VS Fashion Show 2013; A Review, For Science.

Disclaimer: This review is in no way scientific or factual. This is merely my stream of consciousness throughout the fashion show, and that stream isn’t entirely fluid, because girls in bras prancing down a runway. If you can handle that, continue on.

First Segment – British Invasion
The fact that they opened up with Fall Out Boy really made my heart happy. The fact that Candice was the first model on the runway completely stole my attention from that. Girl was killin’ the SHIT out of the Fantasy Bra for this year. As this segment goes on, I could care less about who’s wearing what – except for the girl with the weird plaid punk-rock wings, and the one in the body suit with the leopard bra. The second girl was not punk rock enough for that outfit at all. But, overall, I wasn’t too disappointed. Also, Taylor Swift didn’t suck when she started singing along with FOB, so that was nice. By the end of this segment, I was still drooling over Candice, so I didn’t really care about anything else that was going on. Sorry not sorry, girl is flawless.

Second Segment – Shipwrecked
My notes on this say “I have no fucking clue who’s singing right now, but these girls are so distracting IDGAF”. My notes on this were so very accurate. When you pair beautiful lingerie with flowing fabrics, there’s something so…romantic about it. I don’t know why. They didn’t really look shipwrecked at all, but they were partially-to-mostly naked, so I wasn’t complaining. Also, the “Get to Know the Models” segment that followed, about the girls being stuck on an island, made me laugh. I believe it was Adriana who said the one thing she’d bring to a desert island would be a knife. She would survive on that island, and would probably have to eat her fellow models for sustenance and absorb their power. But hey, that’s okay – she’s the one who was smart enough to bring a damn knife. Bitches gots to learn.

(Another point I had on the “Get to Know the Models” segments – I don’t like them. It’s not like I can date these girls, and I’m unsure as to why VS is trying to make the models seem like real people. They’re models. They go on all-liquid diets the month before this show. THEY AREN’T REAL PEOPLE.)

Third Segment – Birds of Paradise.
Guys. What, what, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I get that you’re trying to be super cool and play with feathers and stuff – but half of these feathered concoctions are so confusing, they distract from the bra. Tucker, sweet baby angel that he is, was wondering why it was such a big deal that a girl tweaked her ankle before last year’s show in her high heels. No, babe – girl probably broke her foot, because her wings weighed about 30lbs, and she’s wearing sky-high heels, and she weighs about 115lbs herself. It baffles me that men don’t understand that high heels SUCK. We don’t wear them for comfort, assholes. ANYWAYS – the girls in this segment were rockin’ it, barring the crazy feathers. The third model out on the runway was giving me some serious eyes, and I was unsure whether or not to be into it – the “not” half of that was because, ya know, it was filmed two weeks ago and she wasn’t giving ME eyes, specifically. But, it could still totally happen. Holding out hope. 

Fourth Segment – PINK
Whenever Pink does their segment, literally everyone rolls their eyes. I understand that this line is for younger women, and that it’s all about having fun and being young. But the fashion of it literally makes NO SENSE. I could deal with the feathers, but come on – a giant smiley face balloon as a pair of wings?! VS YOU ARE LETTING ME DOWN SO HARD. Throughout this segment, I was confused as to who the band was – Tucker said that it seemed like an underground hipster garage band – and I wasn’t distracted enough by the girls to enjoy it. However, that one girl with the body paint could aaaabsolutely get it. If she ever reads this…she should hit me up. Find me on Twitter and we’ll talk, babe. The only one who really aggravated me in this segment was Cara, with her stupid yellow dishwasher gloves. She’s prancin’ down the runway like she’s hot shit, and I just can’t get behind it. She’s wearing dishwasher gloves, and her eyebrows are too distracting. No thank you.

Fifth Segment – Snow Angels
Disclaimer: I hate Taylor Swift. She annoys the ever-living shit out of me. If you can tolerate my opinion on that and continue reading, that’s awesome. If not, STOP HERE.

