Saturday, May 6, 2017


Welcome back. Just as I thought I had no more funny left in my life to blog about, it becomes Met Gala season. It's pretty much Hollywood Halloween, since the vast majority of things worn to the gala do not qualify as clothing but rather costumes.

I don't know half the people that went, either because I'm now 700 years old or I spend my waking hours watching Korean TV or serial killer documentaries. Regardless, I can still judge you - and judge I shall.

Ah, Solange. You don't seem to be into your sister's "pretty much naked with some rhinestones" look, but sweet merciful shit, it's spring and you're at a gala. I can see how this might be appropriate at the Minnesota Big Moose Ball, but not here. And I wonder...does this coat fit neatly into a tiny bag like the other puffy coats from Uniqlo?

Thandie Newton mistakenly believed that the theme of this year's gala was "Dia de los Muertos." And I'm pretty sure they sold that dress in Contempo Casuals in 1996.

Once again, Pharell looks like he's a 10-year-old dressed up by his mom, standing uncomfortably for pictures in clothes he's grown out of. But his wife. So many things to say. 1) THERE ARE NO ARM HOLES. HOW DOES ONE FUNCTION IN SUCH A THING?  2) Even if she were able to use her limbs, it would still look like she stole a Teletubby costume from some lost wardrobe closet at a movie studio.
Also, question. If you push her over, does she just roll around like a turtle until someone turns her over?

Rhianna was dressed today by a Project Runway contestant, where the challenge was "use anything and everything you find in your grandma's house." Grandma's gonna be pissed when she finds out she can't finish your Christmas socks because all her yarn was used to wrap up Rhianna's legs.

Claire, I really appreciate your dedication to showing up after escaping the basement dungeon in the woods. Sorry your shirt got all torn in the ensuing chase, but I'm sure someone from out of town has one of those hotel sewing kits in their bag to help you out.

Elizabeth Banks...your face is so pretty and your hair looks damn fine, but I'm not sure why you decided to wear a Magic Eye dress. If you squint your eyes and stare at it for a few seconds, you can see the image of Harambe.

I feel like Katy Perry is some sort of child bride attending her wedding ceremony somewhere in remote Mongolia, where she'll meet her 70-year-old husband for the first time as he takes off her red veil. They'll dance around a fire in her wedding costume, then she will be banished to a closet in her husband's home.

I know everyone wears Spanx at these things, but most people wear something OVER their Spanx. I mean, just a suggestion for next time.

I could comment on Madonna's military surplus dress that's sold under the name "General Perversion" on Halloween websites, or I could comment on how much work she's had done to her face. Spending thousands of dollars to look 30 again is great, if anyone actually gave a shit about you anymore.

The Olsen twins only come out of their cave twice a year - fashion week and the Met Gala - yet they always look like homeless chicks who are wearing all their clothes at once because they have no place to store them. I don't think I've heard them speak since 1998. I feel this might be a hostage situation. Is that side eye some kind of secret code? Is she asking for help? WE CAN SAVE YOU IF YOU LET US.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016


Let me begin by saying that my time as a DA was probably the most important experiences I have ever had. I was around criminals every single day. Sometimes I would talk to them (and their lawyer, of course). But most of all, I basically got a crash course in behavioral psychology that has been invaluable since I left.

Tonight I was on the train (yes, LA does have a train) headed home after a lovely and fulfilling day of reviewing documents. I'm always aware of my surroundings, but at night, downtown, and on the train are places I'm specifically on my guard. I notice EVERYTHING.

In the six-months-worth of time I have taken the train, I've only noticed maybe two or three people ever that I could tell were looking for some kind of victim - an open purse, someone with headphones playing on a phone they could grab, basically an easy grab-and-go situation. I make sure my body language shows that I'm paying attention and that I'm probably not the person you want to try to mess with. Generally looking someone directly in their eyes is enough to have them change their mind about you. And fear - just like the movies, "they can smell fear." I never look afraid. I look like I know exactly where I'm going, what I'm doing, who's around me etc.

We were about three stops away from the end when the girl sitting next to me got off. Then a guy with wicked BO sat down next to me and I had to hold my breath, but for only one station. Luckily, he got off, but as I turned my head back towards the door and saw a guy come in. He was creepin'. I really don't have a better word for it. Walking kinda slowly, checking everybody out. Then he comes and sits right next to me. There was a completely empty seat in front of me, but he sat next to me.

