Don't like the heat? Come to San Francisco

A typical view of the Golden Gate bridge in July.

All of you out there dying in the summer heat should book a plane ticket to San Francisco, where it is currently 59 degrees and overcast. Most of you are wearing light summer dresses and drinking iced coffee, and sitting under the air conditioner and fan to cool off. I'm drinking hot coffee, wearing a jacket and scarf, and had my electric blanket on last night. We're in the middle of the coldest summer in 40 years here.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Okay, not that I'm complaining TOO much. I've lived through summers on the East Coast, including four summers in Washington DC and one in New York, so I know the pain of being drenched in sweat as soon as you walk out the door and just giving up on your hair ever looking attractive from July through Labor Day. Don't get me wrong, I don't miss that.

I do kind of miss the warm nights, though. And going to the beach with friends on the weekend and actually wearing a swimsuit and going in the water and not being huddled up in a blanket and praying for the sun to come out. And actually needing my sunglasses to shield my eyes from the sun and not as just an accessory. Those of you who need that for the summer? You probably shouldn't come to San Francisco.

Those of you who need a break from the heat, or are coming to visit to experience the great food, beautiful views, and fantastic wine of the Bay Area take note. Pack your jeans and bring a few sweaters, because otherwise you'll be some of those tourists that we all make fun of in their identical San Francisco sweatshirts (they make a killing on those because none of the tourists are prepared for needing a sweatshirt here).

And pssst, don't tell anyone, but the best time of year to come here is September and October, that's when the sun actually comes out.

Don't Get Boring

Subtitle: No One Cares About Your Sconces.

And yet, I really, really want to tell you about my sconces. And my storage ottoman. And how I want to restore the inlaid table my husband's grandparents brought over from Damascus and put it in the dining room. Yes, I have a raging case of new-homowner-itis. I feel bad about my newfound obsession with interior decorating, because, really, it's not that interesting to anyone who doesn't live in my house. But I can't stop talking about it.

These days I feel like half of my brain is occupied by the house and the other half by the baby, making me the least interesting conversationalist in the world. Like, I'm pretty sure I used to have interests. I just can't remember what they were. For example, two years ago I was at ComicCon. Last year I kept up with all the news as it was posted. This year I'm like, Oh, there's an Avengers movie?

Being dull has its advantages, though. I'm completely unspoiled for Inception. Maybe I won't get upset about stupid beauty trends anymore because I won't know they exist. And I'm pleased to say that I still can't tell the Kardashian sisters apart.

Someday I'll renew my ability to make entertaining small talk. Probably around 2024. In the meantime, would you like to hear about my new rugs?

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."

Thursday quickies: Hilarity edition

Things that made us laugh this week:

Don't have a good bar in your town? This guy could help: Homeless guy breaks into a closed bar and reopens it with beer from the supermarket.

Don't argue with a goat, you'll lose: Even in a language that I don't speak, this is delightful.

Don't forget the videocamera when you do funny things like this with your babies: Seriously, I could watch these babies making faces all day long.

Don't be that guy (or girl) in your fantasy football league: Guy goes to a fantasy draft with a list of players from 2005.

Don't forget about The Onion, people: People believe crazy video from 2007 about a zombie invasion. Seriously. We have to laugh or we'd cry at some of the racist comments here.

Don't think that here are a million things to do with peanut butter? Read this guy: The Peanut Butter Boy.

Don't like your hotel? You could stay here: The ugliest motel in the world.

Don't try this at home: The Swedish Chef makes popcorn shrimp (sort of).

Don't believe babies are brilliant? Well, first, you've obviously never met Daisy's baby. The superpowers we all had as babies.

I don't care that this has been everywhere, because it is fantastic: Star Wars reenacted on a subway car. I love the behind the scenes stuff too.

Don't Grow Up

While there are lots of great things about being an adult (wine, sex, no curfew, True Blood), there are also a lot of things about being an adult that, quite simply, blow.

Think it’s great to get a real paycheck? Too bad most of it goes to boring old bills.

You can drive now? Don’t forget that you also have to pay for insurance, instead of just raising the rate on your parents’.

You can drink legally? Have fun with that monster hangover.

And that job that gives you that real paycheck? Can often be way more of a pain in the ass than school used to be. I spent half my weekend preparing for about the most stressful thing my career can throw at me. I’ve also already been in my office for two hours this morning and I’m planning on completely losing my evenings this week...I don’t remember English being this much trouble.

