So last week I wrote a review of a dating website and I guess that inspired another site to seek us out for a our signature girlspoke critique. The email I got was about a website, Repvine, that claims to give you a good reputation online. Haha, that’ll be the day. It works like this: You set up a profile and then it’s a free-for-all, whereby other members rate your reputation. Then the clincher is that when someone (read: potential employer/date) does a google search they will come across this info. Is this good? Perhaps for the searcher, but not necessarily for the searchee.

Now let’s say you get your girlfriend/boyfriend to sign up and while your all in love and shit you give each other high ratings. Then you break up and he/she goes to the site and starts messing with your shit. What do you do about that? Fuck. I wouldn’t be able to get a date ever again. Then again there are some guys out there that I’ve dated who deserve a warning label.

According to kind folks at Repvine:

“Repvine empowers users to collect and display references. because it provides relevant information about you search engines tend to pick it up and display it when people search for you. people are searching for you. friends, family, co-workers, your new boss. with repvine you can control what others find when they search for you. [...] 1. its a controlled environment - not a hot or not site which means your invite people that you feel will give you a good reference 2. you can vote on how useful each reference is 3. you can vote on if you agree on how people see themselves e.g. the site comes with “challenge phrases” section in which you can say that you are a “great tipper” and then your peers can vote it…. 4. because it provides relevant information about you search engines tend to pick it up and display it when people search for you.” [sic]

My first advice to Repvine - Fire your PR/Marketing person cause she/he can’t write worth shit.

The idea is interesting though. Risking my precious reputation I have created a profile, have your way with it…

*_{Listen bitches, this was a sponsored post (gotta replenish the panty supply).}

I am like so full of period right now.

Like so nasty and bloody and bleedy and icky.

And I want to tell all of you about it.

Ha ha.

Nobody likes it when chicks talk about their stupid periods.

But here I am doing it.

Look at me!

I’m like Courtney Love.

Wheeeee!

I feel like ima swingin back and forth on a fun swing of carefree i-don’tgivea-fuck!

No wait. I feel ugly, bloated, bleedy, hot, bothered, annoyed, chubby, and tired.

I’ve got my period! Today’s girlspoke is a period party for you and me! Yay!

I love you. I always will.

I grew up in a small town 30 miles south of Atlanta, Georgia. There’s a town square and a festival every spring. There are lots of antique shops and American flags and Bush signs are proudly displayed on most front lawns. The house I spent my formative years in has had icicle Christmas lights hanging from the eaves since my freshman year of college. I am now 25. My dad says it’s easier to keep them up. I have a very traditional, very Southern family. They are into Jesus, outlet malls and Mary Kay parties. I love living in New York, but with Christmastime fast approaching, I’m looking forward to going home and slowing down the pace a bit. Which brings me to the story I’d like to relate now. It’s a story that happened last Christmas and it involves my Southern family and the great town of McDonough, Georgia. Here it goes:

My family’s Christmas tradition is as follows: Breakfast at my mom’s mom’s or at one of my mom’s sister’s places. Early afternoon dinner at my dad’s mom’s. Late dinner/appetizers and snacks at my mom’s mom’s. On this particular year year we had appetizers at my cousin Kari’s house.

So, it’s Christmas night and we realize that because my cousin is slightly dense at times, we only have ONE BOTTLE OF RUM. New York has turned me into a complete alcoholic so this liquor situation was a detriment to my well-being. Unfortunately, it’s Christmas Day and it’s a Sunday. So that’s two problems: You can’t buy alcohol on Sundays in McDonough or anywhere in Georgia and even if you could it was Christmas effing Day and there’s precious few Non-Christmas-Celebrators where I come from so everything was closed anyway.

My cousin’s solution? “We’ll just go to the liquor house.”

“The what?” I reply.

“In McDonough, girl, the liquor house. You wanna drive?”

My head was a little cloudy from two pina coladas.

“What is this? Prohibition?” I ask.

Kari gives me a look which says, “Stop it with the academic terms asshole.”

This is me on Christmas.

So we load up my car and head to the infamous Liquor House. Now I need to let you in on the cast of characters for this merry adventure.

Brandy: The Nervous Driver. Never has done well on roads at night when other cars are present
Kari: The Instigator. Also completely ghetto fabulous. Once told a man she met at a bar that if she’d known she’d be meeting someone that fine, she would have worn her good weave.
Walter and Alan: Kari’s cousins on her dad’s side. Think Cosby sweaters and Georgetown. The New Black Man. Very clean cut and soap scrubbed. But definitely sporting Cosby sweaters and BAs from prestigious universities.

So we’re all cruising down to the Liquor House in my dad’s nice new car and Kari is giving directions. “All right y’all,” Kari says. “Just let me do the talking. Y’all talk too white and I’m not trying to get my ass kicked on Christmas right now.”

