Tomorrow marks exactly one year and one month since I've been unemployed. Or in parents-with-toddler terms, tomorrow my unemployment is thirteen months old.
As you can imagine, I've gone absolutely insane. Beyond being completely, disgustingly broke, I am also completely painfully bored. So when I'm not watching the Food Network or drinking myself stupid, I'm obviously applying for jobs and sending out resumes.
Today, I applied for a barista job and it was one of many applications that made me think and made me angry. And made me angry for making me think.
I don't mind a job application that makes me think. Questions I know I won't have to answer in the interview cause it's already on the ridiculously long application are questions I don't mind having a little bit of time to answer.
That being said, I'm really tired of the "Why do you want to work here?" question..
Because honestly, I don't want to work there. I just want to work. I need employment. Period. I actually said that in a job interview recently. Not as bluntly, but I was in a mood and I couldn't resist the honesty. I don't want your job. In fact, I would never set foot in your store on any ordinary occasion. But I need your job. But thank you for reminding me that I'm at your mercy.
EDITOR'S NOTE: I actually would love to work for any place I've interviewed for. Not because this is the worst thing an employer could find, but because I don't accept interviews for jobs I don't want.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Ketchup
I'm the first to admit I've been quite lazy here and for that I apologize.
There. I said it. No more apologies. Moving forward.
I thought since I will be putting up a similar video on my YouTube Channel in just a little while, I would play a little bit of catch up with whatever reads my blog.
I made my last post very public and therefore, I have no idea who actually reads this now. This is great and also borderline terrifying. I've always utilised this blog as sort of a private-from-my-real-life-folks diary. So, if you have gone back and seen something written that might have been about you, it probably was and you're going to have to deal with the fact that I was naive enough to believe that you would never read it.
Anywho, so a lot has developed over the summer I guess. Through many sweaty, garbage-scented nights and many sunny, cool daytime adventures, I had to ultimately make a very difficult decision; to break up with New York City. But not like one of those breakups where you're really bitter and you just want your shit back so you can move on and hatefuck another city in its place. It was a very amicable split.
It took a lot of struggle and a lot of introspection to realize that as much as I still adore NYC and the people in it, that I had sort of outgrown what it has always had to offer me. The truth of the matter is that New York is where I ran to when things weren't the best in my life. New York was a net that caught me when everything else fucked me over. I was happy there once, though. But in our time apart I had romanticized what I thought we had in my head and lost the reality of what that city means to me. I will visit whenever I can, but my heart is somewhere else.
Shockingly, my heart is in the one place I've been determined to prove that it is not. The one place I swore I hated and I wanted to hate. The one place full of people I love and places I love with opportunities at every door for me. Ill-i-fucking-nois. Who knew?
So the long and the short of it is that I'm moving back to Chicago. I'm in limbo at the moment and I think you learn from and grow the most from being stuck in limbo. So I'm trying to take this time for me. For my brain to reset. To get back to where I was before I left. To find stability. To enjoy that stability and keep my career on a most excellent trajectory. To be open to whatever the hell it is life has for me next.
All that aside, I had a pretty good summer. I saw a lot, I did a lot and I had a blast. I ate some excellent food and became a Food Network junkie. I was on Beat Bobby Flay and a movie that's coming out next year. I reconnected with old friends and made some new friends.
I ate at Alex Guarnaschelli's BUTTER the night before I left with two very dear friends. A month or so before I left NY, I developed a very serious adoration for Alex that still holds now. Here's a little snippet of our night at Butter.
The day after these photos were taken, I made the long, long journey back to Chicago. It was an exhaustive day of travel that began at 6am and didn't end until around 6pm. Somehow I made it home and spent some time catching up with my mom and my dog and my friends.
I also attended my brother's wedding. I was beyond honored to have been invited, as Nathan and I have only known each other for five years. Our bond is our sperm donor. Our biological father. We were the rejects among the prized children. We were the family that wasn't chosen. We cried and bonded over that. Or maybe I just cried, I dunno. I was drunk. Very drunk. Woke up in a field. But never mind that. Let's see what that looked like, eh?
Last weekend, I had the opportunity to go to Food Network in Concert at Ravinia in Highland Park. I was ecstatic. Food Network became my little mental escape and my obsession since I got to New York. I learned so much from watching it and fell in love with several shows and chefs. I mean, fuck, do you think I knew what the hell a roux was before I laid eyes on the Food Network?!
Anyway, at this majestic event, I had the opportunity to "meet" Alex Guarnaschelli. And I use the quotations and the word "meet" very loosely because to this day I have absolutely no idea what I said to the woman. But I do know it was an absolutely amazing moment in my life. There is so much about Alex that I admire that I'm going to save it for its own post. But use your eyes to gander upon my utter fangirling.
So you see, friends, even though - like always - things didn't work out in my life the way I thought they would or wanted them to, things are still on the up & up. I'm looking for a new full time gig and fixin' to get back into improv asap.
There. I said it. No more apologies. Moving forward.
I thought since I will be putting up a similar video on my YouTube Channel in just a little while, I would play a little bit of catch up with whatever reads my blog.
I made my last post very public and therefore, I have no idea who actually reads this now. This is great and also borderline terrifying. I've always utilised this blog as sort of a private-from-my-real-life-folks diary. So, if you have gone back and seen something written that might have been about you, it probably was and you're going to have to deal with the fact that I was naive enough to believe that you would never read it.
Anywho, so a lot has developed over the summer I guess. Through many sweaty, garbage-scented nights and many sunny, cool daytime adventures, I had to ultimately make a very difficult decision; to break up with New York City. But not like one of those breakups where you're really bitter and you just want your shit back so you can move on and hatefuck another city in its place. It was a very amicable split.
It took a lot of struggle and a lot of introspection to realize that as much as I still adore NYC and the people in it, that I had sort of outgrown what it has always had to offer me. The truth of the matter is that New York is where I ran to when things weren't the best in my life. New York was a net that caught me when everything else fucked me over. I was happy there once, though. But in our time apart I had romanticized what I thought we had in my head and lost the reality of what that city means to me. I will visit whenever I can, but my heart is somewhere else.
Shockingly, my heart is in the one place I've been determined to prove that it is not. The one place I swore I hated and I wanted to hate. The one place full of people I love and places I love with opportunities at every door for me. Ill-i-fucking-nois. Who knew?
So the long and the short of it is that I'm moving back to Chicago. I'm in limbo at the moment and I think you learn from and grow the most from being stuck in limbo. So I'm trying to take this time for me. For my brain to reset. To get back to where I was before I left. To find stability. To enjoy that stability and keep my career on a most excellent trajectory. To be open to whatever the hell it is life has for me next.
All that aside, I had a pretty good summer. I saw a lot, I did a lot and I had a blast. I ate some excellent food and became a Food Network junkie. I was on Beat Bobby Flay and a movie that's coming out next year. I reconnected with old friends and made some new friends.
I ate at Alex Guarnaschelli's BUTTER the night before I left with two very dear friends. A month or so before I left NY, I developed a very serious adoration for Alex that still holds now. Here's a little snippet of our night at Butter.
 |
| These rolls were the most amazing carb that has ever entered my body. |
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| Ghost Chili Margarita. Fucking divine. |
 |
| Brooke & I. |
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| Andrew & I. |
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| The infamous Raspberry Beignets. |
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| Duck Rillettes |
The day after these photos were taken, I made the long, long journey back to Chicago. It was an exhaustive day of travel that began at 6am and didn't end until around 6pm. Somehow I made it home and spent some time catching up with my mom and my dog and my friends.
