When I got a text from my coolest friend (she has a half shaved head of red hair, guys! She doesn’t even CARE if she misses parties! She makes biscuits and gravy for potlucks!!!) telling me that she was at a free feminist haunted house called Killjoy’s Kastle, I shrieked with ghoulish delight. Was this the Halloween trend I was dreaming of?!
In recent years, Halloween activities have gone from haunted hayrides to weekend long camping trips where you pay to be chased by zombies. I had found haunted tours based on the history of Los Angeles smells, and giant Halloween parks that were completely dark. WOWSOFUN.
What is our society’s fascination with peeing our pants? I suppose that’s a whole other question, but what is our society’s fascination with being so scared?
I was stunned when I moved to LA and found myself at Knott’s Scary Farm, begging for advice on how to make the people stop bothering me. “Just pretend you don’t see them” is what friends told me. That’s right, I paid almost $100 to be reminded how to make bullies stop hitting me.
Whether I understand it or not, people are paying big bucks to bring themselves to the brink of cardiovascular arrest, and the more creative these events get, the more they sneak in to my October schedule.
This year, somehow I had foregone my need to walk through a dark maze using my friends as human shields (perhaps becoming a human lobster was enough horror for me) and was planning on bringing October to a close pee-pants free.
But how can one turn down a FREE LESBIAN FEMINIST HAUNTED HOUSE?! Especially when it’s walking distance from work. Would you like a side of convenience with your perfect fad article?! AAAYESSS PLLLLZZZZ.
Sometimes fad ideas come from the most unlikely of places; this week’s social fad is coming at you HOT from the new guy in my QC department. Thanks Jeffrey! Don’t be alarmed when I give you a tattoo of my face- it just means you’re better than other people.
New Jeffrey from QC would probably be doubly surprised to be handed a business card and tattoo with my face and name on it- because all we’ve ever said to each other is “I’m Carly!” “I’m Jeffrey!” But using my powers of eavesdroppery, I snatched up this suggestion from a casual conversation he was having at happy hour. NO FAD IS SAFE, I WILL FIND MY WAY TO YOU.
So what is this mystery fad that is so elite, only New Jeffrey from QC knows about it? It’s a new app that sends drunk people to unknown locations. WAHHHHH???!!!! I know, you’re hooked.
It’s called Bar Roulette, my loves, and it’s the hippest thing in bar hopping. Just when you thought bar hopping was the worst idea anyone has ever had (I may only be in my mid 20s, but I feel like I’m dead) somehow the world wide web has made it fun again.
Bar Roulette is an an app (currently just a web app) that hooks up uber and yelp to send you to a mystery bar location in your area. It’s one of those things where you hear it at first you’re all UMWHATNO I DO NOT HAVE A DEATH WISH, but after you have some time to think about it, you’re all OK MAYBE I DO A LIL.
Basically, you pull it up on your browser, sign in with your uber login, choose a milage radius, and press GO! Then the app uses yelp reviews to find you a highly rated happening haunt in your area to cart you over to innn seccreeeetttt.
Do you get it!? Is it clicking?! Is this not the BEST IDEA YOU’VE EVER HEARD OF?!
Goodness oh me oh my! My last article on becoming a punk mermaid drew more views than any article yet! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?! I guess more articles about my shameful hygiene habits- any suggestions? And PLEASE no more people asking for the world’s shortest article on glitter pills: “my poop got glittery.”
For this article, I explored something a little more luxurious, and yet, WITH AN ELEMENT OF DANGER. Because who doesn’t like their relaxation with a side of anxiety? This week’s suggestion coming from my boss (Nicole, if you’re reading this- I left a tat on your desk!!) is Soothe: an in-home massage delivery service!
Called by many the “uber of massage therapy,” Soothe started in LA in 2013. Now, it serves a crazy amount of metropolitan areas, offering a massage “anywhere you want, when you want with our licensed and vetted 5-star therapists. Starting at $99.”
That is like…pretty enticing. But it wasn’t enough to make me jump on the offer. I have plenty of strangers wandering around my neighborhood- if I wanted to get one inside my living room I could put a sandwich on my front step with a note that said “down?” Continue reading
Think about your perfect friend-hang: a low-key bbq perhaps. A Saturday evening chill-zone at dusk with your besties, some Splashy Pomatinis in hand, some Big Macs on the grill (to heat them up- they had a long ride over from Micky Ds!) and the “Happy Pop” Songza playlist providing your soundtrack to star gazing.
“Happy women friends drinking red wine laughing in vineyard in summer. Young laughing girlfriends drinking rose wine from glass outside” is the actually caption this photo CAME with.
NOW THINK OF THE OPPOSITE OF THAT. The world has gone insane, and the latest kewl new thing to do with your pals includes a stressful time limit, a fight to escape a windowless room, and a small Wisconsian laughing at your embarrassing attempts to do something well.
They’re called Escape Rooms, and they began popping up in Japan in 2000, swam over to the US in 2012, and today, there are almost 1,000 in the US, and just about 15 in LA alone.
Even HoLlYwEiRd has jumped on the band wagon, opening up themed escape rooms for various film openings. ESCAPE ROOMS, MAN! These fuckers are pure profit. There are some fun articles about the lucrative business of opening up one of these puppies, but I digress.
Basically, you are locked in a room with a few other people (usually 10-15) and instructed to find a way out within a limited amount of time (usually 60 minutes). It’s part puzzle, part video game, part team building activity, part scavenger hunt, and part test to see which one of your friends cracks first.
If you were to ask me what my perfect Valentine’s Day is, I suppose I would describe a quiet evening filled with baby animal butlers bringing me autumnal beers, and fireworks that spell out “Carly, You Look Cute Today” in the Paris sky. But alas, autumnal beers are out of season so time for Plan B (no ‘wink, wink’ to follow).
This year I had a very special Valentine– this blog! And what better way to show my dedication to laughing at my own jokes then to fad it up with a theater filled with lonely single mothers. Enter the idea of going to see the ultimate entering: Fifty Shades of Grey (henceforth known as 50SoG, because I’m not trying to spend my whole night typing out that title).
If you do not know (what are you, some sort of Carly-level hermit??) 50SoG is the first book in the trilogy of erotic works by E.L. James. The story hilariously started as Twilight fan fiction and was written under the name Snowqueen’s Icedragon (!!!!!). Currently it has sold over a HUNDRED FUCKING MILLION COPIES. UGH. In the UK it sold out Harry Potter. KILL.ME.
Inevitably, the book led to a movie deal, and the movie deal opened up 100 million fad doors. There are 50SoG teddy bears. Target is selling 50SoG sex toys. Teachers are getting fired for assigning 50SoG word finds. The trend gods have spoken, and they are saying “LET’S GET WEIRD.”
If you would had asked me two weeks ago what my opinion was on this franchise, I would have ranted along with the rest of the haters about not needing to read fetishized anti-feminist porn before I go to bed (I get enough of that online [loljk, feminist eroticism forever!!!]).
So what brought me to my decision to read this 500 page porn and see this agonizingly long (why can’t all movies be 90 minutes?!) film for my Valentines Day weekend? Well, I thought it would be funny. Continue reading