The Tabloids

Chris Brown’s “Don’t Judge Me” and Why We’re Judging Him

October 7, 2014

Today, while “preparing” for one of my many impending exams, I stumbled across a Youtube link to Chris Brown’s 2012 single, “Don’t Judge Me.” Needless to say, I am going to spend the next 500 words judging him. For that song.

I know I’m a little late to the game, but are you kidding me, Chris? “Don’t Judge Me?” That’s like yelling “I’m naked! Don’t look!” in a changing room. All this is going to do is bring more attention to everything you don’t want people to notice. I know you’re making an attempt to write it off as a song about some girl who you’ve been fighting with, who’s upset with you for some petty hookup or other completely normal occurrence. Your audience, on the other hand, sees right through that. Instead, they’re thinking, “Thanks, Chris, for reminding me to judge you.” We see right through you, Chris. We see into your soul. This song is really your way of saying, “Yeah, I hit Rihanna way back in the day, but we’re cool now. So can we all just move on please?”

Uh, no. Sorry. We can’t. Continue Reading…

Life & Other Drugs, Listicles

Your Recently Used Emojis: A Window to the Soul

October 7, 2014

Whenever someone asks to use my phone, I usually have to do some emergency editing before forking over My Precious. This includes erasing incriminating texts, deleting embarrassing selfies, and hiding that petty app that tracks who has unfollowed me on Instagram (yeah, that’s right, I know you unfollowed me and I consider it a serious personal attack). But, most importantly, I check my recently used emojis. How am I supposed to explain why the tongue and the hyper-realistic blowfish are next to each other?! My emojis reflect the real, unfiltered version of myself. No matter how hard I try to be sunglasses emoji, I’m really just that awkward black moon face that no one really understands.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, an emoji is worth a million. But a picture of your recently used emojis? Priceless. Check out what your recently used emojis say about you:

1. Basic bitch


You’re the girl who comments “OMG STOP BEING SO PERFECT” on every single Instagram your friends post. You can be seen chucking up the deuces at all times either IRL or via iMessage. You also won’t shut up about how much you love pizza and Netflix… How original. Although, it is pretty impressive that you manage to send emojis so effortlessly while juggling a Venti Pumpkin Spice Latte in your free hand.

2. Immature bro


Did you just turn 12 or 24? Who knows, but you sure as hell never grew out of bathroom humor, and, unfortunately, emoji is more than helpful in facilitating your needs. You might be a pervert, but at least you’re pretty creative when it comes to sexualizing hand gestures. Oh, and it’s no question that anything that could possibly represent a penis tops the list of your most recent emojis.

3. Kid who went to a party once


So you’re probably 14 and just smoked for the first time. No one will know that you accidentally bought oregano instead of weed as long as your recently used emojis reflect your legitimate stoner façade, right? Maybe, if you’re lucky, iOS9 will answer your prayers and add a Bob Marley emoji.

4. Subtly Horny


Hmm, I wonder what that eggplant/corn/banana could mean? A new crash diet? Ingredients for your juice cleanse? The ingredients on the latest episode of Iron Chef? Probably not. Seriously, if you are using any of these emojis, you’re probably not mature enough to do any of the things you’re so blatantly hinting at *winky face*.

5. ?????


Either you sat on your phone or you’re tripping on acid. Maybe both? Either way, I think I need to spend more time exploring the last page of emoji. That purple one is technically the zodiac symbol for cancer, but it kinda looks like “69” flipped horizontally, and could definitely be useful in the future…

6. You’re Drake


Cash and tears. Tears and cash. Those emojis won’t get her back, but at least you have an entire page of crying faces to express the exact stage of heartbreak you’re experiencing. But don’t fret too much, bro. Another day, another dollar to wipe your tears away.

Life & Other Drugs

Stealing Stuff

October 6, 2014

Aladdin 1.Spanish Divx Walt Disney

Everyone steals stuff. Stealing has an unwarranted negative stigma these days, largely because people conflate “stealing” with “shoplifting.”  In reality, forms of stealing that do not involve taking things from stores (more specifically, things that are for sale) are far more common than shoplifting. To help unpack stealing’s undeserved stigma, I’ve laid out the three most acceptable types of thievery:

1. Stealing Souvenirs

When my aunt was little, she caught my grandma in the act of pocketing a hotel souvenir. “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s just a souvenir,” my grandma replied.