He also didn't move. He didn't look at me, he didn't shift to get comfortable, he didn't look around. This was fucking suspicious as shit. I made sure that I didn't shirk away next to the window as though I was scared of him so perhaps he'd decide I wasn't the best target. My purse, as usual, was nicely secured on my arm in my lap. The way he was acting, I thought he might try to grab my purse and run out at the next station, but he didn't. Wouldn't have gotten it off my arm anyway.

Train gets to North Hollywood. Everyone exits. Despite having to exit before me since he physically had to for me to get out, he appeared a couple of feet behind me. I was still in a crowd of nearly a hundred people, so I wasn't creeped out yet. I walk faster to get in front of this crazy lady with a dog stroller.  Get on the second escalator. Hmm, still a couple of feet behind me. When we got outside where people are being picked up, I turn and begin walking towards my car - when I saw him in my periphery following me I decided to try something.

I walked over to a bench area where a guy was on his phone, and I stopped to get my keys out. Well whaddaya know, the stalker stopped too. Because there were so many people being picked up right there and my car was one row back, I decided to see if he'd go that far. He kept about 20 feet back, but he followed me the entire time, so I decided to walk in circles. Then I walked back to the station. Dude, I can fucking see you, are you kidding me? He was obviously a very bad criminal. So for a few minutes I walked around the crowded area to see if he'd give up. I thought he had, so I head back out towards my car. Turn around, guess who's there, 20 feet back, coming back to the parking lot.

When I get to my car, I just turned around and watched him. He wasn't stopping so I headed back to the pick up lane. This time he just sort of stood a few feet away from my car and lit a cigarette, thinking I'd come back while he was there (SERIOUSLY HOW STUPID ARE YOU?). I literally stand in a handicapped parking space next to a car with a man and his daughter waiting on someone for two minutes. I watched him. He was just waiting. Finally he seemed to give up and headed back to the station area, since I was too close to people.

After another couple of minutes, I thought he'd completely given up, so I headed back towards my car. I turned back and saw him speeding up behind me, since he'd given himself too much room and I might be able to get in and away before he could reach me. And then the beautiful sight of black and white passed my lane and I just sprinted towards the car, waving at the sheriffs to stop. I told them this guy had been following me for 10 minutes back and forth to my car, and we walk around the corner and there he is, just waiting.

The officers detained him, searched him, and started asking him questions. I stood back and waited, knowing they'd want to talk to me. Eventually one of them came over and asked me what had happened, and I told him the whole thing. They said he had no weapons on him (whew) but had admitted to being arrested before. They sat him down on a curb while they went through all the shit he had in his pockets and got my information.

Since obviously he hadn't yet committed a crime, the sheriff told me they were going to run his record and "hopefully he has a warrant," but also said they'd keep him facing the other way if I wanted to get in my car and go so he didn't see which way I went. He was pretty dim, so the officers weren't too worried about him remembering my car. I thanked them and went on my way.  A+, LASD. There when I needed you.

But I noticed him because I know criminals. Most people don't. He didn't stand out in any way physically or by his clothes, but by his actions. Someone who didn't know what to look for likely would have been followed to their car and robbed. So be careful. Watch people's demeanor, and for the love of god look behind you at night. Walk in circles. Do what you need to do to make yourself know you're safe.

Sunday, December 4, 2016


Honest to goodness question: does ANYBODY actually like it when a store employee yells "hello!" or "Hi, how are you?" when you enter a store? Can we just get rid of that whole thing and have salespeople standing around visible in case you actually need to ask for help? PLEASE?

I have worked retail. I know both sides. I was once a person who was told by a manager to "greet everyone as they enter the store" and "make sure everyone knows your name." You know what? NO. Here's how shit works.

When I'd stand near the front of the store and someone would come in, they display certain behaviors. Option A - they look right at me and seem friendly. Option B - they don't look at me but also don't look like they'd eat me if I spoke to them. Option C - they intentionally keep their eyes off me and have a look that tells me they do not wish to be bothered. Option D - they not only don't look at me, but they notice my presence and enter as far away as possible and immediately get lost in the racks.

Despite being a socially anxious misanthrope, I read people very well. I can tell who is friendly and who is not, who is being friendly only because they want something, who is in a bad mood. They don't even have to speak. So when I was a retail employee, if option A or B entered the store, I would nicely tell them hello, and generally they would smile and say hi back. I knew instinctively not to bother C or D. How? Because they are me. That, and my manager would be around so I'd have to speak to them and they'd flat out ignore me, so my point was proven.

