“Why can’t you go for a nice engineer type?” – Mom

Re: My penchant for non-committal wandering musician/artist/writer/manchildren.

Cause I don’t want to, Ma. Cause I’m a non-committal wandering womanchild. Cause musician/artist/writer/manchildren are hottt.

On a slightly related note, I’m reading The Paris Wife right now and loving it because I’ve always liked to imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with Ernest Hemingway. You know that man was crazy talented and funny and enigmatic, but maddeningly cocky and self-centered. Can you imagine how exhausting it would be to date that guy? We’ve all met dudes like this. Paula McLain just makes it so real. So real. You should check it out, especially if you also have a love/hate relationship with that irresistible asshole too. Sigh.



How To Play Hard To Get

When you know someone has their sights set on you, the last thing you want to do is make it easy for them to get to know you or talk to you or touch you or even blink at you. Why would you want that? Why?

My default setting is hard to get. Not “playing” hard to get. Just hard to get. I don’t know how to get and others don’t know how to get me. It just comes naturally. I don’t even have to try. *brushes shoulders off*

Here are some helpful tips if you’d like to stay single forever and want guys to think you’re batshit bonkers:

When you meet a guy at a bar, don’t bat your eyelashes or smile or do any of that charming shit. Instead, look at him as if you’ve got his balls in a vice and are on the verge of completely obliterating his manhood if he so much as even breathes in your direction.

You know that move guys do where they oh so gently place their hand on your lower back, maybe to guide you or maybe just to have some kind of physical contact? This is territorial as fuck and if it makes you turn into a wild-eyed caged animal, I totes understand. This is so easy to handle, though. All you have to do is let your instincts kick in and claw his eyes out, much like a feral cat facing potential domestication. Want a less…violent option? Lean in and seductively whisper in his ear, “Your touch makes me sick” and then throw up on his feet.

The other night, this dude grabbed my hand to lead me through a crowded bar and I had to fight the urge to be like “Uh, does it look like I don’t know how to walk through some people? I’m not like a four year old needing help crossing the street, bro.” If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, simply dig your talons deep into his palm until you’re able to feel his blood oozing all over (and ruining) your hot pink manicure. Bastard. Or you can just let go of his hand. Whatever.

Maybe you’re dealing with a guy who likes to ask you questions about your life and talks about things that matter and offers to get you a water when you’ve had too much to drink and you’re like “Oh, he’s so niiiiiice. Even though I’m not really feeling it, I can’t be mean to him! He cares!” Yeah, okay. If you’re not feeling it, don’t make him feel like you’re feeling it. You feel me? Just give him your number and then ignore his texts because you’re not mean at all!!! Teeheeheehee.

Can’t wait for us all to die alone together! ❤

Where my silver foxes at???

I don’t know what it is or where it came from, but I’ve suddenly got it into my head that I want to date an older man. How old? I’m not sure. How old is too old? I’m thinking maybe a George Clooney old. Not that I think I could ever find myself a George Clooney. I’d totally take maybe a Colin Firth or a Gary Oldman, though. God yes, I love Gary Oldman. OLDman.

You see, I feel like an older man would at least kind of have his shit together. Besides the obvious mid-life crisis thing he’d def have going on. But that I can handle. Because that is the exact reason a man in his late 40s to mid-50s would even date a 23 year old. And he’d obviously have to be loaded. If I’m going to do this I’m going to do it right. Not with some man who still drives the mini-van his wife left him after the divorce. No way.

Also important to point out in this mantique fantasy of mine is that I would probably not love him. I would probably not fall in love with him. This is a one to two years (tops) kind of sitch, ya feel me?

I would mostly just like for him to be charming and mature and take me to interesting places and lavish me with Agent Provacateur lingerie and macaroons imported from France. (If you think trading my body for a silk corset and some thigh highs is gross then I need you to go look at some AP lingerie and tell me you wouldn’t do the same. I mean, come on. Get real)

But then I’m like oh no, what if it turns out like Carrie and The Russian on SATC and I move with him to Paris and then he ignores me the whole time because he’s preparing for his big art exhibition or whatever and then I feel really out of place and everyone’s mean to me because are French people mean? I DON’T SPEAK THE LANGUAGE. WHY ARE YOU TALKING SO FAST??? I MISS MY FRIENDS.

