Remember puberty yall? Did all that hormone laden milk give you tetas in third grade? Did you get your period in 5^th grade like Cara? Or were you a “late bloomer” like Liza? In 7^th grade, Liza looked around the halls of The Sheridan School and saw training bras peaking out of Abercrombie tank tops and sanitary napkins tucked into the pockets of American Eagle flared jeans. Liza felt alone. Her Aunt Flo had not been to town.

Instead of sulking and feeling left out for not having her monthly visitor, Liza decided to make not having her period COOL. She started an influential local blog called “The No Period Club.” There she posted the names of all the girls who still didn’t have their periods. Then, girl by girl, Liza posted who got their period and made it known that those girls were no longer a part of her exclusive club. Not surprisingly, Liza was the last member of the No Period Club. 

The DC D’s are getting into politics yo! When it snowed last week Leezy’s street had not been plowed. But work was still on for Tuesday! Leezy decided to take action. She wrote the following email:

Liza is still waiting for a response. Are yall getting politically active? Yall gonna vote in the primaries? Or are you on the fence about who to vote for like Cara’s social work professor. In class she said, “I just don’t know who to vote for! As a Latina I don’t like Trump because he’s kinda racist, but all his other ideas are just SO great!”  Do yall agree? Is Trump your Preferred Prez? Will he help uphold the Social Work Values?  Has your street been plowed yet? Let us know.

Have you ever been to a party and been lured into a conversation that sucked? Let’s face it devotchkas and boys: no one likes the feeling of being trapped in a dull conversation. Sometimes we devotchkas struggle, to GTF out of these vortexes of tedium. Thus, we look to Mama Ira for inspiration. Mama Ira, you see, is a savant at getting out of tiresome convos. 

Last week Mama Ira attended a party. She arrived a little late and casually strolled into a conversation about vacationing in Maine.

“I love Maine. We have a house in Camden and eat Lobster there,” said Bland.
“Me too!” Egg chimed in. “I love going to the L.L. Bean outlet! That’s where I get my hiking gear.”

Knowing that she gave zero f%cks about Maine, and knowing she wanted to talk about her own sh*t, Mama Ira replied, with the confidence of Hugh Jackman on a razor scooter, “Maine?! I’d rather go to SPAIN!”

One by one the group of ladies looked up to see who it was that had hijacked their conversation. Mama Ira, pleased with herself continued, “I LOVE Spain.” Egg and the others paused for a moment and then talked about how they were also fans of Spain. Mama Ira was glad because she got to talk more about things that interested her, like Spain, Spain’s Russian population, the souvenir industry in Spain, and churros. 

Do yall love Spain? Maine? Will you use Mama Ira’s bold, rhyming, non sequitur technique next time you are in a bind of boredom? Or do you have your own technique? Feel free to share! 

Do yall have RBF? For those who are not keeping up with the latest ABBREVs, RBF stands for “Resting Bitch Face.” An RBF is a bitchy looking face. Sometimes, the person who’s face it is is not tryna be a bitch, but the RBF sends a message of bitchery anyways.

Liza had not been keeping up with the latest abbrevs, however, so when Sally told Liza that she was suffering from a serious case of the RBF, Liza replied, “RBF? Q’est-que c’est? You mean Russian Beauty Face?” Because that’s how Liza’s brain works. 

Do yallz have Russian Beauty Face? Or the Original Resting Bitch Face? Is smiling hard? Are you like Cara, in that when you were young and carefree you smiled with the same joy as a squirrel devouring a jack-o’-lantern? But now that you a little older, wiser, and cynical you always smile with a little attitude because you know things aren’t all all right out there? 

Hey Devotchkas. Because we are connoisseurs of the world and of the mind we decided to delve into the mind of bro. We were already pretty familiar with the code of bro because Northwest DC Private Schools. But we thought we would call on our friend Kip “Montauk” Wellington-Smith. Here you have it. The bro code.

The Bro Code

1. Always shorten a bros name. Bros like that. Example: Michael becomes Mike. Parker becomes Parq. Landon becomes L-Dawg. Skip becomes Bro. 