Alright. The minute I heard the opening chords to “Trouble”, I started screaming. Taylor, we get it. You knew he was trouble when he walked in. SHUT. UP. I am SO SICK of that damn song. I was so mad that I wasn’t paying attention to the lovely ladies. But once I did, it was great. These girls are all killin’ it, with their wings and all the white lingerie, and then – WHY IS TAYLOR SWIFT WALKING DOWN THE RUNWAY. TAYLOR YOU ARE NOT IN LINGERIE. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE VS MODEL BOOBS. STOP WALKING DOWN THE RUNWAY. (This pissed me off last year, too, when Rihanna did the SAME THING.) Candice was my flower queen in that gorgeous outfit…ugh, I love her. And then Karlie Kloss, KILLING that body suit…Tucker is just as obsessed with Karlie as I am with Candice, and he successfully argued to me that Karlie, while she may not be as bangin’ as Candice, is probably the most real girl on the runway. I’ve got to agree – she seems like a normal human being. Barring the whole liquid diet thing.

And as the show draws to an end, and TSwift stops singing, the models come down to the end of the runway, and they all smile and wave and lord, am I thankful. The VS Fashion Show for this year has been a success, the girls were killin’ it all night, and TSwift has stopped singing. Now, we wait in hope that next year’s show will hopefully have a better Pink segment, and that they’ll get someone like Ke$ha to perform. No need to thank me if you use that idea, VS. However, if you do want to thank me, I wear a 34B and a size small in underwear.

Dear Future Girlfriend

Dear Future Girlfriend,

Hi there! How’re you doing? I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I’ve been thinking about you for a bit, lady, and I’ve got a favor to ask you. No pressure, or anything – don’t want to ask too much of you, especially since you don’t exist right now – but for the sake of my sanity, could you please not suck? You would think that I wouldn’t have to ask you this question. And believe me, I never thought I’d have to ask it either. But, sadly, I do. I’m one of those girls who gets all the dirty laundry out of the way, so I might as well air it before I even meet you. That way, I can just show you this blog (or you might even be reading it on your own right now!), and we can skip that awkward conversation on my end!

For starters, I’ve got three simple rules. Literally, the most simple rules you can think of. The first is just don’t lie to me. I can’t stand people who lie, especially people I care about. You aren’t doing yourself any favors in lying to protect me, or lying to preserve yourself. In the long run, lying to me is just going to get me mad at you. (Please note that lying by omission, e.g., ignoring my questions, is still lying. Lying to protect a surprise, however, is okay.) Second rule seems kind of obvious to me, but people tend not to care anyways – do NOT cheat on me. I’ve been cheated on by three different people, in the three relationships I consider to be my most significant ones so far in life. I count kissing as cheating, and I count consistent flirting with someone else as cheating too. When you’re in a relationship with me, you’re there for me and me alone. If you’re even considering someone else – just get the fuck out. I don’t have time for disloyalty, especially when I’m giving someone my all. My third rule doesn’t follow this general line of character, but it’s important to me, nonetheless. And this is, don’t insult my family. I can talk shit about these people all I want. I live with them. I’ve dealt with their beautiful faces for my whole life, so I have earned the right to complain. Unless you’ve got a diamond on my finger, you have no right to say jack shit about my family.

Barring those three rules, I’m not really expecting much from you. I like the occasional bouquet of flowers, and pretty jewelry (pretty does NOT equal expensive!), and movies. If you’ll sit with me and watch a movie and let me talk through half of it, while you sit there in silence? You’re an amazing person and I’ll reward you with sex afterwards. (Oh, and please – let’s have lots of good sex.) I’m hoping that you and I will have similar interests. I’m really hoping that if I meet you in the winter, you’ll accept that I hate the cold and you’ll keep me warm and cuddled up inside. If you wanna go and play in the snow, you need to accept that I’ll be okay for fifteen minutes, and then I’ll take off my gloves and start whining and we’ll have to go home. If you don’t think that’s true, ask my dad – that is exactly how it goes, every single time. I will make up for this, however, by tickling you with my cold hands and kissing you while you laugh. I’ll be kissing you a lot, actually. As well as hugging you, and holding your hand, and just being near you frequently. I hope you don’t mind.

I hope that you’ll be understanding if things go sour. My head is a mess of problems that take me a long while to figure out. There are going to be nights where I’ll need you to hold me while I cry for no reason. There are going to be days where you’re going to come and find me curled up in bed, facing the wall, and ignoring the world because it’s just too hard. There will be times, however, where I am smiling from ear to ear, singing along to some of my favorite songs in my car. Maybe you’ll be enraptured and staring at me with some goofy grin. Maybe you’ll be singing right along with me. I know that when I get low, I can be miserable to be around. But I hope that the times when I’m not low will be enough to entice you to stick around through the messy stuff.