How does one even go about finding this kind of man? Should I put an ad out in the paper? ‘Poor 23 Year Old Woman Seeking Rich Old Dude – Not an Anna Nicole Smith Situation – Like, Please Don’t be Dying or Anything – Be Very Much Alive and Have Lots of Frequent Flyer Miles. Okay. Thx’

What about you guys? Would you ever go silver fox hunting? Tell me that doesn’t sound mad hot, right? Right? Yeahhh.

Ask Me Stuff: Life, Love, and the Lack Thereof

Before I get into this, I need to tell you guys that I had a revelation last night while listening to Destiny’s Child. You know when they’re like “Say my name, say my name, if no one is around you, say baby I love you?” Well, I always thought they were saying “when no one is around you” and I was all confused because if no one is around to hear him say your name, then did he really say it at all? Think about it.

Anyway. I’ve got a couple of questions to tackle here about how we as a species need to stop falling in love or lust or like with anyone because that is just the best way to prevent heartache/heartbreak/debt/general sadness/overeating. I’m just kidding. Love and lust and like are all totally cool things. Yeah.

First question I received anonymously (ooh ahhh mysteryyyy)

“Why do I always end up pining after someone who doesn’t like me? And even though I’m not really pursuing it, I still have this nagging feeling about him. And if he was attracted to me wouldn’t he have done something about it by now?”

Okay, Miss Piney,  these are very dangerous questions to ask yourself because they will inevitably turn into “What’s wrong with me?” or “Why am I not good enough?” questions. And those are just total downers and only serve to make you feel insecure. I think we’ve all been in this situation, though, and I believe this is the part where I’m supposed to say that you don’t need a man and you’re awesome and beautiful and smart and funny and all that other stuff I need to say here, but you know all that already. Girls rule, boys drool.

But something else these questions do is put the dude in the driver’s seat. If a guy likes you, he’s supposed to let you know it, right? He’s just not that into you if he’s not asking you out, right? Right and right…sort of. I guess if a guy wants to see you, he’s going to try to see you. But maybe he’s nervous or shy or not sure how you’re feeling. I’m not saying you need to follow him around like a puppy dog in the hopes that you will tickle his fancy. I’m saying just keep doing you thing and he’ll keep doing his thing and if your things are meant to come together (wink wink) then they will.

I was watching The City last night and I’m going to tell you what Diane Von Furstenberg told Whitney (paraphrased, duh). “The first relationship you have in life is with yourself. And no matter who you are with, at the end of the day that’s who you come home to. Yourself.” Preach it, DVF! (Yeah, I’m stuck in 2009 MTV land).

Whatever will be, will be, gurrrrrl. Do like that Adam Sandler movie and just go with it. Except maybe not really because the last time he released anything good was The Wedding Singer. Agh, nevermind. You know what I mean. ❤


Next, from the lovely Christina Wolfgram:

I have a triple threat for you: The most current love of my life recently dumped me out of the blue. I am in grad school. All I want to do is shop. How would you recommend getting through this identity crisis without spending all of my rent money while also pursuing Who I Want To Be?

Some days I feel like I have a handle on it and others I only have a handle of vodka. I’d love to hear your insights! Cool idea for blogging, by the way.

Girlfriend, you just asked all of the million dollar questions. All of them. All. First, keep the handle of vodka around and maybe listen to Handel, too (LOLZ sorry I’m out of control).

Shopping and alchohol are always my go-tos for every problem ever, so I (and I’m sure many others) can relate to this so hard. Shopping provides us with a distraction. Shopping gives us things that will momentarily fill a void. Shopping is really fucking fun. Alcohol does all of those things, too, and makes everything hazy and soft. Beware the ultimate danger zone: shopping while intoxicated. It happens. And it is deadly.

But these are just temporary solutions and leave you with a hangover and barely enough money to go to McDonald’s to alleviate it. And then you’re basically left where you started, asking yourself where your life is going and why things happened the way they did. The universe has thrown you a curveball (ugh that’s so cheesy) and that’s okay.