I also attended my brother's wedding. I was beyond honored to have been invited, as Nathan and I have only known each other for five years. Our bond is our sperm donor. Our biological father. We were the rejects among the prized children. We were the family that wasn't chosen. We cried and bonded over that. Or maybe I just cried, I dunno. I was drunk. Very drunk. Woke up in a field. But never mind that. Let's see what that looked like, eh?
 |
| Nathan & Keli |
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| BARn. |
 |
| Centerpiece |
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| Mr. & Mrs. Heller |
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| Love |
Last weekend, I had the opportunity to go to Food Network in Concert at Ravinia in Highland Park. I was ecstatic. Food Network became my little mental escape and my obsession since I got to New York. I learned so much from watching it and fell in love with several shows and chefs. I mean, fuck, do you think I knew what the hell a roux was before I laid eyes on the Food Network?!
Anyway, at this majestic event, I had the opportunity to "meet" Alex Guarnaschelli. And I use the quotations and the word "meet" very loosely because to this day I have absolutely no idea what I said to the woman. But I do know it was an absolutely amazing moment in my life. There is so much about Alex that I admire that I'm going to save it for its own post. But use your eyes to gander upon my utter fangirling.
 |
| Alex Guarnaschelli lovingly appeases fan who can only say "derrrrrrr" |
 |
| Engagement photo |
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| Creepin' |
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| SUPER creepin' |
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| This wasn't even 1/4 of the line 30 minutes after the signing started |
I don't think I realized how much I liked my life and that it's okay to be content with a less than turbulent lifestyle.
Just gonna sit back, relax, watch Chopped and enjoy.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Robin Williams
I don't even know how to begin writing this one. I really don't. As I walked home tonight from my evening at Barnes and Noble devouring Alex Guarnaschelli's book, I contemplated how to begin this and I'm still at a loss. I'm entirely at a loss.
As I was a stop away from 14th street, I decided to check my phone because I hadn't for a while. Underground with no service, my notifications read a text from my cousin and a twitter notification from the glorious Guarnaschelli herself (because yes, I have my notifications turned on for that beautiful goddess). Both were of the same topic. The text read "Dude. No. I just can't." and above it was the notification that read "Rest in peace, Robin Williams". My heart sank. My mouth literally opened and tears welled up in my eyes.
As I got off the train, the tears were more present. I hustled up the stairs to find refuge in cell service. With one google of his name, I saw it was true. Robin Williams was dead of apparent suicide at age 63. Staring at my phone with nothing in particular being done on it, I walked in the wrong direction three times, eyes full of tears and a heart shattered.
Perhaps I should put some context to my heartbreak. That's why I'm here.
I grew up an only child in a one parent household. I was my own my best friend and often my only source of entertainment. I knew I was funny and I knew I wanted to be an actor. I would act out things in my bedroom and I was never out of material because I lived in my own world. A world where I was the funniest person in it. A world where I created characters and scenarios that lived in my head and still do to this day. An impenetrable world of my own.
I truly discovered Robin Williams in 1991. I was five years old and the movie was Hook. I remember going to see it in the theatres with my mom and my grandparents. To date, it's one of my favorite childhood memories because we didn't go to the movies often, so when we did it was a glorious occasion for me. My dad took me to movies often, but I think it was as more of a distraction from our lack of common interest.
I've lived most of my life through movies. They have been my entertainment, my teachers, my passion and my escape. I loved Hook. And I loved Robin Williams. I fell in love with him. Hook will always be one of my favorite movies and one I will stop and watch every time it's on tv. There were Saturday mornings where my grandma would be making a pot of coffee and I'd be sitting on her living room floor watching Hook and playing with my Barbies that I will never forget.
Somewhere in the interim between 91 and 93, I really discovered who Williams was. I somehow got my hands on his autobiography and read it tirelessly. I remember bringing it to school and reading it when I should've been paying attention to whatever nonsense I would soon forget was being taught at the front of the class. I learned how much we had in common as children, but none so much as the world. THE world. The one I created for myself. His in-depth chapter about the world he created for himself as an only child in an adult's world resonated with me even at that young age. I knew that feeling. I knew what that was. I knew that simultaneous loneliness and comfort in being your own best friend. I knew what it was like to desperately want to make people laugh. I knew what it was like when you got that laugh. I knew him. Since acquiring that book, I've read it dozens of times.
And yes, I loved Aladdin solely based on the fact that Williams voiced the genie. I even made my dad take me to see it twice, much to his chagrin.
But it was in 1993 that I truly found my love for Robin Williams.
I was seven years old. A child of a broken home and complicated relationship with my father. One weekend, my father took me to see a movie I had been dying to see. I was fresh off being terribly sick and it was the first day I was feeling better. My mom gave me the amoxicillin I was prescribed and my dad picked me up shortly thereafter. We arrived at the theatre and my dad bought the tickets. Two for Mrs. Doubtfire. I was thrilled. The movie began and a few handfuls of popcorn in, my dad's phone rang, as it always did. It was a business call so he left me in the theatre and went to take the call. I ate my popcorn and realized instantly that something wasn't right. I didn't feel well. I wanted to feel well because I was really enjoying the movie, but my stomach was disagreeing. I ran out of the theatre in a desperate attempt to find my dad. I couldn't find him. I tripped, fell and projectile vomited all over the Webster Place 11 theatre. This was the day I discovered I am allergic to amoxicillin. A lovely employee helped me find my dad and he promptly took me home to my mom at my request. We rainchecked on the movie.
When I was finally able to see it without puking all over the place, Mrs. Doubtfire changed me. It was a movie about divorce. Divorce wasn't really as common around me then. I was the only kid at my school who had divorced parents at the time and no one really got it. I envied kids with two parents, even though I knew how terrible my household would have been if mine had stayed together.
While silly and funny with jokes over my head, Mrs. Doubtfire's core message was about families. It gave me hope that families could be different or broken in different ways and still be efficient and wonderful families. The end speech makes me well up to this day.
"You know, some parents, when they're angry, they get along much better when they don't live together. They don't fight all the time, and they can become better people, and much better mummies and daddies for you. And sometimes they get back together. And sometimes they don't, dear. And if they don't, don't blame yourself. Just because they don't love each other anymore, doesn't mean that they don't love you. There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever"
Mrs. Doubtfire will forever be one of my favorite movies of all time. It changed the way I looked at my situation. It gave me a hope and a comfort that I couldn't replace if I tried.
After wearing out the VHS copy of Mrs. D that I still proudly own, I did what I always do when I love something; I had to find out everything about the man behind it. I had to find out more about Robin Williams. I immersed myself in his work. The old, the new and the stand-up. The stand-up was the final thing that changed me.
Robin Williams: Live at the Met. I got my hands on that courtesy of my father, who liked to compensate for his terrible parenting with material things. I'm not sure why he would buy an eight year old an album with such explicit content, but I'm glad he did.
Every night, I would fall asleep listening to this album. I knew it backwards and forwards and even though some jokes were over my head, I laughed. He was loud and brash and unfiltered and had a brain full of weird thoughts that became fantastically executed words. I now knew what to do with all the weird shit in my head. I knew I wanted to make people laugh. Forever. (Ominous.)
My stories can end here, but there are a few more things I want to say.
Robin Williams was my first comedy teacher. I learned so much from watching him work. I learned that it's okay to be weird and loud and that there's a place for people who are. I learned about timing and honesty and delivery. I learned that comedians can be stellar actors.
