"I work out"

You know the guy. The guy that works out a lot.

He has a prominently displayed bench where he huffs and puffs daily for a nanosecond. His daily uniform is comprised of  basketball shorts and a shirt with the sleeves strategically cut-off to show off his "guns".

He, of course, has a potbelly and nothing that resembles well-defined biceps.

Check out those pecs! Check out those guns! and that beer belly! Now THAT takes a lot of discipline!

I live next to one.

My neighbor rocks his once-upon-a-time 'jockness' daily. Every morning, he goes outside and talks loudly on his cell phone while he sits on the bench before "pumping iron".

He grunts so loudly I worry he might bust an O ring.

And he grunts some more.

After he is done lifting, he re-emerges 5 minutes later to smoke and drink a 40.

It's big! It's mean! But sure as hell won't make you LEAN!

My middle-aged jock neighbor has a collection of empty 40's displayed on the balcony, sure to be the envy of any college students' post-party recycling spree.

Dear Neighbor, here is a simple work-out program for you: 

• Put a shirt with sleeves on
• Buy a third pair of basketball shorts-mix it up a bit, man
• Turn off the cell phone
• Do some cardio
• Eat better
• Stop smoking
• Work on those abs-Do the neighborhood a favor!
• Bench press for at least ONE minute
• Oh! And skip drinking those 40's. Last time I checked, drinking a 40 ounce of King Cobra doesn't count as "lifting" and is directly connected to creating an impressive beer belly.

Neighbor-My main concern is that one day you might flip-flop your daily 'work-out' regimen: Drink a 40 ounce BEFORE bench pressing? This might become a life and death situation! 

I would, of course, hear your grunts and squeals after the bar drops on your thorax and slowly begins to squeeze the air out of your lungs.

As the considerate neighbor that I am, I would monkey bar my way up to your balcony and rescue you. I KNOW I can lift 10 lbs. off your chest. What truly scares me is lifting you off the bench after you consumed those extra 40 ounces. I am, after all, only 125 lbs.

Fortunate for you, your cell phone is always a pinky finger's distance away, and after much grunting, I know you would call for help. 


Who would you call? 911? 

I bet a 40 ounce of Mickey's that you would call a beer-bellied friend to 'rescue' you.

Your beer bellied friend would, of course, bring a celebratory 40 in honor of saving your life. Which, of course, would merit many a loud phone call to tell your other beer-bellied friends how you almost DIED bench pressing 360 lbs.


Neighbor, I toast to your health as I sip my protein shake.


-Raquel

A Letter To Oprah from Project Peeve's Marta

Dear Oprah,

I will not miss you. You have made me laugh and even made me cry but you have left me substance less. You confuse me Oprah!  I cannot truly like anything I don't understand. Your fans are stay at home moms but you are anything but. You are a very rich, single, woman with no children. And I'm not really sure how your audience relates to you.

Plus, you are the worst kind of person. Always telling people what to wear, eat, and buy. You tell us what movies to watch, what TV shows to record on our DVRs, and what books to read. The thing is Oprah, I already have people in my life like that, and they are called Mom and Dad. I really don't need you.

I've never needed you! I mean sure, you were there when I was sick in bed and stuck watching daytime television. But I didn't need you. I had a built in VCR in my television so I could turn you off and pop in a great movie anytime I wanted. And now I have my handy DVD player. So you see Oprah, I don't need you. We don't need you. You needed us the whole time. But now we must let you go. We have Ellen now. And she doesn't tell us what to do. She just makes us laugh. And that's all we ever needed.

So bye bye Oprah, you shall not be missed.

xoxo,

Marta H.

Co-Founder

Project Peeve

Gurrrrrl! Don't be telling me what to read!

P.S. Finally, I can kick the Oprah's Book Club to the curb and say hello to Marta's Better than Oprah's Book Club Book Club!

This is going to piss off women everywhere!!!

As the only male contributor to Slinky, I feel I have to say this on behalf of men everywhere.

Women, STOP demanding respect because you are female. Respect is earned, not given because of your genitalia. Men don't owe you anything. Nobody, in fact, owes you anything.

Stop with all the double standard bullshit. If you judge a guy poorly because he didn't buy you a drink or drives an expensive car, yet get upset if someone calls you a whore, you are a hypocrite.

If you are dating a guy and all you do is complain about him to your friends, you are a fucking cunt bitch, and not in a good way. If you don't like the guy, then don't date/marry/sleep with him. Bad mouthing him to your friends every chance you get only shows the rest of the people in the room how shitty of a person you are. Fuck, you people drive me nuts. Bitching him out afterward is okay, so long as you take some responsibility in dating him in the first place.

Stop trying to change a guy after you are dating. It never turns out well. If you think that nagging someone to change him "just a little" is a good idea, then you deserve it when he looses it and fucks the 19 year old babysitter on your 'visitor towels' that nobody is allowed to use then pisses all over your 'fancy dishes' and pays your sister $200 that he stole from you to take naked pictures of her wearing that lingerie you complain about all the time. If you don't like him the way he is, then find another one. There are currently about 3.5 billion men on the planet.

I was watching some youtube comedy videos on line and I noticed a trend. Under "chick comedy", a channel that only shows women comedians, most of them were tragically unfunny. Not that women can't be funny, it's just that most of them talk about the same things. How fat they are, how it's so hard to lose weight and how they can't find a boyfriend or how their boyfriend/husband is so terrible. Guess what, if you are a fat bitch that constantly nags the guy you are with, it's no wonder you can't keep a guy around.

Men are supposed to be men, women are supposed to be women. Stop trying to change men into women because you think that it somehow degrades you if we stand up to pee. It's not my fault you can't write your name in the snow without getting all tired. You have boobs, we have this. We are different and that's okay. Some women actually like that we are manly, to the rest of you, try to be a man and put up with your shit for a week then you will see who is being oppressed.

