What’s In Prince’s Fridge Memorial Dance Party

Princedanceparty

As Prince sings in Sex,
(Get up)
On the chair, baby, let me dance under your skirt
(Get up)
Everybody on the dance floor now
Get up, on the table now, let me show you how to flirt
(Get up)

This is fake but funny.

See you there!

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What’s In Prince’s Fridge Memorial Dance Party

Party with Pretty Peanuts Tonight

Party

There will be snicker doodle cupcakes for the first 12 pretty peanut partiers. I’m just 46 views away from making it a 6,000 views party! See you there.

Party with Pretty Peanuts Tonight

Pretty As A Peanut Party

Party
My fucking talented friend Diana Clock designed this beautiful invitation

100 posts
5,000 views
1/3 of the world (including Iraq)

Today is a big day for my blog. Pretty As A Peanut is two months old and has hit some exciting milestones. Pretty Pnuts everywhere are invited to join me in celebrating.

Here are the top 10 most popular posts (which prove that my friends are much cooler than me since 40% of these are guest posts).

#10 What To Do In Berkeley On A Friday Night

#9 Why The Sandwich Spot Is The Only Place I Want To Eat Lunch Outside My Apartment

#8 The Good Part

#7 Still Boycotting Game Of Thrones

#6 Most Dateable

#5 Least Dateable

#4 He Couldn’t Say It To My Face, But He Could Say It to Facebook

#3 What To Do In Oakland On Friday Night

#2 The Simpsons On A Date

#1 Donald Trump In Conversation With Tina Belcher

Pretty As A Peanut Party

Goofy Grin Part I

goofy grinI’m a successful yenta. Before Thanksgiving I threw a singles party at Spats and introduced my friend M to my friend D. When M talks about D, she smiles a special smile. It’s that goofy, lovey, crushing on grin that’s unmistakable, even at yoga from a downward dog position when it’s upside down and a little sweaty and shining through a grunt. The goofy grin is great. If you find yourself unable to stop the corners of your mouth from creeping upward, even as you pass a homeless woman on the street screaming, “Anorexic bitch!” at you, enjoy the moment.

When was the last time you felt dopey over someone and dopey felt like the best way to be? When you’re dating a lot, you meet some people you hate, a lot you don’t like, a few you’re ambivalent toward, and a couple you maybe sort of like. When you least expect it (because you’re at the point where you’d be happy to die alone), you meet someone and blammo! He’s actually standing there across a crowded bar, you’re eyes lock, and you’re sure you couldn’t dream up a man you’d rather talk to and look at and touch. You tell your friends, “I like him, I really like him.”

Everyone who loves you is on team “That Guy” because they know you never get giddy. While your horrible date stories amuse the fuck out of them, they’d rather you be happy. Then you find out circumstances with That Guy are much less than ideal for a relationship to happen. That Guy has integrity and is open about the serious stuff happening in his life and the work he needs to do to get to good. One by one, your friends say, “No! No more That Guy.” But you still get that goofy grin on your face whenever you find someone willing to listen to you gush about him.

To be continued…

Goofy Grin Part I

What is a Bro?

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I was at Spats last night with a few friends enjoying the Long Island Iced Teas we’d “won” by spending $14 and spinning the wheel. I asked my friend L if she went home with the cute guy we met in line at Hoodslam. “He was too bro-ey,” she replied. “Smarty pants trapped in the body of a bro?” I offered. “No, just a bro bro.”

What makes a bro a bro? I first have a physical image in mind. He’s 5’9” and has muscly arms that impede his ability to walk. He wears a buttoned down shirt, a Patagonia vest, and a baseball cap backwards. Personality wise, a bro calls his friends bros (or is it bras?), lives in the Marina, drinks cheap beer (or Long Island Iced Tea?), and works in finance.

My friends agreed that the Marina part is accurate thought that a bro is more likely to work as a programmer. That’s a brogrammer; I’ve seen Silicon Valley. They also said that the defining characteristic of a bro is that he’s an entitled asshole. It’s bad to be an entitled asshole. Having muscly arms and fist bumps are fine.

What is a Bro?

My Landlady Set Up My OkCupid Profile and Other Interesting Things I Heard Last Night At Spats

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WeWorkers second home, or should be

I was at Spats last night after Yoga to the People and even though my friend Natasha turned 29, none of us spun the wheel. A Borneo Fog Cutter, which according to the original menus is a “delicious blend of rare liqueurs, exotic extracts and magic mutterings” that “worked its wonders on the grimly shroud missionaries,” was consumed, however. On you’re birthday, it’s fun to consume large tropical drinks with dry ice smoke bellowing from a coconut.

I used to walk past Spats when it was closed and see the dusty taxidermy and wish it were open. I’m pretty much a fan of all saloons. Saloons have wood, whiskey, sometimes cowboys, and the aforementioned taxidermy. Spats was around in the 70’s and is rumored to have hosted Robin Williams’ card games and the Grateful Dead’s drinking of Becks. It reopened in October last year and quickly became full of fun diverse people.

We were a small group. Diana, Liz, Liz’s friend Raj, Katie Rose, Natasha and myself. I’m trying to get Diana to write a guest post about why she’s voting for Bernie Sanders so I accused her of just trying to get boys to like her (thank you Gloria Steinem). Liz told a great story about how living in New Mexico is just like Breaking Bad (another guest blog post) involving felons on Facebook. That brings me to Raj.

Raj had two interesting stories to share (reluctantly). I asked him if he was doing online dating and he said no, but then admitted that his 51 year old landlady had set up a profile for him on OkCupid. She hadn’t asked for his permission and took his picture from Facebook. He doesn’t know what the profile says and the responses, if any go to her and not him. She is supposedly filtering them on his behalf but she’s never shown him any. Landlady? Mother? Catfish?

Raj also recently took a redeye to New York to hang out with his brother who was visiting for 24 hours. When he got there his brother was nowhere to be found but there was an arranged by his parents date girl waiting for him. I asked him if his parents had at least paid for the trip and dating activities and he laughed heartily. Nope. I also asked him if he’d gotten laid. Apparently this is frowned upon in arranged dating situations. Nope.

Take a ways: Pretty sweaty girls hang out at Spats because Spats is great. My friends and their friends are amusing as hella. My dating life and my Jewish mother are not as bad as I thought.

Alerts: If you’re on OkCupid messaging a sexy muscly Indian dude named Raj. He could be a 51 year-old lady.

My friend’s mom’s article about Spats

My Landlady Set Up My OkCupid Profile and Other Interesting Things I Heard Last Night At Spats