Unfortunately, I have now also learned that you cannot always live in that little world you create for yourself as a child. I learned that your demons do not always disappear. I hope wherever Robin Williams is tonight he is surrounded by all the funniest people who've gone before him. I hope he is side by side with Jonathan Winters and in the state of euphoria he deserved to live in on earth. As Greg Proops would say, he is swirling in the heavens tonight.
His comedy, his experience, his life were all invaluable to me. He's been a part of me for most of my life and I'm eternally grateful for all he's given me.
And with that, I shall send him off with his own immortal words, "..and now a toast... to the days when chickens have lips..".
As I was a stop away from 14th street, I decided to check my phone because I hadn't for a while. Underground with no service, my notifications read a text from my cousin and a twitter notification from the glorious Guarnaschelli herself (because yes, I have my notifications turned on for that beautiful goddess). Both were of the same topic. The text read "Dude. No. I just can't." and above it was the notification that read "Rest in peace, Robin Williams". My heart sank. My mouth literally opened and tears welled up in my eyes.
As I got off the train, the tears were more present. I hustled up the stairs to find refuge in cell service. With one google of his name, I saw it was true. Robin Williams was dead of apparent suicide at age 63. Staring at my phone with nothing in particular being done on it, I walked in the wrong direction three times, eyes full of tears and a heart shattered.
Perhaps I should put some context to my heartbreak. That's why I'm here.
I grew up an only child in a one parent household. I was my own my best friend and often my only source of entertainment. I knew I was funny and I knew I wanted to be an actor. I would act out things in my bedroom and I was never out of material because I lived in my own world. A world where I was the funniest person in it. A world where I created characters and scenarios that lived in my head and still do to this day. An impenetrable world of my own.
I truly discovered Robin Williams in 1991. I was five years old and the movie was Hook. I remember going to see it in the theatres with my mom and my grandparents. To date, it's one of my favorite childhood memories because we didn't go to the movies often, so when we did it was a glorious occasion for me. My dad took me to movies often, but I think it was as more of a distraction from our lack of common interest.
I've lived most of my life through movies. They have been my entertainment, my teachers, my passion and my escape. I loved Hook. And I loved Robin Williams. I fell in love with him. Hook will always be one of my favorite movies and one I will stop and watch every time it's on tv. There were Saturday mornings where my grandma would be making a pot of coffee and I'd be sitting on her living room floor watching Hook and playing with my Barbies that I will never forget.
Somewhere in the interim between 91 and 93, I really discovered who Williams was. I somehow got my hands on his autobiography and read it tirelessly. I remember bringing it to school and reading it when I should've been paying attention to whatever nonsense I would soon forget was being taught at the front of the class. I learned how much we had in common as children, but none so much as the world. THE world. The one I created for myself. His in-depth chapter about the world he created for himself as an only child in an adult's world resonated with me even at that young age. I knew that feeling. I knew what that was. I knew that simultaneous loneliness and comfort in being your own best friend. I knew what it was like to desperately want to make people laugh. I knew what it was like when you got that laugh. I knew him. Since acquiring that book, I've read it dozens of times.
And yes, I loved Aladdin solely based on the fact that Williams voiced the genie. I even made my dad take me to see it twice, much to his chagrin.
But it was in 1993 that I truly found my love for Robin Williams.
I was seven years old. A child of a broken home and complicated relationship with my father. One weekend, my father took me to see a movie I had been dying to see. I was fresh off being terribly sick and it was the first day I was feeling better. My mom gave me the amoxicillin I was prescribed and my dad picked me up shortly thereafter. We arrived at the theatre and my dad bought the tickets. Two for Mrs. Doubtfire. I was thrilled. The movie began and a few handfuls of popcorn in, my dad's phone rang, as it always did. It was a business call so he left me in the theatre and went to take the call. I ate my popcorn and realized instantly that something wasn't right. I didn't feel well. I wanted to feel well because I was really enjoying the movie, but my stomach was disagreeing. I ran out of the theatre in a desperate attempt to find my dad. I couldn't find him. I tripped, fell and projectile vomited all over the Webster Place 11 theatre. This was the day I discovered I am allergic to amoxicillin. A lovely employee helped me find my dad and he promptly took me home to my mom at my request. We rainchecked on the movie.
When I was finally able to see it without puking all over the place, Mrs. Doubtfire changed me. It was a movie about divorce. Divorce wasn't really as common around me then. I was the only kid at my school who had divorced parents at the time and no one really got it. I envied kids with two parents, even though I knew how terrible my household would have been if mine had stayed together.
While silly and funny with jokes over my head, Mrs. Doubtfire's core message was about families. It gave me hope that families could be different or broken in different ways and still be efficient and wonderful families. The end speech makes me well up to this day.
"You know, some parents, when they're angry, they get along much better when they don't live together. They don't fight all the time, and they can become better people, and much better mummies and daddies for you. And sometimes they get back together. And sometimes they don't, dear. And if they don't, don't blame yourself. Just because they don't love each other anymore, doesn't mean that they don't love you. There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever"
Mrs. Doubtfire will forever be one of my favorite movies of all time. It changed the way I looked at my situation. It gave me a hope and a comfort that I couldn't replace if I tried.
After wearing out the VHS copy of Mrs. D that I still proudly own, I did what I always do when I love something; I had to find out everything about the man behind it. I had to find out more about Robin Williams. I immersed myself in his work. The old, the new and the stand-up. The stand-up was the final thing that changed me.
Robin Williams: Live at the Met. I got my hands on that courtesy of my father, who liked to compensate for his terrible parenting with material things. I'm not sure why he would buy an eight year old an album with such explicit content, but I'm glad he did.
Every night, I would fall asleep listening to this album. I knew it backwards and forwards and even though some jokes were over my head, I laughed. He was loud and brash and unfiltered and had a brain full of weird thoughts that became fantastically executed words. I now knew what to do with all the weird shit in my head. I knew I wanted to make people laugh. Forever. (Ominous.)
My stories can end here, but there are a few more things I want to say.
Robin Williams was my first comedy teacher. I learned so much from watching him work. I learned that it's okay to be weird and loud and that there's a place for people who are. I learned about timing and honesty and delivery. I learned that comedians can be stellar actors.
Unfortunately, I have now also learned that you cannot always live in that little world you create for yourself as a child. I learned that your demons do not always disappear. I hope wherever Robin Williams is tonight he is surrounded by all the funniest people who've gone before him. I hope he is side by side with Jonathan Winters and in the state of euphoria he deserved to live in on earth. As Greg Proops would say, he is swirling in the heavens tonight.
His comedy, his experience, his life were all invaluable to me. He's been a part of me for most of my life and I'm eternally grateful for all he's given me.
And with that, I shall send him off with his own immortal words, "..and now a toast... to the days when chickens have lips..".
Sunday, July 6, 2014
A Scatterbrain's Review of "TAMMY"
So over the holiday weekend - well, actually before the holiday weekend - I went on a whim to see Tammy.
I like Melissa McCarthy (who doesn't?) even though she's being typecast as the same aloof, don't-give-a-fuck, brash character since Bridesmaids propelled her into the limelight. Before Bridesmaids, I knew McCarthy from Gilmore Girls and only from Gilmore Girls. She played the character of Sookie. A sweet, aloof, clumsy but good-intentioned friend of our female heroine Lorelai Gilmore. Let's just say her character was the complete opposite of Megan in Bridesmaids.
But I digress.