So kids, I know that being a grown-up sounds excellent. But take it from me - and from Peter - and Don’t Grow Up.

Don't Be Lebron James

Back in April, Brownie taught us all how not to be Brett Favre. Short version? Don’t screw over your team in the offseason, just because you’re a little crazy and very selfish. The last line was the following:

And the next person out there who is thinking about acting like this? You don't be Brett Favre either.

Well, it would appear that a certain enormously famous basketball player has a short memory, as last week we found ourselves in the middle of what my Lebron-defending, Cavs-loving friend has called, “The worst thing in the history of professional sports.”

I’m not sure that’s quite true, but we’ve mentioned before that hyperbole and melodrama is part of the fun of being a sports fan, so we’ll let it slide. What I am sure about, however, is that it has been a complete disaster on so very many levels.

Lebronfires! Booing! One million words by Bill Simmons, even before The Decision!

And, of course, one of the most amazing Open Letters ever, complete with Comic Sans (the text is here - for the full effect, copy and paste it into Word and then change the font).

While all of this may be entertaining for those of us who are removed from it, it doesn't take away the bottom line: Lebron publically and elaborately screwed an organization that put seven years and countless millions of dollars behind him, not to mention his hometown, because he wanted something shiny and he wanted it now, and he did it in the ugliest way possible. What did he think that his actions were going to say to people? What kind of example does he think he's setting? And WHY did his advisors let him do this? Remember - Lebron is 25 years old and has been in the NBA since he was 18, so his view of reality is, shall we say, a bit skewed. But where were they? "They're all young, too!" is not an excuse - I am the same age as his oldest advisor, and I am well aware that this was a fuck-up of monumental proportions.

Believe me, the sports-trainwreck-lover in me is getting a huge kick out of this. I love the The Decision parody at the Espys (Steve Carell and Paul Rudd can basically do no wrong, and it redeemed ESPN a bit), and I love headlines like this. But Cavs fans are less amused, and with good reason.

My friend says this:

I was prepared for disappointment, but...just the way he handled it...if he had announced he was going to Chicago in a normal way, I would have understood. I would be sad, but not hateful. But going to Miami is so dumb, and a 1-hour special is the worst thing in the history of professional sports. Someone called it a cringefest, I can't remember who. Terribly accurate.

I think that's the point here. Even his staunchest defenders weren't really expecting him to stay in Cleveland. But they also weren't expecting to be dumped on national television, for Lebron to prove them all so very wrong so very loudly.

So hey, the next time you're thinking of fucking someone over - your boyfriend, your boss, your sports franchise - just stop. Think about a slightly less douchey way to do it, and don't be Lebron James.

Ultimate Pantyhose Don'ts Edition

Chris Pine and a woman dressed as a Don't, via ONTD

Of the things that Daisy, Roxy and I thought would happen when we started this blog, I would say “Become internet source for pantyhose questions” would be far far down the list. And yet our two posts about hosiery we thought would be uncontroversial and obvious to the rest of the world, and they turned out to be anything but. And then, we started noticing with a mixture of amazement, horror, and hilarity that we were getting a whole lot of hosiery related searches bringing people to Don’t Do That. Below are just some of the actual searches that we got, with (because we are here to serve) our answers:

Can you wear pantyhose with open toed shoes?
How many times do we need to say this? NO.

Nice summer shoes that aren't open toed?
Excellent question! I am a big fan of the ballet flat, and I really love the ones from London Sole -- they’re a little pricey, but they fit great, they’re comfortable, they come in a lot of adorable styles, and they often have sales. But there are lots of other ballet flat options, like these darling Kate Spade ones, these cute star ones, and these embellished ones. You could also go with espadrilles, like these, some nice slingbacks like these, or something in a nice summery color, like these.

What do you do if you have ugly legs, can you wear pantyhose?
I don’t even know where to start with this one.
No, actually, I do: one disturbing theme that showed up in some of the pantyhose related comments and many of the searches is a big level of body hatred. People think their own legs are ugly, or someone else's legs are ugly, and are looking for ways to hide themselves (or other people) behind clothes. People, pantyhose may be your security blanket for facing the world, but there's really no difference between what your legs look like bare and what they look like encased in sheer nylon, except they're shinier. Put down the shiny and easily torn blanket, embrace an exfoliator, and learn to love your legs.

