thisisnotreallyablogforreal

Hooking Up Your Ugly Friends: a list of positive things to say to potential suitors

We all have them. Don’t be ashamed. There’s no reason to be embarrassed, it’s totally natural. We all have at least one. You’re not alone. Everyone has a really ugly friend.

When it comes to the ugly friend, we all have different objectives. Some of you reading this may keep them around to boost your self confidence, some of you reading this may just be philanthropic by nature, and some of you reading this might actually be the ugly friend. (Ugly people: please stop reading now, go watch something on TV).

All of us want our ugly friends to be happy. We are positive that once someone gets to know them they will fall in love with them, but we can’t seem to sell them without lying about their looks. This method is highly ineffective because the suitor arrives under false pretenses. When the suitor sees that “big eyes” means two close set eyes that look like one big one, and “great body” means a hot body covered in acne and thick hair, any chance of a real acquaintance is ruined by the gigantic letdown.

I know what you guys are thinking, “Mindy, our ugly friends deserve happiness just as much as we do. It’s so unfair!” You’re absolutely right. So I won’t drag this out any longer. Here is a list of positive things to say to a potential suitor about your ugly friend. Please use only what applies. You’re welcome.

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She writes really funny e-mails.

He’s really good on the phone.

She only has two . . . continue reading

I know we don’t usually do gifts for Chanukah, but since it’s the same day as Christmas this year I thought we could change things up a bit.

See, I was flipping though the Sky Mall catalogue on my flight back to New York and I found exactly what I want: The USB Holy Bible.

The USB Holy Bible is the WHOLE Bible on one itty bitty fixed memory file! The memory file fits inside this little leather looking Bible that’s small enough to go on your key chain!!

That's right, it’s both “attractive” and “meaningful.” I think this is why God created technology.

I'm so sick of lugging that big Bible all around NYC, I need to evolve with the times. Please, please, please get me the USB Holy Bible for Chanukah. All my Christian friends are getting one for the holidays, and I don’t want be that weird, little Jewish girl drinking alone again at the office Christmas party this year.

You can order it here.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Love,

Mindy

Subject: you should marry me. here are pics of me.

I emailed u earlier this year. wanted to marry u, even
was offering a dowry. I'm armenian. i'll be jewish for
u if that's a prerequisite.

what u think?




His first name is Raf. If we got married and he took my name, he would be Mr. Raf Raf. If I referred to myself using my husband's first name (like my mom being Mrs. Bob Raf),I would be Mrs. Raf Raf. I've always dreamt of marrying a man whose last name was Shmindy, but maybe this is just as good.

What do you guys think? Are we soul mates? Is he shady? Should I stop posting the locations of my shows on the Internet to prevent run-ins? Should I get engaged? Should I start carrying pepper spray? Should I inquire about the dowry?

Hey Nick,

What's up? I hope you're having a great week.

Hey, remember last week when I was said, "Nick can you still fill in for me on Monday at the [place where we work]” and you were like, “Yeah but remind me next week?”

(I can't mention the name of where I work on this site because what if someone who worked there googled it and this letter came up? That would be really bad because then they would know that I told my entire blog how they moved the child care facilities down to a murky basement so they could turn the old room into a money making palates studio. Although if Nick is reading this right now at the [place where we work] then someone at the [place where we work] can probably track this blog entry down on the [place where we work’s] computer. Wow, what if this entry got me fired? I would be just like Jessica Cutler. My life would be just like Jessica Cutler’s life. Except for the sex part, the part about blogging about sex, and the part about sleeping with more men than there are years in my life. Actually, I met Jessica Cutler at a party last week and she was really nice. I wanted to judge her, I wanted to say “I starting reading your book and I had to take a moral break after you had sex with a married man in his office while his baby seat sat in his SUV. I think you should write another book about something less sexy than sex like . . . the civil war! Let's see how that one sells." But I didn't. I just engaged in some amicable small talk with her because she was really nice and I'm only mean to people who are mean to me first because meanness solely as a result of judgment is totally unnecessary and a waste of energy. So, where was I? Oh, how if I got fired for writing this blog post I would be JUST LIKE Jessica Culter except not like her at ALL except for the fact that I have a vagina, I blog, I live in NYC, and I like men in suits. So, basically we're the same person.)

