In a moment of supreme idiocy, I booked an appointment at the Apple Genius Bar for a borked phone on a Saturday. A Saturday at 3:30, to be precise. A Saturday at 3:30 in the afternoon in one of four or five Apple stores in the entire state. Huddled in the teeming masses, waiting to be assisted, all I could think was, “This must be Hell.” The crush and flow of store patrons from back to front made me wish that Dante could be resurrected and properly organize the circles of Absolute Hell in the Apple Store. But he’s dead, so I’ll try my best to fill in for him.

Imagine if you will, the brightly lit Apple store. Minimalist art and gentle fonts beckon you in, calming you with the blonde-colored wood so favored by young college students and IKEA. Is that The Lumineers playing? You recognize the song because you’ve heard it on the radio. You’ve never heard any of their other songs but you know you like this one. “Ho, hey!” whirls wistfully through the room.

Welcome to the first circle of Apple Store Hell. In this sphere, your greatest sin is curiosity. You can still breathe the fresh, conditioned air of the mall. You could retreat and be back in the hustle and bustle of an Apple product-free world. You could escape, if you wanted, but you’re drawn in inexplicably.

With that first hesitant step, you have fallen into the second circle of Apple Store Hell. Salespeople in bright shirts notice you but do not yet approach. They circle, with watchful eyes, ready to pounce with a smile. But their claws are not in you yet. And the colorful rack of new iPods looks so fun! Is that green? Green is your favorite color! You walk towards the table, sidestepping a ‘tween taking selfies on a display iPod. The screen is so bright; so much brighter than your older mp3 player. And here is your second sin–desire. “I should replace my iPod,” you think to yourself. “I mean, it’s getting old. And I just got this fat tax refund!”

You continue down the long table taking in the colors, mentally calculating the prices. Then the sharp scent of sweat and chaos touch your nose. This is a warning. You’re descending into the third circle of Apple Store Hell and there’s no turning back as you’ve already performed your third sin–calculation. A decision has been made in the back of your head, though you haven’t quite accepted it yet. “I’m just considering,” you tell yourself, “I mean I might not actually buy anything.”

You hear a rustling next to you. There’s no escaping now, as a friendly Apple salesperson comes up and asks you brightly, “Can I help you?” You smile back. The Matrix has you, Neo. “I’m just looking around,” you try to reply, but both you and the salesperson know that’s a lie. “That’s totally understandable,” the salesperson replies. “Let me tell you all about the features of our newest iPod.” Who knew that returning friendliness with friendliness was a sin? It is in the fourth circle of Apple Store Hell.

And now you are falling, falling quickly into Hell–too quickly to know how far down you are until, with a thud, you hit the deepest level of Apple store Hell.  You don’t know it’s happened; everything is so warm and shiny and welcoming. You’re smiling widely and handing your credit card over, which the salesperson quickly swipes through a machine on an iTouch. (Is there nothing technology can’t do?)

Welcome to Hell, darling.

You can contact Sarah, the author of this post, at sarah@nottheitgirls.com.

As an honorary Jew, I get to enjoy the holidays without all the pomp and circumstance and internal reflection. (Warning: this post is not for anyone who can’t take religion a little lightheartedly.) And my absolute favorite part of Judaism is the Seder food.

Let’s start with the matzo. The unleavened bread symbolizes that the Hebrews were in such a rush to escape oppression that they didn’t even wait for their bread to cook. All I know is that egg-and-onion flavored matzo tastes amazing with some butter and salt. Sadly I live in a very non-Jewish area of the country, so I can only find the good stuff when we’re visiting. My in-laws are non-drinkers, so we substitute the wine with white grape juice. In crystal goblets, obvi. There’s something about the fanciness of the meal that turns regular ol’ juice into The Most Amazing Juice Of All Time.

I can’t say that I’ve taken to the Gefilte fish or hard-boiled egg, but I could eat matzo ball soup all day every day. I’m not even sure what the symbolism behind the soup is, but I suspect it has something to do with how much Jews like delicious, Kosher food. YUM. Whenever my mother-in-law asks what special meal I’d like for my birthday, I pick the soup.