As advertised, Tammy kind of seemed to be the same old thing that McCarthy's been trapped in. However, the writing seemed funnier and knowing that she and her husband wrote it together was huge selling point for me. I giggled at the trailer the first couple times it came on tv and so I figured I'd give it a shot.
I went to a 10pm showing on a Wednesday night in the East Village. To call the theatre empty would be an understatement. When I arrived at ten to ten, there was one guy in the theatre with me. So with my "fuck that's too big" popcorn and my "holy shit I'm gonna have to pee in like ten minutes" soda, I sat happily by myself in the very last row of the theatre.
Slowly, others came in, but there were no more than maybe ten people in the theatre in the end.
After nine hours of previews, the movie began.
It begins with McCarthy's character Tammy singing along to The Outfield's "Your Love" and accidentally hitting a deer in the process, which eventually leads to her being late for work and subsequently getting fired.
You think with this it sets the tone for the film of broad humor and pure silliness. And in a way, it did. But in another way, this film was something else completely.
The entire time I watched Tammy I was wondering if I was enjoying it or not. Mostly because, I think, it was advertised incorrectly. Personally, that's a huge pet peeve for me. AND LET ME TELL YOU WHY.
I like to know what kind of movie I'm going to see. I don't care if I don't know what it's about or any of the people in it, but I'd like to know what tone is about to be set for the next two hours of my life. You know why? Because if you're going to see Stepmom with your dad on Christmas Day because it was advertised as a sweet family comedy and you need something to take your mind off the fact that your dad's mom just died of cancer three days earlier, you're going to be in for a rude fucking awakening.
So, you see, proper advertising can really ruin a fucking Christmas.
And yes, that's a thing that really happened to me.
But more to the matter at hand, I was expecting a really off-the-wall, broad, goofy comedy. And in a lot of ways Tammy was just that. However, it also contained numerous feels.
In some ways, the structure of the plot was similar to Bridesmaids. Tammy basically hits rock bottom and has to find her way out of it. She gets stuck with her spunky, often drunk grandmother Pearl (Susan Sarandon) and has to deal with her as well. Sometimes in funny ways, sometimes in tragic ways. There is a scene where Sarandon's character spits just pure vitriol at Tammy in a drunken stupor and it is probably one of the more heartbreaking scenes I've ever seen in a comedy.
And no American comedy blueprint would be complete without a love interest. Tammy and Pearl meet two men in a bar. A man named Earl (Gary Cole) and his son Bobby (Mark Duplass). Tammy makes a very forward pass at Bobby to a seemingly unsuccessful end. However, Pearl and Earl hit it off nicely.. in the biblical sense. Earl and Bobby come in and out of Tammy's life and as Tammy's perception of the world changes, she begins to reject Bobby, which I find very interesting. It's nice to see that actually. Even though you're waiting for them to PLEASE get together, it's nice to see a film break the norm of the woman vying for the affection of the man. Kudos on that.
In addition to being very funny (as always), McCarthy brought a beautiful element to this romp; raw emotion. Her acting was superb. She broke my heart at least three times. The character of Tammy is surprisingly relatable and so, so honest and McCarthy did a hell of a job bringing that to life on the screen.
All in all, though it was advertised wrong, I'd give the film an eight out of ten whatevers. It was a really cute movie and though there were a few times it lagged a little, I would probably see it again.
And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to not bother to proof this and go do something else.
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I like Melissa McCarthy (who doesn't?) even though she's being typecast as the same aloof, don't-give-a-fuck, brash character since Bridesmaids propelled her into the limelight. Before Bridesmaids, I knew McCarthy from Gilmore Girls and only from Gilmore Girls. She played the character of Sookie. A sweet, aloof, clumsy but good-intentioned friend of our female heroine Lorelai Gilmore. Let's just say her character was the complete opposite of Megan in Bridesmaids.
But I digress.
As advertised, Tammy kind of seemed to be the same old thing that McCarthy's been trapped in. However, the writing seemed funnier and knowing that she and her husband wrote it together was huge selling point for me. I giggled at the trailer the first couple times it came on tv and so I figured I'd give it a shot.
I went to a 10pm showing on a Wednesday night in the East Village. To call the theatre empty would be an understatement. When I arrived at ten to ten, there was one guy in the theatre with me. So with my "fuck that's too big" popcorn and my "holy shit I'm gonna have to pee in like ten minutes" soda, I sat happily by myself in the very last row of the theatre.
Slowly, others came in, but there were no more than maybe ten people in the theatre in the end.
After nine hours of previews, the movie began.
It begins with McCarthy's character Tammy singing along to The Outfield's "Your Love" and accidentally hitting a deer in the process, which eventually leads to her being late for work and subsequently getting fired.
You think with this it sets the tone for the film of broad humor and pure silliness. And in a way, it did. But in another way, this film was something else completely.
The entire time I watched Tammy I was wondering if I was enjoying it or not. Mostly because, I think, it was advertised incorrectly. Personally, that's a huge pet peeve for me. AND LET ME TELL YOU WHY.
I like to know what kind of movie I'm going to see. I don't care if I don't know what it's about or any of the people in it, but I'd like to know what tone is about to be set for the next two hours of my life. You know why? Because if you're going to see Stepmom with your dad on Christmas Day because it was advertised as a sweet family comedy and you need something to take your mind off the fact that your dad's mom just died of cancer three days earlier, you're going to be in for a rude fucking awakening.
So, you see, proper advertising can really ruin a fucking Christmas.
And yes, that's a thing that really happened to me.
But more to the matter at hand, I was expecting a really off-the-wall, broad, goofy comedy. And in a lot of ways Tammy was just that. However, it also contained numerous feels.
In some ways, the structure of the plot was similar to Bridesmaids. Tammy basically hits rock bottom and has to find her way out of it. She gets stuck with her spunky, often drunk grandmother Pearl (Susan Sarandon) and has to deal with her as well. Sometimes in funny ways, sometimes in tragic ways. There is a scene where Sarandon's character spits just pure vitriol at Tammy in a drunken stupor and it is probably one of the more heartbreaking scenes I've ever seen in a comedy.
And no American comedy blueprint would be complete without a love interest. Tammy and Pearl meet two men in a bar. A man named Earl (Gary Cole) and his son Bobby (Mark Duplass). Tammy makes a very forward pass at Bobby to a seemingly unsuccessful end. However, Pearl and Earl hit it off nicely.. in the biblical sense. Earl and Bobby come in and out of Tammy's life and as Tammy's perception of the world changes, she begins to reject Bobby, which I find very interesting. It's nice to see that actually. Even though you're waiting for them to PLEASE get together, it's nice to see a film break the norm of the woman vying for the affection of the man. Kudos on that.
In addition to being very funny (as always), McCarthy brought a beautiful element to this romp; raw emotion. Her acting was superb. She broke my heart at least three times. The character of Tammy is surprisingly relatable and so, so honest and McCarthy did a hell of a job bringing that to life on the screen.
All in all, though it was advertised wrong, I'd give the film an eight out of ten whatevers. It was a really cute movie and though there were a few times it lagged a little, I would probably see it again.
And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to not bother to proof this and go do something else.
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Friday, July 4, 2014
Justification
I've had this idea stewin' in my brain piece for quite some time now. I've been toying with the idea of making it funny rather than just ranting like a big sack of whiny dicks. However, I can't exactly find a funny angle. Let's just see what happens.
So this thought came to me as I moved back to New York City. New York is full of people. People everywhere. You're never alone on the streets of NYC and if you are, it's the god damn apocalypse. Take cover.