Sorry Nick, that was my longest parenthetical digression ever. Just wanted to officially remind you that you're working for me on Monday.

Happy Turkey Day. You're the best!

And I hope you read my blog because I don't have your cell phone number,

Mindy

Go check out The Post Show's latest video.
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I'm going home to Michigan tomorrow for about a week. I'm really excited to blog tomorrow at the airport. Okay that’s not true, but what if I blogged at the airport? Wow, that would be an AMAZING post.

11:05PM
I'm at the airport. Security took forever. Isn't traveling a pain in the butt?! More later dudes.

11:35PM
Still at the airport. Eating a hot pretzel right now. It's really salty. My gate is A24, but there are no seats left in A24, so I'm sitting at Gate A26. Crazy.

11:45PM
I'm STILL here. Still at the airport. Just me and my laptop. Finished my hot pretzel, and now I'm having a fruit cup.

11:47PM
Finished the fruit cup.

11:48PM
Got another hot pretzel.

11:55PM
A seat just opened up in Gate A24 so I went to grab it and this guy got there before me. How much does that suck?!

11:56PM
Isn’t traveling a pain in the butt people??!!

11:57PM
Waiting in line for a Cinnabun. Holding my laptop up with one hand and typing with the other. Don’t want you guys to miss a moment.

11:58PM
Cinnabuns are delicious. That was sooo good.

11:59
Just got on the plane. My seat is F14.

12:05PM
What’s the deal with airplanes? What’s the deal with those tiny little bathrooms? What’s up with crappy airplane food? My seat cushion as a floatation device? Ha! Isn’t traveling a pain in the butt?!

12:10PM
I have to turn off my computer now. How sad are all of you? Sorry! I’ll be sure to post more as soon as we land.

And that was my pseudo airport post. You’re welcome.

If you’re celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope it’s a good one. I plan on eating non-stop the moment the plane touches down in Detroit. I'm hoping to top my 48 hour weight gain record from 1997. Wish me luck!

I got so many lovely e-mails from people asking for “skinny bitchy girl” to make another Photoshop appearance, that I had to post this article I wrote for The Comical today and put “skinny bitchy girl” out in the cold.

~enjoy


Dear Women in NYC who are still wearing summer clothes,

Hey, my name’s Mindy and I just wanted to let you guys know that summer is officially over. It’s November now. November comes after October and it’s right before December. Just about now the air is gets crisp and people start wearing things like scarves, hats and coats. I know this whole global warming thing we’ve got going on makes things super confusing, but trust me it’s time to store those halter/tank/tube tops under the bed.

I know how much this sucks you guys. I totally understand. I used to be one of you. I used to wear short skirts in the winter with just my bare legs as an accessory, I used to freeze my ass off wearing a tight, glittery tube top and no jacket, and I used to hate trudging through the snow in cute strappy sandals on my way to the bar.

Okay, that’s not true at all. I didn’t do any of that, and I don’t understand why you girls can’t just PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! It’s cold outside now. Put on some pants, some tights, or at least wear socks!

Listen, I like men just as much as you do, and I bet it’s really hard attracting a man on the street when you’re wearing a bulky winter jacket.I mean he’s obviously not going to care about your college education or your interest in modern art if your hot body is hidden beneath a thick wool sweater and a Burberry P coat. For sure! But frostbite is NO JOKE you guys. Check out what I found on emedicine.com:

“[Frostbite] leads to ice crystal formation, cellular dehydration, protein denaturation, inhibition of DNA synthesis, abnormal cell wall permeability with resultant osmotic changes, damage to capillaries, and pH changes.”

I know you have no idea what that means, but trust me it’s not good.

So, please dress appropriately this winter season. Do it for me, do it for your body tissue, and do it for the children.

