Pretty Girls, Party Girls, Petty Girls

Pretty girls tend to tan too much. I realize that my PIC picture makes me look like I roast in a bed three times a week, but I really only go twice a month. The pretty girls I'm talking about are the addicts who go daily and pluck their eyebrows so much it looks like they were drawn on by a colored pencil in a semi-circle formation. Did I say pretty? I mean pretty to draw on.

Party girls. There are several kinds of party girls. Those who work hard and play hard, and those who work as little as possible and play it to the max. And then there's the Paris Hilton type who I'm sure hasn't been to more that six classes since her freshman year, and can always be found at a party on weekdays and a club opening on weekends. While the Paris Hilton types are few and far between, there are petty girls out there who believe that every party girl gets crap for grades and never studies. And if that were true, then Paris Hilton wouldn't have been able to write that book of hers; evidently she can read which implies that at some point she did attend junior high.

In the party girl's defense (to the petty girls out there), party girls wouldn't be getting into the best clubs, never having to wait for drinks, and never having to pay for drinks if it weren't for their networking skills which have elevated them to the "never have to pay for anything status." So while they may not know anything about how the DNA components AT and GC work together, they also aren't the ones waiting outside of the club in a long line for two hours like the over-studious broads are (and who later will claim that the club is lame because they never got in).

And right now I realize that I am being petty. I know that party girls tend to pair themselves up with the smart girls in class to ensure a better grade, but don't worry about it because they will drop the class by the end of the semester and move to LA to go play with Lindsay Lohan anyway.

I've seen some friends of party girls turn on them. They claim they don't want to get the "party all the time reputation," but let me tell you something about these girls: they're just as sloppy drunk and slutty because party girls know not to sleep with anyone to keep up the illusion of the possibility. So while the petty girls are out banging the teamsters and roadies—or if you've lucked out, a back up dancer—party girls are carrying VIP passes and hanging with Bon Jovi backstage. I've seen it happen. I've lived it vicariously through my childhood best friend's sister. That's why it's Bon Jovi and not P. Diddy, I'm working with a ten year generation gap here.

You know what else pisses me off? Ghetto party girls who use way to much hair gel from the dollar store and still put their hair up in cornrows...which is just soooo 1999. These party girls declare that their man is their property by using what I like to call the ghetto homegirl method. It occurs frequently at sketchy house parties in the city, and is usually released in a misunderstanding. Once my friend Ellie had to pee and asked this guy where the bathroom was in this monstrous wreckage of a house, complete with roosters made for cock-fighting in the backyard. This one pasty white cornrowed girl propelled herself from across the room and into Ellie's face. She started getting all up in her shit, tossing around slang language and over-animated drag queen signature moves commonly seen on the Springer show trying to pick a fight. And all that was needed was a place to pee. Which was done later deliberately all over her bathroom floor. Talk hard, play hard bitch.

Petty girls love this kind of drama. They thrive off it. Even though they will be the first to admit that they want nothing to do with the drama, you will find that they are always the central characters in a relaxed situation that turns into a tornado-esque disaster. Petty girls have the ability to take a small, simple problem and turn it into this giant complication that gets dragged out for the entire semester. You know the type of girl. Every time you see her she's dealing with her entire world collapsing on top of her. You and her could have the same midterm and she'll be crying over a combination of its difficulty and...I don't know, her dinner plans being pushed back a full thirty minutes. And everyone comes around to comfort and sympathize with her when really all they really want to do is scream "Shut the fuck up! You're not the only one with problems lady! Pop a caffeine pill like the rest of us you fucking twat!" Petty girls believe that their lives reflect poorly-made soap operas like Passions or Beverly Hills 9021-drama, when really it's more like a documentary of selfishness and whining. The only documentary I want to see these girls in is Supersize Me—because then they'd actually have something to complain about.

Petty girls are the girls on my floor who complain about the noise level coming from our room, but won't listen to a word I'm saying when I complain about their compulsive need to stink up our floor with their curry-loving cooking. So realistically we're both pretty petty. Because I won't stop having people over, and they won't stop eating.