Litterboxx Podcast: Episode 5


We’ve been busy listening to rock music, sewing perfect Halloween costumes, creepin at ComiCon and finding that perfect fall babe to keep us warm at night. Luckily for us and you, we have loads of great stories to talk about! In episode 5 we talk about what has conspired over the last few weeks. Between monumental sexual triumphs, ComiCon and the High Times Anniversary party, amazing shows we saw from King Diamond and Suicide Silence, to such classy questions as “is an asshole nude shot necessary?” – we go in and we go hard. We also address some proper lady shit like aggressively insecure women, keeping up your grooming up and other hilarious tidbits.

Excited to finally be on iTunes and Stitcher, listen to us there and subscribe!

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My bitch is my money, money is my bitch


When you’re a kid, possibilities seem endless. You can travel the world, work the coolest jobs and live in dopest spot all with seemingly endless financial resources. I’ll be transparent – this dream always seemed far fetched to me since I grew up in a very humble home. My mom was a single parent and almost everything I have I have worked for myself. I can remember hitting 12 and being stoked that I could babysit for cash. Eventually I got to high school and worked my way through school. Junior year I worked 3 part time jobs, in addition to going to school full time and making honor roll, to save up for a car. That immigrant ambition was strong with me. Throughout college I struggled to work full time, plot out a career, make enough money to pay for school and be in a band. It’s amazing how much raw, determined energy you have in your youth. Energy is endless and money just seems like fuel to the fire of fun, nothing to serious but you’re accustomed to being blissfully broke. Some people I knew grew up rich and had this endless stream of loot coming in, giving them the ability to do as they pleased. I never knew that luxury and there isn’t one day that passes that I don’t think about what my life would have been like had I grown up rich. I worked those 3 jobs in high school to pay for my shitty ass first car, which at the time, seemed like the biggest investment on Earth. As crappy as it was, I prided on the fact that it was paid for with money I earned from my blood, sweat and tears (and very little sleep). As they say, people from money make money. This is probably due to the fact that they don’t have to break their back for every single thing like the rest of us. Can’t you tell, I’m not bitter. Not at all…

Money is everyone’s dirty little secret. I’ve seen it destroy lives, trust, friendships and even families. It’s ironic that the more you make, the more you “need.” This year I lost a job and a huge chunk of my income. Within that time, I also decided to move to Brooklyn which in comparison to Jersey City was a 1/3rd more in rent. So many expenses, so little time, energy and resources to balance it out. Now, everyone falls on hard times and you either prep the noose or put it all into perspective. I chose to take this as incentive to find other ways to make extra loot. It also made me realize how little I saved away when I was making a ton of cash. Someone recently asked me what my biggest regret of my 20′s was and without a doubt it was mismanaging my money. I could have saved a small fortune and instead I spent it on booze, good times (few of which I regret by the way), clothes that I never wore or have already thrown out, food I could have cooked and a plethora of other unnecessary vices. At almost 31, it burns me to think about my irresponsibility in that area. But then again, who would I have fell back on for money? My family is not rich, my career has unpredictable pay and my pride is way too high to ask anyone for money. This isn’t just my story, this is the story of many working class folks I have had the pleasure of working with over the years. We grind, we don’t complain and we have too much pride to not take financial freedom seriously.

It never once crossed my mind to have my parents exclusively pay for anything in my life without payback. Not to say people who have that ability are wrong or weak, but there is something to be said about learning how to stand on your own. My parents have always been willing to financially help me when I’m in need but it’s an extreme occasion that I will even ask for help. Times can get hard fast. People get sick, accidents happen, breakups occur and your financial well being can be compromised in a minute. It snuck up so hard on me in my early 20′s when I was living way beyond my means in order to be independent. My pride accelerated the need to be financially autonomous and it got me into some big trouble. Things got so bad that eventually I went bankrupt. Yep, chapter 11 at 23. Here I am 8 years later and it’s almost mind blowing that I’ve lived without a credit for so long but it’s a better world without it. I’ve finally decided to get a card again to rebuild because in America, you’re nothing without credit. The promise of potential money is too great and the gains for others too imminent. Either way having more money, utilizing it correctly and thinking about the future can prevent you a lot of pain years later. Now, all I need to do is marry rich and I’ll be set for life :)

- @zeenakoda

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Welcome to the Friend Zone

This is probably the corniest meme ever.