X’s and O’s,

~Mindy

I'm doing Chicks and Giggles this Tuesday.

Mo Pitkin's

7:30

FREE!

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My friend Luke finished the Ford Iron Man World Championship in Hawaii last month.

A 2.4-mile ocean swim

A 112-mile bike race

AND

A 26.2-mile run.

Competitors have 17 hours to finish.

Luke finished in under 11 hours!

It was broadcasted on NBC on Saturday, but unfortunately I didn't catch him on TV. They focused a lot on people who finished the Iron Man with disabilities and diseases, which I guess makes for a more interesting television story.

I watched a girl run a marathon after biking 112 miles who only had one leg!

Yeah, nothing makes you feel more like a pathetic, lazy, loser who can't even get her ass to the gym three days a week, than watching a girl with one leg run a marathon.

Now if you'll excuse me, I can't eat AND type.

It's Friday and it's been a LONG week. I really don't feel like answering multiple e-mails right now, so I've decided to answer the "What's your type" question by revealing:

My First Crush

Gobo Fraggle

That's right. My first guy crush was on a puppet. Don't judge. He was quite a catch. I remember feeling really jealous one episode when he was dancing with Red. I thought she was trying to steal him from me. I was six or seven and I remember thinking "Red Fraggle is a big whore."

I LOVED Gobo Fraggle.

Maybe it was his vest, or his hip stripped shirt, or his passion for exploring. Maybe it was his crazy hair, or his ability to lead the fraggle five on adventures, or his loyalty to his best friend Wembley. Or, maybe I'm just a sucker for musicians. I don't know, but I was all about marrying Gobo Fraggle.

My type?

Well, I guess I'm into short, orange, artist types with crazy hair, who love to dance, and who aren't afraid to explore the world sans pants.

I was kicked out of a bar last night.

Too exhausted for details.

Don’t worry, I didn’t get my ass kicked, it was more of a verbal assault.

Sometimes I look at another female and I think:

“Wow, the ONLY thing the two of us have in common is our ability to produce estrogen, and I’m embarrassed to even share that small, biological connection with you.”

From now on, I’m only dating men with ex-girlfriends who no longer live in the country.

I think I had the beginnings of a quarter-life crisis last night. Don’t laugh. It’s true.I was sitting at dinner with some friends, and one of them said, “I guess it’s coming to the point where there’s no reason to date someone that I know I’m not going to end up with in the end.” I almost choked on my nachos. I remained cool and calm and probably said something lame like, “Yeah, well you have to know the person isn’t the one before you can end things and it takes a while to get to know someone. I mean sure in movies people meet someone and know they’ve met ‘the one’ instantly’ but real life needs experiences, and tests, and dynamics to change in order for someone to realize—“ I’m sure I just trailed off unsure of why I was talking in the first place, and unsure of the point I was trying to make.

My point here though is that I am on the brink of a quarter-life crisis!
You don’t believe me? Fine. I just hope you enjoy reading,

What was going through my head on the Q Train: the humble beginnings of mental crisis
By Mindy Raf

Chapter 1

Okay Mindy, get it together you have serious problems. If a 25 year old male is looking around for women to date who he hopes he’ll “end up with in the end” then shouldn’t you, a 25 year old female, be on an extreme soul mate search as well? Shouldn’t you be really worried that just THINKING about something like, “the end” or dating people you’ll “end up with” frightens your body into producing cold sweat and sporadic shakes?