There seems to be a new trend of all the employees of a business yelling "HI WELCOME" the instant you walk in, as though they're in a race to see who can say it the fastest. It's bizarre and creepy. I know they were told to do that, but who on earth thought that was a good idea? "Hey, let's get five people to yell at this customer as she enters the store so she's bombarded by humans and also has no idea which one to respond to, if any."

First of all, "welcome" is fucking weird. It isn't a question, so it doesn't really require a response, but it also leaves you vaguely confused if just saying hi back is enough. Also, "welcome" is something you say to someone entering your home, because if they just walked in off the street that might not go over too well. Of course I'm fucking welcome at Subway, your sign says open and I'm about to give you my money. If you're welcoming someone to a place that is not your home, it better be as they go through customs at the airport or have stumbled upon your candy factory accidentally and it's followed by "go ahead and try anything you want."

Second, we both know you don't mean it. Don't look at me and try to convince me for one minute that you took that retail job because you ACTUALLY deeply wanted everyone to feel welcomed into this store that barely pays you enough to get by. I know you don't care how I am, and I'm super fine with that. I didn't care how anybody was when I was in retail, but I knew I had to say it. Unless you're working on commission, you don't even give a flying shit if I'm in the store at all, because you're making money by just standing there.

"Can I help you find anything?" Yeah, I was wondering where your kosher snacks are...? "Ma'am, this is Forever21." WELL THEN WHY DID YOU ASK??? Do people really come in and ask "I just want to know where the solid blue crop tops are, I'm in a hurry"? The most ironic part is that I hear this the most in small stores, yet where you would NEED to ask something like that would be in a large department store - "Can I help you find anything?" "MOTHER OF GOD I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR THE RESTROOM FOR TEN MINUTES AND AM ABOUT TO PISS IN A LOUBOUTIN, WHERE THE HELL IS IT??"

"Are you looking for a specific size?"

"Shopping for Christmas gifts today?"
No, I'm bored out of my fucking mind and have nowhere to go in the day but the goddamned mall. Also are people like me really buying $400 purses for OTHER PEOPLE? Do I look famous?

"What can I help you with today?"

*at the register* "Did you find everything okay today?"

And I'll finish with an actual exchange I had a few years back in a clothing store:
"Are you shopping for Valentine's Day?"
"Do you sell boyfriends?"

Friday, December 2, 2016


Sup. I'm old. I mean, I can't really deny it anymore. Even though I feel like I did when I was just a wee law student, I am three months away from being old enough to run for president. Yeah.

I've come to that point in my life where I get huffy if someone doesn't card me for booze. I have repeatedly responded to an underestimation of my age in the 20s with "Well aren't YOU just the nicest person I've met today," thereby making them think I'm actually OLDER than I am.

Consistently I would say that people average my age between 5-7 years younger than I really am, which is pretty good if you ask me. So as the resident "looks younger than her age" person, I am going to share my tips on *not* aging.

1. Sleep a LOT. Like live in your bed. Being unemployed and/or chronically depressed can really help your skin.

2. Don't have kids. Just like all presidents seem to age 20 years in their one or two terms, you bump up your age each time you deal with a newborn...going back to my sleep thing - never again can you sleep 10 hours just because you have a bed. And then pretty much every day is stressful for the rest of your life so the youth melts out of you and into your large glass of wine.

3. Have very blond hair. I am getting a shitton of greys right about now and noooobody can tell! Boom.

4. Don't drink a ton. I'm not entirely sure why my 20s didn't catch up with me in that department, because I definitely had my share, but my body now tells me to simmer down in the middle of my first glass of beer. I get hungover while I'm still drunk. Suffice it to say, I don't really care for drinking much anymore, and pretty much keep it to when someone actually invites me out to a bar (I have no life, you guys). I understand drowning one's sorrows, but I generally just go get better meds. Wine probably would be cheaper, but alcohol wears off and meds are forever! *creepy smile*

5. Don't tan on your face. I completely understand wanting to be tan, as I am Princess Snowflake and can't get enough self tanner, but for the love of god, don't go into a tanning bed. I've done it exactly three times - each time I was laying there contemplating which organs I was frying from the inside out and how many years I just lost off my life, but when I was done and looked in the mirror, I saw DAMN, I look a LOT better tan. Now I just use lotions or airbrush if I'm feeling fancy.

