Don't Start Drinking Before Noon

The title is just a note to myself. You guys can start drinking whenever you want. Anyway, y'all may have noticed that we've been slacking a little bit this week. Roxy and Brownie have been slammed at work and Daisy moved at the same time Baby Razor was busy cutting her first tooth. Basically, we're having the crappiest summer vacation ever.

So in lieu of actual content, have an actual conversation between Daisy and Mister Razor from earlier this week:

"So I was reading an article in the New York times about the strain put on a marriage when a spouse has ADHD, and I thought, well, that's all well and good, but what about when both spouses have it?"

"That sounds interesting. What did it say you should do?"

"Um, I didn't finish reading it."

"Is that a joke?"

"Sadly, no. But I bookmarked it! I'll send you the link. Maybe between the two of us we can finish it."

Don't Buy Cosmo Just Because You Like The Cover Girl

So I have this problem. And by "problem," I mean girlcrush, and by "girlcrush," I mean I am crushed with INSANE LUST. Her name is Pink, and she's just about the hottest, most talented, most badass, most adorable and hilarious (follow her on Twitter!) celebrity on Earth. I adore her. I simultaneously want to be her best friend and also sleep with her. I am far too invested in her relationship with her equally adorable (and lustworthy) husband - I was unreasonably happy when they got back together, and I want them to live happily ever after, riding their bikes and mocking each other for all eternity. And all this is not even to mention her music, which is so good, and her voice, which is brilliant, even when she's hanging upside down. Her I'm Not Dead album got me through what was equally the best and worst year of my life - my soon-to-be-husband bought it for me during a two week hospital stay, and I listened to it nonstop on the beach during our honeymoon four months later. Basically, Pink rocks, and you should just bow down to her. You saw these performances, right? The Fug Girls have it dead on.

What you should NOT do? Buy the issue of Cosmopolitan that is currently on newsstands, no matter how effing hot she looks on the cover. (And y'all, she looks seriously effing hot.)

Here are some actual, genuine quotes from this gem of an issue.

"As much as we admire Angie [Jolie]'s ballsy attitude (or at least used to), the actress...has shown that she's willing to do whatever it takes to get the Mr. Smith she wants...and no wife - sorry Jen - is about to stop her."
(They KNOW that The Breakup was FIVE YEARS AGO, right? And that he was the married one?)

"So what is important? Well, it's hard as hell to figure out because no dude is going to outright articulate what he needs from you to be happy."

"...maintaining a sense of mystery is especially crucial as things become serious...TMI is not only a turnoff, but it also forces him to rethink his image of you as a strong, sexy woman."
(BTW, their definition of TMI includes sharing that you have to pee and mentioning your waxing appointment. Strong and sexy women don't need to pee or maintain their brows!)

Plus, an article about why men heart skanks (name-dropping specific celebs and mistresses, then referring to them as "trashy chicks" and "low-rent floozies," glossing over the fact that the guys those mistresses were sleeping with were the married ones...sensing a pattern?), a charming few pages about How To Make A Man Commit (full of great blanket statements like, "Men want someone fun - plain and simple" and "He doesn't want to see you in sweatpants three nights in a row," which means that I'm pretty sure my husband's going to be filing for divorce any second now), a You, Even Better feature reminding you that your new husband won't love you if you gain the 21 pounds that the average woman gains after she gets married (apparently he'll "feel freaked" and decide you don't care about him anymore), and a full page of people taking pictures of strangers and sending them to the magazine, bitching about their terrible clothes or accessories.

And seriously, EVERY SINGLE ITEM relates back to sex in some way. Even if you save some money (Dates Under $10!) and go to the cheap carnival in your town, you should, according to Cosmo, then want to bone. And did you know they have PORN now? Seriously! Two pages of porn! When did Cosmo start swiping Penthouse's Letters leftovers?

(This is where we remind you not to take sex advice from Cosmo. No seriously. That has not changed in the last couple of months.)

When your magazine puts a strong, badass, unique talent like Pink on the cover, it would be nice if the content reflected some of those qualities. A two-page interview with one of the most individual and self-posessed celebrities out there does not make up for all the other garbage - encouraging readers to hide who they are, second-guess what they do, say, and wear, and to revolve everything in their life around getting, keeping and pleasing a man? When the magazine spends pages and pages telling you about how shitty and stupid men are? Something tells me that Pink would not approve of any of it.