My advice is to do three things:

First, wallow in your misery/confusion/whatever it is you’re feeling right now. Just roll around in it. Wrap yourself in it like a little baby burrito. I don’t know why it’s a baby burrito, but they just seem really cute idk. Don’t do this for too long, though, or you might become a hoarder and we’re having to have interventions and it’s just a big mess. Get it all out of your system. I’m sure it’ll come creeping back later, but for now it’s at bay.

Next, try to distract yourself with things that don’t cost money. That’s actually impossible, never mind. Distract yourself with things that don’t cost too much money and will enrich your life! Go see movies where people are stabbing other people. Go to an art museum and stand in front of one painting for like thirty minutes and then when someone comes up to you and asks if you’re okay, start cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West and say “Are you okay? hahaaaahahahahahhahaaaa.” Read books. Write. Do cartwheels or yoga or watch the entire first season of Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane (it’s on Netflix). These are all great because they take your mind off things, but don’t leave you feeling guilty afterwards. Your bank account and body are like oh hell yeah to that.

Finally, you can focus on that big question. Who do you want to be? And how can you become that person? And instead of feeling like it’s dreaded and overwhelming, you can be excited about it! Because you, and not the circumstances you’re in, have control over your life.

All of this is totally easy for me to say as an outsider, but hopefully it helps! 🙂

Got more questions for me? Hit me up here, here, or in the comments. LOVE YOU MEAN IT.

I think I like Romance novels?

Last night I drank an entire bottle of wine alone in my room and I can’t remember what I did but it probably involved listening to Black Sabbath while trying on a bunch of my clothes and pretending I’m Cher Horowitz getting ready for school in the morning. I also know that I didn’t manage to drunk text anyone, which is good.

So yeah, I have bedsores now from lying in the same position all day today. I’m not exaggerating. The only time I got out of bed was to get more diet coke to nurse my poor body back to health.

Anyway, you know how I said I can’t remember what I did? Well, I found some evidence. A little clue, if you will, about my actions last night. I found this:

This is the romance novel I’m reading right now. It’s by Sandra Brown and it’s a three-books-in-one kinds thing called “Texas! Trilogy.” Don’t judge me. Especially because I’ve read this multiple times. Like maybe at least seven times. I don’t know why. Some mysteries in life aren’t meant to be solved.

Apparently during my vino binge, I got a little angry with this book. Angry enough to rip out a few pages. I honestly have no recollection of this and that scares me. I imagine myself laughing maniacally while tearing the pages out with my teeth and blathering on and on about how love is a myth and men are the devil. I’m worried, though. What else did I do? I think I might have killed a man.

The thing is, I actually really love romance novels. Or I thought I did, anyway.

I like them, not because they’re realistic, but because they’re the exact opposite. Who wants to read a realistic romance? Not to be too cynical, but there would be no romance. There would be pseudo-romance. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing because romance novels are super lame. Here’s a direct quote from this book:

“He listened very closely to something else – his own being. He lusted after this woman’s body more than all the other bodies he’d ever known put together. His single sexual experience with her stood out above all the rest. He’d had many that were lustier, crazier, faster, slower, but none as heart-piercingly sweet, none that still haunted his mind.”


Let me give you the pseudo-romantic translation:

“He wants to bang this woman again because she is still a mystery to him. He’s a bit of a manwhore, yet he’s never had sex with a woman like her and he really wants to do it again. She’s still so shiny and new to him, which is why he can’t stop thinking about her. At least until he’s playing video games or complaining about his fantasy football team.”

I’m not saying that men in real life don’t have the capacity for romance. I’m not saying romance is dead. That’s not what I’m saying at all.

What I’m saying is that sometimes the fantasy is better than the reality. And that’s why women read this stuff.

Alright, well, I have a mighty big hankering for a forbidden love affair, so I’ve got some doctoring to do on this here book.

Oh, and while we’re on the topic of romance nowadays, you should check out this Menagerie Mag article, cause it’s so true it hurts my brain.

Be mysterious. Be a stalker. Guys love it.

