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What Really Happens When Girls Go To The Bathroom In Groups: A Piece of Investigative Journalism
By Sam Jarvis
It was a night like any other, all of us sitting around a big table in the middle of PF Changs. We laughed and ate beef and broccoli, flirting with the boys across from us. It had taken me months to infiltrate this group, hundreds of dollars worth of gel manicures to gain these girls’ trust and prove that I wasn’t a rat, I was their friend. I had fooled them.
Roxy chewed on a bite of orange chicken, reaching into her mouth to pull out a piece that was definitely too- something. She set it on her plate and I gagged in my mouth. It was then, under the dim lights of this critically acclaimed restaurant, that Lena made eye contact with us.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
As soon as she said it, the girls looked to each other in understanding, rising from their chairs in unison.
“I’ll come.”
“Me too.”
I felt the temperature on my face rise. This was the moment I had waited patiently for, and I wasn’t going to screw it up. Lena looked at me.
“Are you coming?”
I nodded, stood. I took my purse with me but I’m not even sure why. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears, trying my best to ignore it so I could hear the end of Jacqueline’s story about switching eyebrow threading places.
Lena led the girls into the women’s bathroom and I immediately took mental notes of my surroundings. Three stalls, two sinks, automatic paper towel dispenser. This was information they’d need when I reported back to the agency. I’ll be honest, I was in a bit of a daze. Having always been a loner, I had never been asked to go to the bathroom with a group of girls before. I was scared, but elated.
Roxy went into a stall and without shutting it, started peeing. I adjusted my bra to make sure the wire I was wearing was still intact. Deep breaths, I thought to myself. I knew they were picking up my heartbeat in the audio.
Nothing happened for several minutes, as I pondered the possibility that I had gotten a bad lead. But suddenly, Lena and Jacqueline were talking in whispered code. As I leaned in, struggling to make out the words Cote d’Ivoire, and Tuesday is the drop off, I put it together. Holy shit, they’re arms dealers.
Roxy put on her reading glasses and scanned a detailed map she procured out of her bra. Lena asked if anybody had a tampon. I truly couldn’t believe what I was seeing: these women were selling machine guns to African soldiers.
Sudanese militants, secret weapon bases, they were discussing it all in great detail.
And as I watched tens of thousands of dollars pass from one girl’s moisturized hand to the other, I breathed for the first time in several minutes. My palms were sweating so profusely that I needed a paper towel to wipe them. I casually walked over to get one, but of course the machine couldn’t sense my hand motion beneath it.
All of the girls were looking at me. I glanced up nervously, wondering if this paper towel dispenser faux pas had demolished the cover I’d worked so hard to create. Lena saw the terror on my face.
“Something wrong?” She asked, putting a hand on her slender hip.
“Nope.” I said, as convincing as I could. I took Improv 101 a couple years ago and hoped to God it was shining through now.
It had been hours. They’d sketched out twelve drop routes, paid, in cash, for seventy five semiautomatic weapons, and made me try on four different shades of lipstick.
My focus waning, it was thankfully time to go. They rolled up the plans, stuffed them back in their undergarments, and took a last and final look at themselves in the mirror.
“I’m thinking about getting low lights,” Roxy said to both herself and no one. And although I couldn’t believe that millions of innocent people’s blood was on her hands, I did think she would look excellent with some darker pieces near her temple.
We walked back to the table, now completely cleared. All that remained was a small pile of fortune cookies. One of the guys looked up from his phone.
“What took you so long?”
Lena smirked, glancing at the girlfriends who flanked her sides. I was oddly proud to be one of them.
“Oh, you know. Girl stuff.”
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The Bachelor Recap: “I Was Like, Meant To Meet Ben.”
Bringing a guy home to meet your family is cool until four seconds after you walk in the front door. Then everyone starts being so them and it’s like eeeee we should get going!
Amanda gets the first hometown date, and we know it’s going to be all about dem tiny tots. It’s pretty presh, except Ben almost lets one of her children wander into the ocean.
Little Charlie screams for the entire duration of the car ride home and it’s like good, let it out, babe. Show Ben what he’s in for because if he thinks parenting is all fun and octopus sand toys he’s got another thing coming.
At this point Ben looks COMPLETELY fucking wiped and is probably wishing it was his nap time too. Kids, amiright? Fak.
Amanda’s dad starts their conversation by going, “So, um…” which is basically the only thing a father can say at a time like this. They talk, and here is Ben realizing that he is in over his head:
Yuuup, that’s the face of somebody ready to be a father.
On Lauren B’s date, she takes him to a food truck and I have to say that is the fucking move, girl. I took my boyfriend to a food truck the other day and we shared a bratwurst AND a smile.
Lauren is stoked because they’re just “eating lunch, walking around,” which is truly the crux of every relationship. Pepper in a little couch sitting and that honestly is like, ALL it is.
I assume they are killed by a rogue food truck and have drifted off to heaven, because they are now in a whiskey bar that cannot possibly exist on this planet. Mama like.