And brisket. Oh, brisket. I don’t think brisket is any kind of official Passover food item, but my husband’s family always eats it for Seder, so I’ve made the association on my own. I eat and eat and eat that stuff like a machine. Seriously, everyone else has already moved on to dessert and I’m still chowing down on the deliciously roasted cow chest.

Last but not least: charoset. It’s an apple-honey-nut mix that represents the mortar that with which the Jews had to toil for the Egyptians … but it tastes A LOT better than I imagine mortar would. I can’t seem to stop adding more spoonfuls to my plate. I haven’t gotten brave enough to try it on a matzo sandwich, but my brother-in-law assures me it’s the bees’ knees.

Overall, Seder meal is like the equivalent of Thanksgiving for me. I look forward to it all year, I stuff my face, and then I start counting down for next year!

You can contact Krista, the author of this post, at krista@nottheitgirls.com.

I’m a lot of things. I’m eccentric, I’m a walking allergic reaction, I’m chatty, and I’m obsessed with John Lennon. Less commonly known to those three of you who aren’t friends and family members guilted into reading this is that I’m also Catholic. These days, it’s more of a box I would check as opposed to Episcopalian or Baptist but, boy, when I was a youngin’ I was all about church, man.

Ever heard of altar boys? Well it’s a new age, now, and we actually call them altar servers. Because girls can do anything boys can do (Spoiler alert: I was an altar server). Did you know that, if you altar served at a wedding, you’d often get tipped? I don’t know if God frowned upon that or what but I totally made bank off of other people’s happiness. It was great.

I was also a lector. I told this to someone the other day and he immediately, without pause, asked if that meant I was related to Hannibal Lector. Weirdly, that famed villain of pop culture is NOT the first thing I think of when I hear “lector” … because church lectors are the people who read out loud to the congregation during Mass à la Jim Gaffigan (“Dear Apostles, How was your weekend? Sure is hot here. Tell Jesus, ‘hey.’ … This is the word of the Lord.”).

Anyway, the moral of this story is that I’m a baptized, first communioned, and confirmed Catholic complete with ridiculously exaggerated guilt, a shit ton of rosary beads, and a partially tortured Irish ancestry.

And now I’ve got myself a brand new pope. Did you know that millions of people live and die during the rule of a single pope but I’m only 26 and I’m already on my third? Am I doing it wrong? Why was Benedict so flaky?! At least John Paul had the decency to live out his days in office like a proper pope–at least, what we like to think of as a proper pope.

This new pope, Pope Frank (to his friends), sounds like an interesting guy. As of yet I haven’t decided if he’s interesting like someone’s grandpa or interesting like Dick Cheney i.e. the kind of interesting that makes you want to throw up and hide in fear. It’s only been two days since the world has heard of this guy and I keep hearing anti-gay accusations flying around among liberals. I don’t take kindly to that type of nonsense so, if he’s got the classic Catholic closemindedness that I’ve somehow successfully avoided I’ll be very disappointed by the lack of progress my church has made. I won’t be that surprised, but I’ll definitely be disappointed.

I sincerely hope that P.F. turns out to be a wonderful pontiff who works toward the equality of all people since I firmly believe–if there’s a God–that He loves us all regardless of race, creed, gender, or sexual orientation (although he definitely loves modern country music fans less).

However, if Frank lets me down in this field, I’ll try and get it right with pope #4.

I leave you with this gem. Amen.

You can contact Alex, the author of this post, at alex@nottheitgirls.com.

For those of you not in the know, tonight starts the week-long celebration of Passover. If you don’t have time to watch the cinematic masterpiece Rugrats: Passover, I’ll run it down for you. (I’m not joking about the Rugrats movie. It’s incredible and I love it.) I promise it’s interesting.