I get people coming up to me all the time. Hillary, how do I make a dude like me? Hillary, how do I talk to a potential love interest? Hillary, how can I manipulate a man into thinking that the sun rises and sets in my eyes? Take a number, people, there’s plenty of advice for everyone. Although I’m practically swimming in hot men right now (like as we speak lolzz), I suppose I can manage to take a short break from being hand-fed grapes while getting fanned with giant palm fronds. All for you guys. Dr. Love is in session.

You wanna know how to keep a guy coming back for more? I got you.


You have got to keep his interest piqued. You can’t be like a pandora’s box of too much information. In fact, be the queen of no information at all. Give him nothing. Tell him nothing. Something I like to do is answer every question with a question. For example, if he asks you what kind of music you like, respond with “What is music?” This will drive him crazy. He’s so intrigued right now. Who is this girl, this wild mysterious girl? She doesn’t even know what music is. She’s so sheltered and that’s hot.


Men think it’s awesome when you find out everything there is to know about them via facebook  or Twitter. It saves them the time of having to actually tell you these things themselves. You’re golden if you’re facebook friends or  if his Twitter isn’t “protected” or whatever the hell it’s called.

Let’s start with facebook. I’m going to need you to go balls deep into this thing, alright? If you think you’re in too far, you need to go further. I’m talking, check out some pictures from back in 2008. So you accidentally “liked” this one pic of him from his high school graduation? It’s fiiiiine. Maybe you unliked it fast enough that he didn’t notice. So you freak out for days because you’re positive that he got that notification and thinks you’re batshit insane? Don’t worry, these things build character.

Now, Twitter is a little different. There isn’t quite as much information at your fingertips BUT it’s a great way to gauge how smart/funny/lazy this dude is. Next thing you know, you’ll find yourself rewording his tweets and using them as your own in the hopes that he will one day follow you and be like, “Holy shit, this chick is my one true love!”

He won’t think this stalking behavior is creepy. He’ll be totally flattered.


The second you get a text from him (no matter what it says), freak the fuck out. Run and tell your roommate/dog/rotting jack-o-lantern sitting outside your door. Next, sit and stare at the words until they start to look like Egyptian hieroglyphs. “Hey, what’s up?” somehow becomes “@@** (*&)))” and then you’re convinced that he meant to text someone else who can understand this magical language. It must be some other girl and they created their own special language together and that asshole has the nerve to text you??? Ughhh. Text him back a few hours later and simply say, “Who is this?” This question takes it all back to Miss Mystery. God you’re good.


There are two types of men in the world: the ones who will ask you out on a date and the ones who won’t. The ones who do want to take you out think you’re super neat-o and hope they can get in your pants after. The others are a bit squeamish when it comes to going on a legit date because they think that a date is equal to a binding contract to father your children. They are probably also cheap and say they can’t afford to take you out because will you just look at the economy?? How can you possibly expect him to wine and dine you if he’s barely scraping by after purchasing Halo 4 last weekend? If you’ve managed to gain a candlelit dinner with this type, then half of your battle has already been won.

No matter which type of guy you’re on a date with, you should still follow the same rules.

Rule #1: Let him choose the locale because you are meek and mild and know nothing of the outside world. Keep a look of childlike wonder on your face at all times and really amp it up as you’re walking into your local Chili’s. Ooooh look at the handcrafted mexican tile on these tables! Bottomless chips and salsa??? Be still your heart.

Rule #2: Passive-aggressively steer the conversation towards topics that are important to you. Ya know, things like soul mates and commitment and white picket fences and car pools and soccer games. He already thinks you’re trying to give him the ol’ ball and chain, so he’ll be relieved that his opinions of you are true, which reinforces his belief that males are always right!

Rule #3: At the end of the date, make sure he has no idea what you’re really thinking or feeling about him. Be mega awkward. Be aloof. When you’re saying goodbye to each other, maybe just stare off into the distance and act like you’re thinking about something else, like chocolate lava cake or that Christmas scented candle you bought earlier that day. This leaves him with the sense that you’re not really all that clingy and maybe he was wrong about you all along. REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY, BITCH.


Okay, hope this helps. I’ve got some hot oiled-up dudes to get back to now.