So if you're wandering by the newsstand and you see her glaring out at you, looking fucking fierce, just stop, think about taking an extra five minutes to read the article while you're standing there, and then don't waste your money. Save your five bucks and get a few of her songs off iTunes. It won't make you feel shitty about yourself, I guarantee it.

Don't fight with your partner around your friends

This article in the New York Times last week was about a very annoying couple who fight on Facebook so that their friends can get involved and "can kind of comment on" their disputes. Thank God, I don't know this couple, and I really have no idea how they still have friends, but way too many times I've had that awkward moment around a couple where they're having a fight, and I'm just trying to find a way to hide in the playroom with their kid. So people, please, don't fight with your partner around your friends.

Look, I'm not talking about friendly bickering about whose turn it is to change the baby's dipaer or about where we should all go out for dinner tonight, I'm talking about those conversations that clearly have that "I'm pissed" edge to them. Where most of the time what you say is pretending to be friendly, but you both have that undercurrent of anger, and then start saying things that I don't really understand, but have a second meaning. And then, of course, there are those actual fights where someone might start yelling, or slamming doors. If you need to do that, and you know, sometimes we all do, for goodness sake do it in private, or at least just with your children around (you'll pay for their therapy). But if your friends are around, we start to feel like we're in the middle of an old episode of Jon and Kate Plus Eight, before Jon became as big of a douche as he is now, and before Kate got new extensions and white teeth and started attempting to dance on national television.

Those kinds of situations are totally awkward and difficult for your friends, I'm telling you this right now. None of us want to get in the middle, and the worst possible scenario is for one of you to turn to me and say "Brownie, you agree with me, right?" Please please, don't ever do that. Because whether I agree with you or not, I am SO not going to volunteer my opinion at that point, and just get one of you even madder, and mad at ME to boot. And honestly, at that point, I've probably just started chanting my mantra in my head so that I can't hear any of the conversation anymore, so I would have no idea what I am agreeing to.

The thing is, if your friends are hanging out with the two of you together, it's often because they are either still getting to know one member of the couple, or it's because they genuinely like you as a couple, and they like being around both of you. In either situation, being in the middle of a couple fight is the worst. For the former, it gives your friends a bad opinion of your new girlfriend or boyfriend, or just a bad opinion of the way that the two of you interact, and that will just make any future outings even more uncomfortable. And for the latter, it's like watching Mom and Dad fight, and no one likes to do that, okay? Yes, maybe it's clear that I'm the child of divorced parents, but reliving those moments of childhood is not a good way to spend a Saturday night out with friends.

And really, we just do not care if you opened that bottle of wine that he'd been saving (unless we get to drink some of it), or if he's going to play golf instead of going on a bike ride with your kid, or if she farted in the middle of the night and woke you up. And really, we just do not want to know! We know that some of this has to do with someone's irritation about your sex life, or who works too much or not enough, or some fight about money that you had, but that is so none of our business.

And I'm not asking you to be fake, or super polite to each other all the time. One of my friends and her husband bicker at a low level all the time, but there's no animosity there, and it's just the way their relationship has always been, so I just find it entertaining and not awkward at all. And seriously, if you're a new parent, all bets are off, because we all know that neither of you have been sleeping and you're both hungry and stressed and overwhelmed on top of the sleep deprivation, so if you need to fight, do it, and I'll just go into the kitchen and make you a pie. But those are special exceptions.

So the next time you are having a dinner party and your wife breaks a glass and you want to make a snarky remark about how maybe she feels like she can break things all of the time but you know how much they cost, and then your wife says that well, since she makes more money than you, she can afford to buy some damn new wineglasses sometimes, please just stop, think about how all of your dinner guests would immediately want to hide under the table, and don't do it.

Don't Be Afraid To Compliment A Stranger

(Image of Purdue's Compliment Guys.)

A couple of weeks ago, I went into Starbucks after spending the morning in court (for work) before going to the office. Court had been frustrating, it was cold and windy outside, and I was feeling especially blah. However, I was wearing my very awesome Proenza Schouler for Target coat from a couple of years ago, which almost always lifts my spirits a little bit, and had on an equally fun H&M scarf. When the barista asked me my name to put on my coffee, he hollered it to his coworkers, then turned to me and said, "Roxy! You look fantastic! That coat and the scarf look great with your coloring, and especially your hair." As windblown and chilled as I was, and as little as I was looking forward to the next eight hours, his comment - genuine and not a come-on - absolutely made my day.