The variety of people here is like none I have ever experienced in other parts of the country. High class folks with more money than you've ever seen in your life, artsy people, celebrities, more tourists per capita than cement, homeless, you name it - NY has it.
Since there are so many people, someone is always asking for something. A dollar. A cigarette. A lighter. A moment of your time. Food. Directions. If you like comedy. If you want to save the planet. If you care about women's issues.
Sometimes you stop and oblige, sometimes you don't. Or if you're a real true New Yorker that requires constantly proving you're a real true New Yorker, you pretend like you've never heard another human voice before. However, sometimes when you stop, you don't always want to oblige.
And this is what prompted this post.
Whenever you say no to someone for any of the above things, there's always a reaction. Here, it's almost always a negative one. I've literally been called a "bitch" for saying "no thanks". Nicely.
So this got me thinking, why do we have to justify saying "no" to anything?
Why when I'm unemployed and have nothing to offer you am I a bitch for not giving you a dollar? Why do I feel obligated to lie to you and tell you that it's my last one when you ask me for a cigarette? No, I don't like shitty free comedy. I'm sorry if that bothers you. Yes, I do care about women's issues, I just don't want to end up on some god awful mailing list I can never unsubscribe from while you steal forty minutes from my day.
Why do I have to give reasons for any of that? Saying no should be a blanket statement that requires no justification. It's not my responsibility to give you a dollar or a cigarette or my time. Therefore, I shouldn't feel guilty or be berated about not wanting to.
The only "no" that requires justification in this life is from a parent who is telling a young child "because I said so". That's just a shitty cop out. Give 'em the fucking cookie.
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So this thought came to me as I moved back to New York City. New York is full of people. People everywhere. You're never alone on the streets of NYC and if you are, it's the god damn apocalypse. Take cover.
The variety of people here is like none I have ever experienced in other parts of the country. High class folks with more money than you've ever seen in your life, artsy people, celebrities, more tourists per capita than cement, homeless, you name it - NY has it.
Since there are so many people, someone is always asking for something. A dollar. A cigarette. A lighter. A moment of your time. Food. Directions. If you like comedy. If you want to save the planet. If you care about women's issues.
Sometimes you stop and oblige, sometimes you don't. Or if you're a real true New Yorker that requires constantly proving you're a real true New Yorker, you pretend like you've never heard another human voice before. However, sometimes when you stop, you don't always want to oblige.
And this is what prompted this post.
Whenever you say no to someone for any of the above things, there's always a reaction. Here, it's almost always a negative one. I've literally been called a "bitch" for saying "no thanks". Nicely.
So this got me thinking, why do we have to justify saying "no" to anything?
Why when I'm unemployed and have nothing to offer you am I a bitch for not giving you a dollar? Why do I feel obligated to lie to you and tell you that it's my last one when you ask me for a cigarette? No, I don't like shitty free comedy. I'm sorry if that bothers you. Yes, I do care about women's issues, I just don't want to end up on some god awful mailing list I can never unsubscribe from while you steal forty minutes from my day.
Why do I have to give reasons for any of that? Saying no should be a blanket statement that requires no justification. It's not my responsibility to give you a dollar or a cigarette or my time. Therefore, I shouldn't feel guilty or be berated about not wanting to.
The only "no" that requires justification in this life is from a parent who is telling a young child "because I said so". That's just a shitty cop out. Give 'em the fucking cookie.
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Friday, June 20, 2014
She's a Lady. Whoa. Whoa. WHOA!
It has come to my attention in the past two weeks that I am less than a lady. By god, do not confuse that with "less than a woman". I will whip out my penis and prove you wrong so fast.
Walking around New York City, you often see this country's most beautiful women. Women with beautiful faces, hair that is totally trimmed every six weeks, dresses you would have to skip a month's rent to buy and a grace/attitude that is nearly impossible to emulate. For me, anyway.
I care how I look. I like it when my hair is done (brushed) and my nails painted (just one or two chips) and I wear makeup (uneven liquid eyeliner) with a pretty dress (that is probably too short for my stature). I like to look good and feel good (mmmm chips!). However, when it's 90 degrees, sunny and I'm hoofing my ass across town on foot, I care a little less.
My appearance has taken precedence over my comfort maybe four times in my entire life. Does this make me unladylike? Not necessarily.
I do, however, like to drink beer and then I forget/don't care where I am and burp as though it's a competition. (It is!)
I also like to wear men's shorts because they're more comfortable. As much of an appeal as it is to see my ass hanging out of my shorts (it's not), I'd rather not have to pull material out of my crotch every three blocks. Just a personal preference.
I also don't prance around the issue of eating. If I'm hungry, I eat. If I'm on a date, I eat. Even if we're not going out to eat. I'm eating. The thought of having to pretend that when I'm starving I'd rather eat a bail of hay than a god damn cheeseburger makes me sad on the inside. I'd rather let the cheeseburger make me feel that way.
In addition to those charming facts, I'm also awkward as.. um.. fuck. I'm awkward as fuck. I say stupid shit at stupid times and I'm uncomfortable with human emotion. I don't possess the grace or fluidity of language that many women do. (see: the time I yelled "ha-haaa, what the fuck!" in a funeral home)
However, when it comes down to it, you don't have to be a lady to be a woman. I may be tactless and weird with a messy bun of hair atop my head while I scarf down a cheeseburger, but I'm still a woman. And I'm good at being a woman. I'm just no good at being a lady.
Walking around New York City, you often see this country's most beautiful women. Women with beautiful faces, hair that is totally trimmed every six weeks, dresses you would have to skip a month's rent to buy and a grace/attitude that is nearly impossible to emulate. For me, anyway.
I care how I look. I like it when my hair is done (brushed) and my nails painted (just one or two chips) and I wear makeup (uneven liquid eyeliner) with a pretty dress (that is probably too short for my stature). I like to look good and feel good (mmmm chips!). However, when it's 90 degrees, sunny and I'm hoofing my ass across town on foot, I care a little less.
My appearance has taken precedence over my comfort maybe four times in my entire life. Does this make me unladylike? Not necessarily.
I do, however, like to drink beer and then I forget/don't care where I am and burp as though it's a competition. (It is!)
I also like to wear men's shorts because they're more comfortable. As much of an appeal as it is to see my ass hanging out of my shorts (it's not), I'd rather not have to pull material out of my crotch every three blocks. Just a personal preference.
I also don't prance around the issue of eating. If I'm hungry, I eat. If I'm on a date, I eat. Even if we're not going out to eat. I'm eating. The thought of having to pretend that when I'm starving I'd rather eat a bail of hay than a god damn cheeseburger makes me sad on the inside. I'd rather let the cheeseburger make me feel that way.
In addition to those charming facts, I'm also awkward as.. um.. fuck. I'm awkward as fuck. I say stupid shit at stupid times and I'm uncomfortable with human emotion. I don't possess the grace or fluidity of language that many women do. (see: the time I yelled "ha-haaa, what the fuck!" in a funeral home)
However, when it comes down to it, you don't have to be a lady to be a woman. I may be tactless and weird with a messy bun of hair atop my head while I scarf down a cheeseburger, but I'm still a woman. And I'm good at being a woman. I'm just no good at being a lady.
I am stellar at sweating though. So... you're welcome. You are welcome.