If you are having an issue with a guy and he doesn't psychically know what is pissing you off for the 500th time that week, yet you refuse to tell him because "he should know what is bothering you and the fact that he doesn't is making it worse" then you deserve to get dumped in front of your mother and your old high school nemesis that is actually 5 pounds thinner than she was when you graduated.

If you start dating someone or get married then gain a bunch of weight, you are a fat pig and you should be okay with him telling you that it's not the jeans that make you look fat, it's the fat that makes you look fat.

If you use sex as a bargaining chip, you are a fucking bitch that deserves the herpes he will inevitably give you after fucking that slutty club girl he met at his friends bachelors party. That sort of manipulation is cruel. If you don't want to fuck him, don't date him. Sex is important.

You know all of those grudges you have been holding onto since you turned 11? The girl that 'stole' your date to the dance, the girl that showed up to the party in the same dress as you and looked better in it than you did, the girl that was rude that one time and acted all stuck up about her new whatever. Let it fucking go. Holding onto a grudge for 30 fucking years is called insanity. Going to your high school reunion to try and show how much better than all the other girls you have turned out is catty and retarded. You all gained weight, none of you turned out as amazing as you thought you would and none of your husbands are so spectacular that everyone is going to stare at you like you are fucking Angelina Jolie or something. Unless you actually are Angelina then this is not worth the effort.

Do you people realize that if you used this energy and effort on something actually productive, the world wouldn't have disease, energy shortages or famine in a single generation? Women have so much shit going on in their heads at all times, yet the majority choose to focus it on stupid crazy shit. Men basically have hungry, horny, and angry yet we have managed to build societies, travel to the moon and seduce women.

If the majority of your movies and literature center around overly emotional topics, often with a picture of some idealistic, yet 2 dimensional, male lead and some woman that is somewhat average yet desirable in her own way, don't expect anyone to think it is anything but trash. Chick movies and chick lit are not great artistic endeavors. If you enjoy them for their trashy appeal, then great for you, but don't expect the rest of us to consider it quality work in order to make you feel better about reading/watching it.

The rest of society does not need to change in order to make you feel better about yourself. It is far easier to go to the gym, read better books, or just be okay with not fitting in, than it is for the entire rest of the world to change for your perceived inadequacies. Every woman has things about herself she doesn't like. If we changed the way society thought about beauty to make all of them feel better, we would explode. Loose some weight, read a book, figure out what clothes would work for your body type. It's not that complicated. With the internet you can get all of the information you need for free. Stop complaining and do something about it. The world is unfair, get used to it. That's fucking life.

Learn to like giving blow jobs. If you expect your partner to actually want to go down on you and spend a lot of time down there, you are a hypocrite if you don't do the same. It is no more degrading to you to do this than it is to us. If you actually like doing it, then you deserve a guy that wants to go down on your for hours on end. If you only do it grudgingly, then you deserve it when he pays that sexually questionable prostitute $30 for a blowie that night you coincidentally come home early with your best friend in tow. Oh, and keep your stuff clean. You don't want him presenting a rancid wang to you. If you are providing a smelly workspace with bits of TP and stubble, don't be surprised when he doesn't give his best work.

If he isn't good in bed, don't complain to your friends endlessly about it. Either help him to get better by communicating what works for you and what doesn't, or dump him. Complaining to others doesn't fix anything.

If he keeps mentioning threesomes and hot girls in passing to you, don't get pissed at him or assume he is saying you are not enough. He is a guy. As guys, we are hardwired to think about sex all the time. If he stops this behavior, then you have to worry.

Topless

I remember my first trip to South Beach.

ahhhh....beautiful South Beach

 I was 18. I saw two things I hadn't seen before:


1. A man wearing a pink florescent thong with a perfectly tanned, round bottom
2. Girls sun-bathing topless

Not this kind of thong!

Come to think of it, I haven't seen a man in a pink thong since that epic day in South Beach.


Fast forward to yesterday, where I spotted the one thing that makes me cringe more at the gym than the Stairmaster: A TOPLESS man at the gym.


I get it, Topless Man at the gym.  You are proud of your developing body. You are happy your testicles descended. You are proud of your sweaty, hairy arm pits. You are proud that your voice only cracks a little...at the ripe old age of 35. I get it.


But, guess what? I could give a rats-ass that you are soooooo proud of your body that you must go to the gym topless.


MEN-DO NOT GO TO THE GYM TOPLESS!!!!!!


I do not want to see sweat beads form on your manly chest hair. I do not want to see clumped, white deodorant in your hairy, sweaty armpits. It's bad enough already that I must hear you man-grunts while "lifting". Or watch you watch yourself in the mirror while you grunt, sweat and sweat more.


Now that I think about it, there are places that will appreciate your topless manly swarthy hairy chest. In WEHO. At a club called Micky's. 

Look! Topless Men! Like you! Join THEM!

Come to think about it, the boys at Micky's might ask you to put your shirt back on!


With my shirt on,


Raquel

Imma Gonna Staub All of YOUSE

Dear Danielle Staub from Real Mob-Wives of NJ & Angelina from Joisey Shore/South Beach: 

Pint Sized Brawler

Stop the hate, already! Your so-called 'reality-shows' and faux-celebrity are filled with catty, horrid behaviors between women and full-blown-violence. 

I am a 41 year-old-woman who gets into brawls

-Extension ripping 
-Acrylic nail breaking
-Punching in the face

Woman-on-woman-hideous-violence!!!!

Stop it already! 


Just in case you don't understand my urgent plea:
Ima gonna staub all of youse.

Stop the hate!


-Raquel as featured in Project Peeve