The Alexi Impulse
by YVONNE GEORGINA PUIG
Lately I've been reading a blog called imboycrazy.com. I'm not boy crazy, but it makes me feel that I should be, or could be. I'm also a person who thinks about death constantly, and this site has nothing to do with death, which is refreshing. The first time I read it I got real snobby and declared it crazy and anti-intellectual. But then I secretly kept reading it. The truth is, it's a little crazy, and there's nothing particularly intellectual about it, but so what? It's a minor revelation for a bogged-down, occasionally happy/perpetually troubled writer like myself. Finally, a blog NOT written by a writer, but a woman (named Alexi) free to employ exclamation points at will, whose meanings aren't couched in overwrought, deliberate wit. This is called FUN. A novel concept.
Alexi writes about sex the way I'd like to write about sex if I was capable of writing about sex. She does it well because she isn't an analytic writer type concerned with language and implication. She overshares, she's often vulgar, she contradicts herself, but this is the point. The point is to feel comfortable discussing the ingrown hairs on your bikini line, regardless of whether anyone is interested in hearing about them, of feeling free to say or — gasp — write — here I go — the word cunt. The truth is, sometimes I forget I even have a vagina. And when I do remember, it's usually in the context of wishing I had a penis instead.
The lengths my mind travels to alleviate this eternal absence of a penis! Sailing around the world, saving sea turtles in Central America, making 100 million dollars, writing dozens of books, starting a sanctuary for abandoned farm animals, learning to jump horses, winning an Academy Award (for what I haven't decided), mastering a Chopin waltz, collecting bugs in the Amazon, and the list goes on. It's all great, but none of it will ever make me a man. Alexi reminds me, without girl-power excess, that this impulse is normal. Men may well have it all, but there's nothing to be done about it. Better to make the most of your vagina than to wish for a penis.
Imboycrazy hails from an LA teeming with cunning 19 years olds fresh out of six-figure private schools on the west side and armed with cigarettes, slack-jawed stares, and little self-respect. Alexi is informed, and she knows how shallow and terrible girls can be to one another. They aren't glorified here.
Below, in random order, a few bits of Imboycrazy wisdom:
A guy who loves you doesn’t cum on your face- especially if he hasn’t met your parents!
Don’t put lip gloss on in public. It makes you look desperate and insecure. I say this because I am constantly putting lip gloss on in public and men have told me that I appear super desperate and insecure.
Get a bathroom trash can that hides your yucky trash, not one that just sits there revealing weird stuff that, even if it’s not weird, could be misinterpreted. for example: if you blot your lipstick on a tissue, and throw it in the garbage, a guy could glance over and think the tissue is a bloody rag! think ladies, think! this is war! i mean, love! i mean, i don’t know what it is, but it’s time to start thinking!
If something /ANYTHING resembling cottage cheese is pouring out of your vadge hole OR dick hole- it’s time to start considering wearing looser pants, having PROTECTED sex, and/or going to the fucking doctor! you oozing monster privates! Jesus!
Dudes! Wash your fucking towels! If they smell like mildew, chances are your dick is gonna smell like mildew too. I can’t tell you how many bummer blow jobs I’ve given to dudes who’s dick smelled like mildew. Oh, yeah- I actually can remember! ONE! I BROKE UP WITH HIM THE NEXT MORNING and i never saw him again; AND I’ve never let it happen again. but it haunts me like a bad dream. dudes, don’t ruin your sex life! fyi: girls talk! don’t let your reputation be annihilated just because you don’t like doing laundry. Just don’t.
If you’re a girl and you run into another girl and she tells you how much she loves her new boyfriend, don’t nod your head and smile and tell her “yeah, oh that’s so great. i’m so happy for you!” and then go home and facebook the shit out of that girls new boyfriend and flirt with him or ask him why he’s ignoring your im’s! that is shady, unhealthy behavior. and makes you kind of cunty. yeah, cunty!
If you pick at an ingrown hair on your bikini line, people will TOTALLY think you have herpes. i’m just saying.
When dealing with perfume, spray once and glide through it like the angel that you are. too much perfume could ruin your chances/induce a hard off with the boy of your dreams AND/OR even the dirtiest of the long haired, broke, sexy dudes who hang out in dark corners of pianos/little joy/the short stop (insert hair shaker bar here) with five o’clock shadow, a drug & cigarette addiction- who you don’t even want a relationship with;just a casual sex sesh, where hopefully no one gets gonorrhea! so, one spritz please. less is more.
You are a woman. you have the power to cast spells over boys with your words, your silence, gestures, eyes, and actions. this power can be super fun/entertaining, and will most likely result in an epic make out and/or someone falling in love with you. i can’t stress enough how much power you have. use it wisely.
When he calls, let it ring at least twice. nobody likes a desperate whore.
Yvonne Georgina Puig is the contributing editor to This Recording. She tumbls here.
Falling Over" — The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (mp3)
"103" — The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (mp3)
"Twins" — The Pains of Being Pure At Heart (mp3)
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