Friday, May 30, 2014
This One's For You.
this man has a birthday right around the corner.
if there's one thing this guy taught me, it was to approach life with a sense of humor and to never take anything too seriously.
he also taught me the best way to gross a person out is by putting salami in their shoes.
i've never met a man with the spirit and the patience he had.
he was my best bud and this photo is the best representation of our relationship.
he passed away just before i moved to new york city when i was 20. about to do so again and just passing the anniversary of his death, i am reminded of the last thing he said to me. the words i live by everyday of my life. "do everything you can when you're young, cause when you're old, ya can't do shit.".
the dad i never had. the best dad i ever had. the best grandfather a girl could ask for. miss you, pops.
if there's one thing this guy taught me, it was to approach life with a sense of humor and to never take anything too seriously.
he also taught me the best way to gross a person out is by putting salami in their shoes.
i've never met a man with the spirit and the patience he had.
he was my best bud and this photo is the best representation of our relationship.
he passed away just before i moved to new york city when i was 20. about to do so again and just passing the anniversary of his death, i am reminded of the last thing he said to me. the words i live by everyday of my life. "do everything you can when you're young, cause when you're old, ya can't do shit.".
the dad i never had. the best dad i ever had. the best grandfather a girl could ask for. miss you, pops.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Jam-a Da Day
Today's Jam of the Day is a live, lesser-known Barry Manilow jam called "In Search of Love". It seems to be sung in a different key than the album version. Do enjoy some 80s Manilow.
Anywhere But Here
From the moment I turned three years old, I knew I did not belong in Illinois. So much so that I started a "Get the Hell Out of Illinois Fund", that was literally a Nike shoebox with a sign that read as such when I was twelve. At twenty, at the demise of my attempt at a college career, I shipped myself off to NYC for a taste of whatever life had to offer. Looking back on my year of NY residency, I don't think I learned much except how much I loved New York City and how to hold my liquor..
When the money I was blowing at the theatre every week finally ran out, I moved back to Illinois with a little bit of relief and a lot of remorse. I've been here since. Though I periodically have visited New York and have entertained the idea of moving back, I got trapped by some things Illinois had to offer. Love - I fell in love and into a three year relationship. I actually remember uttering the words "I don't need New York when I've got him". Gross. Then I got trapped by friends and a great job after the relationship thing didn't work out. And after that, I found the thing that kind of filled in all the little cracks in my life. Except my ass crack and my crack habit. Improv. Comedy. Whatever. That's kept me in Chicago for the past year and a half. And now that I feel my time in Chicago's comedy community has come to an end, I'm returning to my first ever love; NYC.
With more of a life plan and less of a healthcare plan, I am definitely moving back to New York City in exactly two weeks. I'm not terrified, I'm not excited. It just feels like time. Time to work my life around a career I've only recently discovered I want to truly make work. Pun? Maybe.
So, with a move in place and hardly anything packed, my brain is more ready than my physical person.
But my brain's been in a very funny place lately. Not funny ha-ha. Funny like... whaaaaaaa?. I've started getting nostalgic for sensations. Not for moments or memories or people. Just sensations. I don't exactly know how to explain this, but I'll try to explain it in the dorkiest way possible.
Lately I've been listening to a lot of Barry Manilow. If you know me or you've been around for a while, you'll know that Manilow has been an indelible influence on my life. I'm not a musical person, nor do I have any aspirations to be. I just had a sometimes shitty childhood (who hasn't? not all of it. jeez.) and it was all aligned with a Manilow soundtrack. I guess I kind of hid in his music in a way. Not literally. You idiot.
So I've been listening to all this music lately and it's taking me to an almost uncomfortable and unidentifiable nostalgia. Though I love it, I'm feeling sad.
Maybe this is because I'm about to move away from all of my friends and family? Maybe this is because I'm stressed? Maybe the moon left an imprint in my face? Maybe I just need extensive therapy?
I don't know which of those it is, but it's really taking a wonderful/awful toll on me.
Anyway, I'm hanging out with my mom until after Memorial Day weekend, when the real packing will commence. If you'd like to see how the move is progressing, you're welcome to follow along on my YouTube channel where it's all going down. Actually the past few posts have just been a bit of babble, but I am chronicling this move through my subseries on YouTube, so if you're there so am I.
Oh look, a link that takes you directly to my channel in another window.
Technology is cool.
Just an update for your facepieces.
Something interesting next time, I promise.
Be well or don't.
Byeeee.
When the money I was blowing at the theatre every week finally ran out, I moved back to Illinois with a little bit of relief and a lot of remorse. I've been here since. Though I periodically have visited New York and have entertained the idea of moving back, I got trapped by some things Illinois had to offer. Love - I fell in love and into a three year relationship. I actually remember uttering the words "I don't need New York when I've got him". Gross. Then I got trapped by friends and a great job after the relationship thing didn't work out. And after that, I found the thing that kind of filled in all the little cracks in my life. Except my ass crack and my crack habit. Improv. Comedy. Whatever. That's kept me in Chicago for the past year and a half. And now that I feel my time in Chicago's comedy community has come to an end, I'm returning to my first ever love; NYC.
With more of a life plan and less of a healthcare plan, I am definitely moving back to New York City in exactly two weeks. I'm not terrified, I'm not excited. It just feels like time. Time to work my life around a career I've only recently discovered I want to truly make work. Pun? Maybe.
So, with a move in place and hardly anything packed, my brain is more ready than my physical person.
But my brain's been in a very funny place lately. Not funny ha-ha. Funny like... whaaaaaaa?. I've started getting nostalgic for sensations. Not for moments or memories or people. Just sensations. I don't exactly know how to explain this, but I'll try to explain it in the dorkiest way possible.
Lately I've been listening to a lot of Barry Manilow. If you know me or you've been around for a while, you'll know that Manilow has been an indelible influence on my life. I'm not a musical person, nor do I have any aspirations to be. I just had a sometimes shitty childhood (who hasn't? not all of it. jeez.) and it was all aligned with a Manilow soundtrack. I guess I kind of hid in his music in a way. Not literally. You idiot.
So I've been listening to all this music lately and it's taking me to an almost uncomfortable and unidentifiable nostalgia. Though I love it, I'm feeling sad.
Maybe this is because I'm about to move away from all of my friends and family? Maybe this is because I'm stressed? Maybe the moon left an imprint in my face? Maybe I just need extensive therapy?
I don't know which of those it is, but it's really taking a wonderful/awful toll on me.
Anyway, I'm hanging out with my mom until after Memorial Day weekend, when the real packing will commence. If you'd like to see how the move is progressing, you're welcome to follow along on my YouTube channel where it's all going down. Actually the past few posts have just been a bit of babble, but I am chronicling this move through my subseries on YouTube, so if you're there so am I.
Oh look, a link that takes you directly to my channel in another window.
Technology is cool.
Just an update for your facepieces.
Something interesting next time, I promise.
Be well or don't.
Byeeee.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
I Found a Frito in My Bed and Ate It
Today I had a revelation; I'm going to die alone.
As I sat in my bed having a one-sided conversation with my dog and watching Gilmore Girls on a Wednesday afternoon, I found a Frito on my bed. Without hesitation, I picked up that amorphous corn chip and put it in my mouth, fearlessly chomping away at its entirety. Granted, a bag of Fritos lay open on my bed at this moment, but the moment itself was eye-opening.
Who immediately eats food found in their bed? A person who's been single for almost four years and has no aspirations to become attached to anything but her remote.
Thus, I'm going to die alone.
It's time to stock up on Fritos.
As I sat in my bed having a one-sided conversation with my dog and watching Gilmore Girls on a Wednesday afternoon, I found a Frito on my bed. Without hesitation, I picked up that amorphous corn chip and put it in my mouth, fearlessly chomping away at its entirety. Granted, a bag of Fritos lay open on my bed at this moment, but the moment itself was eye-opening.