I never thought at 30, approaching 31, it would be possible to end up in the friend zone with someone who wasn’t a biz associate, fellow musician or currently married member of the opposite sex. As someone who has worked with men throughout my career, been in several bands with a wide variety of dudes and had many male buddies over the years – I know the TRUE friend zone. The funny thing about the force field that is the friend zone is you usually can sniff it out immediately. For most women one hangout can lead us to the conclusion, but every now and then one sneaks in to confuse. It’s not always physical attraction that seals the deal, or even common goals and interests. Sometimes, it boils down to two people who enjoy each others company, catching each other at the right time. I went through a situation where there was a such a strong spiritual connection with a friend of the opposite sex, that it became romantic to me over time. The romance never blossomed to much more but until this day it remains one of the realest feelings I’ve had for another in my adult life sans sex. It constantly fucks with me inside because that connection is almost irreplaceable through adult eyes. The dissolution of that dream murdered me inside. That was the moment it clicked to me inside that a working relationship, one based off of a strong affinity and friendship, was my dream companion in my adult life. Passion is great but without a backbone it fizzles hard. Can’t laugh at my jokes (which there are many of) – I can’t get down with it. Laughter and friendship are strong aphrodisiacs, without that you’re just another hot dick to me and the devil knows, I’ve seen some of the hottest out there.

Ironically, I’m learning as I get older my definition of friend and romantic partner gets muddier and muddier. I used to ride hard on the idea of “love” and falling in love. That intoxicating feeling of wanting someone who equally wants you back. I’ve written many a song about love and the extreme pain I felt from losing it and each time I’ve meant it with all my heart. Yesterday I saw a Tweet from Amber Rose (Wiz Khalifa’s soon to be ex-wife if you didn’t already know…and babe of the century) that literally broke my heart. Check it out:


Emo, yes. But let’s be real, we’ve all felt this way and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I haven’t woken up some days after a breakup or fallout wanting to hang myself from a shower rod. I imagine adding a kid into that equation and literally my heart hurts FOR HER. Life is hard, really fucking hard. No amount of “love” can make up for a dysfunctional family situation. When kids are involved your actions reach far beyond YOU, it becomes an US. Love, the feeling and loss, can drive you to madness. It’s ironic that one of the most important things we need in our life can also bring us so far down. That intensity is something that we as humans thrive on but in family and reality, I’m beginning to think it may not be a positive thing. Your love, needs friendship and support and vice versa.

Don’t rule out the friend zone every time, you never know what lane it can take you into for the future.

- @zeenakoda

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I Wanna Be a Figment of My Own Imagination When I Grow Up…No, I Don’t

Post It
The internet is a funny place. People can frivolously post their dreams like “I’m gonna be a [insert whatever here],” or “I’m gonna go [insert far away place here]” and really don’t feel like they have to actually go out and accomplish any of what they’re saying. There seems to be a serious misconception that you can just throw things out into the universe via social media and that you don’t really have to put the actual work into making these things happen. Even more disturbing is the idea that validation for an incomplete thought is good enough. After all, why bother actually going out and chasing your dreams when you can sit behind a computer screen, spew nonsense, and still receive some kind of affirmation from strangers that you would receive if you actually went out and did these things?

Everyone is so self-centered and can barely remember what they themselves have posted on the internet, let alone what other people have posted. The odds of someone approaching you and saying, “Hey, didn’t I read on Facebook last year that you were moving to LA?” is so unlikely that the gamble is worth it. As long as people believe that you have some kind of ambition and don’t question the legitimacy of your musings, all is well!