“Oh. It looks very much like an ashtray.”

In my view, stealing souvenirs is perfectly acceptable. These can take the form of knickknacks from places you stayed on vacation, glasses from bars you visited, or clothing items from people you hooked up with. When I studied abroad, my souvenir-stealing took a disturbingly sacrilegious turn: I started taking prayer candles from every church I visited. To be fair, they’re usually free with a “suggested donation.”

2. Stealing Food

Here, I don’t refer to the dining and dashing variety of stealing food, but rather the poaching of baked goods and other treats. Are you keeping a friend company while she mans a bake sale? Better eat ten brownies. Did you happen to pass by someone setting up the snack table for a lecture or info session? That sandwich is yours. Did the people sitting next to you at Jo’s leave their mozzarella sticks unattended? Finders keepers.

During my one year stint as a girl scout, I had the task of going door to door selling cookies. Everyone else manned the table we had set up on the sidewalk, and I headed off with a few boxes of treats. Instead of knocking on doors, I went around the block, sat on the curb, and downed an entire box of Samoas in five minutes. Yeah, I didn’t earn any badges.

3. Drunk Stealing

This category includes examples from the previous two categories and so much more. When drunk people get bored, angry, happy, or hungry, they tend to express these emotions in one of two ways: crying or stealing stuff. This “stuff” is usually of little value (traffic cones, raw pasta, small stuffed animals) and is almost always taken from either friends’ houses or public spaces. So, not on the level of shoplifting. As a result of this genre of theft, I once woke up snuggling a heavy metal chain of unknown origins.

I would be shocked to find someone my age who hasn’t participated in each of these three types of thievery at least once. Lately, these forms of stealing have come to bore me, and so I’ve begun pilfering the “unexpected.” For example, I take pictures from frames and peepholes from doors. Probably, their owners will never notice these things are missing, but if they do, they will definitely be confused. My number one goal for senior year is to steal a full deck of cards, with each number coming from a different deck. So far, I have aces and queens. I haven’t decided if I want jokers yet.

Ed. Note: The Rib does not condone stealing of any kind.

image via

Life & Other Drugs

What Does Your AIM Username Say About You?

October 6, 2014

Every time I log into Facebook, I shudder. I am thrown right back into my daunting past: the days of florescent pink Juicy Couture sweat suits, Uggs, side pony tails, and braces. There, I am forever 12 years old. When I made my Facebook, I didn’t have a “professional” email address to use. In search of one, I must have dug up my “Make Sure to Burn” file. And what was lying inside? My AIM username.

AIM Username: dramachic29
Level of Embarrassment: palm in face

Now, we will nit-pick my thought process in crafting this unique username to be my online persona.

Drama: I liked acting. I’m terrified to actually perform on stage, but in the shower, not to brag, I OWN “Defying Gravity.” I also am the middle child, so doesn’t that naturally make me dramatic?

Chic: Well I wanted to use ‘chick,’ but that seemed too childish. I figured if I got rid of the ‘k’ I’d seem cool and people would be like, “Wow she’s so awesome and chill that she doesn’t even need to fully complete a word, yet we still know what she means.”

29: My birthday! I’m not that narcissistic, am I?

In middle school, I had one chance to make a cool name for myself. And I went with dramachic29. I really thought it was a step up from the email my mom set up for me in elementary school: Blanket1000.

I did a poll among some of my friends in hopes of finding out I wasn’t alone. And I succeeded. Their names are equally cringe worthy:

– She wants peace
– She wants love
– And rides (I assume horses)
– Level of Embarrassment: Shaking of the head

– She played basketball for 1 year
– Needed the extra 6 because…you know… like the devil?
– Level of Embarrassment: A long “reaaaaaally?”

– Another bball superstar
– Level of Embarrassment: A moment of silence

– Failed to realize the connection that dukie is another term for shit…. so naïve
– She wants everyone to know she has a fervent passion for dogs
– Level of Embarrassment: Has to walk 10 feet behind group of friends for the day

– She was trying out a new nickname
– People called her that for a day
– Level of Embarrassment: Actually I think Nicksta is kind of catchy. She can least sit with us.

