Hey, Girlfriend, You Need...

...a girl crush. I'm a fan of the XY chromosome combination (I think you can tell), but that doesn't mean I don't girl crush. As a 13-year-old suffering from a unibrow and in desperate need for concealer, I wondered what this burning desire to speak, sing, dance, look, dress, and carry myself like Britney Spears was. We didn't have the term back then to clarify this normal fascination a girl has with another girl, while still wanting to make-out with her boyfriend. (Ey yo Timberlake, I'm still down for that. I've been waiting for a decade.) Britney is as classic as a Wendy's cheeseburger when it comes to being the object of female affection for our generation. Along the years, I've wanted to be other girls. My tendency to linger over pictures of Kim Kardashian too long must branch back to my Princess Jasmine/Aladdin complex. Sometimes I wear blue contacts and pout showing my teeth, like Adriana Lima and Megan Fox. (Let's keep that pouting thing on the D.L.) And before any presentation I have to give, I tell myself, "You are Taylor Swift. Be Taylor Swift," 'cause no one wins over a crowd like T-Swizzle (so long Kanye isn't present).

...to go to the movies on a Friday night with your best friend and a pound of Taco Bell wearing the world's most atrocious pair of sweatpants.

...to have a gay guy friend to quote Titanic with, dress up like Adam Lambert, and always tell you look fab!

...a backstage experience. You need to feel what it's like to slap that backstage pass sticker onto your black skinny jeans like it's no big deal and watch the evil glares that follow. You need to know how it feels to be led backstage by an assistant having no idea what the night has in store, except the fact your feet are going to die a painful death in your black heels. You need to know what it feels like to be sitting on a tour bus with your teen idol as he goes on about old cartoons and candy bars. You need to know how it feels like to hang with a spikey, blond haired pop star as he sings about his sunglasses while you try to hide your swoon. AND you need to discover that food from catering is the best food in the world, even if it's not... BTW, no groupie/band-aid business, k? Classy, not trashy.

...some time lying on your Camp Rock sheets and Zefron pillows, with Hanson blasting, new magazines/JFK Jr. biography, and a warm, pumpkin latte at your side. *Adjust sentence to fit yourself. You get the idea.

...a very messy night in NYC where your BFF mistakes the Empire State Building for your Upper West Side hotel. This should only happen after a string of stressful, prim and proper nights which you spent desperately seeking the attention of Prince Charming. If you emotionally ate an oversized gourmet cupcake in front of Charming after spending 3 months starving for him, you get an extra drink on messy night.

xoxo *heart* *heart* :)

CoSmO wOoDs