The first driveway we pull into is completely empty. The house is shuttered and I notice that there may or may not be yellow tape on the front door.

“Is that police tape?” asks Walter. “That definitely looks like police tape.”

“Okay, Bran. Just back on out like we’re turning around. No sudden movements,” is Kari’s reply.

My heart is going about a million miles a second and my buzz is killed. We sit silently in the car waiting for movement from the darkened house. Finally Kari says, “Well I guess we’ll have to go over to the projects.”

Off to the projects we go. For those of you who are too upper middle class to know about the projects, know this: They are never a place one wants to travel to after dark while driving a new car and wearing her new pair of $150 jeans.

We get to an apartment in the projects and I am instructed to keep the car running. Kari goes in to do the talking and emerges five minutes later with a large black man in tow. He gets into a white van that’s in the driveway and she comes back to the car.

“That’s Eddie. We’re gonna follow him.”

So I follow the stranger in the white van and I find myself turning off the main road and FUCK ME, we’re following him down a winding dirt road. He parks and I leave my car running. We are now in a clearing that logistically is only minutes away from my dad’s house, yet I have never seen it before. About twenty cars are parked haphazardly around. There’s a large barn in the middle of the clearing and I can hear music playing and people talking. Suddenly it’s not Christmas 2005, it’s Christmas 1925, I am a sharecropper and my story will one day be told in The Color Purple.

Kari enlists Alan to come inside with her. Walter immediaely takes out his Treo phone and starts texting.

“Put that UP!!” I tell him. “We are not about to get fucked up over your phone!”

After what seemed like hours, Kari and Alan come back with four small styrofoam cups. “Two dark, two light,” Kari says and I think, we came all this way for wine? Then my car is immediately filled with the pungent smell of gin and Hennessy. We proceed to drive back to her house, open containers in tow.

Two funny things about this story: I don’t like gin OR Hennessy. And when Alan got back in the car he says “Hey, I knew this guy in there. We used to play Little League together but apparently now he’s a crackhead and he has five kids. Can you believe it? Five kids!”

So that’s the story of last Christmas Day and the Liquor House. Living the city life, sometimes I forget that everything I need isn’t readily available by delivery 24 hours a day. It’s nice to be reminded though. Even if the reminder involves a trip to a Liquor House where for a good three to five minutes, I was fearing for my well-being.

Ladies and gentlemen, clearly the must-have toy of this holiday season is an AquaPet. Now, now. I know…you’ve already seen the newsflash on boing boing. But I’m reviving this bulletin for a few very special reasons. First, it’s always fun to look at:

Plus, you can purchase them for your male children with a Spongebob Squarepants model.

OR SO YOU THOUGHT! Here’s where the news grabs hold. I’m about to get Dateline on your asses. You see, when I was sent the link to check out this oddly packaged toy, I was redirected to amazon’s error page.

But surely this was a mistake. I tried again. Then, I tried by going to the home page and starting the search from scratch. Still, nothing. According to amazon dot com, no products matched such a search term. What in Sam Hill is going on here, I pondered. This link was merely days old and already amazon was trying to erase history? There had to be more to this story…

My first stop was eBay. Swiftly, I landed two hits for the Aquapet. Two? Only two? And wait…the seller is in Australia?! The only thing that made sense was that the bids were about triple the value of the penis toy. I shook my head. Now, I can’t make any accusations here, but I’m certain that either that auction is going to be “cancelled” at the last minute, or Nick Junior’s execs are sitting with their Blackberries glued to their pudgy thumbs, ready to pounce and peck as soon as they’re outbid.

But I couldn’t sit and dwell. This was a mystery to unfold. Certainly Yahoo Shopping would be able to show me some other sites still hawking the Dora Penis Dome. A couple of clicks and my heart, again, sinks. Amazon must have beaten me to the punch.

Only available from the site that denies their very existence. Sigh.

You know, I’m not sure if I should be worried or impressed. I’m not sure why Dora is being singled out here, but this has got to be one of the most impressive attempts to erase history since my 8th grade social studies textbook. Who knew amazon had so much power? And more importantly, WHY DORA? Perhaps most importantly, I wonder if they do traffic tickets?

Recently we were contacted to review a website. I always wonder if the people who contact us for reviews actually read our site. I mean, don’t they realize that we’re a group of foul-mouthed, bitter, smart-ass chicks?

Onto the sponsored review…

So, when the email came in and I decided I should at least check out the site, you know poke around a bit. The site is called Best Dating Clubs, a dating website. The first thing I thought was, “another internet dating site? ugh.” I’ve done internet dating sites and successfully met: naked-lawyer-guy, bad-teeth-guy, psycho-secret-agent-guy, and vienna-sausage. Needless to say, I’ve sworn off those sites. I like meeting men the natural way, you know, spilling coffee on them on the subway then wiping it off with my mini-skirt. There’s always the spit-ball approach, then you can find out if he has a sense of humor and if not you can have a good laugh over the little wads of wet cocktail napkins in his hair.