From this poll I have come to a conclusion: all girls between the ages of 10-13 have the same thought process. We all think that adding an “xoxo” or spelling “girl” as “gurl” makes us seem cute, flirty, and fun! But really, we all need to ask ourselves, “Why?” We are better than this! We don’t need to sell ourselves short. Why should I let dramachic29 define me as a person? I am not that person.

You think we would have moved on from this trend. The Twitter handle game takes it to a whole new level… But that’s a whole other topic of conversation.

Image via


Why King Triton Is the Real Villain in “The Little Mermaid”

October 5, 2014

How long has it been since you’ve seen The Little Mermaid? If you don’t remember, it’s the heartwarming tale of a mermaid who gives up her family and physical identity for a man she saw dancing on a boat from afar. In case you think I’m being a little harsh, I’ll concede that said dancing guy was pretty hot.


Here’s another little reminder: the dad was a total creep.

Exhibit A: He was shirtless. All the time. When was the last time you saw a middle aged man shirtless and thought, “ah yes, how perfectly natural and socially acceptable this is.” Judging from his magnificent white god-beard, King Triton is at least sixty year-old, and yet he’s happy to parade around with his inexplicably defined abs for all the world to see.


But Dana, you might be thinking, they’re under the sea! I see my dad in a swimsuit sometimes! Isn’t it just like he’s wearing a swimsuit? I’ll respond to that question with another question – when was the last time your dad decided to go to the beach in giant metal cuffs?

But they’re underwater! If he were wearing clothes, they would get all soggy! 1. See previously mentioned magnificent white god-beard. I don’t see his magnificent white god-beard looking all wet and stringy. 2. Ursula wears a chic strapless dress. Clothes underwater do exist.


Speaking of Ursula, she gets a bad rap. Let’s review: she makes a deal with Ariel that she has to kiss a guy in three days without talking or else she turns into a shriveled piece of spinach that got stuck in someone’s teeth.



Admittedly, the stakes are high, but is it really that hard to kiss someone in three days? Especially when you have gorgeous red hair and a perfect bod?

But Dana, you might ask, didn’t Ursula use her magic to enchant Eric and imitate Ariel’s voice?  

Well, yes, you’re right, I’d reply, and also you’re really well versed in The Little Mermaid. BUT that wasn’t until like, the third day, and Ariel had time and time again (romantic beach, romantic carriage ride, romantic boat ride) to smack lips with her one true love. Good on Eric for waiting for some verbal consent – the onus was really on Ariel to make like Sheryl Sandberg and freaking lean in.

It’s scary to make the first move sometimes, huh? Scarier than spending your entire life as an anthropomorphic booger?


Oh, I’m sure she just didn’t want to seem clingy or desperate, like she gave up her entire species and family to be with him before they ever met. Yeah, trying to kiss him would definitely be the thing that freaks him out. And at least Ursula made a deal with Ariel. When King Triton found out his daughter had a hobby other than singing in his little pageants, he went ape-shit and tridents the shit out of her cove that probably took forever to organize.

Let’s focus on those pageants. The beginning of the movie shows an elaborate ceremony in which he forces his teenage daughters to perform a little singing number in bikini tops. Total creep. Any dad who organizes a routine for his scantily clad children should probably be on a watch list or two. And I’m not even going to get into how his daughters all have different hair colors. There’s no Queen Triton anywhere. His litter of children just proves King Triton was working those abs and golden cuffs at the local mermaid bar.


To recap: Ursula makes a totally consensual and totally winnable deal with Ariel.

King Triton, the long-haired, older, single father who likes to go around shirtless, freaks out when his daughter shows a little bit of independence because she won’t dance in her shell-bikini for the mermaid masses. I rest my case.

Images via, via, via, via, via.

It's a Girl Thing, Life & Other Drugs, Listicles

A Recipe for the Perfect Millennial Woman

October 4, 2014

Here’s how you make her. It shouldn’t be too hard – the ingredients aren’t particularly hard to come by.