I’ve also noticed an influx of people who will pursue a dream and will declare themselves successful during the most embryonic stages of their latest pursuit. It borderlines delusional how people can so easily identify with a new enterprise before they have actually contributed anything tangible to it or have even decided if they truly care about this endeavor.Like, “Oh, I’m a baker now because I baked cupcakes once and they were really good” or “Oh, I’m a photographer now because I took pictures and people liked them.” I’m not talking about people who try new things and then decide they don’t like them because everyone should always try new things and independently decide if they want to continue doing them. I am talking about the people who will sign up for a class or put money into a hobby and then will promptly label themselves as if they are pros at a craft (ie: calling themselves “musicians” when they bought a guitar, but never wrote/played any music), but then will give up the second shit gets real because they don’t wanna put in the work. They just want the reward without taking the risk!


I’m sorry to inform you that you actually have to put the same work in as everyone else in that field in order to receive the same credit. Success doesn’t come overnight and it takes persistently hard work and dedication. Just because you did something for 6 days or 6 months, doesn’t mean you are on the same level of people who put in years of doing what you attempted. It’s like if an intern in radio approached me and told me that they are a producer. I had to eat mountains of shit on a daily basis for YEARS to get to where I am. You cannot compare yourself to me if you are just a beginner because it’s not only insulting, but it’s completely wrong. And I am not shitting on beginners either because everyone starts somewhere. But please, know your place. Also, if you are giving up just as quickly as you claim to have “committed” to something, you will never be taken seriously. You just look lost and flaky. There is a reason why employers prefer shorter resumes; Something looks seriously amiss when you have been a singer, dancer, wedding planner, baker, candlestick maker, pianist, model, circus sideshow, dog whisperer, professional ditch digger, and international spy all in less than 2 years.

I have a lot of questions. Like, why doesn’t anyone want to actually become something other than a figment of their own imagination? How can anyone find contentment in validation when they are being patronized for having an ill-conceived notion that they shared with the click of a button? Why do people truly believe that being mediocre at multiple things is equivalent or greater than being excellent at one thing? But more importantly, why is this kind of behavior pacified and accepted? How is this allowed?

I guess in a way, I do understand it. No one wants to actually go the distance because working hard is hard work and it sucks. It fucking SUCKS to struggle everyday and to sacrifice personal comfort for a dream that might not even pan out. Unless you’re content with plateauing, it’s only going to get harder to climb higher. It hurts almost every step of the way to accomplish something so I can understand why fantasy is so much easier than reality. I have found myself often thinking that I want to just quit everything and become a gold digging trophy wife who never has to work or have a real dream again, but at the end of the day, even if I fail, at least I know I worked my ass off and THAT is something I am proud of.

- @MercyfulKate


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#TinderellaTales: That Awkward Moment…When You’re Sitting Between Two Of Your Tinder Dudes

If you read my latest and first #TinderTale on here and you’re wondering whether I’ve messaged “Yuri,” the answer is no. And if you haven’t read the story I advise you to…for shits and giggles, but mostly giggles.

Post swiping right on a man named Yuri on Tinder, I swiped far many more; some for the hell of it and others with “genuine” interest. I’m not kidding when I tell you that, at one point, I became so bored I swiped about 15 anonymous men in approval. Boy was that a mistake…but that’s another story.

Because Tinder generates contenders based on your location and Facebook account I came across a few men I knew, in real life. It was a little creepy, so I swiped them left—all except one, we’ll call him “Bobby” for privacy purposes. I right swiped Bobby and immediately was notified he’d done the same.

He started the conversation with a “wassup love,” and followed up with a “lol what are you doing here?” I notified him of my “research purposes,” but something tells me he wasn’t buying it. I didn’t care. We continued the conversation via Tinder for a few more days before moving it over to actual cellular devices. Unbeknownst to us we’d already had each others mobile numbers, from years ago. This wasn’t weird at all.

