Shallon Lester's Blog, page 15

Shallon's Rules for Dating: Texting

Darlings, when it come to texting a boy, don't let your thumbs get the better of you. True, that goddamn feminist revolution may have given guys an excuse to type instead of call, but that can definitely work to your advantage.

Me, I blabber on like a piglet on speed when I'm on the phone with a guy. But via text I've learned to be mysterious and in control…and you can too. Here are my easy but super effective rules for texting!

 

1. No Question = No Response

This is my number one rule when it comes to texting a boy: DO NOT respond unless he asks a question. Oh you had Chipotle for lunch? Great, he didn't fucking ask. Even if a guy writes "This Patriots game is insaaaane!" you do not write back. This will train him to ask you questions and therefore take an interest in YOUR life.

 

2. Pick a Number

My favorite number is 87, so I keep all my texts to boys under 87 characters. This prevents me from going into great detail about my too-sweet iced tea from Coffee Bean, my kitten's sinus problems, and/or my embarrassing excitement at our second date. Keep it short, blabbermouth.

 

 

3. Wait to Reply

I hate waiting. I like to respond to people the instant they text me, and for the last six years I couldn't possibly see how that was related to me being super single. But finally I learned to compromise: I write a reply immediately, but I don't hit send. Instead, I put the phone down, watch and episode of The Golden Girls then press return.

 

 

Tennis, Anyone? Yeah Me Neither.

Ah, the US Open, the Who's Who of I don't give a fck. I have a bit of a vendetta against Maria Sharapova. Three years ago, some meddling socialite tried to set her up on a date with MY boyfriend at the time but mercifully, she declined saying he looked like Big Bird, which he did.

I know, I shouldn't carry a grudge against Maria, but I do because I'm petty and she's taller with better abs and when you're a girl, that's pretty much all you need to hate somebody.

I'm also super whateverish about tennis because my mom forced me to play it for years.

"You can do it anywhere!" she would always say, her justification for every single hobby forced upon me, from flute to tap dancing. She had visions of me growing up to lead this jet-set life, tossing a raquet in my Longchamps luggage and flying off to Barbados for the weekend, which, ok fine I actually do kind of lead that life. But I'd rather use my carry-on space for an extra flatiron or pair of heels, not some clunky ol' raquet.

Besides, I'm no good at tennis. I learned this the hard way freshman year of high school when I tried out for the tennis team, hilariously deluded in my belief that 5 years of lessons was good enough.

Um hello Shallon, your town is full of ASIANS. Did you forget that they're good at EVERYTHING, especially tennis?! Well yes, I sure did, because I got my ass handed to me at tryouts.

So between Maria, Soon-Chi Kim and my over-stuffed suitcases, can you really blame me for avoiding the US Open? I didn't think so.

How Do You Sum Up Shallon in One Word?

So my wonderful magical friend Christine is working on this quarterly magazine where all her pals write essays on the season. I happily contributed one, the writing of which was far easier than her latest request: come up with a summery picture and a ONE WORD description of yourself.

As you know, writing about myself in biographical terms is next to impossible for me. I start with "OC native Shallon Lester…" and then I got nothin.

But here are my ideas for my 1-word sum up. Thoughts?!?!?

Blonde
Author
Sparkly
Hockey (it's an adjective to me, ok)
Star (what, this isn't a goddamn congressional deposition ok? i can be whoever i want.)
Zbornak
Devereaux
Wanderluster (Wanderlester?!)

Umm…ok that's all I've got.  I kind of like Zbornak. And these are possible pictures, and yeah that's a Smirnoff Ice. WHAT.

 

 

HALP.

Malcom & Shallon, Sittin' in a Tree…

I mean when you think of one, don't you automatically think of the other?

 

Shallon's Rules of Dating

In spite of/because of my insane dating history, I have a LOT of my readers and fans message me with a slew of romance questions that I do my best to answer individually. But I've found that I keep giving the same general advice over and over, so I thought it might be smart to go public with my oh-so-sage advice.

Starting tomorrow, I'll be posting two "rules of dating" per week, addressing everything from texting to break-ups, booty calls and get-over-him playlists.

If you have stuff you really want me to post about, please please let me know either in the comments or on Twitter!

As collegehumor wisely noted, if you get this joke you're pretty much doomed.

 

Hot For Teacher

The other day I filmed a huuuuuge slew of teen and tween dating advice vids for HowCast.com, kinda like YouTube just for how-to vids. This is a photo from the b-roll footage which is pretty cute except for my cankle-y looking legs which I SWEAR TO GOD they're really not. Pinky swear!

I did 37 videos. That's a lot of talking, a lot of advice, and a lot of demonstrating how to kiss on cupcakes. Whew!

Sexual Disorientation

As you can imagine, this weekend's hurricane lockdown offered ENDLESS HOURS OF CONVERSATION with whomever you happened to be stuck with, aka my boyfriend. Last night we played about 100 rounds of "What if" and one question in particular was of note:

If you randomly switched genders, freaky friday style, what's the first thing you'd do as the opposite sex?

Jason said he'd go to the ladies locker room at the gym (clearly he doesn't realize the absolute creatures that you see in the locker room…shudder). But, pretty standard answer, I'd say.

As for me?

"Well I'd pee first," I said. "Ya know, just whip it around like a firehose. Then I'd beat someone up and steal some stuff."

"What? You'd beat someone up? Why?"

"Well because I don't know what it's like to be strong and physically intimidating," I shrugged, as if it were obvious.

"Um…ok I guess I get that. But why steal?"

"I dunno that's just the first thing that popped into my head after peeing and violence."

"I'm learning a lot about you this weekend, Shallon. More than I probably wanted to."

So Funny, It Hurts

GET IT?!?

Love is a Battlefield

I stop into every Barnes & Noble to make sure my book, Exes & Ohs, is front and center, and always take note of what books are next to it. The Brooklyn Park Slope store seemed to know the perfect companion to my saucy, ever-so-slightly-slutty memoirs…especially if you happened to be my boyfriend and need a guide to dealing with me…

 

Alex Ovechkin is Mr. Big Deal

I have no clue why Ovie was chosen for these commercials, maybe because only fresh-off-the-boat Russians are the only people who would use a phrase like "Mr. Big Deal."

PS, GUARANTEE that somewhere in his contract for these commercials, there's a clause legally naming his penis Mr Big Deal.