3/4 of a share in an eco-friendly business minded startup

1 post-grad boyfriend

1 vintage baseball cap, worn forwards or backwards, but definitely on Sundays (don’t know why, but this is just a thing)

5 days a week without makeup (although she’s likely wearing makeup but no one can tell)

3 mile run before her…

6 SoulCycle classes/week

1 alarm set, because she doesn’t need snooze – she’s a morning person, duh

3 pairs of trendy workout leggings that will be the only leggings she ever wears in public

1-2 thought pieces published on contributor-based websites

2 parents in the suburbs

60-100 likes per Instagram post, because she’s well-liked, but not a desperate teenager #like4like

2 go-to cocktails, 1 whiskey, 1 gin

5-7 Apple products (iPad, iPhone, iHome, iPod, MacBook, iMac, and that new watch thing)

1 cold-pressed coffee in the morning

1 green juice after the coffee

3 resumé titles labeled as “Social Media Manager”

2 pairs of heeled leather booties

2 websites, not counting an incredibly detailed LinkedIn: 1 personal blog, 1 professional one

7 pairs of skinny jeans, variety of color

1 ‘witty’ brain

Send to mid-tier state school with a good football team, or New England liberal arts university. Grad school optional, not necessary. Send on study abroad if desired, and let simmer in New York City for a minimum of three years.


Image via


Raising Your Dad

October 3, 2014


Dad. Where to even begin.

That poor lost soul, thrust into the world of parenthood without an inkling of what to expect. The terrifying idea that he must become the care-taker of a helpless little babe, its innocent and tender life coddled in his worn and calloused hands, must keep him awake at night worrying about all that could possibly go wrong. I can only imagine the endless unanswered questions running through his head as he stares wide-eyed at the ceiling for nights on end: “What if it cries all the time? Will I never get sleep again? Where do I put my hands when I hold it? What do babies even wear for clothes? What happens if I drop it? How bad can I mess up before I scar it for life?”

Most terrifying of all, though: “What if it’s a girl?”

With his vast knowledge of the Packers and power drills and microwave popcorn, Dad dreams of becoming a role model for his unborn son — someone for him to look up to and aspire towards, and for Dad to live vicariously through.

But swap the Y for an X and he finds himself facing the daunting enigma called raising a daughter, inciting sensations of overwhelming confusion and utter trepidation. Rather than the familiar forms of trucks and baseball and dinosaurs, Dad must now study up on various princesses and shades of pink and breeds of horses in order to bond with his daughter. New questions plague him, like “How do you paint tiny fingernails?” and “Will I ever have to buy her tampons?” and “Who is Elsa?” Fathering a daughter is a crazy and challenging experience that each dad addresses differently. But daughtering a father is even crazier. And at times just plain weird — but in the cute, goofy way that only a Dad can make it into.

My dad is a special one, and raising him has been eventful. I’m sure most of you will relate to, and maybe even find hope and salvation in, my experiences.

It started when I was four and I taught my dad to take initiative.

The lesson was covered on the singular day of the year that he was delegated to take me to school. At the time, I had developed a less-than-adorable obsession with my Sleeping Beauty nightgown and staunchly refused to wear anything else, at any time, ever. You’ve all been there and know exactly what I’m talking about. So you know, then, that dressing me in appropriate garb for public exposure was quite the hassle — arguably a job fit for a twelve-person team of professionals. But my dad, like many of yours, I’m sure, was a far cry from qualifying for a position. After several rounds of 1. Dress Cameron, 2. Cameron changes back into her nightgown, 3. Dad rips his hair out and tries again, the charming edge to my act had long worn off and the pressure was escalating. So, after careful consideration and long deliberation, he decided to just put me in the car as is — kicking and screaming and naked.

And that’s how Dad learned to take the reins in the relationship with his toddler.

Skip ahead a few years.

I move to Texas with my Dad for the start of high school. Just us two, livin’ it up in the luxury of condo life and frozen meals. Thrilling as those conditions sound, the real excitement came from the fact that, after nearly a decade of distance and separation, we barely knew each other. So, fourteen-year-old me found herself faced with the grandiose challenge of training this man to be a father figure. And the material she had to work with was raw. Really raw. I mean, his leading quality was that he could make an above average pot of coffee.

