WGT: NYC

Dear Friends,

I apologize for the lack of postage, but alas I am in NYC, trying to create something out of my white girl tragedy. Wish me luck...

This is what I look like when I am in NYC

Love,

WGT

WGT: Send us your stories

Dear Fellow Protaganists,

If you have a gut-wrenching story of white girl plight. SEND that shit in.

Email tragicwhitegirl@gmail.com

WGT: The Recession

White girls are just not spending as much on clothing to the horror of Hollister... white girl tragedy.

Check out the article and cry white girl tears.
NYT

WGTriumph: A variation on the theme, a respite from tragedy.

Like Paul, I also attempted to partake in some post-xmas shopping yesterday, though I was headed not for JCrew, but for my all-time favorite shopping destination: The Salvation Army.

The trip started out without incident; I feverishly browsed the overstuffed racks, coated my hands in decades of gray dirt from the hangers (one of which snapped into two pieces as I tried in vain to detach it from the rack of clothes--a day in the hazardous life of a thrift-store shopper, I tell you), and eventually made my way to the counter to purchase my armload of goodies. I even got my favorite cashier--a young girl who doesn't speak much English and absolutely always charges me less than I expected to pay. (Why? I have no idea, but I don't ask questions...and I couldn't, anyway, because I am not conversational in Vietnamese.)

Yesterday was a day like every other; two dresses, two sweaters, and two skirts rang up for a grand total of $16.32. Pleased as punch, I left the store with my haul.

When I arrived home, however, I found that one of the dresses I had just purchased--my favorite one, a little blue silky dress with a sweet, Little Women-meets-Little House on the Prairie round collar, was missing from my bag! I looked everywhere,
but it was nowhere to be found--not in my bag, not in my sister's bag, not in my car--HORRORS! So, naturally, I drove back to the store to find it and, naturally (because it is a Salvation Army), the people working there had no idea what I was talking about or where the dress may have gone. They did offer me another discarded dress, however, that was also blue but happened to be approximately size 400 and covered with racing stripes. Luckily, I raced to the dress rack just in time to see an aged hipster picking it up and walking away with it. I cornered her by the children's t-shirts and very nicely explained the situation to her and, perhaps in a fit of holiday spirit or simple kindness, she gave it to me! SUCCESS! TRIUMPHANT WHITE GIRL SUCCESS!

WGT: Laundry Mishaps

Away from the hills of Hollywood, the white girl tragedy can still be heard in the rural landscape of Kentucky. Yesterday, I was going to partake in the WGT tradition of post Christmas shopping and what better friend to accompany me than my J.CREW crewneck lambswool chocolate sweater. 

(J.CREW doesn't have any Asian models; so this will have to do)

As I put on my favorite sweater... seriously favorite sweater, something wasn't right. Where was that perfect fit, the loose but still comfortably tight feeling that made me feel like a hero? The sweater finally enveloped my head and became a part of my very existence, and to my horror I realized the reality of the situation, my favorite sweater, the one that had been with me through thick and thin, the one who helped me become the WGT I am today... had been shrunken to perhaps the size of Husky Boy's Medium. 

WHY ME? I cried into the silent and uncaring closet. You never know how much you loved something until you lose it. I mean one day you are frolicking in the snow with your loved one... and the next day... he is only a shrunken shell of what he used to be... I guess this is just how life works... White Girl Tragedy

WGT: Diet Coke

What could be more American than guzzling down a fizzy cola whose color very nearly matches the toxic sludge that coats so many American rivers and streams? Why nothing, of course! Hence the popularity of Coca-Cola, revered the world over as America's drink. The only problem? It's fattening as fuck, hence another proud American tradition of obesity. Enter Diet Coke, the answer that answers the age old dilemma of how to express one's patriotism while at the same time maintaining that pretty little white girl waist. So, most good white girls of our generation have been guzzling the stuff for years, going back to when they were in diapers.

Who doesn't have pleasant memories of mama smacking a can of the regular stuff out of your hand and putting a shiny silver one its place, informing you that you would "thank her when you're older." (Oh you don't have this memory? Trade the regular Coke for a Swiss Roll and the Diet Coke for a carrot stick. Now is it making sense?) Only problem, mama was wrong. (Unlike with the whole buying the cow and free milk thing, that still holds.) Get this:

DIET COKE IS BAD FOR YOU!

It's loaded with chemicals, six hundred times sweeter than the regular stuff, and actually makes you crave sweets, meaning it can make you fat, which is perhaps the biggest (no pun intended) WGT of all. Not only that, but anecdotal white girl science demonstrates increased breakouts, accelerated drunkenness when used as a mixer, and (according to Paul) future infertility. So all that Diet Coke you so chicly chug throughout the day, smugly holding yourself above those who still drink the hard stuff actually endangers future generations of white girls (and subsequent WGTs). Read it and weep ladies. And put down the can (and if you're drinking it from a bottle, we've got bigger problems). If that's not enough to get you to stop, witness uber-WGT drink this stuff, and consider whether you're willing to let your little habit turn you into a fire-breathing, ultra-conversative Fox News hussy.

WGT: Happy Holidays

Have a White Girl Miracle this holiday season!

WGT: Teenage Pregnancy

The average age of women at first childbirth in the United States is 24.9 years of age, giving the white girl enough time to graduate university with an educated husband or with the sexual skills to snatch a husband in the real world. Then within the beautiful and sexy boundaries of legal marriage can the miracle of childbirth occur. Unfortunately, not all white girls follow this well-studied and scientifically proven life path, thus the tragedy of teenage pregnancy.