She brings him home to meet Dave, Christie, Bryant… everybody!! In what can only be described as he whitest, most picture perfect family I have ever seen in my life. They are the cover of a board game’s god damn DREAM.
Seriously, Chutes and Ladders should take this image and photoshop their product into it.
Also Lauren has a hot sister. Ben can’t put into words how he feels about her (Lauren, not the hot sister), and he is now crying real tears. I am CRINGING but her sister fucking LOVES this shit. Look how into it she is:
Lauren tells her parents that Ben is her person and now SHE’S crying. And now I’M crying! (JK, the only thing I cry for is Biggest Loser makeover week and I need to take a decongestant after that beautiful magic.)
Also this is every father trying to talk sense into his kid/that same kid wanting NONE OF IT:
Nice try, Mr. Bushnell! Also Lauren totally fucking bails on saying I love you to Ben, and I want to call her a pussy until I realize that if I were on this show trying to say I love you to someone I would just stand there making very strange and uncomfortable facial expressions. (All of my friends are nodding at their computers going yep, that’s Sam.)
He leaves and it’s on to Caila and this god damn bench she’s obsessed with.
They go to her dad’s TOY FACTORY, which is fucking legit as HELL. A toy factory? Yes. They’re going to build this house and I’m thinking ya know, a doll house. Instead they build like, one of those plastic Playskool houses you keep in your yard that after it rains gets all wet and shitty. Ben is oddly pumped about it though so what the hell do I know about plastic fucking houses.
Everyone is happy for them, including this applauding factory worker.
We meet her parents, and I can’t stop giggling at her father. I honestly don’t even know why. He is just cracking me the fuck up tonight.
Caila cries and says things like, “Daddy, I know this is it.” She also refers to her mom as mommy fifty thousand times and I don’t know why it is creeping me out to my core, but it’s probably because she keeps whispering it like a god damn psychopath.
I’m suddenly convinced she’s too smiley and may eventually turn into that woman from Misery, but that’s my marijuana-induced paranoia for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Ben!! Did somebody just knock on my door??
We’re onto Jojo’s date, which starts with her getting a bouquet of roses. This makes me immediately wary because of said paranoia, but also because you and I both know Ben gives out one rose at a time.
She reads this letter, slowly realizing that it’s not from Ben. Umm, what the fuck is going on and WHO the FUCK is CHAD. Also what grown ass man named CHAD does his L’s like that when writing the word love? Something is fishy here. Might be the tilapia I ate for dinner, but I think it’s the CHAD.
Apparently her ex has had time to think while she’s been gone for 39 days (let it sink in that all these betches have only been away for 39 days). But was Jojo WITH CHAD 39 days ago?? So many unanswered questions. Also fuck these Bachelor producers. She legit thought Ben was saying I love you and it turns out it was fuckin’ CHAD!
She cries and explains to Ben WHO THE FUCK CHAD IS and here is his face as she does so:
Thrilled. Anyway they’re off to Jojo’s parents house, which is a total shit hole.
Her brothers hate him (“He’s no Chad!!” -One of them, I’m sure). But you know what? I don’t care if they hate Ben, because I hate them. Now we all hate each other.
Jojo’s mom is like yeahhhh this is a little much for me, and swigs straight from the god damn bottle of champs like a woman after my own heart.
One of the brosefs is like “I don’t know if you were coached on your answers…” Basically he is grilling Ben like a fucking sirloin. I’m sure all Ben wants to do is be like hi, remember how we’re on a TV show? K.
At the rose ceremony, Jojo’s body is BANANAZ and they all stand there like wax wife mannequins.
Lauren B. gets the first rose, then Caila. Nice knowin’ ya, Amanda. Ain’t nobody gonna give up on Jojo’s fine ass. She could belong to the fucking Manson family and 10 out of 10 bachelors are bringing her into that fantasy suite.
Amanda is irritated that he sent her back to LA only to send her home again at a rose ceremony. I FEEL HER and think this is an excellent point until I realize she lives like, not that far from LA. Maybe an hour and a half.
Next week Ben says I love you to two women, which is throwing me for a LOOP. Is that allowed? There are rules, you know. I think. Aren’t there? Shit.
Check out more of my recaps here.
I’m Twelve
How was your weekend I READ BRAID TUTORIALS.
But I Don’t Wanna
Playtime all the time 2016!!
Weekend.
I also smooched on my Valentine.
Weekly Horoscopes For Strong, Independent Women
By Sam Jarvis
Aquarius
(January 20th-February 18th)
You’ve got a lot on your plate this week, Aquarius. Three Facebook friends are going to get engaged, and you will do squats in your living room while talking on the phone with your mom about how unhappy your cousin Megan must be now that she’s tied down. Remember to relax and remain optimistic about the future.
Pisces
(February 19th-March 20th)
Ruler Neptune will decide a lot of your fate this week, Pisces. Your coworker is going to imply that you must be on your period since you didn’t reply to his email with, “the usual girlie exclamation points.” Your instinct will be to slice his throat from ear to ear, but try to hold back. You know he has a small penis. Let that be enough.