Who immediately eats food found in their bed? A person who's been single for almost four years and has no aspirations to become attached to anything but her remote.
Thus, I'm going to die alone.
It's time to stock up on Fritos.
Friday, May 9, 2014
"ABC Sucks!", Shouts the Petulant 28-Year-Old Child.
This week, to no surprise (thanks to the network, not the quality of the show) Trophy Wife was canceled.
As you well know, I have spent months and months trying to help save this brilliant, brilliant show and now that it's gone I feel a true sense of sadness. Sadness for an audience who will watch a man treat a group of women like objects until he finds his staged true love rather than watch an intelligent comedy with strong women at the core of the show. How many episodes of Dancing with the Stars do we need to suffer through each week before a show with heart and humor and wit can be given a chance in a proper time slot with proper marketing?
This whole situation only amplifies my theory that ABC has absolutely no idea how to run a network. I'm no expert, but here's how you run a network to get ratings...
1- Pick an appropriate time slot for that show. A lighthearted family comedy would do best earlier in the evening slots as a lead in to a bigger, more established comedy. For example, had Trophy Wife sat between The Middle and Modern Family, it's ratings would have been sky high. Putting it between The Goldbergs and that Sofia Vergara show about women who kill or some such nonsense at 8/9pm was not exactly setting the show up for success.
2- Market your shows properly. With a show like Trophy Wife -- an ironically named, comedy/familiy sitcom, putting content out about the show is not rocket science. I have to say, the cast and the fans did a better job of marketing the show than ABC's godawful publicity team did. Halfhearted tweets two minutes before the show starts IS NOT MARKETING THE SHOW. Giving a show a proper trailer and proper TV spots that don't paint it as the title without its irony would've also been beneficial. I'm pretty sure ABC execs had never even seen the show.
3- Stop relying on the Nielsen boxes! In this day and age, relying on Nielsen families for your ratings numbers seems kind of futile. In the age of the internet and DVR, 90% of people do not watch television shows when they are on. Also, to this day, I've never met anyone with a Nielsen box in their home. If you adhere to the DVR numbers, the Hulu views, the social media interest, you'll find that new media and technology far surpass the use of the Nielsen box. I think ABC would be surprised to find out that there were a lot more people watching Trophy Wife than their numbers produced.
4- Last but not least, GIVE A SHOW TIME. Two seasons minimum. Go back and watch any of your favorite sitcoms from the past decade. They all had fairly subpar pilots. It takes time for a show to take off and find its audience. This is why internet content will eventually take over old media. The internet gives an audience more time to grab hold of a web series or an entertainer's content and go back and catch up later without the interference of a network pulling it at will.
There. I've just run a network in four paragraphs better than ABC has in one year.
The season/series finale of Trophy Wife airs this Tuesday May 13 at 8:30c/9:30e.
As you well know, I have spent months and months trying to help save this brilliant, brilliant show and now that it's gone I feel a true sense of sadness. Sadness for an audience who will watch a man treat a group of women like objects until he finds his staged true love rather than watch an intelligent comedy with strong women at the core of the show. How many episodes of Dancing with the Stars do we need to suffer through each week before a show with heart and humor and wit can be given a chance in a proper time slot with proper marketing?
This whole situation only amplifies my theory that ABC has absolutely no idea how to run a network. I'm no expert, but here's how you run a network to get ratings...
1- Pick an appropriate time slot for that show. A lighthearted family comedy would do best earlier in the evening slots as a lead in to a bigger, more established comedy. For example, had Trophy Wife sat between The Middle and Modern Family, it's ratings would have been sky high. Putting it between The Goldbergs and that Sofia Vergara show about women who kill or some such nonsense at 8/9pm was not exactly setting the show up for success.
2- Market your shows properly. With a show like Trophy Wife -- an ironically named, comedy/familiy sitcom, putting content out about the show is not rocket science. I have to say, the cast and the fans did a better job of marketing the show than ABC's godawful publicity team did. Halfhearted tweets two minutes before the show starts IS NOT MARKETING THE SHOW. Giving a show a proper trailer and proper TV spots that don't paint it as the title without its irony would've also been beneficial. I'm pretty sure ABC execs had never even seen the show.
3- Stop relying on the Nielsen boxes! In this day and age, relying on Nielsen families for your ratings numbers seems kind of futile. In the age of the internet and DVR, 90% of people do not watch television shows when they are on. Also, to this day, I've never met anyone with a Nielsen box in their home. If you adhere to the DVR numbers, the Hulu views, the social media interest, you'll find that new media and technology far surpass the use of the Nielsen box. I think ABC would be surprised to find out that there were a lot more people watching Trophy Wife than their numbers produced.
4- Last but not least, GIVE A SHOW TIME. Two seasons minimum. Go back and watch any of your favorite sitcoms from the past decade. They all had fairly subpar pilots. It takes time for a show to take off and find its audience. This is why internet content will eventually take over old media. The internet gives an audience more time to grab hold of a web series or an entertainer's content and go back and catch up later without the interference of a network pulling it at will.
There. I've just run a network in four paragraphs better than ABC has in one year.
The season/series finale of Trophy Wife airs this Tuesday May 13 at 8:30c/9:30e.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Things You Need to Stop Saying
Do you ever fantasize about telling that one friend of yours to just "STOP SAYING THINGS!"? Do your nieces and nephews sound like a dumbed down version of Pretty Little Liars? Do you wish you could punch Merriam Webster in the face for the things we've let into its pages? Well, if you said yes to any of this, there's a good chance people in your life are saying a bunch of things that could really stand to get the hell out of our society's vernacular. Let's get rid of some.
Be jealous.
This is a phrase coined by people who are doing something they feel is cool. If they're out doing something they enjoy, they will surely post about it on some social media platform and then immediately demand that you be jealous. Why? What if I have absolutely no interest in cross-stitching the PBR logo onto a throw pillow and am therefore not in any way jealous? What if I don't like the beach because I'm allergic to sand and am therefore not in any way jealous? Jealousy is for children and suspicious girlfriends. If you want me to take an interest in the thing you're showing me, just show it to me.
If I'm jealous, that means my life is missing a key element that is keeping me from being totally happy. This is what you want from me?! Some friend you are.
Or nah.
This is a phrase on which I've only recently been hipped to the jive. This one astounds me. Sometimes shortening words like "totally" to "totes" happens -- and while I hate that too, it's more acceptable in my brain because it's shortening the word down. "Or nah" is saying "or not", only as if you'd just had a stroke this week. I'm sorry, what is wrong with using a full word or a correct word? Is "or not" really that much harder or uncool to say than "or nah". Maybe instead of "what do you think?", I'll start saying "what do youthahhh?".
So fucking cool. And look at all that time I saved.
Complaints.
This isn't so much words themselves as it is what this represents. I adore most of my friends with whom I share a social media relationship. However, many of said friends only use their social media platforms to complain. And I mean COMPLAIN.
Ow, my foot hurts. Aw, man, a book fell over. It seems like there's traffic all the time. I lost a piece of paper I was writing on a week ago. Oh no, I'm missing a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond. My cream soda is flat. I had to wait in a line today.
Like, literally, anything that can be complained about is complained about. It's always petty stuff and it's always obnoxious.