It can sometimes be difficult to know how to take a compliment. They can feel backhanded or like they come with an ulterior motive. You can feel like you've fished for it or like it's rooted in guilt. But when it comes from a stranger? It almost always is void of all that history or subtext, and is just a truly genuine piece of positive feedback.

Yes, there are compliments from strangers that are less welcome. If you're hollering out your car window at me, I'm more likely to throw a rude gesture your way than I am to smile and say thanks. (Sidebar: Has that EVER gotten anyone a date? Why are guys still attempting that "Hey Baby Hey Baby!" nonsense? "Nice tits," while true, is not exactly tops on our list of things to hear from some random dude.) And if I hear "Smile! You're so pretty!" one more time, I might just lose it once and for all.

But if someone says they love my jeans? I'll happily have a five minute conversation about my favorite brand (Joe's), my favorite place to find them (eBay or various consignment shops in town), and walk away feeling miles better. Brownie had a similar experience recently, when she was having a great hair day and had that validated by someone she had never met. And Daisy has one of my favorite stories, involving a cool t-shirt, Trader Joe's, and a guy saying, "Oh, stay right there! I want to show my wife your shirt! It's great!"

While we've explained in plain terms how not to be an asshole in public, we also think it's important to be actively nice to people. So many of us are wandering around in our own little worlds, plugged into our iPods and smartphones, and I'm just as guilty of that as anyone. But that doesn't mean its good. Sure, it keeps you from having to have conversations with the crazy person next to you on the bus, but it can also keep you from connecting. And it keeps other people from sharing how cute they think your shoes are or lending you their extra umbrella on a rainy day or just generally making you feel good. And while it can be scary to talk to strangers, it can also mean more to them than you realize. So the next time you see someone with great earrings or the perfect haircut or just a generally sunny and delightful disposition, but you're hesitant to share your thoughts with them? Just stop, think about how nice it is when someone says something nice to you, and don't be afraid to compliment a stranger.

Don't Blame Yourself For a Bad Date

I am a bad date expert. I didn't date much in college, so when I graduated and became a single girl in the city, I vowed to go on any date that presented itself to me. And I did. And it was ridiculous.

There was the guy who told me he could only be with someone who was okay with the fact that he occasionally didn't contact anyone for weeks at a time, the guy who insisted on driving and then got us lost, the guy who turned out to have a daughter my age (I didn't think he was that old; he didn't think I was that young.), the guy whose favorite movie was Notting Hill (Okay, that one was my fault. I thought he was joking and laughed at him. Oops.), and the guy who thought The Rainforest Cafe was a romantic dinner spot. My favorite, though, was the date that went fine, with the guy asking me out again at the end, then emailing me two days later to say he'd thought about it some more and decided we shouldn't get together again. I would still like to find that guy and punch him.

I also went on a bunch of dates with perfectly nice men who were clearly bored by me and whom I thought were dull as dishwater. I would get home from those dates and wonder what the heck was wrong with me that I had gone out with half the city of Boston and couldn't find one guy who was interested or interesting. At first I thought I must be a defective dater. I worried that I was doomed to lose out on the love of my life because of my inability get beyond stilted small talk about my crappy job and the Red Sox.

But around the middle of my mediocre date odyssey, I noticed something. Quite often, the guys across the table from me had a restless look in their eyes that mirrored my feelings of constant, low-grade dating panic. I realized that they were probably sitting there with an internal monologue that was the guy version of my inner voice, sounding something like this: She seems nice. But not great. But there's nothing wrong with her. But we're not really hitting it off. Man, this date is boring. She's boring. Or maybe I'm boring? Am I boring? Why doesn't she like me? Wait, I don't like her. But there's nothing wrong with her. This is not a good date. None of my dates are good dates. I'm going to die alone. (You might think men don't worry about dying alone. This is not true. It was a serious fear for a few of my guy friends, especially when we were in our early 20s and they subsisted entirely on frozen pizzas. They worried that all the cheap cheese was going to shorten their lifespans to the point where they wouldn't have time to date and marry anyone before the inevitable heart attack.)

The fact of the matter is, unless you do something ridiculous like get drunk and belligerent or say something insulting, bad dates are not your fault. You could be the most charming, witty, fascinating person on earth, and the person across from you could be well-read, intelligent, and committed to saving the whales, but if your interests and personalities don't complement each other in just the right way, sparks aren't going to fly. It has absolutely nothing to do with you or with your date for that matter. If getting along with someone nice and decent-looking was all it took to make a relationship work, I'd be married to the kid I took to my freshman formal.