2. Bros before hoes. Dude, does this need an explanation? 

3. Eating at the Palm is a MUST. Bros bleed red meat. 

4. Have sports equipment on you at all times. Preferably a football but frisbee is acceptable. 

5. Always be prepared to Darty. For those not in the know “Darty” is a day party. It requires a beer bong, a beach ball, hot biddies, meat on the grill, and a confederate flag (bro sidetone: this doesn’t always fly).

6. You must have a girlfriend. She must be hot. Preferably white/blonde/anglo looking. Asians okay too. Big boobs are necessary. At least some ass. You can’t have your bros thinking you are a homo.

7. Look good on paper. Example: Parker “Parq” William Fitzgerald, Esq at large. Magna cum laude from Georgetown University (triple legacy!), volunteer work includes advocating for Doctors Without Boarders in 1994. Member of the Chevy Chase Club and the NRA. Donated a lot of money to Romney, was disappointed he couldn’t share a beer with him at the fundraiser he hosted in his Georgetown home. 

8. You gotta own a dog. Pure-breeds only. Preferably have a dog that fits with your personal brand. “We’re the Parkers, we love Jack Russell Terriers! 

9. Good books to keep on the shelf: The Great Gatsby, American Psycho, The Sun Also Rises, ect. Don’t worry: you don’t actually have to read them.

10. Be an emotional zombie. SHOW. NO. WEAKNESS. 

There’s always been that biddy. That biddy who the dude you loved wanted to bone/love. That biddy who KILLED YOU. But what if, in later years, you became best friends with that biddy?!

Liza was that biddy for Emma ‘EmBerz’ Connolly. You see, Emberz once pined for Willy’s D. She seriously loved that dude so hard. But Willy D was not down. In fact, Willy D was UNDOWN. Nay, he was down with Liza.

But inevitably, Liza and Willy’s D love affair came to a screeching halt. And, like a sloth, on speed, Emberz went in for the kill. 

Emberz and Willy’s D finally consummated their/her love. During this time, Liza threw a party. Emberz was not so sure she should go. Liza and Emberz had the following Facebook message conversation.

 Despite any remaining tension surrounding the ownership of Willy’s D, Emberz and Liza finally “drunkenly chilled” and squashed their beef. The two found a peaceful resolution to their struggle, and paved roads to new D. 

Though there were periodic beefs, in the end, Liza and Emberz attended the same college and became bffls. They traded fond remembrances of Willy’s D, and formed a beautiful friendship. The iceberg of Willy’s D, that had long split them, finally melted, and the two ladies were able to consummate (no sex) a beautiful friendship. 

Daddy Chappy just turned 70 yallz. Which is a big f*cking deal. But DChapps was distracted because there was a lot going on leading up to the big day. His old friends from back in the USSR were posted up in his and Mama Ira’s Hobart street home. Sh*t got real cramped. The toilet paper got used. And Daddy Chappy went to Costco to solve the problem.

But then another problem arose. Liza came home one day, and a dead mouse sprawled at the foot of her door.

Naturally, Liza called on the man of the house, Daddy Motherf*cking Chappy. “Pap, there is a dead mouse at the foot of the door.”

“He must have been 70 years old,” Daddy Chappy replied solemnly. 

But despite Daddy Chappy relating to the sad dead mouse, he seems to be in pretty good spirits. He celebrated with a dinner fit for a tsar and has been enjoying his regular pleasures: carbs, his ipad, and meandering trips to Costco.

http://vimeo.com/93851015

Cat Power sings, “It must be the colors and the kids that keep me alive on this January night.” Cat Power clearly has a case of the SADz. Well, here in DC it is now March. Spring is allegedly on its way and the weather is still preposterously terrible. Tomorrow Snowmageddon 3.0 cums our way. It will spew six uncut inches of snow and misery that will blanket our nation’s capital in white stuff. 

We, like Cat Power, are trying to figure out how to keep ourselves alive under these circumstances. For Cara, it must just be the Candy Crush and the soy cream cheese. The ca$h money and the addy are keeping Liza alive. 

We are all victims of Season Affective Disorder (SAD). Which is a real thing, okay, according to Dr. Norman Rosenthal. People get depressed when it is cold and dreary outside. Rosenthal recommends getting a sunlamp or moving to the Bahamas. If you or someone you know is suffering from SADz you gotta watch that sh*t. What is keeping yallz alive? We welcome suggestions.