t have to fit like a glove to actually fit right. Uniboob is not attractive and doesn’t actually make your rack look bigger. Don’t say it won’t fit, try it the fuck on. Dresses are the bees knees. Highlight your waist and you’re golden. Skinny jeans aren’t always the answer. There’s nothing a good jacket, blazer, or cardigan can’t make look fabulous. The list can go on.

But what I really learned from WNTW was how awful – and I mean truly awful – people dress themselves. Once I felt I had rid my closet of the drab and slowly put together something more fab (or so I’d like to believe), I realized how shitty everyone was dressed, especially in Vegas where women wore dresses 10 times too small for them.

Most women I’d see coming into the clubs looked something like this:


And then they would approach me to get into the club and I’d be like,


Nightmares. And PS, ladies: When you wear dresses too short and you’re on your period, it’s obvious when you’re not wearing underwear because WE CAN SEE YOUR WHITE STRING.

I’m going to vomit from the mind┬ásearing┬ámemories.

The point is, Vegas isn’t exactly the venue where people follow Stacy and Clinton’s rules, but working and living in that city for 2 years was total motivation to throw out any dresses that I can’t comfortably sit in without a cheek vandalizing a chair. I also learned that push up bras aren’t all they’re cracked up to be and can really stretch the girls in ways that aren’t human.

I get it, every female’s main goal when dressing up for a night out is to look sexy, but FUCK THAT NO EXCUSES. In our every day lives, our purpose is to feel strong, confident, and fabulous. WNTW taught me that sexy isn’t an outward appearance. Sure, some chick could have her goods on display and maybe her body is amaaaazing, but if a guy asks what her name is, she could be like, “Whaaaa? OMG! Do you like horses? They eat hay. Monkeys are cute. Where are we right now? OMG that rhymed!”

No, throwing on a short, tight dress doesn’t equal sexy. Sexy is something that exudes from the woman herself, in her self-esteem, her own natural character. This is what WNTW has shown us all the past 10 seasons, as Stacy and Clinton tell all of their guests that they’re amazing, successful, and totally off their fucking rockers. And by the end of each episode, most people don’t know what kind of crack they were on before Stacy and Clinton entered their lives. They look sophisticated, chic, powerful, and sexy – and not one butt cheek or twin peak is out. Besides, even if they decide to throw on a pair of sweats or yoga pants (THEY’RE SO COMFORTABLEEE) for a grocery run, at least they’re a better person for it.

So now that this wonderful and instructional show is leaving TLC, I encourage everyone to buy their DVDs or look out for reruns. You owe it to yourself and to your loved ones who have to walk beside you. Don’t be a selfish, insecure piece of crap. Learn what not to wear.


The Difference Between a Douche and a Dick.

My significant other and I were recently discussing the distinguishing factors between people who are douchebags and those who are dicks. He willing admits he can be a dick sometimes, but I think it’s just a common misconception about folks who have grown up on the East Coast. There’s a brevity about the language and tone of voice used when East Coasters chat with each other. It’s not meant for any harm, but when they travel around and find themselves in the cushy corners of the West Coast, suddenly people are crying and yelling about these foreigners being dicks. And so the world turns.

Mike (said significant other) is a good guy. Nah – a fuckin’ amazing one. Sometimes he’s even a little too hard on himself when he’s too unselfish or nice – seems a little odd, right? Growing up in the Greater Boston Area can turn a guy callous, constantly watching his back for that eventual stabbing feeling. And even with this notion, he’s a great guy. He’s given me thicker skin while I’ve given him overt amounts of sunshine and daisies. It’s a decent trade off, especially since California is full of people that want to pet you and make you feel like everything is gonna be cool, man, because we’re sensitive to your feelings. This isn’t exactly the street rules where Mike is from. Every man for himself, that’s what he’s used to. Family loyalty is law but that won’t stop the name calling and shouting. It’s all out of love. In the Golden State, name calling and shouting leads to lawsuits and tears. And why do all these California guys wear such tight fucking pants? WHERE DO THEY PUT THEIR PENIS AND BALLS? These are common observations from a non-California born male.

And this is why, from time to time, Mike sees himself as being a bit of a dick. He can be short with people because he just wants to get something done. But he’s worked enough customer service jobs in his 27 years to always make people of every type feel appreciated, even if it’s just a simple, “How ya doin’ today?” His collar will always be blue, and I love him for it.

That led our discussion to what makes someone a douche. The real difference we concluded to was the fact that a douche is a person filling a facade and trying way, way, WAY too hard. They’re being someone who they’ve specifically set out to be, craving the attention of a certain type of person. It’s an act and it slowly makes them ignorant and dumb, whereas with a dick, you know what you’re getting at all times and you know they can also be a good person behind that stone face after, lovingly, calling you an asshole.

While living and working in Las Vegas, I met a ridiculous amount of douchebags. They ranged from tourists who were looking for a two night escape from the norm, thus decided to be douchebags in order to score that skanky ass bitch who just fell down from being drunk for 5 hours, to the VIP Hosts who only took the job so they could make themselves up every night to get the attention of the hottest guys that visit and leave Sin City every weekend. They act suave and well-to-do, but they really have absolutely nothing going for them, except that chick’s number. Of course, there are exceptions to this stereotype, there always is. But this is pretty much the doing of the douche. And it’s equal opportunity, men and women.

Another point to be made, a douche can be a dick but a dick cannot be a douche. Bring that one up in seminar one day and kick up your feet for a while.

Also, this:

And this.


And Cris Angel.

I hope we’ve all learned something here and take more consideration when labeling someone a douche or a dick. These are words, people. Treat them with care.