We talked and texted for a few more weeks as that was all our busy schedules allowed and I was cool with it. The conversation was decent and I was beginning to wonder why we’d never really communicated much after all these years.

Meanwhile, in the rest of my Tinder inbox rested messages from Rayner, Jarrid, Kori, Josh and Jordan—most unanswered. Jordan on the other hand provoked slight conversation for no particular reason. Maybe it was his interest in my well being instead of using another cheesy Tinder pickup line (we’ll talk about those gems another day). I communicated with Jordan for a series of days, maybe a couple of weeks even, never permitting the exchange of phone numbers. Come on, my research wasn’t THAT extensive. Despite his persistent efforts to hang out I just wasn’t interested in making time for him. Bobby, on the other hand, finally had a free day that synced with mine.



One of Bobby’s friends was celebrating their birthday at a pretty dope eatery in LES. He requested I attend the event and I gladly accepted. We showed up to dinner together and I was introduced to the first batch of friends who’d arrived before us. Drinks were served and orders were taken shortly after with a few menus left behind for those who hadn’t arrived yet. Midway through my glass of Pinot Noir, while I giggled at something stupid Bobby said, I noticed a familiar face grace the table after saying his hellos and ‘happy birthdays’ to the man of the hour. To my surprise, It was Jordan from Tinder.

To be continued….

xo, bitches

Twitter: @kymmiceelive

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Food for THOT: Double check for that wedding ring

WE ALL WANNA MARRY A BABE…who will keep that ring on.

There comes a point in life where you unwillingly need to recognize that those around you may be married or have been married. Somewhere around your mid 20′s, the usual jovial, flirty interactions turn much more dangerous due to the amount of possibly married recipients. I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment when I realized that it was entirely possible that every dude I was interested was could be married, whether happily or unhappily, but when it clicked, it clicked. One night, a good friend and I were at a party filled with douchey doctors who fit the “all American husband” profile to the T. As a reformed hood rat who frequently dated Hispanic and Latin men who have had run-ins with the law and fidelity issues from puberty, I always envisioned rich white dudes of that ilk to be pure, chaste and trustworthy. There was one doctor in particular whom I knew was married, that on multiple occasions was liable to “forget” to wear his ring – especially if there were women present. SIDE NOTE: I once saw a transgender hit on him and he, gobble it up – in his defense, I’ve watched her manipulate and fool many dudes Mauricia Rodriguez style. Throughout this party, my friend and I kept making bets that his ring would not be on and once it came into plain view she became furious and declared, “that d bag doesn’t have the ring on.” This was the kind of guy you’d see in the Pier One stock picture frame and I can only imagine his wife fits the bill. On the DL he was king asshole and it reminded me that the ring to MOST, is a sign of that fidelity.

To some, fidelity is a joke. To others, it’s a make or break. As someone who has both experienced the positives and negatives of long-term commitment I can attest that sometimes in the thick of things you lose all sight of reality. Isn’t it a bitch that everyone spends their lives looking for that grand love, only to eventually call it a burden and detriment. No matter how reciprocated a marriage may be, we will inevitably take it for granted somewhere along the line. Plenty of great marriages have been though tough times and I’m the kinda dame who can appreciate overcoming obstacles. There is one shining beacon of fidelity and trust that is bound to those involved – the wedding ring and engagement. Somehow this mini mortgage snagging on to your finger is symbolic of your “taken” status. When you’re cuffed, it’s on display for everyone else to see and evaluate if they are up for the challenge of approaching you. Bitch, you mine. Isn’t it ironic though that for am engagement period the woman takes the heat, wearing the ring, while the man gets to gallivant for a time period before shackle free. Ah, the cruel inequality of historical commitment symbols. More time for the men to do them without the bat signal shunning hens away. Meanwhile, the woman sits and waits for her “dream day” which really means the last days she can sneak a peek at another quality dick without that pesky gilt. God bless that symbol of nothing and everything. One thing is does tell you when attached to the hand of a handsome man – you’re looking for trouble.