Instead I dated and dated until I went out with a guy who started talking my ear off thirty seconds after we met. Yet instead of going dull dull dull my inner voice supplied, what a weirdo. And you know what? Thank god I had been on enough crappy dates to realize that what a weirdo was a good reaction. I was intrigued instead of bored! I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to plumb the depths of this man's oddness over two hours worth of small talk, and I was delighted by this fact.

Seven years later, I still think he's a weirdo. But he's my weirdo. And he's got even more bad date stories than I do. (A girl once bit him. And not in the fun way.) So despite how it might feel while you're poking at your pad thai and listening to a nice guy tell you about a hobby in which you have zero interest, sometimes all the bad dates are worth it for just one good one.

Don't tell me to calm down

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I am a naturally exuberant person. When I get excited, I get EXCITED. Twice in grad school when good friends of mine got great jobs, I started shrieking and jumping up and down with them in public, making everyone around us turn and stare, and you know, those memories make me smile. When I talk about something that I care about a lot, whether it's politics, or the most recent episode of Project Runway, or how ugly these shoes are, I get animated. So please, do not tell me to calm down.

What is the fun of life if you are all muted and low key about everything? Why do people love Gus Johnson's sports calls so much? Because he doesn't try to play it cool and pretend that he's not thrilled, he lets it all out. What's more enjoyable: telling a friend that you're pregnant, and having her give you a big yay and a hug, or having her say "Oh, isn't that nice?" ? I think that you know the answer to that. If you're having an intense discussion about politics or reality TV or Brett Favre, it is fine to punctuate your statements with a slightly raised voice, as long as you aren't actually yelling or calling someone a fascist. Telling me to calm down just implies that I'm getting excited about nothing, and that's just condescending and a buzz kill.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not that person who goes around shouting in a library, or even in a Starbucks. Attention whores irritate me as much as anyone else, and I glare daggers at those people carrying on loud cell phone conversations on public transportation. See, I know that my voice is naturally too loud for any conversations like that other than "I'll be there in five minutes, okay bye!" Isn't that why texting was invented? And if I ever am disturbing anyone in a place where quiet should reign, I am happy to leave or quiet down.

But if I am laughing really hard at a comedy show, or chattering delightedly in a park, or yelling "RUN, RUN, RUN" at a sporting event (or, to be fair, at my television while a sporting event is on), there is no reason for me to calm down. Dancing when you make a mid field tackle is annoying, but you know what? Dancing when you score a touchdown is just fine. Sure, sometimes it's good to act like you've been there before, but it's also fun to show that it matters to you that you got there in the first place. If I want to be excited, if I want to be pissed, if I want to cry from laughter, then I will. If someone thinks that I'm making a big deal out of nothing, then they can go on and think that. But don't ruin the moment for me, and make yourself sound like a superior ass, and tell me to calm down.

So the next time that your friend is ranting about college hockey, or the Supreme Court's campaign finance decision, or last night's America's Next Top Model, and you want to tell them to calm down, just stop, think about the last time you got enthused about something and how fun it was, and don't do it.

Don't spend your life stuck in your smartphone

I know, believe me, I know. Your iPhone is so cool -- it has all of these apps! You can find anything on it! There's Yelp and Twitter and Facebook and a million games and even books. Oh, I'm sorry, you have a Blackberry? I bet you love it just as much! It has apps too, and comes in fun colors, and constantly buzzes with emails and texts coming in. I know, it's hard to keep yourself from looking at it every thirty seconds. But HELLO, HI, HII, IT'S ME OVER HERE, ACTUAL PERSON, TRYING TO TALK TO YOU. No, not one of those imaginary people coming from inside of your phone, but a real flesh and blood person right in front of you trying to talk to you. Please, people, don't spend your life stuck in your smartphone.

Look, people. This man was on his iPhone while giving his child a bath. Playing CHESS on his iPhone, okay? Enough is enough. Now, I understand the need to escape from normal life sometimes, and I totally understand loving the ability to catch up on blog reading on Google Reader or play Scrabble with lots of people on your commute. I love my iPhone too. But when you're doing things that could, you know get your children killed, it's time to put the phone away. I've given baths to small children, and they're pretty hilarious, with the splashing and the babbling and the bubbles and the bath toys.