Can you wear open toed shoes to work?
Well, this depends on your workplace. I live and work in California, and even though I work in a relatively conservative industry, everyone I know wears open toed shoes to work except on a very formal occasion. In more conservatively dressed places in the US or the world, maybe not. The best rule of thumb here is to not wear them at first, and see what the other women in your office do. Don't wear them to court, don't wear them if you work in the Pentagon, don't wear them to a professional job interview. And when you do wear them to work, please make sure your toenails are well groomed.

Do you wear pantyhose to a summer wedding? (Note, we get versions of this one repeatedly)
Again, this depends on where you live -- I never would, especially if I'm wearing a summery wedding appropriate dress, but if you live in the South and your grandmother would swoon if you showed up without hose, then you might. But then again, if you live in the South, it’s probably in the 90s during any summer wedding, and so you may die from heat during the wedding and do you really want the bride to have to deal with your heatstroke during her wedding? I don’t think so.

Pantyhose feet wedding
Elephant nose commencement!
...dude, I don’t even know.

Why don't women wear white tights?
Because they make women look like they’re trying to look like a little girl on Easter Sunday. They also make your legs look stumpy, and make any shoes look ugly.

Where can I wear white pantyhose?
NOWHERE.

I get blisters when I don't wear hose, how do I solve that?
I am glad that you asked! Our commenter eee discussed this in the comments of the last pantyhose post, and we thank her for her wisdom. She told us of her great luck with the Band Aid Blister Block (you can get a coupon on their website right now!), and then while looking it up to try to buy some for myself a few weeks ago, I discovered that Dr. Scholl’s also makes a similar product, Dr. Scholl’s Blister Defense Stick. I bought the Dr. Scholl’s one in my locak drugstore, and in the interests of science, tested it out with some of my shoes that always give me blisters. And lo, it worked! I am a convert.

I hate white tights on women (so do we, so do we)
But how do you feel about them on men? We may have a fellow who'd like to meet you...

My husband wears pantyhoses
We're okay with this, as long as he isn't wearing them with open toed shoes.
(note, this searcher should get together with the searcher from this morning who was looking for something related to pantyhose husband "must wear".)

Do women like men who wear pantyhose?
We're sure some do. But while we believe there's someone out there for everyone, you probably shouldn't mention it on the first date.

Should you wear pantyhose with open toe booties in winter?
You should not wear either of these things in any season.

Can I wear opaque pantyhose with sandals?
NO. NO NO NO.

Do I wear pantyhose with peep toe shoes at my wedding?
NO.

Sarah Palin pantyhose
...

Fat pantyhose ladies
Daisy says: At first I thought this referred to ladies made of pantyhose, but maybe it's actually a search for plus-size hose? With the 'ladies' tacked on to differentiate form the men's pantyhose?

As for me, this search just makes me laugh and laugh. Sometimes I think of it in the middle of the day and laugh.

Are pantyhose and open toed shoes back in?
BACK in? THERE WAS NEVER AN IN TO BE BACK IN.

Should you wear hose with open toe shoes at weddings?
NO.

dirty pantyhose feet
Daisy likes this one, because her tights get discolored from the soles of my shoes, and she doesn't know how to fix it. Readers, any suggestions?

wearing pantyhose for running
Go for it, as long as your sneakers aren't open toed.

Do you wear white pantyhose with all white?
Not unless you are a nurse in the 1950s.

shrunken men lost in pantyhose
We don't want to know. No seriously. Please don't tell us.

Do professional women still wear pantyhose in Chicago?
Winner for most specific search ever! Though I think that the answer is yes to this, because I have a friend who worked in Chicago a few years ago where they were required to wear hose in the summer even when it was unbearably hot. Chicago readers, please tell us if that’s not true.

Women who wear pantyhose when it's hot outside
Was this supposed to end with “...are INSANE!”? Look, it is the middle of July, and in many places that means it's hot as hell. Why would anyone voluntarily wear pantyhose in the extreme heat? It doesn't make you look more put together, and it certainly doesn't make your legs look better, it just makes you look sadly behind the times and that you will need to stand under an air conditioner all day to recover from your brief time outside.

Readers, do you have any other hosiery related questions for us? Even if you don't tell us, we'll see your questions turn up in searches soon, so we're glad to help. We are not pantyhose (wow, that word has lost all meaning now) haters here, we just think that there is a distinct time and a place for them, and that time and place is never when wearing open toed shoes (or, for that matter, shorts -- another thing that we thought we'd never have to say).

Belated note to all of the creepy creepy pantyhose fetishists who keep commenting anonymously to this year+ old post: All of your creepy comments make it less, not more, likely that anyone will ever wear pantyhose again. So keep at it, creepy dudes who like pantyhose, you're doing our work for us!

Tuesday Quickies, Big Geek Edition

We at Don't Do that Love geeks, and all of the smart smart things that they have brought to our lives. In honor of Embrace your Geekness Day today, here are some links that the geeks of us will love (with a little bit of soccer love to start):

Missing the World Cup? So are we! Don't mourn too much, though, at least we have these fantastic pictures:
The World Cup comes to a close. (The Big Picture)

Don't read this if you haven't read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo books (but if you have, it's hilarious): The Girl Who Fixed the Umlaut, a spoof on the books by Nora Ephron. (The New Yorker)

Don't want a little cuteness in your life? Then don't click this link:
Red Panda cub born at the National Zoo!

Don't avoid making a cherry pie because you don't have a cherry pitter:
How to pit cherries with an old fork and with a paper clip.

Don't read this if you're a headline writer, you'll die from jealousy.
Sports headlines are probably the most fun to write. (Reuters)

Don't believe that the guy who discovered Pluto went on a game show? Just watch:
Clyde Tombaugh on I've Got a Secret in 1956. (YouTube)

Don't make your bed? No problem!
Untidy beds may keep us healthy. (BBC)

Don't look at this if you really need a new bookshelf, you'll have lust in your heart:
BookShelfPorn.

Don't know that Jen from Cakewreck's has another blog? Well, you do now, and it's lots of geeky fun:
Epbot. And the top post right now is an awesome otter video.

And speaking of cakes: Threadless + cakes = geek love:
Cake contest! (Threadcakes)

Don't think that scientists can rock? Think again!:
Rockin' scientists: NYU brain researchers put down their data sets, and get down with their rock band. (Scientific American

Don't Tell Me Parenthood Sucks

(Baby Razor laughs at your Science.)

Of course on the morning that I want to write about how being a parent is not as miserable a prospect as the American media seem determined to make it out as, my daughter decides to be a total shit. She's teething, but does she want to chew on the many sanitary, environmentally sound, developmentally appropriate teethers we have for her? No. She wants to chew on the germ-hotbed remote control.

So look, I was going to compile a bunch of articles whose main thesis is Modern parenthood is so awful it will make those years where you were broke, perpetually hungover and living in an apartment where the heat didn't work so you had to sleep in your bathrobe look AWESOME, but I have no idea how long the mini-tyrant is going to nap. So just read this New York Magazine feature, which is the latest and scariest version of the meme that if you want to lead a happy life, you should probably avoid even speaking to children, never mind raising them.

The gist of the article is that the majority of studies show that despite what parents tell you, and even what they themselves believe, science proves that you're less happy after you have a kid than you were before.

I'm not going to call bullshit outright on these studies, but after a lifetime of "Caffeine is bad for you! No good for you! No bad for you!" and "Get mammograms after 40! No don't! No do!" I will admit that I am deeply suspicious of scientific research as reported by the mainstream media.

I mean, I read that whole article and never figured out how the studies defined "happiness," nor how they measured it. Those are things I would have liked to have known, because if you ask me, "Comparing motherhood to your last job, are you more or less happy now?" the answer would be very different compared to if you ask me, "How happy are you right now on a scale of 1 to 10?"

Because as far as I'm concerned, a shrieking, non-verbal boss who regularly poops her pants is preferable to one who calls me by the wrong name for an entire year or stares at my boobs when talking to me or spends six months passive-aggressively ruining my concentration because she wants me to quit so she can hire a friend of hers. And as a stay-at-home-mom I feel like the walls are closing in on me sometimes, sure, but I also felt that way when my days were spent in a six-by-six cubicle in a room with no windows. Actually, I felt that way a lot more in the windowless room.

So is parenthood the best job in the world? No. Anyone who tells you that is either bullshitting or in denial. (For the record, this is the best job in the world.) Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes the kid bites you, or destroys the couch, or bursts into tears and makes you take her to Dairy Queen after she nearly hits a jogger and fails her driver's test (sorry, Mom).

But I finished that New York article and wondered if I'm demonstrably less happy now than I was as a non-parent, should I act more miserable? Should my seemingly-happy friends with children act more miserable? Because we all really like being parents, and we like our kids too. (I took a poll. Very scientific.) Maybe there's a difference between liking your life and being happy. I don't know. All I know is that if you asked me if I was happy being a mother, I would say yes. And if, after rigorous scientific research of my life, you proved that I was not, in fact, as happy as I said I was, I wouldn't be like, "Oh, well, in that case I'd better start telling people I'm actually unhappy! Thank you, Science!"

Sometimes it's okay to believe you're happy and tell science and the media to go screw themselves. I think this is one of those times.

Don'ts For Air Travel

I’m out of town for a wedding this weekend, and decided earlier in the week that today’s post was going to be all about the idiot things that people do when they’re flying. I was planning on observing closely and taking copious notes so that I would be nicely prepared.

Instead, I spent yesterday morning tearing through the terminal, barefoot, like I was in some kind of “hilarious” scene in a “hilarious” movie. I looked…well, like I was one of those idiots. And why? I’m so glad you asked! That takes me right into the first Don’t.

Don’t Assume You Need Less Time Just Because You Live A Little Closer to the Airport Than You Used To
This was what killed us this morning. My husband – whom I love dearly, I promise – says that he had somehow gotten it into his head that our flight was a full hour later than it actually was, but I am less convinced. What I think is that he…well, he did that, up there. And so, instead of checking in an hour and fifteen minutes before our flight was supposed to leave, we tried to check in half an hour before. Because it was less than 45 minutes before flight time, we couldn’t check a bag, so we made our way to the security line, planning on carrying on our luggage. If we made the flight, which we did not have high hopes for.

Because we had been planning on checking our bag, we had some full-sized products with us and we ended up having to toss them (dumbest TSA rule ever, yes?). Along with various hair products and my husband’s deodorant, I lost an over-half-full bottle of Philosophy face wash. All told, it was probably nearly a hundred bucks worth of stuff – mostly mine.

I made it through security and, as mentioned, booked through the terminal, without putting my shoes back on, while my husband had to go through the whole shebang twice – he piled stuff on top of the laptop, which is frowned upon, and tried to sneak some other hair products through. Eventually, we both made it to the gate and, happily, the flight was running late and there had been two lovely humans who had volunteered to give up their seats, so we were able to get on the flight – though not together – and made it to our destination, mostly intact.

Next time? I’m in charge of when we leave.

Don’t Assume You Belong In The “Expert” Line
Speaking of going through security, you may have noticed that in some airports there are now three line options – Family/Medical, Casual and Expert. No one really wants to get stuck behind the high-maintenance folks in the Family/Medical line, but that does not mean that you should go through the Expert line. If you’re going to forget to take off your shoes, assume that “Remove your belt” doesn’t apply to you, or…well, pile stuff on top of your laptop (HUSBAND), then you need to move to the Casual Traveler line, and let the businessmen plow through. It doesn’t make you less of a person, but it does make people feel less murderous towards you.

Don’t Ignore Simple Directions
Which leads me to this very very easy Don’t. If the nice people in charge at the gate say it’s time for boarding rows 15-22, and you’re in row 12? Just wait your turn. If they say that people with one under-the-seat carryon can board – and they specify that people with roller bags should not board at this time? Don’t try to sneak your roller bag through. You are not that special, I promise.

Don’t Let Your Kids Run Rampant
This is my disclaimer: I do not have kids. I do not know what it is like to travel with kids, but I am well aware that it cannot be easy. I like kids a lot and I tend to give parents a lot of leeway when they’re having to deal with their kids in public. It is stressful and not easy and I admire them for doing it.

However. When you’re stuffed onto an airplane with a hundred people, all of whom are anxious and cranky? Don’t just Think Of The Children. Think of the rest of us, too. I was next to a kid once who screamed and kicked the seat in front of him the whole flight. THE WHOLE FLIGHT. His mom spent the flight with her eyes closed, smiling, pretending to sleep, I assume because she didn’t want to give him the attention he so clearly wanted. Not a bad parenting strategy at home, but a terrible choice on a four hour flight.

