Amen, girl.

Although I share their disdain for Aeropostale,

whatever happened to a good old fashioned slumber party...

Making ants on a log, watching contraband R-rated scary movies, playing with each others' hair and falling asleep giggling about boys???

(Warning: this video not exactly appropriate for work or for viewing even by its creators. This is due to the fact that they are about 10 years old and should be learning cursive and using paper mache instead of harassing and/or bullying unnamed persons who apparently can't afford the affluent lifestyle they themselves portray.)

Let me introduce my new boyfriend...

Shamus Elliott. Musician and lover extraordinaire.

His name is Seven.

Today I drove out to the middle of Missouri to have our new car serviced at the dealership. While there, I waited for about 2 hours for the brakes to be inspected and the transmission fluid flushed. I sat quietly in the customer waiting area reading the last book in the "Girl with the.." series and trying desperately to ignore Dr. Oz talking about the consistency of a human pancreas.

About five minutes in, a girl about my age and her toddler son entered the room. He was carrying two balloons, stomping, grinning...and screeching.

Screaming. I could no longer hear Dr. Oz talking about pancreatic links to diabetes if I wanted to.

The girl was completely unfazed. She sat down on the tacky leather couch and pulled out her phone. Little Monster scrambled into the adjacent showroom where he continued yelling at the top of his lungs. Let me also say that this child was not yelling words. At least not any from the english language. His mother never looked up. Moments later, a salesman led the wailing boy back to his mother (sans one balloon). When she saw that other humans had taken notice of her outstanding parenting skills, she simply grabbed the child by the arm, plopped him down on the couch next to her and went back to texting. There was no "thank you." No "please behave." Nothing spoken to her child or anyone else.

He sat semi-quietly, fingering his balloon string and alternating between attempting to strangle himself with it and shoving it fist first into his mouth. Still no words. Just humming, blubbing, glopping.

I began to think, paranoid, that perhaps this child was an deliberate experiment in lack of communication and socialization. The salesman wandered back into the room, making light conversation with the girl.

"How old is he?"

"He'll be two in May."

"Does he talk?"

"Not really."

"...He'll get it."

"Yeah."

"What's his name?"

"Seven"

"What made you want to name him Seven?"

"Oh, there's a bunch of symbolism in the number. Biblically and stuff. And he's the seventh grandchild."

"Well, all right."

He walked out and screecher went back to his screeching. I did not read any more of my book. Instead, I spent the remainder of my wait time talking to Seven. Using words. Like balloon. His mom didn't seem to mind. Her apathy further enraged me.

If you make the decision to have a child, raise your child. Don't let your parents raise your child just because they are willing to help you and feel bad for you and love you. Don't leave your child with them every weekend while you go out and get your party fix because you feel you're missing out on something. Teach them everything you know. Words, letters, numbers, colors, manners (in the hopes that you also possess some).

Do not ignore your children. Do not let the television raise your child; it won't turn out well. Help them develop, mentally and physically. This means not feeding them McDonald's three times a week because it's easy. This also means removing the words "baby fat" from your vocabulary and introducing them to the outdoors, sports and sweat.

I don't have any children; I'm not ready. I'm just basing my unsolicited advice on the young parents and children I've come into contact with, and it pains me to know that these children will no doubt have trouble expressing themselves in adulthood. If they can't speak or create or express while in their freedom of their youth, they'll never have the courage or resources to do it when they're older.

If you make the decision to have a child, devote yourself to him or her. Stop thinking about yourself and your hair and your nails and your jeans. Buy your kid health insurance. And please don't name him something that will make it absolutely effortless to gain relative popularity for being a shitty rapper.

Ok sure

Whatever happened to self control?

I was a pop star worshipper. I still find Brit Brit insults hard to take. But REALLY, girls??? REALLY??

God forbid something happen to my girl Sara.

It wouldn't be pretty.

Sorry Sara. Still love you the best.

St. Louis: A breeding ground for important people

It's no secret that I think St. Louis is a shithole. This year it was rated the most dangerous city in America, for good reason. My car has been broken into twice, I hear gunshots bi-weekly, and I regularly see beggars on all four corners at major intersections. St. Louis is a disgrace: a poverty-stricken, severely racially polarized city with very little to offer the rest of the country. Except for Nelly's fantastic music. Recently, I was talking to a friend about buying the domain stlouissucks.com and posting photos, stories, videos and anecdotes relevant to St. Louis's general suck factor. I could also write small biographies for any of these semi-important and/or useless people from this terror of a city:

Akon, hiphop & r&b singer-songwriter

Daniel Boone, explorer, hunter, soldier, businessman

Every last Busch, beermakers, tycoons, girlfriend murderers

Cedric the Entertainer, comedian/actor

Sheryl Crow, singer-songwriter and musician, still got Clapton by the balls

Shandi Finnessey, host, Miss USA 2004

Jon Hamm, actor, surprisingly the worst host of SNL to date

Kevin Kline, actor

Charles Lindbergh, pilot, adventurer, soldier, author, not the greatest babysitter

Michael McDonald, singer

Taylor Momsen, actress, attention whore

Nelly, rapper, singer and actor

Lance Robertson, musician and host of "Yo Gabba Gabba!" (as DJ Lance Rock)

Kimora Lee Simmons, former model, mogul, gold digger

Tina Turner, singer

I could only find a handful of people who actually did anything worthwhile. These included Maya Angelou, Kate Chopin, Tennessee Williams, T.S. Eliot and Jenna Fischer. Yes, Jenna Fischer. I'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF THIS CITY.

My Katy Perry Tribute

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,

Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper-thin
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
Six feet under screams, but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you?
'Cause there's a spark in you

You just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the Fourth of July

'Cause baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "ah, ah, ah!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "ah, ah, ah!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane, comes a rainbow

Maybe the reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow
And when it's time you know

You just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the Fourth of July

'Cause baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "ah, ah, ah!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "ah, ah, ah!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you
And now it's time to let it through

'Cause baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "ah, ah, ah!"
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "ah, ah, ah!"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon