How to Attract Weirdos Without Flashing them: A True Story

When I was a kid, I went through a phase where I thought it was pretty funny to flash people, mostly my own peers.

That’s basically because I wasn’t mentally stable,

Actually, it was because I was objectified and scrutinized for having big boobs, and it sucked to be bullied. It sucked to have people comment on your breasts in front of your teachers, or lie and tell people you stuffed your bra when the truth was, those babies were/are real.

So when I got sick of it, I found it funny to whip them out. I basically thought I was giving the world a big, “Fuck you,” because I was a confused young teen. The humor and ridiculous assumption of empowerment I got from this little trick died when one day, as I chose to flash on a dare, a car slowed down in front of me.

The man driving the car looked at me, and he was old my friends. Not old because I was a young girl assuming he looked old and was really only 25, but old like late forties, early fifties.

I ran away, with my friends behind me, fearing that the man driving the car would get out.

He didn’t, and I wasn’t abducted, but had many bad sexual experiences after that in case you’re taking score. Needless to say, I never flashed a car again.

Lesson learned.

But now that my boobs are safely in my bra where they belong, and I am a productive citizen and mother, you would figure I would not attract any weird people or men around me.

You would figure wrong.

So since I am such a gracious citizen and can’t waste those 60 plus credits of psychology coursework and research, I have decided to share my amazing tips with you!

How to Attract Weirdos Without Flashing Them: A go-to guide

#1 Be Nice.

If you want to attract weirdos, just be nice. Start conversations with strangers, and then because you have no clue how to run or can’t–trapped in a small cafe or store, just keep talking and don’t tell them to shut up, especially if you’re female. Remember ladies, being nice is the only way to be! There’s only bad karma if you tell people where to go or assert yourself.  You’re supposed to put up with it. Besides, if you want to meet a good weirdo, you’ve got to talk to as many people as possible.

#2 Smile

Smile at anyone, and the weirdest folks will find you sexy or approachable. If you find a homeless guy telling you all about the days when he played with Miles Davis, his invisible friends, and other delusions, you know you have a great smile.

#3 Go Places Alone

Weirdos like loners. It’s like cookies and milk, darling. If you go out by yourself, weirdos figure you’re weird and unlikable too, so they approach you more often. If you’re in a group of people, weirdos will shy away as they won’t have the guts to corner you and talk your ear off about their stamp collection and the time they saw Jesus while buying mums for their dead grandmother.

#4 Smell a little

Bad smells give off a sign that you are unstable, which simply attracts more unstable people. Hold off on the deodorant and antiperspirant. Besides, the aluminum ingredients in most brands is a chemical to be wary of.

*let it be known I have never tried this particular step.

#5 Bring along a child

Weirdos like to stop people with kids because they feel you will be more compassionate.

Chances are, you are less likely to tell the person to f*ck off because you don’t want your kid having a potty mouth, unless her or she already does.

Last crucial step

#6 Have no boundaries

I stranger once tried to kiss me at a cafe.

I didn’t let him.

I moved away (obviously).

But if you really want a weirdo to kiss you three seconds after you’ve asked them, “Hey do you know where the napkins are,” be sure to have no boundaries. Sit very close to them and try to hold their hands. Weirdos like that.

I hope we have all learned a little about weirdo attraction etiquette. I am so glad I can bless the world with my amazing knowledge.




Mom in the Mirror

Dear Mom in the Mirror:

You didn’t make anything homemade today.

All you do was heat up leftovers, slacker.

Your kid was bad in the store today, so you had to withdraw a privilege, and now you feel like crap.

You know it had to be done, but you work so much Mom, that when you have to be Bad Cop, which it always seems that that role is on you, it hurts.

Shouldn’t you have predicted your kid would act out? Shouldn’t you have known Mom?

What are you doing wrong to make your kid act so out of character?

Are you a bad Mom, mom?

Continue reading

In the Hands of Men: a memoir excerpt by Laura Lifshitz, previously published in the Oklahoma Review

This is an excerpt from my memoir, and was previously published in the Oklahoma Review, a literary journal. I will warn you all before reading that it is graphic at times, and very dark, so if you can’t handle the heat, then this isn’t your kitchen.

**Background  before you read: at this point in my memoir,  I am a 14 year old girl, recently gone through puberty and discovering that suddenly, my body is more important than who I am as a person –i.e.,  my breasts, which are the focus of apparently everyone’s conversations, have now sexualized and shamed me. I have been bullied and stared at, yet I am still just an eighth grader trying to figure out what is happening to me.  In general, the confident girl I once was has gone by the way side. I have started hanging out with the wrong crowd, and I am extremely vulnerable.

In the Hands of Men

Now it’s a year later, and the summer before my freshman year is dragging. I spend my time at the swim club or with friends, especially Buddy, but I never tell them about the “Newton Boys” or Jimmy.  After that one phone call, I talk with a few of the guys over the phone, even though I haven’t met them. The one guy who does call me all the time, is Jimmy.  And after talking with him on the phone off and on for almost a year, the only things I know about Jimmy are that he loves music— Jane’s Addiction in particular, has long hair, and is twenty-two. He says the word dude a lot, and has a gritty like rocks against bare feet type of voice, as if he’s twenty-two going on eighty.

“When am I gonna meet you, girl?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him, terrified.

What if he doesn’t like me?

I don’t know what twenty-two year old men want; I can barely figure out guys my own age.

“Well, I’m nervous,” I admit as the little hairs on my arms stand at attention. A man wanting to meet little old me!

“Girl, it’s all good. Don’t worry.” and that is it.

Jimmy has short explanations and opinions on everything. To me, that’s just strange considering that in my house if someone wants to tell you what he or she thinks, which is always, you better sit your butt down.  So after a long period of coaxing with short words, and claims that, “Girl, it will be all good,” at the end of June, I meet Jimmy. Continue reading