Don’t Smell
All that pressurized air is unforgiving. If you absolutely need to be perfumed or cologned, use a light touch. If you’ve been drinking coffee all morning, grab a mint. Wash your hands after your last pre-plane smoke. And please oh please, don’t rip every single perfume ad out of your magazine, open it, rub it on your arm, and then toss it on the floor next to you. Unless, of course, you’re dying to have the barf bag next to you deployed.

All told, air travel does not have to be an entirely unpleasant experience. Show up on time, follow the rules, and use some common sense and courtesy, and we’ll all fly happily together (really, you could just reread this - it all applies). And, come to think of it, those are excellent rules for life in general, aren't they?

(And, of course, please keep your motherfucking snakes off that motherfucking plane.)

Don't Forget to Get Your AC Serviced

Otherwise you may find yourself standing in your living room in your underwear, holding the "Important Reminder!" postcard from the service company, asking if they can come as soon as possible, because your air conditioning has just died in the middle of the worst heat wave you can remember.

And then you have to spend the day at your in-laws so the baby doesn't melt, and when you get home there are five industrial fans in your 900 square foot apartment because your husband went a little insane at Home Depot, and you don't fall asleep until midnight, and the baby is up at 5 a.m. because she's thirsty, and you're sweating again by 6 a.m.

The real bitch of it is that we move in eleven days. A week and a half! The weather or the AC couldn't have waited until July 20?

All right, a little more advice before I go back to trying not to pass out from heat exhaustion: Don't wear white shorts and a hot pink thong. Not for your sake; for mine. I never need to know that much about someone's ass. I think I'll make that my slogan, in fact. Your ass: I don't need to know about it.

Don't Write Profanities On Your Fingernail in Court

Picture courtesy of Gawker

God really? Really? We have to say this? Okay.

There are many bad things that people wear or do in court. Ripped clothing, shorts, tank tops, miniskirts (especially bad when you're the lawyer), very visible tattoos, we've seen them all. That picture up there? That takes the cake. Let me be clear: when you're the defendant, and you had a DUI charge, and you're on probation, repeatedly didn't do your court ordered alcohol classes, and you have a court date with a judge who is at the end of her rope, the very LAST thing that you should do is write "Fuck U" on your middle finger. DON'T DO THAT.

Among the many many other problems with this...I mean, GOD, she couldn't even spell out the YOU?

Lindsay, the three of us at Don't Do That have been some of your biggest fans, so every time you do something crazy, it just makes us even sadder than in this post. But good lord. Please, Lindsay, go to jail, then go to rehab, and make your hair red again, and stop making us feature pictures of you. Because you make us sad.

Tuesday Quickies: Back to Work Edition

We hope all of our American readers enjoyed the holiday weekend. Don't Do That's east coast headquarters is recovering from too much sun, food, and furniture shopping (we recently bought a house and just realized that it looks awfully empty since we own, like, three bookcases and a crib.) Frankly, we hope your holiday weekend involved more booze than ours.

Have some links to ease you into the work week.

Don't get caught daydreaming of a Roman holiday:
Panoramic tour of the Sistine Chapel (The resolution is amazing, and there are no Vatican guards shushing you like at the real thing.)

Don't forget to plan ahead if you want to rent a country:
Snoop Dogg tries to rent entire country of Liechtenstein

Don't put anything like this in your query letters:
Slush Pile Hell

I don't have any jokes better than the headline:
Chatroulette plans penis-recognition algorithm to ban pervy users

Sweet Jesus, don't eat this:
French fry coated bacon on a stick (The ads on the page are the piece de resistance)

Don't expect a reply:
Letters to Dead People

Don't sunbathe in the graveyard:
Really Extreme Makeovers

Don't forget to vote, baseball fans:
All-Star Game Final Vote (Top of the page. If you don't care, VOTE YOUKILIS and Daisy will send you cookies. For real.)

Christ, Nike, have you not been paying attention? Don't forget that women are fans too:
Where are all the female soccer fans? (Shoutout to our awesome reader Amanda, whose blog, Needs More Kittens is quoted in that post)

Don't judge me for laughing at this:
Hey, you: Bring back the handjob (I thought Daulerio's whole day at Jezebel was hysterical, to tell you the truth)

Don't Take Trash Talk Personally. Take Two.