But for reals though, slather that 50 on your face and wear a hat, get a real tan on the rest of you and make up for it with self tanner and bronzer.

6. Become obsessed with all things Korean and start doing the 435 step Korean Beauty Routine: How to Look Like a Preteen at Age 50:

  • oil cleanser - When I first heard of this, I was like aw HELL naw, my face is oily as shit, I'm not putting more oil on it! But after I read some shit on it, I took a trial run. It feels so, so wrong, but then you immediately get to wash it off and that feels so rewarding.
  • normal cleanser - This is just your average foaming cleanser, but they have formulas to do different things - like charcoal for zits (wtf?), or collegen for wrinkles, or "brightening" which is the secret term for "whitening" and is very much an Asian thing I learned in Hong Kong...
  • sheet mask - These are the awesome things that look like the shroud of Turin with holes for your eyes and mouth and they're all gooey and gross and stick to your face. You leave it on for 10-15 minutes, which is kinda relaxing, while texting ugly pics to your friends of your weird mummy ghost face, or cool tiger face if you happen to buy one that's got an animal design on it. Then you take it off and rub the leftover goop into your face. It feels cold and nice, and they usually smell good.
  • toner/essence - I honestly have no idea what these things are, I just get free samples that tell me to put it on before my regular moisturizer. So I do.
  • night cream - I have two - one is literally made from snail mucus and the other is to fix spots. Yes, some days I rub snail mucus on my face, and yes, I like it. Then I feel weird about liking it and try to think of something else. My other night cream is "brightening" - but it's to fix these stupid dark spots I get from birth control. Apparently you also get it when you're pregnant, but it goes away when you're done. Since I plan on staying on birth control until my uterus falls out, I will have to deal with my stupid dark spots with my Korean whitening cream.
Then of course I follow that up by using Korean foundation so my skin looks like that of a small baby or someone who airbrushed their photo a little too much. 

But yeah, if you want to look hot, do all those things. And make sure they were made in Korea, or Japan. It's becoming "trendy" but don't fall for it, Americans haven't perfected the art of the overly intense beauty routine (I mean, we did produce Tan Mom). There are Nature Republic and The Face Shops in NY and LA, and then the rest I get on Amazon or pick up a ton when I go to Asia and make my friends (ahem Amanda) bring refills when they come back to visit.

Good luck.
- Almost 35 With No Wrinkles, Bitch

Saturday, October 1, 2016


I spend a lot of time in Sephora. Probably an unhealthy amount of time, especially considering I keep buying the same shades of lipstick and eyeshadow that I already have in other brands. The rest of the time I'm just at the mall and realize I look like hot garbage and go in to use the product testers to fix my blemishes and melting mascara. I have no shame.

As a makeup lover and abundant user (despite my lack of product diversity), I'm confused with a few current makeup trends. Sure, it's not quite on the level of 80s blue eyeshadow (or the white eyeshadow I rocked in 2005, yikes), but some of these confuse me.

1) Blue/purple/black lipstick

First, I'm not hatin on blue. It's my favorite color. I have too many blue things. Shirts, pants, bras, underwear, shoes, toothbrushes, cake... but I digress. Blue has its place, and that place is not your lips. Until 2016, blue lips generally meant you needed urgent medical attention and/or could be suffering from hypothermia, but now it means you want to be like Kylie Jenner.

People, just stop. We have Halloween, isn't that enough for you? This trend was probably pioneered by high fashion magazines with no attempt to make it mainstream - I mean for the love of god editorial models have worn gold leaf on their skin and had actual spiders on their faces, so I'm pretty sure they don't mean for any of their posture-offending photos to result in actual products being produced and used. You think you look like that girl above. You don't. You look like this:
Yeah. Think about waking up next to that face.

2) "Highlighter"

Every cosmetics company has some version of this now, which is sparkly-ish powder or liquid that you put around your eyes in some specific manner that's supposed to "highlight" your face. You're supposed to look "dewy," where the light catches your skin.

GUYS. No one needs to BUY highlighter. Seriously. We all make our own. IT'S CALLED SWEAT. This is what highlighter is supposed to make you look like, but I managed to achieve that exact same look walking around Singapore in 90 degrees and 90% humidity. Want to go out to the club and don't have any highlighter? Park 4 blocks away and walk there. BOOM, highlighter achieved for $0.

Also since when did being a ball of sweat become the in thing? I thought people carried powder in their purse to cover up shine, or had that oil-absorbing paper. SERIOUSLY I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO THINK ANYMORE.