Is the trouble worth it? Fuck no. I don’t want that karmic negativity on my back and what comes around goes around. The ring will not stop a genuine cheater too. It’s not some magical force field that pulverizes competition. Everything holds as much weight as the emotion and intent behind it. We all do bad things with good versions of ourselves.

Always check for the band. It’s just sloppy form to ignore the major signs. Nothing worse than chippin away at a prospect only to reveal the chains too late. Plenty of uncuffed fish in sea.

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#TinderellaTales: Asshurt basic dudes with no eitqutte

I’m a fan of physical, contact sports and recently realized I want to dive into more concentrations, including Jiu Jitsu. Whenever I see someone on Tinder involved in sports or fighting, I’m apt to take a look because let’s face it – I’m a dude inside and love athleticism. In that spirit, I decided to LIKE a hella basic dude to chat about music and fighting, super casual conversation that I THOUGHT would be informative and fun to pass the time. Not saying basic dudes aren’t amazing too because let me say this, I love me a working class man who takes care of himself, but I wasn’t even attracted to him AT ALL. Lets be real here – no one on Tinder has an obligation to maintain contact unless they WANT to and being an asshurt bitch looks pathetic. Here’s how this interaction went down…

Aight, dude likes good music and hardcore + sports, could be great convo…


Chat for a bit, then I get bored because he’s trying to move to text way too quick when I was barely interested in the first place. In his defense, dude offers me an extra ticket to a Senses Fail show, but because I haven’t cared about them since 2005 – I’m uninterested but let him know I wasn’t down. Basic proceeds to call me a bitch.


Me being the bitch I am, can’t let this slide by without ribbing him. He’s such a tough guy, fighter after all right?


The worst feeling is when you get attitude from someone you would never even fuck with in real life, nonetheless let speak to you with such poor etiquette. 100% a BOY not a MAN.


Calling me a cunt, shietttt, I LIVE FOR THAT TITLE BABY.


Class act. This concludes today’s edition of “why you’re not getting laid.” Dudes, don’t be this guy. No one thinks this is cute and being a dick, is pathetic.

Dudes like this, give men a bad name. Do better for your sex men.

- Queen Cunt, aka Zeena

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#TinderellaTales: You’re Just Too Young For Me, Bruh

Right now, everyone is all about internet dating (or internet anything, even) and topics like OKCupid, Plenty of Fish, and Tinder are bound to come up casually in any discussion. Unlike most of my friends, I was a late bloomer and skipped right past the days of OKCupid and only recently tried my hand in internet dating through Tinder (which I hate and only use it sporadically until I remember how much I hate it again…but that’s a different story for another time).

As soon as I figured the logistics of Tinder out, I changed my age criteria to 27-55 and searched for men only at first. I frequently messed with my settings and didn’t often search for men and women at the same time because I didn’t mind girls between 20-40. I did, however, want older men. Eventually, 30-55 became my default setting for men. (I am speaking in the past tense because I have disabled Tinder for the 800th time, but will likely be back again for “research purposes.”)

That being said, I have been asked a few times by some of my male peers if I use the app. Each person who asked expressed the same surprise that they haven’t come across my account yet. To these people, I respond with the same truth, “We won’t come across each other because you’re too young for my age criteria.”

Some guys accept this response, but for the most part, particularly in the case of guys who are a few years older than I am, they express a lot of confusion. “What do you mean I’m not old enough for you? You’re younger than I am!”

Obviously, there is some blatant irony in the idea of me calling anyone “too young.” After all, I’ve spent the past decade of my life as a well-practiced Lolita (WHOOPS), but in a way my age qualms seem hardly hypocritical when you put it into perspective. I’ve always dated older men. In my teens, I dated men in their twenties and in their defense, I lied grotesquely about my age. Through natural progression and personal growth, it makes sense that I should be dating men well beyond their twenties now.