This was originally posted at the end of the Olympics, but it's been a crazy week over here at Don't Do That, so we're taking a look back to March. At that point, the three of us had spent two weeks immersing ourselves in sports that we totally did not understand - much like what we've done over the last month or so of the World Cup - and had also been doing some trash talk. If you're not a regular sports fan, this may come as a shock to you, and so we are here to tell you, if you're going to remain a sports fan outside of the feel-good-ness of global events like the Olympic Games and the World Cup, Don't Take Trash Personally

Back in March, we were - okay fine, I was - involved in a bit of an internet kerfuffle. To start with, emotions were already running high and there was some shit-talking going on (on both sides) about that USA - Canada gold medal hockey game. Some of the problem was that a few of the people involved in the conversations clearly weren't used to being on A Side in a sporting contest and were a bit taken aback by all the partisan noise. A hint for those folks? Cheering for your team and against their opponent is not bad sportsmanship. It's part of loving sports and, if you want to get all Olympic or World Cup about it, part of loving your country. And if you're going to love sports, you have to develop a thicker skin.

(Note: This is taking it a tad too far.)

Here's an example. I don't know where you're reading from, but if you're anywhere in the Midwest, you likely understand a little bit of the hatred between Wisconsin and Minnesota, specifically the University of Wisconsin Badgers and the University of Minnesota Gophers. I happened to go to my first Gopher hockey game at two months old, own a button that says "I Cheer For Minnesota And Anyone Playing Wisconsin," and my dad told my sister and I that we could attend college - which he would pay for - anywhere. Except Wisconsin, upon penalty of death and financial ruin. Even adding my name to the mailing list - jokingly - would have likely given my dear father heart failure. (As it was, he ended up with heart failure five years later, but I don't think it can be blamed on Wisconsin. If it could, it would be, trust me.) However! My grandparents, who I love fiercely, met while students at Wisconsin and my grandpa (who is almost 87) remains a Badger - and Packer, God forbid - fan. We talk shit to each other all the time - as much as you can talk shit with a grandparent, of course - but we don't take it seriously or personally. In fact, when I asked at Thanksgiving if my grandfather had a sweatshirt I could borrow, he gleefully told me he had "just the one!" and pulled out his red and grey Wisconsin hoodie.

But Roxy, you say. That is a family member! Of course you guys can tease each other with no hurt feelings! And that is true. But it's also true that, when Daisy told her Yankee-fan best friend that she was thinking of getting married at Fenway Park, her friend told her that was great, but that she was going to wear a pinstripe dress. And it's true that Brownie and a friend got into it when her team (Niners!) beat his in the playoffs, but that was many playoff seasons ago, and they're still pals. One of my best friends cheers for a different Big Ten school than I do, but since they suck at the sport I care about, and because my school sucks at the sports she cares about, it's generally not too big a deal. I have family members that are die-hard Cubs and Bears fans (I heart the Twins and the Vikings, but please don't ask me about Brett Favre), best friends who are Blackhawks fans, and a husband who lives and dies with the Broncos.

But when you're a fan of a team whose coach gets caught on camera making this gesture at the officials (if that's the coach, just imagine the players), a team whose linebacker gave his own tight end brain damage and crushed his eye socket (and that's just the beginning of that particular rap sheet), or even a team that is just obnoxious in all its "glory", you should probably be prepared to have some vitirol thrown at you. And really? Throw some back! I would be shocked and even disappointed if I was spouting my mouth off to Badger - or Sioux or Packer or Canadian hockey - fan and they didn't spout back with cracks about my team's goofy name, our inconsistency, the Mullet, or whatever other shit people are saying about Minnesota teams these days. (But hey, at least we can take some smack talk. Wisconsin.)

Just because we're not on the same side during the game doesn't mean that we hate each other as people. We can respect each other as fans, without loving - or even respecting - the team that the other person cheers for. That's part of the fun of loving sports! You can get overly emotional, hyperbolic and melodramatic about something that has nothing to do with you and that you have no control over. It's a wonderful respite from the real world, but only if you are able to tell yourself that at the end of the day, it's just a game - for you and for the fans on the other side of the field.

So if you've found a team that you've decided to follow (I recommend the Gophers, of course) but if in a week or a month or this weekend, depending on how the rest of the World Cup goes for you - you find yourself getting your feelings hurt by someone who's pointing out the cheap hits or crappy goaltending or nepotism of your team, just stop, think about what keeps you a fan of this team, and don't take it personally. (And talk some smack back!)