3) Contouring

I as much as anyone mourn my lack of cheekbones, but I think there's a reasonable stopping point that comes way before painting your face like a tiger and rubbing it in. Call it laziness, call it "I'm pretty okay with the way I look" - whatever, I don't need 7 different colors of makeup with strategic placement to act as my own personal photoshop. I mean, people are going to find out what you really look like at some point, and if it's your significant other, I'd be a little worried about their reaction, since you look like a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON.
The only thing I have to hide is my blonde eyelashes, not the actual physical shape of my face. And this is only if you do it RIGHT. Not everyone has mastered the "art" of contouring...

So basically just because something is a "trend" doesn't mean you should start doing it, or else you might end up looking like a sweaty, blue-lipped clown. I hear guys are really into that.

Friday, July 22, 2016


In life, there are three ways something can go down - worse than you thought, better than you thought, or exactly as you thought. Strangely enough, my experience with the ubiquitous exercise trend CrossFit fell into the middle category.

As evidenced in previous blog entries, I don't always make fantastic life decisions. So when a friend of mine who works in Irvine (Orange County, for all you non-Californians) said she was going to try a class down there, I startlingly said "I SHOULD COME WITH YOU." I'm not sure if it was the fact that my only human contact in the past two weeks has been via phone/internet and whoever I might be forced to talk to in a public library or if I was simply still under the influence of my Ritalin I'd taken that morning, but I made the executive decision to drive to OC and go to my first CrossFit class as a sedentary blob.

A friend noted that you'll know someone goes to CrossFit because they'll tell you, which is true - and it's where I learned everything I knew about it. I combined all the stories from anyone I'd ever heard talk about it and imagined maybe the scariest thing in the history of exercise.

Here's how I imagined it going down:

Me: *walks into gym*

Trainer: "Hi, welcome to Crossfit, is this your first time?"

M: "Yes."

T: "Great, well sign this giant waiver that you don't have time to read through, put your stuff down over there and head into the gym!"

M: Ok *signs life away and walks into gym area*

**the gym is full of weights no lighter than 50lbs, stacks of car tires, ropes, lots of metal things that will poke you if you walk into them, large sweaty men grunting, and me, who is half the size of the smallest person in the room**

T: "Okay, since this is your first time, let me tell you what you're going to be doing.  First, you're going to pick up one of those car tires and run to the other side of the gym, where you will attempt to ring toss it onto a pole. You have to keep trying until you get it on the pole.  I suppose since you're new, we'll let you use a Hyundai tire instead of the regular SUV ones, but just this once.

After you finish the tire toss, you'll come back inside and pick up these 50lb rocks and move them from one side of the gym to the other for 5 minutes.  When time's up, you put down the rock, strap on the weighted vest, and go open that large 50-gallon drum. Inside that drum will be a bear.  Since it's your first day, we'll let you use the semi-tranquillized bear, but as you can see, veterans like Chaz and Vinny will get a fully awake bear.  Fight that bear until one of you dies. Since you're at CrossFit and we take things seriously here, you better not be the one who dies.

Finally, after you kill the bear, you'll climb that rope up to the second story of the parking garage, where you will find three cars. First timers get to use the Beetle, but everyone else has to use the F150. You will push that Beetle up the garage to the third floor, then sprint down as fast as you can back to the gym.  The first person who makes it back will get a reward of a Paleo kale and banana wrap, and everyone else is a loser and will be deprived of water for the remainder of the session.

Ready?  GO!"

As I am currently typing this, it's clear that the above scenario did not occur. What actually happened was I took a lovely 2-hour drive to Irvine (for the record that is 60 that's NOT a good drive time) and met my friend at her hotel. She picked me up and we drove to an office park about 3 miles away to find our randomly located CrossFit gym.

When we go inside, we can see into the gym area, and there are one or two people lifting weights in a non-threatening manner (if you can count the amount of weight they were lifting as non-threatening). A nice young man walks into the "lobby" and starts to talk to us about our fitness levels, etc.

"Have either of you done CrossFit before?"

My friend answered "I have, about 5 years ago I did it for three months." I look down at my Hello Kitty socks before telling him that no, I have not done CrossFit, and not only that, but since my ankle injury last September, I have done very little of anything at all and have the aerobic fitness of a 45-year-old World of Warcraft enthusiast.