So there was this Pharaoh. And he made the Jews his slaves because, you know, what else are you supposed to do with circumcised people? Let them be free? Please. So, anyway, there’s also this slave and she pops out a kid but, hey, she doesn’t want him to be a slave, so she sticks him in a basket of reeds and shoves him into a river where he floats along until he’s found and adopted by the Pharaoh’s daughter. Can you guess who that baby was? You got it–it was flippin’ Moses.

Fast forward a handful of years. Moses wants to help the Jews escape and tries to get the Pharaoh to let them go a bunch of times. Pharaoh obviously says no because, I mean, how can he get eternal rest without a pyramid built by slaves? He agrees and then changes his mind, which like, totally peeves God so he sends ten plagues which end in the death of every Egyptian’s first born son. (Which is kind of a dick move. Let me tell you: the Old Testament is a pretty brutal book series. Sit down and read the whole thing some time. At least Genesis and Exodus. But I digress.)

Finally, Pharoah is like, “Fine, whatever, God killed my son: GTFO out of Egypt.” So the Jews are super psyched and escape but then Pharoah changes his mind so, in order to escape, Moses parts the Red Sea and the Jews beat it. Yay! A lot of Egyptian soldiers are killed in the process, though, which is kind of a bummer. Oh, also, they didn’t have time to bake their bread so it was “unleavened” which, spoiler alert, is where matzo comes from.

Alright, story time is over. The Jews wandered for forty years in the desert, which is how we developed a great sense of humor because how else are you supposed to deal with forty years IN THE DESERT, and finally we got to the Promised Land and we obtained the Ten Commandments along the way. But this isn’t part of the Passover story. That story ended in the last paragraph.

Which brings me to my long awaited point. Jewish holidays are pretty confusing to goyem sometimes. So with the exception of three or four, if you ever want to know what a Jewish holiday is about, this is probably the answer:

People in power hated the Jews but it’s totally okay because we escaped that shit and won. We are always David to mean old Goliath!

Chanukah, Passover, and Purim all follow this archetype. So, hey, do you think all our different religions can get along? Because we’re not getting new holidays anymore.

You can contact Sarah, the author of this post, at sarah@nottheitgirls.com.

I don’t eat potato chips often. It’s not that I don’t like them–I like them too much. The high fat and calorie counts are unconscionable for me. But occasionally, I like a good potato chip (that is, I like a good potato chip … and then the eighty additional chips I inevitably wind up eating). And that’s the problem with the chips that reached the finals of Lay’s Do Us a Flavor contest. They aren’t good. While Lay’s used to advertise that they bet you couldn’t eat just one of their chips, trust me, you can with these. Nothing against the people who invented the flavors. These chips just taste … not good.
First, the flavors the general public concocted are kind of boring Given that the contest allowed you to pick sophisticated flavors like feta cheese and hummus, the winners seemed uninspired, outdated, and trashy. Cheesy Garlic Bread appealed to my fourteen year-old boy, but then he did not live through the garlic bread-obsessed, cheesy 1980s. It sounded tired to me, and not the least bit gourmet. Chicken and Waffles is a texture-based delicacy, rather than a flavor-packed dish, so it sounded like a boring chip flavor. Sriracha sounded like the classiest bet, but you don’t eat straight up hot sauce unless you want terrible bowel problems. So kind of a weird flavor all by itself.

Ok, so then the actual tastes of the chips. They suck. Cheesy Garlic Bread is even worse than it sounds. The garlic and Italian herb flavorings you’d expect are nonexistent. Instead, it’s an artificial cheese flavor. It’s gross, and not in a embarrassingly good way, like the orange cheese on Doritos. It’s bland, flat, and lacks any of the tanginess or depth of flavor you expect from a cheesy, greasy snack. Plus, it doesn’t jive with the chip’s inherent potato flavor.

Sriracha fares slightly better. It sort of tastes like any ‘ol BBQ-flavored potato chip with a hint of artificial sweetener and a slight kick. But it doesn’t taste like Sriracha. Tabasco, perhaps. But not Sriracha. Inexplicably, the ingredients for this flavor include just as many cheeses as are in Cheesy Garlic Bread. Don’t ask me to explain that one.