And it's not just when you're doign something dangerous when you need to be detached from the phone. At a dinner party? Out to drinks with friends? Put the phone away and be with people. You know, drink a beer, chat about your day with people instead of just writing messages on their walls, flirt a little, laugh a lot. Aren't those times fun? Isn't that more fun than pulling your phone out of your pocket every 30 seconds to see why it's buzzing, or hitting refresh on that website, or playing WOW?

But you could be missing something! No. No, you're not missing anything except for that cute boy over there who is trying to catch your eye and just gave up, or your friend's funny story about seeing that celebrity fall down. Needing to see Doc Jensen's recap of Lost the moment it goes up, or be FIRST! to comment on that blog, or see the next poetic tweet of Ruth Reichl is a little pathological. (Okay, maybe not that last thing. Did you see her story about the oysters on the snow? Wait, I digress, I blame that short attention span on my iPhone). When you care more about seeing every bit of media that can come by and knowing a tiny little bit about everyone on all of your social networks than your actual friends, soon your only friends will be the people who live inside of your computer.

And also, please, stop being so rude. Didn't anyone teach you manners? Sure, sometimes people are boring, but the thing to do then is politely listen to their story and excuse yourself to get another drink, not ignore them while you check to see who was fugged today. And if these are people that you actually like, it's not a chore to pay attention to them instead of getting your new Foursquare badge. I have been tempted more than once to smack the phone out of someone's hands when it was obvious that they were not just telling another friend of ours where to meet us, but in their own little world. Keep doing that, and I promise, your friends will hate you.

So the next time your friend is telling you that piece of juicy gossip and you just want to pretend that she's a TiVo and press pause while you casually check your email, just stop, think about how you really don't want to be knocked off that barstool by an annoyed friend, and don't do it.

Thanks to Nora for the inspiration. No, she didn't do this, I promise.

Don't Bitch About Being Single

So, yesterday was Valentine's Day. I hope you spent it doing something interesting and not lame. This post would have been more timely last week, but I wasn't motivated to write it until this weekend, when so many people's anger and bitterness about being single came bubbling to the surface.

Believe me, I have been there. I’ve had a lot of stupid and shitty relationships that I stayed in just simply because the thought of not being in a relationship was awful to me. I’ve had my drunken hookup phase, my staying home with Ben and Jerry’s phase, months of contemplating lesbianism or becoming a woman of the cloth. I’ve started many a conversation with, “Can we talk about how much men suck?” and gotten caught way up in negativity, directing it not just at men, but at about anyone (ANYONE) in a relationship.

Case in point: I spent a semester in college hating my roommate because she had a boyfriend, forgetting that most of the time he was an emotionally abusive asshole. In that moment, that was just a tiny detail – she had someone, while I had a drinking problem and the guys from downstairs. Cute, yes. Good for procrastination purposes, absolutely. The loves of my life? Not hardly. And while that was okay at 19, it got to be much less okay with me as I hit my mid-twenties.

That’s to say nothing of the ill-advised engagement in my early twenties. Here’s a hint, y’all. If your friends hate him and your family Is Concerned, if he proposes three weeks after a conversation about what a terrible idea it would be for you to get engaged right now, and if every single thing about the proposal and the ring itself is the complete opposite of who you are? Saying yes is not a good plan. I know that it feels like settling now is a better plan than still being single in ten years, but settle now, and I will bet you cash money that in ten years you’ll be single anyway. Except now it will be because you’re divorced, having realized that you’re better than that.

And hey, you know what else is bad idea jeans? Spending all your time complaining (in embarrassing detail) about how miserable you are and how the whole world is against you. It's not going to do you any good to stay in your apartment, watching terrible TV and complaining in your blog and on message boards about how miserable it is to be single. What might do you some good is to LEAVE your house. Talk to people. Put yourself out there, have conversations with human beings. Get set up! I know, it sounds awful, but maybe it won't be. And if it is, that just means you have better stories to tell on the blog and the message boards.

I know it’s a cliché for me to say the bit about how things happen when you’re not looking, or in ways you’d never expect. But it is true. As I write this, I’m also running back and forth to the kitchen, making dessert for a really wonderful guy – that I happened to meet at 1:30am in about the grossest bar in town. Daisy’s daughter just turned six months old, and she and her husband met online. And Brownie? Brownie spent her Valentine’s Day at brunch with friends, hanging out with her sister and then watching the Olympics, drinking wine and eating cheese – which, if you’ve read her bio, you know is about as good as things get as far as she’s concerned.

Are our lives perfect? Of course not. And if you find the love of your life, yours won't be either. The world doesn't work like that. Having a significant other isn't going to solve all your problems, and being single doesn't automatically doom you to a life of misery and woe. One of the best things I've read this weekend, in response to all the Valentine's Day craziness, is from someone who was single for a long time and eventually got married in her late 30s. Her point? She had figured out how to be happy by herself - and with herself - before she could really be happy with someone else.

So start there! Take that Italian class or those piano lessons you were too young to appreciate the first time around. Paint your apartment, host Grilled Cheese Nights with your friends. Try the new class at your gym that sounds interesting and terrifying. Chat with the cute girl who's always in front of you in line at Starbucks, or try out for roller derby. But do something. The next time you find yourself ranting - AGAIN - about the unfairness of life and how no one will ever ever understand how wonderful you are, just stop, think about how awesome you ACTUALLY are, and don't keep that from the world.

Don't Take Sex Tips From Cosmopolitan

Warning: Adult content and more bad words than usual. Yeah, even worse than the vagina bedazzling post. Sigh.

I got my nails done this weekend, and as I was waiting for the Russian Navy to dry, I (very gingerly) picked up the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. "99 Sex Moves!" the cover promised in bold font, and I thought, Well, it might be nice to find an opening line that isn't, "Hey, the baby's asleep," so I flipped to the appropriate page. I read a little and then checked to make sure it wasn't actually titled "99 Sex Moves From People Raised in Convents." Example 1: "Warm up your hands before touching his penis." You don't say. Example 2: "Keep sparkling water in your mouth as you give him a blowjob." What? Also: ouch.

So of course I went to Cosmo's website to read all of their sex advice. I found that the tips above are a good microcosm of all of their advice: either patently obvious or completely insane. And because, honestly, I feel sorry for anyone who thinks that going a little slower or using a pillow to change positions are new and exciting sex ideas, I'm going to skip the obvious and just cover the insane.

In the article 14 Sex Tips You've Never Heard Of, it quickly becomes obvious out why you've never heard of them. The first involves putting satin panties in the freezer, microwaving a damp washcloth, and using them in ways frozen panties and hot washcloths should never be used. First of all, that's a lot of running back and forth to the kitchen. Secondly, there's nothing in the tip that mentions warning your boyfriend that his genitalia is about to be used as an impromptu thermometer. I am not male, but I imagine that would be more terrifying than arousing.

There's no warning suggested for tip number five either, which suggests wrapping a fake pearl necklace around a dude's penis. Geez, I can't imagine that going wrong at all. Other than, you know, your boyfriend thinking you're trying to strangle his dick, jumping out of bed, and locking himself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. I feel like the natural reaction to both of these tips is less "ooh, baby" and more "YEEEEARGH!"

Then, as if cold underwear and fake pearls weren't random enough foreign objects with which to torture your boyfriend, another tip advises you--I am not making this up--to wrap a half a dozen scrunchies around his bratwurst and pull them off with your teeth. This was the point where I began to suspect that Cosmo staffers just got baked and started coming up with the craziest things they could think of, hoping some poor souls would try them and send angry letters that the staff could then dramatically reenact at the Cosmo holiday party. It's the only vaguely logical theory I could come up with, because otherwise I think we can all agree that the words "scrunchie" and "penis" should never, ever be mentioned in the same sentence.

The theory looked even more probable as I got to tip #12, which suggests you and your love "Take a really long piece of sturdy plastic wrap (long enough to fit around your body about eight times). Then fold it in half, twist it into a long rope that fits snuggly [sic] around both of your bodies twice, and secure it with a knot at your waist so you're locked together. " No! Don't do that! Unless, of course, one of your life goals is to be able to end a story about a sexual encounter with, "And then we had to wait for my roommate to get home and cut us free." In that case, go right ahead. Supposedly, this cheap-ass bondage trick "not only increases the intimacy but also the fun factor." Yeah, spending ten minutes figuring out how to roll over is totally my idea of sexy fun times.

Look, the next time you find yourself saying, "oh, yeah" but thinking I wonder if Taco Bell is still open? Don't go to a magazine that thinks hot pink tube dresses are the height of sophistication for solutions. Try something I didn't see Cosmo suggest anywhere and talk to your partner. It might be scary and uncomfortable in the short term, but I guarantee that in the long run it'll lead to better sex than setting up a bedroom flying trapeze.