My strategy was to structure this adventure as an in-depth exercise in bonding. Interestingly, the greatest successes came as a result of “challenging” him, to put it sweetly. For starters, we explored patience as I began to drive. Occasionally I would turn left on red, or softly graze a curb now and then — just to give him an opportunity to demonstrate his progress. Later on, I covered proper table manners with him in our weekly Sunday brunches, reinforcing the importance of such concepts as personal conversation and face-to-face interaction. He had great difficulty putting down his newspaper to listen to me talk about my feelings, as we girls are wont to do. My rejection and defiance of the 40-hour-a-week study schedules he planned for me helped to build his sense of whimsy.

The most ground we covered, though, was in the area of thoughtfulness. The most remarkable moment as a teacher, when I could really see my efforts manifesting in my dad’s actions, was the morning of my sixteenth birthday.

I woke up early in the afternoon, as per usual, and made my way downstairs. I had no expectations, because it was my dad. What was he gonna get me? Maybe a pen with a pull-out periodic table of elements and a first aid kit, with the note “Stay safe and stay in school — Dad.” (Note: he actually gave me both of those things for Christmas one year). However, and much to my surprise, awaiting me at the kitchen table was the most lovely bouquet of a dozen roses.

To me, this moment was a real highlight. As an act of love and care, it clearly showed his progress and the success of my efforts to guide him in the right direction. And yet, that wasn’t even the best part.

The roses were arranged to perfection — in our blender.

Now this was something that only Dad would do: silly and absurd and just like him.

Rearing a dad is a long-winded and exhausting process, but not without many, many redeeming moments. Like roses in a blender. Or when you have to buy slacks, and he wants to make sure they fit you, so he asks you to point out your belly button to show that the pants reach well above. Or when he asks you before you leave the house for every party if there will be boys — even though he lets you go no matter the answer. Or when he tells you he likes to look at the moon on his nighttime walks, because he knows it’s the same moon you see on the other side of the country. Or when he tells you he cried when he had to leave you at college.

In summary, dads are naïve, gullible, and inexperienced. Dads do bizarre, unexplainable things and send confusing texts. Dads are loving and kind and protective and a wealth of good advice. Every dad wants his daughter to be a daddy’s girl. And every daughter wants her dad to be a daughter’s guy.

So if you ladies out there are struggling through this complex and kind of odd process of raising your dad, know that weird stuff is gonna happen, but that it’s all part of the experience. Embrace those moments, and maybe even find them endearing.

And it’s all worth it in the end when he sends you a text of a vibrating heart emoji.

image via



October 3, 2014

We need to talk about girls talking about masturbation.

Sure, we can talk about girls masturbating too, if you want. But what we REALLY need to talk about is actually talking about it. You like to masturbate? Awesome — I’m happy for you. You have a significant other or multiple others and don’t feel the need? That’s great too. Masturbation just doesn’t float your boat? That’s totally valid. In all honesty, it doesn’t really matter which girls do or don’t masturbate. What does matter is actually having a dialogue about it.

The conversation surrounding female masturbation is stunted and, to be honest with you, I’m not sure why. There’s a stigma surrounding female self-pleasure. A friend recently told me, “I feel like it’s gross for girls and normal for boys.” Sadly, I can say that she is definitely not the only one of us that feels that way. But why? Why is it icky for girls to masturbate, but a social norm for boys?

Have you seen or heard of the movie Don Jon? (If you haven’t, it’s basically David Gordon-Levitt masturbating for 90 minutes. And yes, I did ~accidentally~ watch this movie with both mom and dad.) Where is Donna Joanna? Okay, it’s a stretch. But really, it’s a legitimate question. A movie centered around a woman pleasuring herself? I’ll climb Mount Everest when that happens.

It seems that just about everything else sexual or sex-related goes. I learned about circle-jerks in the 8th grade. Anal sex? Let’s chat about it. Threesomes and orgys? Eh, they were socially acceptable pre-Woodstock era. I might even venture to call them outdated. Want to go down to the infamous Mister Sister Erotica on Wickenden to look at penis accouterments made of candy or buy a G-spot-focused vibrator? Yeah, I did that freshman year. But actually talking about girls flickin’ their bean behind closed doors? SHHHHHH. Really, shut up. We don’t talk about THAT.