Finally, the Chicken and Waffles chips were out of my vegetarian reach: believe it or not, these suckers actually contain chicken. I didn’t think it would go against my moral code to sneak a whiff of the bag. It smelled like maple syrup and chips. According to the carnivorous members of my family, this flavor left much to be desired. When asked to give a more in-depth review than a mere, “ugh, gross,” my traumatized kid proclaimed “I don’t wanna talk about it!”

So within minutes of opening these new snack foods, my family found ourselves dumping the nearly full bags in the trash. First, we wondered who we were. But, ultimately, we were at peace with our decision: these chips wouldn’t help all the children starving throughout the world, and starving kids deserve better, anyway. Lay’s, please don’t ask us to do you any more flavors. It’s not cool to blame the general public for these atrocities against snackfood-kind. I’m sticking with Herr’s Salt and Vinegar. Sometimes, classics can’t be beat.

You can contact Betsy, the author of this post, at betsy@nottheitgirls.com.

In preparation for The Host hitting theaters this Friday, I finally caved and read the book. And I have to admit that I was really enthralled! I thought the story line was very interesting and did a great job exploring some interesting questions about what it means to be human. But, as we all know, movie adaptations rarely follow the book page-by-page and, at over 600 pages, The Host will be no exception. So here’s a list of things that I’m going to miss in the movie based on reasonable assumptions of what “isn’t important” and the handful of clips in the trailers. Avast: thar be spoilers ahead!

1. Jamie. In all the previews I’ve seen, Melanie’s little brother hasn’t featured AT ALL. I had to specifically Google whether he was even a character in the movie and, thankfully, he is, but it seems that they will be severely downplaying his role. It’s sad because I felt like Melanie and Wanda’s love for Jamie was far more important than their love for Jared, but I guess romance is what sells movie tickets.

2. The human violence. In the book, Wanda was subject to a great deal of violence at the hands of the rebels and I’m pretty sure they’ll cut most of that from the movie. The previews show a lot of soul v. human face-offs which, again, ticket sales. But I thought the book made a good point of showing how being human doesn’t necessarily make you less of a monster.

3. Melanie’s snark. Without most of the internal dialogue between Melanie and Wanda, we won’t get to know Melanie quite as well. But I loved her sass in the book and the way she gave Wanda such an attitude at the beginning.

4. Random line from the end. When Wanda wakes up again, Ian tells her, “I held you in my hand, and you were so beautiful.” While the alien-human love angle is, quite frankly, rather icky, it was also a very touching moment for these two characters. Something about that particular line just resonated with me. But I’m guessing the movie will go for more kissing scenes rather than talking. Just a guess.

What part of the movie are you looking forward to?

You can contact Krista,the author of this post, at krista@nottheitgirls.com.

Let me start by saying that I’m not the type of person who reads a lot of graphic novels. My only comic book experience was with Marvel’s Barbie comics, so the progression is not a natural one for me. I’m also not the type of person who has an encyclopedic knowledge of/intense fascination with serial killers. People like that scare me. I like the occasional A&E true crime show, but that’s my limit.

Still, I couldn’t resist picking up Derf Backderf’s stunning graphic novel, My Friend Dahmer. Backderf had the horrific bad fortune of attending high school with Jeffery Dahmer, the man who would later admit to the murders of seventeen men and boys, as well as cannibalism and necrophilia. In a way, Backderf’s memoir is not really about a serial killer: it’s about the troubled adolescent who would ultimately become a serial killer. That’s what makes it so moving–it’s not a stab at cashing in on morbid curiosity, but an attempt to make sense of how a goofy misfit could grow into a monster right smack in the thick of Middle America. As Backderf notes, “To you Dahmer was a depraved fiend but to me he was a kid I sat next to in study hall and hung out with in the band room.”