Ok Mindy, you’re 25 and you’re turning 26 in June, and eventually you want get married and have children, but not NOW and not anytime soon, but all these mothers at the daycare tell you “Don’t wait until your forty to have children, do it in your thirties! Trust me!” And you’re not even thinking about having babies right now because you don’t want babies right now. NO, GOD NO! You’re not even married, you’re not even engaged, you’re not even close to being married or engaged and that’s fine with you. In fact, you’ve just reached the toothbrush stage of a relationship and even that brings about the cold sweat. But you’re 25 Mindy, that’s halfway to thirty, which is the decade of your life when you’re supposed to be settling down. But you don’t want to ever settle down? Do you? NO! But maybe you do. Yes, maybe you do but REALLY DON”T right now, so much so, that even the thought of settling down sometime in the future seems unreasonable. But still, eventually, you’re going to want to settle down and you can’t just romantically roam around for the next 5 or 6 years and then all of sudden decide you’re ready to “end up with someone” and say to yourself “ok , well I guess it’s about time I go out and meet some guy, and we’ll fall for each other mutually, and then get married, and then have babies.” No! Don’t you have to know a guy for a long time, or at least know him long enough to fool yourself into thinking you know him well before you decide to marry him? Don’t you have to live with him for a little while too, and break up with him, and then get back together with him before you decide to get engaged and get married and start planning for children? Yes. No. Yes. So that whole process will probably take years and years or maybe not, but what if it does?! You’re 25 Mindy, and right now you’re living in a 7 by 9 foot bedroom that you can barely afford, and you don’t have health insurance, and all your friend are getting promotions and paid vacations and putting their money into their 401ks and 203Ws and 313s ( no, wait that’s Detroit’s area code) See?! You know NOTHING about finance! That’s okay though because you DON’T want to get married, or have kids anytime soon. But what does soon mean? 2 years? 5? Well, in five years YOU”LL BE THIRTY! But really Mindy why are you getting so freaked out anyway? Why does the idea of not “ending up with someone” scare you when the idea of “ending up with someone” doesn’t seem appealing to you at all right now? Why do you even care? Stop making yourself crazy, and stop talking to yourself on the subway because people are starting to stare. Just live your life, let things happen. Go with the flow. Just be. But Mindy, what if you do just let things happen and the things that happen are not what you wanted to happen at all, and you end up a forty year old stand-up comedian who does an open-mic once a month and STILL writes in this blog, and YOU DON”T KNOW HOW TO COOK and you just filmed a sketch comedy video about your PUSSY and you’re talking to yourself on the subway in the middle of a Tuesday night because you had a conversation with some friends about “the one” and now suddenly you’re facing the realization of the inherent aloneness of existence!!!!”

OK maybe that was a tad over dramatic, but how entertaining would this blog be if I just wrote, “Been thinking about life: getting older, love, and stuff. Scary shit?”

One of them was from a girl who actually took the time to e-mail me in defense of doggie yoga. I’m serious. Then she went on to tell me that my writing is really, “narrow minded and mean” and that I probably don’t have “a lot of friends who aren’t bitchy.”

Amazing.

The other one was from a guy propositioning me to “come to Oklahoma and have random sex with me, just no good ole no strings, stranger, hot wild sex and then we can both go on with our lives.”

Amazing.

Now, I’ve addressed this before, but maybe some people got confused. I DON’T meet up with guys who proposition me for sex via e-mail. Sorry, but I think the whole “your blog is funny. I'm coming to NYC. Let’s hang out and have sex” thing is really shady.

And as for me coming to you, well I don’t even like traveling beyond my apartment to have random, no strings, stranger, hot wild sex, so there’s no way I’m heading out of town.

Oh, and in regards to the girl who e-mailed me asking me about cuddleparty.com,
yes, it's a real website. I wish I made it up. So scary.

More Letters I Don't Intend on Sending

Dear Guy who uses restaurant lingo inappropriately,

Hi, it’s Mindy. We went out on three or four dates last winter. Are you still an actor/waiter? Hope that’s going well. Hey, remember when we were at that Chinese Restaurant on the Upper West Side and you were rambling about your ex girlfriend? So fun! Remember when you said, “She was so needy, a little too self involved for me. So, I eighty six’d her” Well, that was the reason I never called you again. Listen, if that was the only time you used the expression I would have totally continued to hang out with you, but it wasn’t. You were 86ing everything that night. “I used to like country music, but then I 86ed it” “Oh, I might have to 86 our plans this weekend” “Okay, ha ha Mindy, let’s 86 the sarcasm.” It really started to freak me out. I pictured you 86ing things left and right in the bedroom. I pictured you wanting to 86 our unborn child one day. Plus, you were the type of guy who regurgitated his resume when someone asked you what was up. That’s incredibly lame.