When it's finally time to start, we go into the gym and are met by a surprisingly pleasant British man with a manbun who seems perfectly happy to take us slowly through squat snatches. Or snatch squats. Fuck if I know, I just wanted to giggle every time he said snatch...then I wondered if snatch was even a euphemism in Britain or if it literally only meant "to snatch." He also told us he was in his 40s, so half the time I was preoccupied by his completely wrinkle-less face and wanted to ask him if he too used Korean skin products, but there never seemed to be an appropriate time to discuss our potentially similar skincare routines.

He started  by showing us what he referred to as a squat, but what any normal person would refer to as "baseball catcher's position." I wanted to interrupt - "Excuse me, kind sir, but I'm afraid my knees are actually incapable of doing that. You see, I'm over 30, so..." But no, I just did it, wondering if I would simply fall backwards (yes, once) or actually be able to right myself without using my hands (this did eventually happen).

So for 45 minutes we did snatch squats, first using a pvc pipe, then a 15lb metal bar, and always using too many leg muscles. We finished with burpees, which are the devil incarnate, and I barely made it off the floor for the last one, but once I realized we were done, I was like WHOA, I just did CrossFit without passing out (that's a legit thing that happens to me, it's kinda my thing).

Today I hurt, stairs are hard, and randomly my muscles give out and I wobble oddly trying to stay standing - but I also know that tomorrow is going to be worse, because it's always the second day where I'm only capable of crawling to the bathroom and raising my arms to brush my teeth is maybe the hardest thing in the entire world. But you know what? It wasn't too bad. I'd do it again. I'd prefer not to drive two hours beforehand, but we all have dreams.

Saturday, June 25, 2016


Brought to you in part by this lovely article.

1. "Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours."

Oh, whoopsie. I suppose you're right, I should really shut up about the fact that I'm pretty sure I broke my ankle on the way into the living room while my important man tells me about the NFL draft. No honey, keep talking, I always get pale and lightheaded when I'm interested. Let me know when you're done, so that maybe after I serve you this delicious home-cooked meal you might have enough energy after your big, manly day at work to take me to the ER while I slowly lose consciousness from pain. If not, no worries, I'm pretty sure all 50s housewives spent many a night sobbing on the living room floor.

2. "Only floozies ask guys out."

If I had a dollar for every time a guy called me a floozie... Happens all the time, really.
"Hey, do you want to get a drink?"
"No, you ridiculous floozie!"

"I was wondering if maybe you'd go to prom with me?"
"I was wondering when you'd stop being a FUCKING FLOOZY JESUS CHRIST."

And all this time I was thinking it was social anxiety and fear of rejection. What a silly floozie I was!!

3. "Don't sit in awkward positions - and never look bored. Be alert, and if you must chew gum (not advised) do so silently and with your mouth closed."

You mean like this?               Or this?                             

So this isn't okay?            Or this? I don't look bored, do I?

 on this too?

4. "The man always does the ordering. Never ask the waiter yourself for anything."

"I will have the T-bone, medium rare, and my date will have the small house salad."
"Um, excuse me, could I get a chicken sandwich instead?"
*me, picking at croutons and slowly losing blood sugar as I pass out and fall out of my chair, a single tear drips down my cheek*

4. "Compliment him on his physical prowess, his mental acumen, his good looks, his virility. The worst mistake a girl can make is to make a man feel intellectually inferior or inadequate as a male."

Is there a sidenote on how to deal with men who don't understand what "acumen" is? Do I REALLY have to tolerate improper uses of "your" and "you're" for the entirety of my marriage? That's kind of a dealbreaker.  What if he tells me Poland is a city in France?  Or a koala is a bear (THEY'RE NOT GODDAMN IT)?  Or "it's okay, murder is legal here"?  I JUST LOOK THE OTHER WAY TO AVOID INSULTING HIS INTELLIGENCE?  How about "you're perfectly adequate as a male specimen, but you're just stupid as fuck"?

5. "it is up to you to earn the proposal, by raising a dignified campaign designated to show him that matrimony is the keystone of a happy life."

A marriage campaign? How does one do this? Yard signs? Bumper stickers? Internet memes? I personally would be prone to scholarly research and a well-written paper on the pros of marriage, but is this an acceptable format?  Would he prefer it in a simple grade school poster flow-chart?

Can I appoint delegates? Do I get a committee? I NEED INSTRUCTIONS DAMMIT! Otherwise I'll just be posting "ME FOR WIFE 2016" flyers around the house, which I'm not sure would be entirely effective.