Backderf wasn’t quite friends with Dahmer. It appears no one was. But Backderf was a member of the Dahmer Fan Club, a group of band nerds and smart guys who laughed at and with their oddball classmate as he mocked a guy with cerebral palsy and threw fake epileptic fits. Despite being “fans,” these misfits kept a distance from Jeff, who occasionally killed animals to see what was inside and was stinking drunk for most of his senior year. So they were not quite aware of all that was going wrong in Jeff’s life: his fascination with pickling roadkill and torturing animals; his repressed homosexuality and troubling erotic urges; a tumultuous home life where his mother was too immersed in mental illness and both parents wre too involved in their strained relationship–which would ultimately end in a hideous divorce–to notice how tortured Jeff was.

With an amazing balance of sympathy, indignation, and disgust, Backderf has decided, after years of contemplation, that things should have been different: “It’s my belief that Dahmer didn’t have to wind up a monster, that all those people didn’t have to die horribly, if only the adults in his life hadn’t been so inexplicably, unforgivably, incomprehensibly clueless and/or indifferent. Once Dahmer kills, however–and I can’t stress this enough–my sympathy for him ends.”

The comic medium fits the story beautifully, giving an unsettling picture of the Midwest circa the 1970s, where dazed confusion lurks beneath suburban sprawl. It also allows Backderf to transition between the Dahmer he knew and the Dahmer he would later understand. And despite the cartoonishness of the figures, it’s hard not to find them emotionally moving. Backderf’s high school boys have a relatable awkwardness that borders on grotesque, but it is the intense close-ups of Dahmer as his face becomes increasingly menacing and fiendish–and even literally darkens–that stay with me. It’s hard not to feel powerless and intimidated, confronted with the face of this killer and know what fate will bring as you keep turning the pages.

You can contact Betsy, the author of this post, at betsy@nottheitgirls.com.

Welcome to the tutorial that will change your life! A lot of you guys probably already fill your brows in but, for those of you who do not, listen up: brows make a face. It was brows that turned Meryl Streep from herself into Anna Wintour’s doppelgänger; from just Meryl to Margaret Thatcher. You know you have ‘em. They chill there above your eyes, doin’ they thing. But if you’re really looking to pop your eyes? Change something up, find a new look, balance and structure your face and features? Listen hurr.

See? Without eyebrows, Jordan Catalano just turns into Tootsie.

You’ve probably heard the trick with the pencil that demonstrates where your brow placement should be; if not, here’s a refresher. Hold a pencil to the side of your nose, straight up and down, and wherever the pencil hits on your brow bone is where your brow hair should start. Angle the pencil so it passes across the front of your pupil, and that is where the peak of the arch should be. Move the pencil again, this time so it lines up right along the outer corner of your eye, and that should be where your brow hairs start.

Hopefully you have all this down, or at least your waxer does. Beyond this is where makeup comes in – there’s only so much you can do in achieving your perfect brow look. And this is also where I implore you! Please, try filling in your brows, you guys. Try it once. If you are looking for a new way to make your eyes shine bright for a night out–or even for daytime–this will make your face look so much more polished and structured. And it literally takes eight seconds (for some of us).

The challenge, then, falls in finding the perfect brow color and product to be using. As for color: unless you have red hair, you always want to choose an ashy color, or a brown that has a lot of gray tones in it. Brows brows generally carry those same ashy tones, so any warmth placed in them will immediately look out of place. If you are a redhead, go for the gold, literally (oh, I slay me.) Depending on how red your hair is, choose something that has a varying degree of warmth–but still, always stay in the brown family.

As for types of products to choose, I usually use an eyeshadow. It is the same product that other companies refer to as “brow powder” and is the easiest, fastest, and most effective way to fill your brows in without it looking fake or drawn-on. Pencils can be challenging for first-time users whose instincts are usually to draw a straight line from one end of the brow to the other. However, if you have very sparse brows, this might be a better option for you, as the waxy consistency of brow pencils clings to bare skin more readily than a dry powder. Make sure to gently flick the pencil in the same direction the hairs are growing, to create the illusion of natural thickness.

