No, Seriously.

Hi, all 7 of you followers. I truly 'preciate the support.

It's been quiet here on the littlebit front, and I'd like to let you in on a little secret as to why.

http://www.noseriously.net

We don't know what it is just yet -- All I know is, there's a sarcastic betch inside of me that's been waiting to talk like this forever.
It's definitely not open to the "public" yet, and at this point it's just me ranting, but I want your opinionz. We have LOTS of ideas.
And on that note, I have a lot of other ideas - many that are somewhat youth-targeted, career-oriented, Freshman-15-y, dyou remember that? - that I want to bounce around with all 7 of you. D'you mind?

Check these first few posts out (ignore the first two; they're testers), and tell me: Whatcha think?

Lovin' you is like food to mah sooouul

If there's one thing,
one
thing
I'm most thankful for in the entire world,

it's having extraordinarily nurturing, hilarious, supportive, un-overbearing and loving parents.



My childhood was, truly, only happiness.
The only thing I can blame them for is my irritating optimism.
Hopefully I can carry on the tradition.

THX, MMY.

Why do you lv yr mmy?

You hab... a long hair. You hab... a byootipul eye.

I realize this daunting block of letters is mad faux-paus in the rulebook of blogging (under "Things That Make People Say, '(scrollscrollscroll)'")...
But blackhockeyjesus wrote it.
And blackhockeyjesus supercedes all rules of blogging (mostly because he writes a Daddy blog with "Vagina" in the title, and we in the blogosphere think that's just fine).

"Jenna. What beauty is this? Is yours a face or is it but a dream reflected off the silver glass of a mountain lake? Your hair my dear is the yellowest hay, too fine and wonderful for the mouths of stupid horses. Neigh. It is a bird's nest of gold. But so fine and soft that one would never know it's actually precious metal. Rather, it feels like hair. Your hair is soft like hair. It's a golden tautology. Your lips are two spilled puddles of red wine that call for me to drink them, to lap them up with alcoholic enthusiasm. For some the essence of the mouth lies in its capacity for speaking or eating or breathing - but for you these are merely secondary, tertiary, and fourthiary. For your mouth, my Jenna, was made to kiss. (And to say dirty hot things but I guess that would be speaking.) It's primary function revolves around the business of making out. And good God your regal nose of Italian stock! Lodged (daintily) between the two deepest seas ever discovered upon the face of a woman. Who would dare try to speak with any substance about the mystery of your eyes? Here a moment clear blue. A murky grey the next. They shift like your mind, woman, when we're trying to find a place to eat. But to speak of your face in parts like an 8th grader dissecting a frog is a crime against the wholeness of your face. For it is only when your face is apprehended in its totality that a man swoons and gasps and wonders by what ghost he is haunted. Fireworks explode overhead. That little boy soprano choir sings. Angels smile and people do not bristle at the knock of strangers at the door. All for your face, Jenna. Your face restores my faith in the sacred power of prayer."

... JOHN WHY DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO ME LIKE THIS.

Corporate face with a non-profit booty

"Sunlight is the best disinfectant."

- PR Squared;
on perpetuating the ideal that PR professionals
are not
and should not be
and do not have to be
unethical.

I think it takes an advanced level of stupidity to believe that there aren't bad intentions behind most of what we consume - crooked politics, slanted media, money. Money. Money.
Bueller. Bueller.

Maybe it was something I ate as a child, but I can never let go of the idea that good begets good.

Or should.

Beget good.

If you run an ethical practice, you deserve an ethical reputation. If you weed out the... weeds, expect juicier garden tomahtoes. Yes, I know there are gophers and neighborhood-dog pee. But if you whip out the hoe of perseverance (...grow up) and, y'know, beat those little shits out of the way...

Alright, that's enough.

Is anyone else out there an hopeless optimist, like me?

Yeah? How's that workin' out for you?

& Is there a place in the professional - namely, PR - world for a HO?

(...Aw COME ON)

@mileycyrus @lindsaylohan @bbv @uscfemales

“In bathrooms, boardrooms, buses, bagel shops, and everywhere else, we all need to imagine a little girl following us around, repeating everything we say and everything we do. Think about all of the things you want for yourself and your daughters, granddaughters, and girls everywhere - and teach them by living it yourself.”

- Nell Merlino, In Stepping Out of the Line: Lessons for Women who Want it their way in life, love and work.

It stings.

"Creating your own blog is about as easy as creating your own urine,
and you're about as likely to find someone else interested in it."
-- Lore Sjöberg

Whatchu think, bloggers? Si o no?