Most of all, future girlfriend, I truly hope that we’ll be happy together. I’m hopeful for a future where I can wake up next to someone and smile, because they’ll still be holding me. Where you won’t judge me if our tastes in music are too different. (But please, please, PLEASE DON’T LIKE COUNTRY MUSIC!) Where we can go out and party all night, then come home at 1 in the morning and order pizza and smoke a bowl and laugh about the amazing times we had. I am truly hopeful that I’ll be able to put a smile on your face, and that you’ll appreciate all of the stupid stuff I say and do, and you’ll love my lame stories, and you’ll be so happy to have me in your life. I’m truly hopeful that I’ll be enough for you, because I haven’t been enough for many people. I just want to be loved, lady, and I know for a fact I will love you so hard and date the SHIT out of you. So, if you made it through this, and you’d still like to be in my life? Fantastic. Let’s go on an adventure together and never look back.

Yours,

Jayanne Nicole

PS. Don’t let me be a phase for you. That shit ain’t cute.

She’s Just Not That Into You – The Lesbian Edition

Ladies, I know you’ve all been there. You meet a person, you grow to be friends, and then you realize – this dude wants much, much more than friendship. Now things are awkward. You don’t know how to get out of here without ruining a friendship, and at the same time, the idea of dating this guy is the furthest thing from possible, in your mind. And honey, you better believe that I’ve been there too. Not with girls – I’m not that cool – but with boys.

God, it’s the worst. Having a person approach you with something you can’t return is really, really difficult. For me, I find it horribly awkward for a guy to ask me out on a date when I’m just not that into him. However, in situations like this, you’ve got to rip off the band-aid. It’s much easier to be blunt and honest than trying to make up some messy story. There are other approaches, sure, but isn’t honesty the best policy?

What makes it even worse is that I’m as out of the closet as possible. Yes, I’m a femme lesbian – I love looking beautiful, as it makes me feel beautiful. When I go out, I like to look hot. Turning heads is fun for me, whether they’re male or female. But I’m not really dressing with the intention of picking up anyone of the opposite sex – I’m dressing up for me. (Sorry boys, I know it’s heartbreaking to hear it’s not all about you.) The only other person I’ll dress for is a female of interest. But, generally, there aren’t a lot of lesbians at the parties I go to. (Note to self: work on that.)

I also have this really bad habit of being genuinely friendly with someone, and not realizing that they’re flirting. I’ll be carrying on conversation with someone, and they’ll be super charming, and the minute I drop “Oh, I’m a lesbian” into the conversation, they look like I’ve kicked their puppy. When I came out to my guy friends at school, one of them said that it demoted me from one of the hottest girls in the building. I mean…I understand it. Boys can totally get scared of true competition (;. But that’s besides the point. I tend to lead people on in the beginning, without even knowing it, because I’m too socially awkward to understand what flirting is. If a guy were to bring me a drink, I’d think he was being genuinely friendly.

So, by the time I’ve cluelessly wormed my way into some poor bastard’s heart, I’m left feeling very, very awkward. It was literally never my intention to charm this sucker, and yet, here he is, with hearts in his eyes. So, this is the point where I get to let him down easy. I’ll drop my orientation into the conversation, maybe tell a funny story about my ex, try and talk about other girls…some guys take it easily, and the transition from crush to bro is seamless. But when a guy gets hurt over it…that’s just the wooorst.

I generally like to play by a simple set of rules in the dating game. If I’m into it, I give it my all. If I’m not into it, I try and back away slowly, as not to poke the bear that can be an aggravated rejection. It’s supremely difficult to know how someone will handle rejection. However, I have my own experiences to work from, and in my personal opinion, honesty early on is the only way to end things before it gets too messy. Thankfully, I have yet to meet a boy who turns a rejection into a four-act drama. I hope I never have that distinct pleasure.

In short, rejection is rough. No one wants to deal with it, but we have to. You aren’t always going to get the job. You aren’t always going to get the girl. Then again, it’s just another job, and she’s just another girl. Time goes on, the world moves forward, and ya know what? Just because that girl at the bar turned out to be a lesbian should be no knock to your sexual prowess, gentlemen. Accept that you both have far too many similar interests, and you’d be better off as friends. And plus, she’ll probably help you find a smokeshow later on, anyways.