Aries
(March 21st-April 19th)
With Mars as your ruler and fire as your element, things are going to be smooth sailing, Aries. You’ll get a bunch of Tinder matches, but you aren’t in a hurry to respond. This week will be better spent with your lady posse, drinking wine and discussing current events.
Taurus
(April 20th-May 20th)
Watch out, Taurus. You’ll order a green juice and the guy will call you sweetie as he hands it to you. Tell him you are a badass bitch and the next time he demeans a complete stranger he should remember that he is talking to the owner of a company and not one of his sweaty ass food truck peers.
Gemini
(May 21st-June 20th)
Your moon is over Venus this week, twin. Some guy’s gonna ask if you need help carrying that humongous Amazon Prime box full of stemless wine glasses to your third floor walk up. Don’t lose your cool. Say no thank you, carry that heavy ass box up three fucking flights of stairs, and put more money into your 2016 Roth IRA.
Cancer
(June 21st-July 22nd)
With Mercury rising (?), it’s time for a change, Cancer. You’re starting to realize that maybe your boyfriend is a fucking loser. Has he washed his sheets in the last three months? You will hit your breaking point and dump him. Your bestie will respond to the news with a, “You go girl!” gif.
Leo
(July 23rd-August 22nd)
You’ve got the travel bug this week, great lioness. You don’t need an excuse to book a trip or even a spa day, you’re a grown ass woman who earns her own paycheck. Spend the weekend in Palm Springs raging with older gay men. Go to a Korean spa and hang out with very naked Asian women while someone scrubs all your dead skin cells off. It’ll hurt, but in a good way. Treat yo self, girl!
Virgo
(August 23rd-September 22nd)
Don’t be over analytical, Virgo. An old lover from your past will reenter your life, possibly stirring up forgotten feelings. Remember that you are doing so much better at life than they are. I mean for god’s sake, he sells supplements. Be polite, say hello, and keep it moving. It may feel better than you think.
Libra
(September 23rd-October 22nd)
You’ll find balance in your apartment this week, Libra. Rearrange your space without any help from anyone. You don’t need a god damn man to move the couch. You like when your legs feel like noodles and you have two dead arms the next day. That means you did it all by yourself and now the chaise is on the south facing wall!
Scorpio
(October 23rd-November 21st)
Biting your tongue will be your challenge this week, Scorpio. A guy you’re casually dating will bring up the fact that his ex used to cook him chicken pot pies on rainy days. Although you’ll immediately think to say, “Well you can cook your own damn meals with me,” try just giving a long, overdramatic eye roll instead. He’ll get the picture.
Sagittarius
(November 22nd-December 21st)
With ruler Pluto, you’re going to find yourself feeling a little melancholy this week, Sag. You may be craving some male attention, and that’s okay. Flirting is not the same thing as needing someone to open this motherfucking jar of salsa that I’ve been trying to get open for the past three days. Like, is this what my life has come to? Bursting into tears alone in my kitchen eating shitty plain eggs with no chunky medium spice salsa? UGH like seriously, I knew I should’ve bought that little rubber square the last time I was at Bed Bath and Beyond but I was too focused on what I was going to use my 20% off coupon on. As if I have even used that stupid Vitamix a single time in the last three months. What a waste of money.
Capricorn
(December 22nd-January 19th)
Don’t expect the worst this week, you sexy mountain goat. A new job offer or promotion may be extended to you, and it’s a good time to take it. It will come with a significant raise, so be sure to enjoy it. As Rihanna once said, “Bitch better have my money.” Also your DVR’s on the fritz so make sure it records The Bachelor this week. And delete all those episodes of Lockup: Raw. It gives you nightmares.
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
How Many Houseplants Is Too Many? 10,000?
By Sam Jarvis
Decorating your space is important to not only the aesthetic of the room, but also your happiness as an individual. And what better way to add some color (and oxygen!) to your apartment than buying a shit ton of houseplants. But how many is too many? Let’s discuss.
Look around your living room. Take note of any areas that get good light, and also every spare inch of the floor. Can you see the floor? Yeah, that’s no good. Honestly if it doesn’t look like a god damn Rain Forest Cafe in there, you’re going to need more houseplants.
Put shorter plants on countertops, side tables, desks, your cable box. Put taller plants everywhere else. Sooo many tall plants, okay? Put a plant in every drawer of the kitchen. Put fifty in your closet. Just start gluing leaves to the walls. It’s going to really liven up the space.
Now I’ll be honest, 10,000 is probably too many, especially for a one bedroom apartment. But 9,990 is usually about right. Also flowers fucking suck, don’t buy flowers. They’re dead. They’re already. Dead. Houseplants are ALIVE, and you generally want things in your apartment to be living and not dead. Roommates, cats, foliage.
Once you have literally zero space left, sit on your couch and enjoy the beauty around you. See, that was a trick!! There shouldn’t be any space on your couch because you guessed it, houseplants.
Read more of my short humor pieces here.
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