How to Put Your Face On

I wrote a post a couple of months ago on how to get a man of your very own, but I realized that I left out a very key step in the process. Beautification. You can’t get a dude if you don’t cover up your real face and turn yourself into a pouty-lipped, doe-eyed vixen. Do not, I repeat, do not let him see your bare face. I know it’s unfair. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. Don’t shoot the messenger.

But Hillary, my leader, my guide,  how ever do I do this? What is make-up? Maybe it’s Maybelline? What is beauty? 

Don’t worry, I’ll show you how disguise your real features and make yourself look the way the opposite sex has deemed attractive. It’ll be fun! You’re a blank canvas right now! Hope you’re ready to become a sexual object!

1. Pull your hair up and out of your face. Things are about to get messy and your hair is not joining the party just yet. (I’m not pinning my bangs back because I don’t want to. My forehead hasn’t seen the light of day since 2003 and it’s sure as hell not ready to now)

2. Base. Foundation. Powder. Whatever. 

Mineral foundation is, like, all the rage now and that’s what I have. It’s important to get as much powder on the brush as you can. Pile that shit on, okay? If you’re not coughing during this step, then you’re doing it all wrong. You’ll know you have enough on when you start to resemble a wax figure of yourself. (If you’re a freckle-face like me, you know that there is no covering those little suckers up. I can’t complain, though. They are so condensed at this point that I actually look kind of tan)

3. Eyeshadow.

I have this weird unhealthy obsession with my smokey eye kit. It’s not like it’s that great, really. I just paid way too much money for it, so I wear it a lot because I like feeling guilt-ridden and spoiled. Anyway, I’m using black eyeshadow because the eyes are the windows of the soul and my soul is very dark. Feel free to use whatever color you want. Maybe your soul is green or purple or navy. I don’t know your life.

 Don’t worry about making it perfect. Just toss it on there. If you look like you’ve been punched in the eye then you’ve nailed it. Next you should blend with a shimmery color. Blending is everything. BLEND.

4. Eyeliner.

Stick this pointy object near your eye with surgical-like precision. I never said this wouldn’t be dangerous. It’s time to buck up and make Cleopatra proud.

5. Mascara.

This is a magical wand that you use to put black goo on your eyelashes to make them long and clumpy. It’s my favorite beauty product by far. Make sure you use the waterproof kind. Why? Because you’re probably going to be crying later when he doesn’t call or text or send you a postcard and we can’t have you looking like there is an oil spill on your face.

6. Eyelash curler.

Use this medieval torture device to ensure maximum eyelash curliness. All the magazines will tell you to do this before applying mascara, but I like to live on the edge. Will my eyelashes get stuck inside? Who knows! No fear! Get wild!

7. Fake eyelashes.

Don’t you dare skip this step. Guys love that porn star meets Harajuku girl look. Make sure you look up at him like, “Who me? Giggle giggle giggle!”

It takes quite a bit of skill to put these on. Don’t fret. As long as they’re in the general vicinity of your eyes it’s okay. He’ll be so busy looking at your chest he won’t notice.

8. Lip gloss.

Choose something in a sparkly pinkish color. And you better lay it on thick, woman. Too much is never enough. Your lips should be so sticky that you can barely open your mouth. Men get very distracted by shiny objects. Plus, he’s not listening to anything you say anyway. Basically, you want him to look at your mouth and be like ooooh her mouth is so glossy and beautiful, I hope she lets me put my penis in there later.

Not sure if you have enough? Take your hair down and shake it back and forth in front of your face. Did some stick to your lips? YOU’RE GOLDEN.

9. Hair.

Think volume. Tease the shit out of your hair. Not Texas-teased, but pretty damn teased, alright? Tease. it. up.

Then, grab the hairspray and go to town.

I mean it.There needs to be so much hairspray in your hair that you fear for your life near an open flame. Just hope that your dinner isn’t candlelit. Like I said before, I never said beauty wasn’t dangerous.

And Voila! 

Complete your new look with a dress you can’t breathe in, shoes you can’t walk in, and then drown yourself in that perfume you got on sale at Bath & Body Works. If you feel comfortable, then you should change outfits immediately. If you can’t give him directions to your house by telling him to follow your scent, then spritz spritz spritz. Beauty is pain, girls. Nobody said this would be easy.