I could actually go on and on about why I believe I connect with people older than myself. I can humbly brag about how I have my life together more so than the majority of my peers. I can give comparative examples of how differently aged dudes reacted to like situations. I can talk about my old friends and how although they were in their mid to late twenties, they were all mentally between the ages of 16 and 17. But honestly, the truth is…
Older dudes just fuck better.

Twitter: @mercyfulkate

My prom date was old enough to legally rent a car in the state of NY.  I was only 17
My prom date was old enough to legally rent a car in the state of NY. I was only 17

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Litterboxx Podcast: Episode 4


On this edition of The Litterboxx we pay our respects to the queen bitch, Joan Rivers. We also real talk about poor usage of social media, experiences with altered states of mind, using Tinder for hilarious purposes, who we’d do a sex tape with and so much more.

Listen in. We’re still waiting for iTunes to give us some approval to enter their world…this would never happen under Jobs, never! We’re finally active on all social media platforms as well so give us a like/follow.

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#TinderellaTales: Introducing Kymmi, Popping your Tinder cherry & the thrill of the case

photo 1

Introducing our newest Tinderella babe contributor, Kymmi Cee

Bad breakups call for desperate measures. In fact, bad breakups are the reason women chop all their hair off…but we’ll save that story for another day.

I held onto a fling for far too long, only ending it when I realized that furthering it could make things uglier than what they already were. But what does ugly even mean when “love” is present? Needless to say, because it was a “situationship” and not a relationship I didn’t cut my hair, instead I joined Tinder. I was slightly fascinated by the concept of “online dating” without having to create an elaborate profile detailing my hobbies, physique and preference in men. Because, let’s be honest who doesn’t veer away from their personal “preference” every so often. I’m convinced those who don’t veer off now and then live their lives full of vanilla sex, and let’s be real vanilla sex sucks. Shame on you vanilla having sexers. My hobbies are also probably slightly uninteresting to the basic dude because in my spare time I rather be flipping upside down into weird yoga inversions and reading books than basic shit, but that’s a whole other story…

At the time I had recently read an article that mentioned online dating profile pictures. Apparently men with fitted suits received more inquiries than men with off-the-rack suits that weren’t necessarily tailored to their stock. I became intrigued by what my profile picture could attract and started my “research.” I chose a snazzy headshot, which was later switched out to an even snazzier full body shot from a photo-shoot that revealed the curve on the backside, if ya catch my drift. Check it above, this was the money maker for sure.

In the sea of candidates, I swiped left time and time again. As quickly as I’d been excited I started to become bored until…BINGO, BABE CITY. His name was Yuri. His profile photo, a headshot, revealed he was capable of growing a beard and you know, bitches love beards. He wore a sleeveless YEEZUS shirt that unveiled tattoos all on his arms, I dug that. He was 27, ok. I observed the rest of the photos to ensure I wasn’t being fooled by “good picture” of him, they lined up – we’re clear.

photo 2

His bio read “creative director” and I like creative shit so I figured we were a match made in Tinder heaven. I swiped right and immediately received Tinder’s “It’s a match” notification telling me Yuri had swiped right too. I mean duh, like I didn’t see that one coming, you always have a hint of who will match you. If you’re a native of Tinderland you’re aware that after being matched the objective is to speak to one another through a chat bubble on a separate screen. If you’re familiar with socializing at all, you know someone’s gotta start the conversation for one to happen. While the idea of “online dating” excited me ever so slightly, I still wasn’t convinced I wanted to totally take part and didn’t message Yuri. After all, isn’t the dude supposed to initiate?

Five months later, as I revisit my Tinder app I look back on Yuri’s profile and realize that he too, never messaged me. Tinder fail? Maybe, but as I stare at the empty conversation bubble I’m tempted to say hello and if I do that will be yet again, another story. I just wish his profile included his height…because height my friends, is a very important X factor.

xo, bitches

Twitter: @kymmiceelive

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