I hope you get famous really soon.

Chow

~Mindy
* * * *
Dear Banana Republic Head Honchos,

Hi, I just wanted to write and say congratulations, you’re gayer than the GAP! Officially. See it’s obvious from the merchandise presented each year that you and your sister store have been competing against each other for the title of most gay for quite awhile, and I just wanted to let you know that Banana Republic won.

Okay here’s how the game loosely played out in my mind,

The Gap
Corduroy floral button down shirt: 4 points
Black button down shirt covered in white butterflies: 4 points
Bright blue argyle knit socks: 2 points

Banana Republic
Blue boxers covered in white polar bears: 4 points
Matching red knit hat and scarf for men: 4 points
Bright pink argyle knit socks: 2 points

So it was all tied up. Then, last week, when I was picking through some clothes off the Banana Republic sale rack, the floor guy came over and asked if I needed any help. I told him no thank you and as he walked away he said, (and I’m quoting him directly) “Well, if you decide you need some help just sing out Louise.” SING OUT LOUISE! That’s the gayest thing I’ve heard in my whole life, and I grew up doing musical theatre with men who made me feel extremely manly.

So anyway, congratulations!!

Best,

Mindy Raf

PS. I’m a huge fan of ALL your chain stores. When I wear those clothes I feel, finally, that I’m accepted among my peers
* * * *
Dear Dad,

Just wanted to let you know that I have a boyfriend. He’s Catholic. Please don’t tell mom. See you at Thanksgiving.

~Mindy
* * * *
To the couple who lives in the building next door to me who owns that dog that looks like a rat, but shits like an overweight golden retriever:
continue reading column

This morning I babysat 3 little boys around 18 months olds.

Andrew:Minny, Minny, my Minny
Luca: No, no MY Minny
Andrew: No, no, MY Minny, MY Minny
Matthew: No, MY Minny,
Andrew: NOOOO, MY MY MY Minny

Three cute boys fighting over me before 10am. What a great way to start the weekend!

New Post Show video up.


And just for the record, no, I've never been on j-date.

I saw a woman wearing really flattering yoga pants today. So I told her that I really liked her pants and then she told me that they were really comfortable and that they were Prada. PRADA. Prada yoga pants! She said they were pretty reasonable, but she didn’t say home much. So of course I
looked them up.


Three hundred and sixty dollars! Someone paid three hundred and sixty dollars for yoga pants. It just blows my mind that someone would wear three hundred and sixty pants to do something called Downward-Facing Dog.
I don’t know about you guys, but if I’m partaking in a physical activity that makes my butt and crotch sweat, I want to be wearing pants under twenty bucks or nothing at all.

Wow, so many people have e-mailed me saying how much they like my Photoshop picture of the “skinny bitch.” I love it. I never thought so many people (men AND women) shared a hatred for unnaturally thin women with rancid personalities.

Now, just to set the record straight, I don’t hate skinny women in general. In fact, my opinion about people really has nothing to do with body type and is based more on negative personality traits. Sadly, it just so happens that those traits usually accompany a really, really, sickly, ugly, “oh my god, eat some meat” kind of body.

I know what most of you are thinking: "Oh my god, Mindy has that STD too?! Thank god, I don't feel so alone anymore!"

Sorry, but you're still dirty and alone. The subject of this post is referring to my low maintenance, low budget Halloween costume:

"A Girl Who Forgot to Bleach"

Of course when you're wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a light, thick, brown moustache while walking by yourself to meet friends at the bar, people are going to comment regardless of the holiday.

Tourist 1: She’s just a girl with a moustache. (his wife whispers something in his ear)
No, honey she’s just a girl with a moustache, that’s all.

Parking Attendant on 46th Street: You go girl, I like em’ hairy.

Random Guy: “Damn! That’s hot mamma!”

And my favorite:

Guy outside bar: That’s a hot Hitler.