Give us this day, our daily Wonka Bar

From my first blog obsession, PostSecret:

"When I was younger I used to believe that

God and Satan were like
Mr. Willy-Wonka and Mr. Slugworth.

That they were really working together to see who was honest,
and I thought that if I told anyone, and exposed God's plan,
that I would be blamed for blasphemy."

-----------------------------------

Now, I was born and raised Catholic. I chose to be confirmed, and I chose to join youth group, and I choose to pray. Sometimes I even choose to go to church.

I was taught to never question.
Especially not to question why I couldn't ever question.
Don't get me started on that idea.
So would our God hate me for saying... "What if?" (Christians, you don't get to answer this one)

I know this is probably making you uncomfortable in some way. It makes my four-year-old white poodle-dressed smiling-with-all-of-my-8-teeth-in-my-communion-picture self a little uncomfortable, too.
But the model suggested in the quote is pretty simple:

• You're taught to believe that there's a binary around which you order your life: Good and bad; right and wrong; Godliness and Satan worship. You can't bat for both teams.
• The end game in all of this is, uh, eternal... something... about happiness... and a lot of bright lights and white clothing and hugging. Better Catholics, fill in the blanks.
  
• You're living your life struggling from temptation to temptation to temptation, avoiding discolored choir midgets, endeavoring to reach this end, and some people fall to the wayside. (Veruca, Fat German kid, Chick who picked her nose)

Nothing blasphemous there, right? That about aligns with Catholicism, doesn't it?
And when you think about it, so does Christianity, and Judaism, and Scientology... (BLASPHEMY ALERT, peeyooo-peeeyoo said God's smite beam)

Here's the kicker:

Ideally, when your squeaky-clean soul gets to the end, Good Cop and Bad Cop are smiling back at you. Next to each other.
And Lucifer's like, "Dzang kid. You ain't take any of the candy I hat offered. You harder to break than mah PerezHilton habit."
And God's like, "You mah ride or die. Foreal-foreal. Das' how we be knowin' you legit."

Wouldn't you then be most deserving of, y'know, Hev'n?
When even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-...Listened-To can vouch for your goodness?
Que, Willa Wonka based on a radical Catholic alternative suggestion, like how you play Pink Floyd albums backwards and you get crazy messages?!

I'm just sayin'.
BRB, anticipating swarm of locusts from my closet or something.

Que-que?!

Created by Train Horn

OHHHHH.
So my ears don't actually belong to a 60-year-old man, as I often assume due to my perpetual deafness.

Thought I had somatoparaphrenia, NVM.

You are missing OUT

Or "d-bag", for the LA Frat Bro On-The-Go

This link does not apply to you if you happen to think I am a douche.

Poor College Student: 1; Recession: ...something-billion

Paying for college sucks.

It's not that I'm feeling dangerously bitter right now, after scouring a 1-mile radius around USC with four girlfriends for an affordable apartment between the luscious Tuscany Penthouse and a cardboard box.

But I mean...
If all it takes is 20 hours of Ranch-hand work, or converting to Pre-Law and moving to Irvine,
then, shit.

I'm down it if it means going to one of these 8 Tuition-Free Colleges.

I love you, SC, but you're just are not recession-friendly.
I'm just sayin'.

Like masturbation, but for your feelings

I'm aware I've been silent for, oh, longer than you probably care.
But if anyone's listening out there, ANYONE - I'd love for them to consider this:

NOBODY forces you hate yourself.

NOBODY gives you low self-esteem.

NOBODY makes you to feel intimidated, ugly, self-conscious, not good enough.

I've heard way too many stories about people being sick of how a situation (particularly, how a boy) makes them feel bad about themselves.
To be out of control of how you see yourself is to be out of control of yourself.
To be victim to those feelings is just self-pity.
And to be using self-pity is to be three-fucking-years-old.

FACE IT: We're big girls now, in a world that allows us to be big girls.
You can't play the helpless-feeling-female card anymore.
And girl or not, only you are responsible for how you feel.
Wherever you are in your self-respect, you got there your damn self,
and it's nobody else's job to fix it.

SO STOP CRYING.


I'd just like to know why we treat the person we spend the most time with
(ourselves)
so shittily, so much.
And then we're so kind to strangers on the street!
They don't have to put up with your crap.
They don't do your Accounting final.
Their immune system doesn't keep you away from the USC plague.

I AM
JUST
SAYING.

Obvi just jelly cuz I speak in abbrevz

I'm sitting on an obscenely comfortable red couch in the Hogwartzeh Doheny Library (here at the scenic University of Southern California, TELL 'EM WHAT THEY'VE WON, BOB), watching the sun go down through the stained glass windows.
May I just say?