I have a friend who owns this shirt:


And she LOVES to wear it. I mean, come on, it’s f**king amazing. But you know when she wears it most? When we’re going to a house party or out to a bar and she doesn’t want men to hit on her. And it works. Weird, right? WRONG. If there’s some crazy taboo about seeing b00bies (on a shirt) out in public how are we ever going to start talking about women and masturbation?

I say we start one statement, one conversation at a time. Ladies, sit down with a couple girlfriends and just discuss it. Talk about how awkward it was the first time and how far you’ve come since. Tell your dude friends you want them to ask you questions and start establishing a level of comfort. Yeah, we could certainly use a little help from the media. Maybe Donna Joanna should be a thing. Maybe Miley touching herself on stage makes us more uncomfortable about the conversation, but we can do it. Let’s get the conversation started. Because not only does it feel amazing to masturbate, but it’ll also feel amazing to talk about it.

image via


5 Childhood Fears That Remain Scary Today

October 2, 2014

5. Eighth graders:

When I was a child, eighth graders were scary because they were bigger than I and they used swear words. Now, eighth graders are scary because they are the single most belligerent age group. Eighth graders fundamentally do not give a shit about anything. Anything! Those little fucks will dare their friends to drink mixtures of Tabasco, mayonnaise and piss. They’ll passive-aggressively put down each other’s outfits to the point of total social annihilation. They have no morals. They have no sense of reason. You are right to fear them.

4. Librarians:

When you were a kid they were always shushing you out of nowhere and asking if you really wanted all those Judy Blume books. One time, I lost a book. Totally lost it. I haven’t used my public library card since 5th grade because I’m sure I must have $10,000 of late fees racked up. I recently found the Meg Cabot book that I essentially stole – it wasn’t worth the ensuing life of crime. Now, library books have much higher stakes. If I so much as breathe the wrong way on one of my history class texts, the librarians might actually kill me. I mean, I’ve heard some of those books are bound in human skin…and I’m not saying that the librarians at the John Hay are responsible for that, but I’m also not not saying that.

3. Strangers in Vans:*

*or any vehicle. Or just strangers in general. The concept of stranger danger was a very prevalent part of my childhood. I was warned countless times never to even approach a strange car, let alone call one to my location and give the owner my credit card number through the Internet. (Yeah, I’m looking at you, Uber). Though this common-sense fear has obviously been cast aside for the sake of cheaper cab fare, there are obviously some remaining qualms. (See: Uber Worst Case Scenarios.)

2. Mistaking Someone for Your Mom:

At some point in every child’s life, they grab the pant leg of a female stranger. This grab is usually accompanied by some tugging and shouts of “MOMCANWEGETOROES!” The moment of realization that the pant leg does not belong to your mother is the worst mixture of humiliation and terror available to small children. In adult life, the experience of mistaking a stranger for your mother is quite different. Instead of running away screaming and trailing Oreos, you experience an urge to run towards this motherly figure while simultaneously begging for home-made food and unconditional support. And that’s a whole different breed of terror and humiliation.

1. Scooby Doo on Zombie Island:

Remember this one? The one where ALL THE MONSTERS WERE REAL? Because I sure do. I almost pissed my pants. I didn’t sleep for days. Scooby Doo on Zombie Island remains the scariest movie of our time. You cannot convince me otherwise. Seriously, watch that shit again. It’s terrifying.

It's a Girl Thing

What Women Want: More Accurate Jeopardy! Answers

October 2, 2014

This past Monday, beloved dinnertime game show Jeopardy! included a category entitled “What Women Want.” Rather than address legitimate necessities, however, it emphasized our fragile female needs for vacuum cleaners, the New York Times crossword puzzle, and Sleepytime tea. I’ll take “Not So Subtle Sexism” for $200, Alex.

Instead of angrily writing about the many problems with airing something like this, I decided to come up with some alternative answers for the category. Jeopardy! producers reading this, I am available this weekend for consultation. Let’s start the show!


What are “realistic standards of beauty?”


What is “entertainment featuring complex and diverse female characters?”


What is “equal pay?”


What is “birth control covered by my insurer?”


What is “not catcall women?”