If you have seen the hit sensation Teen Mom on MTV, you have witnessed the tragedies of white girl teenage pregnancy. Instead of being a fountain of uncontainable joy, the baby becomes the concrete wall between the white girl and her party life. Oh no no no more attending house parties to meet your next football boytoy... you have a fun night of diapers and tears in your agenda. Thank the lord that the true victims of this arrangement, the babies, have pseudo-moms, their grandmothers in actuality, to truly take care of them. 

Babies taking care of babies... white girl tragedy.

WGT: The DUI

At the risk of being the "celeb gossip writer", I must add yet another socialite singer/actress/ model relevant white girl tragedy, the DUI.

We are told our entire lives that drinking and driving just don't mix. Do these celebutards not watch network television commercial breaks? You booze it, you looze it. Yet, despite these warnings, white girls love to booze it up and swerve it down. Even their mug shots/ model pix show no remorse.

I guess it is how you look at the glass, half empty or half... guzzled down PARTY. These white girls still manage to take drinking and driving and turn it into a career move. Let this be a lesson to the little ones... if you are a white girl, the DUI doesn't have to be a tragedy.

WGT: Fashion for the masses?

If you are an avid follower of fashion, a middle-class white girl, or a middle-aged woman in need of the newest household appliance from KitchenAid, chances are you have visited the hallowed aisles of a Target store in the past week. The woman in search of the perfect blender needs no explanation; the sudden rush of fashion-forward youth to Target may require a little illumination.

As you may know, Target strikes up these amazing (in theory) relationships with hip, young designers. As you were perusing September's ELLE magazine, your eyes may have fallen upon several images of delicate, lingerie-inspired dresses. "Holy mother of sassy lace slips," you may have exclaimed, "If only I could afford that new dress by Rodarte." Enter Target, and my ensuing White Girl Tragedy.

Rodarte is Target's newest designer to design a collection for the masses, and what does a white girl love more than two other white girls who are infinitely hipper than she could ever be? Check it:


These girls have everything--side bangs, sultry stares, and unparalleled access to headless mannequins swaddled in chiffon. Plus, their clothes are beautiful. [Cue White Girl Adoration.] Even more importantly, for their Target line, they have designed an amazing collection of hosiery--lacy tights, printed tights, polka-dot tights, OH MY!


With all of this excitement in my heart, I set out for Target on December 21st, the day after the Rodarte line showed up in the stores. This required me to drive for half an hour, in the rain, in pre-Christmas traffic, all the way to the store. Once there, I fought fiercely for a parking space in the sprawling Target lot--I stuck my tongue out at fellow drivers, stalked people to their parking spaces, and considered parking in the space reserved for returning shopping carts. Alas, my quest for a spot was thwarted, and I was forced to park in the adjoining Petco lot (preliminary assault to my dignity and precursor to the WGT extraordinaire).

Once parked, I ran into the store, body-checked old ladies with carts full of toys for their grandchildren, trampled the toes of said grandchildren, and ultimately arrived, panting and flustered, at the aisle I had dreamt of: the hosiery aisle. But wait, I thought, I didn't come here for argyle dress socks! I don't want control top pantyhose!! WHERE ARE THE DOTTED SWISS TIGHTS BY RODARTE?

Nowhere, I will tell you. The tights of my dreams, the tights I had potentially and unintentionally assaulted unsuspecting shoppers for, were not being sold at this particular Target location.

Shoulders hunched, sniffing back tears of frustration and disappointment, I skulked from the store, without even a bag of pita chips from Target's Market Pantry or a new effing blender to show for my efforts. White Girl Tragedy.

WGT: Long Island Iced Tea...

Few things are more refreshing than iced tea on a hot summer's day. Just ask any white girl and she will tell you that when the temperature reaches above 80, it's the the first thing she reaches for, whether it's a Teak's (if you're from the South), Honestea (if you're a vegan), or Diet Snapple (if you're...wait no one drinks Snapple anymore ever since the fired that sassy lady who was in all the commercials). Similarly, few things bring more joy, laughter, and general enjoyment into the world than hard alcohol.

So combining the two should bring white girls and people everywhere joy right? Wrong. The truth is many a white girl tragedy starts (and ends) with one of these harmless little cocktails, the desire to dance one's white girl ass off, and the general belief that one will go home alone at a reasonable hour. But the Long Island has something else in store for you. Best case scenario: you dance on a table and wake up with a killer hangover and no knowledge of where your cell phone is. Worst case (and more likely) scenario: you dance on a table, a mysterious stranger tells you you have nice eyes, offers to walk you home, and you wake up the next morning next to said mysterious stranger who turns out to be not so pretty (think: male butterface in the harsh light of sunday morning) ,sans cellphone, and with an even worse hangover, that of regret. So next time you think sloshing down one of these delicious suckers can only lead to good things, think again. Or, if you're still not dissuaded, create your own white girl tragedy by making one:

Ingredients:

• 1/2 oz triple sec
• 1/2 oz light rum
• 1/2 oz gin
• 1/2 oz vodka
• 1/2 oz tequila
• 1 oz sour mix
• cola
• lemon wedge for garnish

Preparation:

1. Pour the spirits and sour mix into a collins glass with ice.
2. Stir well or shake.
3. Top the glass off with cola.
4. Garnish with the lemon wedge.

WGT: Butterface

BUTTER FACE

Muh Muh Muh Muh My Butterface

Nothing is more tragic to the white girl than the BUTTERFACE. You got the credit cards, the car, and the body... but your face is just fugly.

Just ask Lady Gaga. She has everything going for her, dance moves, her vocals are on fire, and a rockin, rockin bod. Too bad her face sucks. Luckily, she has found unique ways to draw attention away from her face and to more attractive parts of her life, like her leather inventory. Even when she cannot find a distracting object to throw on her face, there is no need to fear. She just shakes her hands in front of her face until you think about Fergie.... who hasn't found ways to cover that shitshow

....White Girl Tragedy