Sometimes, when you've figured out a way to temporarily ignore your "priorities"
and "responsibilities"
and "children",
life is gorgeous without you having to do anything to it at all.

Y'know. Just looky no touchy.
It's like Cinnabuns.
You can just smell it and be fulfilled.
(...And then tear that shit up with yo' mouf)
(...This concludes my greatest figurative food-to-life parallel to date)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ANYWAY.
What I really wanted to do is pop my head in a give you a lil' quiz.
Cause it's midterm season and I'm feelin' sadistic.

Complete the sentence with the appropriate phrase:

Life is like a bag of phallic lighthouse gummies.
You never know what you're gonna...

A. find in the parking lot of your local WalMart
B. need to stay warm while you get beamed up, Scotty
C. give as a gift at Darth Vader & PacMan's baby shower
D. USE YOUR NEWFOUND POWER OF 400 BABIES! ....FOR.

You have twelve minutes.
Starting eleven minutes ago.

Hint: No.

Were you the one who wanted $1,000 and a free phone?

No?
Oh, well. As long as you're here.
Wanna do me a favor & have it, anyway?

You remember that Road Trip that Seventeen sent me on?
WELL. Now Seventeen wants you to have your own road-trippeh good times.

Enter Seventeen's Ultimate Road Trip Sweepstakes!

So, y'know. Seventeen's just giving away:

• $1,000
• a FREE Verizon Phone
  
• and a $100 Verizon Gift Card (Hello, unnecessarily-cute headset for driving)

And I was thinking, maybe you want in on that.
How do ya do it?

• Get clicky here and scroll down to "ENTER THE ULTIMATE SWEEPSTAKES!"
• Fill in your info and don't forget the Code Word: ULTIMATE
• Tell 5 friends! (But maybe no more than that - you do want to win, right?)
  

Ehh - you can watch those videos, too, if you really want.
I'll just be over here, cowering in embarrassment :]


I really need you guys to spread the word, y'all: Enter the Sweepstakes, and don't forget your epic Code Word:

ULTIMATE.

Heheh. That's a lot like when the hyenas say "Mufasa" in the Lion King.
ULTIMATE.
D'ya feel that?
ULTIMATE.

Heheh.
JUMP ON IT!

Google Image Search: Overachiever

If any of you reading
is looking at this picture and going,
"That's what I feel like I have to be to get into my dream school,"
or
"That's where I feel I need to be to succeed these days,"
or
"This bitch is living my life. But smiling."...

Raise yo' hand.
(or comment me. Maybe today you're feeling "unsure")

Community service vs. Community sex

SO BASICALLY.
When I'm taking these stupid-long breaks in blogging, I'm still collecting links and articles and whatnot that I want to share - some college-y, some DEFINITELY not. Since a lot of former-F15 readers hang out here (Lemme hear you sccrrreeeeaaaaaam), I'm gonna be servin' you up two things:

• One thang that tickles your college fancy


• & One thang that, y'know. Just tickles.
  

------------------ IS 'CHU READY? ------------------

Article I: Colleges Tell You What They Want, What They Really Really Want

So, I'm obsessed with this Gen-Y blog, Y-Pulse, right? (Heads up - it's where I get alotta college-sensitive shtuff)
Not too long ago, my homegirl Casey wrote an article I wish I read before applying to college.

DoSomething.org surveyed 25 of the Top 50 Colleges in the US about applicants doing community service.
Now,

• Didju know that colleges would rather have you do a lil' somethin for years than a big somethin' for a month?
  
• Didju know that comm-service is 4th in the list of factors that'll put you at the top of the pack?
  
• Didju know that throwin' in words like "passionate", "commitment" and "dedication" perks the ears of he-who-holds-the-ACCEPTED-stamp?
  
  Oh, you didn't.
  Wellnowyoucan.
  (P.S: Scroll a bit - see somebody you recognize? ;])

Article II: Hi, I'm Berna. Now Put Your Tongue Down My Throat

EXTRA, EXTRA: There is a huge sexual revolution goin' on and it's getting extra hot in Chile (IhadtodoitIhadto)...

But, says the NY Times, those who are partakin' are probably younger than you.

I mean, dzang - I thought "Git Low" started a freakin'-grindin'-body-rollin' revolution here in the states.
Nothing compared to what these barely-adolescents are gettin' down with during their late-afternoon rave fests, where minors get together and "Poncea" - make out with as many hormonal mofos as they can.

Break out 'cho Binaca.

Read the article, shift uncomfortably in your seat, and then tell me:
How do you feel about sex basically becoming as common as getting braces amongst adolescents?
Do you think it's good or bad social progress?
Is there real liberation in becoming sexually free, or is there just herpes?

