You know who Bex Schwartz is. She’s that girl from those I Love The Insert-Decade-Here shows who wore the star necklace and shiny eyeshadow. She had a nasally-yet-lackadaisical way of speaking that made her sound like a Jappy stoner, and she usually made wry observations without coming off like Hal Sparks, who seemed like he’d jump around the studio going “amirite?” after every take.
That’s her. Blurry, but her. With the star necklace.
Bex and VH1 have a thing, it seems, as she’s currently a writer on “Why Am I Still Single?” in addition to some commercial and (I assume) web stuff. And she has a Tumblr, which is how I know she still exists, although it’s nowhere near as good as her previous commentary. Perhaps she’s moved from being a competent writer to being a sometimes talking head, which is not a terrible thing to be. She’s making money off of it, I’m sure. And she still writes, both for personal reasons (her blog) and for outlets such as Rolling Stone (where she’s been recapping The Walking Dead). So if not a competent writer, Bex Schwartz is still a writer, and that’s usually more than I can say for myself.
I haven’t read much of her Walking Dead recaps for a few reasons. One reason is that I love the show. I love it so much that I don’t really care what anyone else thinks of it. Another reason is that I don’t read recaps in general. Not because the recappers don’t know anything (although some of them don’t), but because behind the recap is the comments, and if it’s not a comment on something I wrote – and sometimes not even then – I do not read Internet comments. Reading Internet comments is like beating yourself over the head with the stupidity bat. Nobody can spell or use apostrophes and everyone is a shouting racist asshole who read a fragment of an article once and therefore knows everything about everything, ever. The third reason I don’t read Bex Schwartz’s recaps of The Walking Dead is because her writing kind of sucks, and unlike a lot of Internet users, I see little point in wallowing in misery when I can help it.
She wants to know why the Rolling Stone commenters hate her. Actually, she asked “why do the rolling stone commenters hate meeeeeeee?”. Le sigh. You want to know why they hate you, Bex? I’ll tell you why they hate you.
They hate you because you’re over 30 and you write like an 11-year-old. Your rambling, incoherent style is not unlike the way my nephew tells stories after he’s consumed an economy-sized bag of Fun Dip. You seem to think that punctuation is optional, you manage to use words like “bonking” and “humping” without being at all funny, and have tried to invent “crazytalk” as an adjective. And when you want to explain that someone said something, you say “is like,” as in “Erin is like ‘this is fucking awful’ and then never read any recaps again.” This is fine if you’re doing it on your personal blog (where you sound like Adderall took OMG to the amusement park and they had a deformed baby on the Tilt-A-Whirl), but not in Rolling Stone. Christ, woman, you are better than that. Write like an adult.
Like I said, I thought that some of Bex Schwartz’s contributions to VH1 were witty and befitting a grownup woman who was a little irreverent. But when that grownup woman starts writing like a she’s having a puberty flashback (it’s like PTSD, except you have less dependable periods), she sounds less like a grownup and more like a guest on the Maury show who keeps screaming at her mother than 13 is plenty old enough to have a baby.
While I don’t always agree with Julie Klausner (she hates The Walking Dead and Tom Waits because those are apparently man things, howdarethatbitch), I agree completely with the following from her entry titled Don’t Fear the Dowager:
“…adult women are acting more and more like little girls, and it’s really starting to get on my nerves. There’s so much ukulele playing now, it’s deafening. So much cotton candy, so many bunny rabbits and whoopie pies and craft fairs and kitten ephemera, and grown women wearing converse sneakers with mini skirts. So many fucking birds…Women with master’s degrees who are searching for life partners, list “rainbows, Girl Scout cookies, and laughing a lot” under interests, on their Match.com profiles. When I shop now, I have to make sure that garments I think are dresses, are not actually rompers.”
Seriously, women, act your fucking ages. Act like you have jobs and pay rent and can read important books. Be smart. Be verbose. There’s no need to put a verbal question mark at the end of every sentence. Don’t be so fucking twee all the time because you’re not doing it to experience, as Klausner says, the “cliqueishness, and female friendship, and the Romy & Michelle’ness of gal-pal fun times…these manic pixie Muppet Babies are really just in it for the peen.”
Is this what dudes like? Women who look out from underneath their bangs and stand adorably pigeon-toed in the face of real life concerns like negotiating loans and home repairs? Or is it an either/or situation, where if I find myself single again I have to choose between Zooey Deschanel and whoever does lots of porn these days? It seems like another way to keep women down, only this time the ploy was made cute and women are falling for it like crazy.
Er, sorry. Crazytalk. Women are falling for it like crazytalk.