Now back to the site review. On the front page of the site there’s a super-easy to use search box so I plugged in my coordinates:

And, no, you can’t select an age lower than 18 (I tried).

It came up with a bunch of dudes in the tristate area. Fine specimens of manhood. Guys I can imagine taking to meet my folks and procreating many times over with. Well, that is if my only criteria is a picture of their wiener and a few thought provoking, choice words. Keep it simple, right?

Woah, Zeus!

They all seem like thoughtful, intelligent, sensitive guys, I can hardly choose (is there a select all button somewhere here?) My oh my.

(oh, and Batman947, there’s something that looks like a weird thread hanging from your humdinger, you may wanna get that checked out.)

I realize that not all of our readers are looking for guys. So I ventured into uncharted territory: W4M. I have to say the choices are equally delectable…

And while Carmen looks to have already found a male counterpart in that picture I can only imagine that perhaps he is solo and therefore does not fit into her “group” criteria. Or maybe she dumped him due to his lack of photographic skills? Either way, she seems like a swell gal.

If that doesn’t get you going, why not read some of the testimonials:

• Jgriffing14
  “About a month ago i started talking to a girl on here. she lived about a half hour away from me and she looked pretty damn good… i was kind of skeptical and nervous at first but sure enough we met and had a nice long day of watching movies, cuddling and a nice long fucking session where she had 5 amazing orgasms in a half hour…it was the best sex of my short life…thanks”
• anonymous
  “Me and my wife wish to truly thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We met on this site. And, just 2 months later, on 8-10-2001, we were married. And, we have been extremely happily married ever since. Our marriage has been like a story that you read in a romance novel. We have never been happier and our marriage is absolutely perfect. We, Rollin & Connie, just want to say a very big thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”
• 19mnbp
  “hey i just want to say thax for thi site i met this girl from another state, wich i was traveling to, but wee hooked up and we had the best sex ever.. so thanks again..”
• bigdickfreak4u
  “I have recently checked out other dating sites and man do they suck they are no were near this one. I was finally able to find one that I could really see photos and videos of other members on here. This site is the best I think everyone should try it out.”

Ok so onto my final thoughts about Best Dating Clubs… if you’re looking for an internet dating website for free out of focus pornographic pictures, interesting grammar/spelling, and “clever” screen names this site is for you! I give this site A++ for true comedic potential.

*_{This post was a paid review. Yay, wine money!}

What’s up turkey eaters? It’s lazy overeating day and we’re so happy about it. In celebration of overindulgence we’ve put together the following crossword puzzle for your pleasure. Enjoy!

*_{click on image for printable version}

Now go get drunk, insult your sister, embarass your girlfriend and accuse your dad of ruining your life. Cheers!

A. I think I’ve got a whole lot of nothing today
- I am moving and I can’t take my nice newish futon with me. I think that someone needy like in the projects would love to have this thing. How do I get it to them? How do you find needy people so you can give them cool stuff like futons? Who do I email to accomplish such a thing? I think that the really needy folks don’t email.
- I think the word fucktards has become mainstream.
- It just so happens that I’ve been spending time in beds of exes and people I used to date lately. It’s somewhat nice, but it also makes me feel bland and flavorless.
- I’d just love to be anorexic right now but I just have too much will to live lately. Well, in general, aside from the blandness.
- What am I talking about “bland”? It’s just today. Yesterday. Too busy at work. Too hateful with real estate agency.
- I’m in something a little unusual that’s going to give me a lot of unusual exposure. It seems cool and fun, but I’m kinda scared. We’ll have to see what happens. Here’s a clip from it.
- Relationships. Relatable girl things. I am supposed to discuss these things with you folks. I want to be relevant. But I’m a little exhausted. Should I list what’s really happening in my super fun dating life?

B. Why not.
- A man visited me from out of town who I only met once and thought was great. We didn’t end up meeting up. The thought of it kind of scared me. I hate dates. But I like people and I like meals.
- I slept in a bed next to a boy that I adore. He knows I adore him, and I know he doesn’t want to be with me. I think he’s troubled. I hang around anyway even when he doesn’t put out because I enjoy his company so much. It’s a little torturey, but I genuinely want his friendship. I wish he wouldn’t read this but I think we reads everything I write. Hey you. Don’t read into this.
- I have a non serious crush on a younger, very funny gentleman who is too busy for booty calls. I think legitimately and not excuses. Still. Beer keg tapped dry. Want more beer.
- I spend time with men who I know “like-me like-me” even though I feel no chemistry with them and so it makes me mad that I don’t feel more because they’d probably love me good proper.
- Sometimes I’ll bed my most recent serious ex cause the mouth crushin was so good. For some reason this works and does not interfere with our friendship.
- Why didn’t that hot bartender call.
- I have another little crush on a friend who I think I should stay just friends with. I think we’ve just got some chemistry.