So get yourself down to your local makeup counter to find the color that is right for you–I absolutely guarantee that, once you fill them in, unicorns will be born, pigs will fly, Skittle commercials will happen in real life, and you will never walk out of the house with bare brows again.

You can contact Liz C., the author of this post, at elizabethcaitlin@gmail.com.

I’m guessing that the two hardest things about being a guy are spontaneous boners and girlfriend recruitment (double whammy if both happen at the same time). But since I’m not quite sure how to address the former, let’s focus on the latter. Approaching a stranger without seeming like a douche must be tough. And since I take pity on 90% of the guys who fail at their attempts, I’ve decided to give everyone a rundown of what works and what absolutely doesn’t:

Speak only when you actually have something to say. “You girls are, like, cultured.” “Do you girls have, like, boyfriends?” “What color are your eyes?” These are a few real-life examples of what not to say, unless you know how to pull it off. After your subject laughs a little, there’s really no easy way to continue the “conversation” you started. Instead, talk to the girl waiting in line at the bar about which drink she’s getting, and feel free to quote something in this video.  Or, you know, go with the eyes bit and hope for the best.

Think twice before you buy drinks for her and all of her friends. This is a nice gesture, but you’ll probably leave with nothing more than a large bar tab at the end of the night. Save the drink card for her, and only her, after you feel a connection.

Don’t approach if she’s with other guys. Sure, this seems obvious, but there’s always a handful of courageous douches who give it a shot anyway. While this helps the girl in the situation seem more desirable to the surrounding men, it doesn’t help the courageous douche.

Make an impression and then leave. Even if he’s cool, nothing is more annoying than a smothering guy. Leave for a little, and give her a chance to miss you. This is an effective tool as long as you reconnect later. Use your time apart to go to the bathroom, buy a round of drinks for your friends, etc. But, during this time …

Don’t let her see you approaching other girls. You might see this as playing hard to get, but we see it as being sleazy. And, anyway, is it really that difficult to keep it to one prospect per night?

Stay in touch. This is where a lot of guys go wrong. After you nail the approach, you have to sustain the momentum. STAY CONSISTENT. If you’re truly interested, text her throughout the week. As the weekend approaches, make plans, and then follow through with those plans. It’s really that simple.

Girls, what are some of your tips for being approached? Let us know in the comments!

You can contact Liz, the author of this post, at Liz@nottheitgirls.com

You remember a few weeks back I was waxing poetical about the reality show King of the Nerds, correct? Well, the finale was last week, and it was honestly shocking how it played out.

The original group was 11 people, total, with five women. The final five contestants were comprised of just one guy and four girls. So the ladies hung in there until darn near the end. The final three, in fact, were all girls. The contestant that won the most one-on-one elimination challenges was also a girl. So the show had a very girl-powery message: Girls are smart, too. And competitive. And winners.

Or was it? All throughout the season, the girls were not chosen to go into the one-on-one competitions because no one–including the other girls–thought they were a threat. By the time they realized that Genevieve was a serious problem, she had already won two of the elimination challenges and ended up winning a third. She eventually went all the way to the final two. Time and again, the male contestants were targeted, because of course they’re smarter and more dangerous to everyone’s end game. Of course.

At the finale, one contestant had proven her mastery of all things geek and the other contestant talked about how she had come to “accept herself” during her time in the house. In nerd culture, where things are often very analytical as opposed to emotional, the outcome seemed like a sure thing … until it wasn’t. It ended up being something of a landslide in less predictable direction.

I suppose Celeste’s speech resonated with nerds on a personal level. And, yet, must we always resort back to identifying women with crying and emotions? Even amongst nerds, can we not logically evaluate two people and determine whose actual performance was better? Maybe it’s because I’m something of a nerd myself, and I tend to deal in black-and-white, but Genevieve outshone Celeste by so much it was unbelievable. And she still lost by three votes.

All told, the message King of the Nerds sent me was that, regardless of your brains or accomplishments, people will respond more favorably if you act weak and cry. You know, because you’re a girl.

You can contact Krista, the author of this post, at krista@nottheitgirls.com.