Whisper it in my intrawebz ear. ;]
bernalittlebit@gmail.com

*blows dust off blog* *sobs*

Life.

This is me, sitting in class. Contemplating LIFE.

I am THIS FULL of such juicy, yummy blog ideas.

As you can see, I'M ABOUT TO BURST.
But such is life, school, internship, co-ed Leadership Frat... you know.

DON'T GIVE UP ON ME.
STAY TUNED!

...I have candy.
bernalittlebit@gmail.com

Glass, by BHJ

CURSE SCHOOL!
It stops me from chattin' it up with joo cool peeps.
But, let me get to the point of this before I have to do the bookstore dance.

I've been a huge, huge fan of Black Hockey Jesus's The Wind in Your Vagina (just go with me on this) for a while - he got popular SUPER fast on the Daddy-blogosphere front (she says while pushing her glasses up her nose) (and snorting), and, wait, I don't want to oversell this -

HE IS THE MOST HILARIOUS AND BEAUTIFULLY ARTICULATE BLOGGER
EHH
VER.
& He recently wrote this disgustingly poignant post about, well, failure.
Failure and strength and babies.

Couldn't just keep this one in my Google Reader, no, I could NAT.

So, screw your homework.
Read it immediately.

Whatchu talkin' bout, RiRi & NeYo

Tell me.

How many times have you seen this quote (or its like-worded cousins)
on an In A Relationship's MySpace?

"Don't settle for the one who kisses your ass. Wait for the one who pushes your buttons and pisses you off on a daily basis.
Those who fight hard, love harder.
Love isn't supposed to be easy...it's supposed to be worth it."

Cute, right?
I mean, can't you just imagine the passion-drugged couple crying and making out amongst the smoky ruins of their battlefield of LUV?!
...
Well, stop. I think it's stupid.
Call me J-J-Jaded, but the whole thing just sounds awfully sadistic to me.

Lots of lovahs (hi, included) know what its like to fight hard and love harder. Sometimes in the midst of it, you feel so emotionally exhausted but so justified, like "F*#%, I'm TIRED - This has GOT to be real love!
High five, you asshole, I love you!"

But I've also been with someone who pissed me off on a daily basis.
... WTF, That shit wasn't fun.
It wasn't fulfilling or romantic. Not in the short term day-to-day or the long term retrospect.
It felt like love some of the time, it felt passionate and dramatic all the time, but by the end, it mostly felt like torture.

Now, I'm not Dr. Phil or that sex talk lady on the Oh! network, but I'm pretty sure a healthy relationship shouldn't hold adjectives like "torture".


Love shouldn't necessarily be easy (though it truly is, for some couples), and the effort two people put into it should always equal to "worth it". At the same time, it's all conditional. Love works differently for different tempers, backgrounds, zodiac compatibilities...
Love is like the adult diapers brand - it Depends.

But one thing I have learned: Love should not be a painful obligation, a weight on your life. There are better things to do with yourself than be a slave to the famous "pain" of love (contrary to the crooning of certain artists whose names may/may not rhyme with Shmeona Shmewis).

So, frick, I hate seeing this quote - I feel like it allows more girls to excuse their soap opera dramatic, bawling-twice-a-week, emotional breakdown hurts-so-good type relationships and keeps so many young people from, oh, I don't know...
Having a LIFE.
Letting themselves GROW.
Finding someone who ENHANCES your existence, not BURDENS it (think... bra selection).


Whaddaya think - do you believe in this?
Should love be that much labor?
When does pain-in-the-ass luurve stop becoming "worth it" to you?
How much sense does it make to keep bleedin', keep, keep bleedin' love?

Holla front: bernalittlebit@gmail.com!

'Tis the season

Hey! Special hollah to my former Freshman15 readers - ya'll still out there?!


For all ya'll who messaged me way-back-when (& still are!) about starting your freshman year this year, being nervous, movin' away, how much underwear do I pack (TRUE STORY):

Stumbled across this pretty comprehensive Freshman Year College Packin' List
from TeenDiariesOnline.com.

My favorite part about it? The Late Night Snacks section ;]

(I confess: Being the APnerd at heart, Collegeboard.com was my friggin' MySpace senior year and I used their list - told me to bring boring stuff like extension cords and blankets. Didn't mention Ramen once.
Hello. Get with the priorities of the GENERATION.)

Happy packin'!


P.S: You were the one who wanted to biologically look like Sailor Moon, right? Dude, I gotchu.
No?
P.P.S: Ohhh, but you did ask me about Nintendo couture. Don't lie. I won't tell anyone.