C. Yes. In conclusion. It’s just chemistry. I can’t hate a man who just doesn’t want me because I know that there’s great men who I feel nothing for as well. There’s nothing more depressing than forced love.

Ok folks, that is all. Perhaps you appreciated my weird formatting. Good night and good luck

And here are a 5 things I’d like to let you know about me.

1. I love onesies. For those of you you don’t know, onesies are one-piece outfits and they are my favorite thing to wear. Some of my onesies even have a snap crotch for easy access. As a matter of fact, I really love teeny clothing. The more leg and boob I can have out without actually being naked, the better I feel about my ensemble.
2. I am black and I was raised in the backwoods south of Atlanta, Georgia, but I have the voice of a white girl from Northern California. No one else in my family talks like me and to this day, I am the family oddity. “How come Bran talks like that?” people always ask. “Twas white day care’s what it ’twas,” is my grandfather’s favorite answer.
3. I didn’t know I was a pretty girl until spring break of my freshman year of college. I was on the back of a truck in the parking lot of a Panama City Beach KFC and a very cute boy from a Michigan State fraternity was sitting beside me. We were drunk on Bud Light and he told me that he had been afraid to approach me on the beach that day because he figured I was too pretty to talk to him. I opened my mouth to say something cute but let out a huge surprise burp instead. Luckily, since I am black he couldn’t see how red I felt.
4. Preteen girls love me. Lucky for me, my goal in life is to write comedy television for just that demographic. I have a laminated poster of Leonardo DiCaprio in my room above my bed. I have been to three NSync concerts and most of my CD collection is comprised of the 1997-2002 playlists from Billboard’s top 25. I am more inclined to buy something if there are sparkles on it.
5. I always match. From the shoes, to the shirt, to the earrings, to the hat, to the necklace to the eyeshadow–Brandy Crawford always matches. It’s actually physically hard for me to leave my apartment if I know that I don’t match. Before my blue iPod mini fell to its death down the elevator shaft at my old office, I would actually try and coordinate my outfit with the iPod. It’s my tragic flaw but fortunately it’s a flaw that just inspires general annoyance in my friends and loved ones rather than anger.

Hi everyone!! I’m Brandy Crawford!

(My timing is horrible, but let’s pretend this is about a month earlier and my post title is socially in sync with current evens, ok?) I’ve been thinking about changing up my hair for a few weeks now. Currently, it’s brown, layered, long. You know…boring. I’ve already done the whole platinum thing, which was fully exciting, but horrifically expensive to maintain. I could go with the firey redhead look, but I’m not so sure I even like the style of my cut anymore. So now, I’m seeking out your advice. I’ve compiled a collection of “enhanced” images for your perusal. By “enhanced” I mean that I hacked and sawed in Paint and you’ll probably have just as much fun looking at the hairstyles as my, um, skills. Be nice or at least be a funny mean person.

But moving onward. I found this nifty software online…it’s called Hair Pro 2006 if you’re bored at work. But back to this highly important, super-intelligent topic of my post!

Look, you don’t even need to comment. Just vote in this nifty poll thingy. It’s not like your civil duty or anything, but you will be one of the many that will suffer if an ugly hairstyle prevails. No one wants to look at that shit.

God, this is kind of creepy isn’t it? All those heads? Does anyone remember watching Return to Oz??

I would never want to be an A-lister. A-list parties are stuffy and boring. A-listers are way too concerned about their appearance to let go and have a good time.

The B-list is where it’s at. B-listers let it all hang out. B-listers…well, B-listers get to have “Happy Divorce” parties:

They also get to experience the joy of staging a comeback!

Plus, if we were to ever get too drunk and flash our cootch while exiting a cab, we wouldn’t have to worry about our last Brazilian. There’s that, too. A-listers? They’d be screwed.

Or, how ’bout our adoption procedings in third-world countries? We totally wouldn’t need to hire any security for that shit!

But I suppose the best part of being a B-lister is when you have to explain yourself all the time.

GS: Yeah, we’re that famous blog that likes to redesign every few months. We’re on Playboy Radio, too!
Fan-of-sorts: Oh shit! The ones with all the tattoos and kinky piercings?! I fucking love you broads!
GS: Oh, erm…no. That’d be the Suicide Girls.
Fan-of-sorts: Right, right. So you’re the ones with the webcams?
GS: [mumbling.] Fucking, fuck.
Fan-of-sorts: Right on!! High-five!

That’s what we live for, folks. It doesn’t get any better than this. But don’t worry, as B-listers we still put our panties on one leg at time.

To see where you stand on this list go to Kineda and check out the nifty little widget they put together.

You know what? Fuck lists.