I try my hardest as a human being with no super serious problems in life to not complain about petty or serious things. My life will never be worse than some other peoples' lives. I don't have the right to complain. Sure, things fucking suck sometimes, but complaining about every single one of those things makes you seem like you can't handle anything at all and that you're going to whine about it every step of the way. If you look back on your social media platforms and see that maybe you've been complaining a lot lately, take a moment a consider buying a diary. Just remember, negativity breeds negativity.
Because frankly, I'm sure the rest of your friends feel the same way I do. I just have the balls to say it in an open, incredibly vague forum.
Am I a hypocrite because I've spent this entire blog complaining? Of course not. This is my blog.
Now if you'll excuse me, my cream soda's going flat.
IF you haven't been keeping up with my VEDA, well, neither have I... but I'm all caught up now, so feel free to check 'em all out and subscribe for more weird whenever I feel like it.
Also, one week from today there's going to be a big announcement on the channel and probably here as well. Big, big, big.
Enjoy your Wednesday. Go hump something, whydon'tchya?
Be jealous.
This is a phrase coined by people who are doing something they feel is cool. If they're out doing something they enjoy, they will surely post about it on some social media platform and then immediately demand that you be jealous. Why? What if I have absolutely no interest in cross-stitching the PBR logo onto a throw pillow and am therefore not in any way jealous? What if I don't like the beach because I'm allergic to sand and am therefore not in any way jealous? Jealousy is for children and suspicious girlfriends. If you want me to take an interest in the thing you're showing me, just show it to me.
If I'm jealous, that means my life is missing a key element that is keeping me from being totally happy. This is what you want from me?! Some friend you are.
Or nah.
This is a phrase on which I've only recently been hipped to the jive. This one astounds me. Sometimes shortening words like "totally" to "totes" happens -- and while I hate that too, it's more acceptable in my brain because it's shortening the word down. "Or nah" is saying "or not", only as if you'd just had a stroke this week. I'm sorry, what is wrong with using a full word or a correct word? Is "or not" really that much harder or uncool to say than "or nah". Maybe instead of "what do you think?", I'll start saying "what do youthahhh?".
So fucking cool. And look at all that time I saved.
Complaints.
This isn't so much words themselves as it is what this represents. I adore most of my friends with whom I share a social media relationship. However, many of said friends only use their social media platforms to complain. And I mean COMPLAIN.
Ow, my foot hurts. Aw, man, a book fell over. It seems like there's traffic all the time. I lost a piece of paper I was writing on a week ago. Oh no, I'm missing a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond. My cream soda is flat. I had to wait in a line today.
Like, literally, anything that can be complained about is complained about. It's always petty stuff and it's always obnoxious.
I try my hardest as a human being with no super serious problems in life to not complain about petty or serious things. My life will never be worse than some other peoples' lives. I don't have the right to complain. Sure, things fucking suck sometimes, but complaining about every single one of those things makes you seem like you can't handle anything at all and that you're going to whine about it every step of the way. If you look back on your social media platforms and see that maybe you've been complaining a lot lately, take a moment a consider buying a diary. Just remember, negativity breeds negativity.
Because frankly, I'm sure the rest of your friends feel the same way I do. I just have the balls to say it in an open, incredibly vague forum.
Am I a hypocrite because I've spent this entire blog complaining? Of course not. This is my blog.
Now if you'll excuse me, my cream soda's going flat.
IF you haven't been keeping up with my VEDA, well, neither have I... but I'm all caught up now, so feel free to check 'em all out and subscribe for more weird whenever I feel like it.
Also, one week from today there's going to be a big announcement on the channel and probably here as well. Big, big, big.
Enjoy your Wednesday. Go hump something, whydon'tchya?
Friday, April 18, 2014
The Curse of the One Man Woman
For most of my life I have been "cursed" by being what I like to call the "one man woman". I don't fancy many men at a time and I find it hard to even take an interest in men that I don't think would have any interest in me. A display of low self-esteem? Maybe, but I like to see it as being more "realistic" than anything. I've never made out with a random stranger in a bar. I've only ever dated one man for less than a month. I'm a serial monogamist, I suppose. It's not out of distaste or disapproval. I've just never been the girl that any guy with more than six brain cells wants to make out with at a bar and I'm fine with that.
But lately I've been sort of envious of the "one + one = thirty" women. The ones that will cozy their needy egos up to men who are practically (or literally) strangers and lock their face onto his. Because, let's be honest, when you've been single for a while, sometimes all you want to do is makeout with a stranger. There's something mysterious and awesome about having the power to see someone you like and taste their saliva for fifteen minutes at a time. What sick practices we humans engage in.
Will I ever be this type of woman? Probably not. You figure that around 30, you're pretty locked into your own mindsets. Do I really want to be that type of woman? Probably not. You figure that around 30, your prospects of making a human connection that doesn't involve saliva are slim to none in a bar setting.
So where does a "one man woman" meet a man who doesn't need the menu read to him? Or a man who isn't so quick to grind his genitals on you as a way to say "I find you attractive". Or a man who can speak in more than slurs. A bar is not the place.
The ritual of dating has become a lost art. I've been taken on very few dates in my life, despite having had a few serious relationships and a few passing boyfriends. The practice of wining and dining your date has long since been put to rest, and frankly that's relieving. There's nothing more awkward than first date small talk.
Except getting your period unexpectedly.
So where does the practice of dating go from here? Are we all just destined to be the "one man woman"/"one woman man"/"one man man"/"one woman woman", etc.?
Or are there still nice people out there who at least want to wait until they know your name and can say it coherently before they press their genitals into your hip to say they find you attractive?
But lately I've been sort of envious of the "one + one = thirty" women. The ones that will cozy their needy egos up to men who are practically (or literally) strangers and lock their face onto his. Because, let's be honest, when you've been single for a while, sometimes all you want to do is makeout with a stranger. There's something mysterious and awesome about having the power to see someone you like and taste their saliva for fifteen minutes at a time. What sick practices we humans engage in.
Will I ever be this type of woman? Probably not. You figure that around 30, you're pretty locked into your own mindsets. Do I really want to be that type of woman? Probably not. You figure that around 30, your prospects of making a human connection that doesn't involve saliva are slim to none in a bar setting.
So where does a "one man woman" meet a man who doesn't need the menu read to him? Or a man who isn't so quick to grind his genitals on you as a way to say "I find you attractive". Or a man who can speak in more than slurs. A bar is not the place.
The ritual of dating has become a lost art. I've been taken on very few dates in my life, despite having had a few serious relationships and a few passing boyfriends. The practice of wining and dining your date has long since been put to rest, and frankly that's relieving. There's nothing more awkward than first date small talk.
Except getting your period unexpectedly.
So where does the practice of dating go from here? Are we all just destined to be the "one man woman"/"one woman man"/"one man man"/"one woman woman", etc.?
Or are there still nice people out there who at least want to wait until they know your name and can say it coherently before they press their genitals into your hip to say they find you attractive?
Sunday, April 6, 2014
How to Be a Vlogger
As of recent times, my friends on the social platform of my real life have encountered my online life. My online life accurately represents my real life, so it's not as if I've been living a lie so much as living a double life. I'm always very hesitant to show my friends and family content I'm working on. I don't know why that is. I have very supportive friends and family. But more recently, things like my youtube channel (click the link and subscribe if you love puppies and comedy) have come to my friends' attention. My secret world is no longer a secret. And while once a terrifying notion, I'm presented now with the challenge to up my game because people I know are watching. My friends, at least the ones who've told me they watch, even like my videos.
Which brings me to the reason you clicked on this post. Now, I am by no means a professional vlogger.. though I'm taking steps toward that tomorrow through a hopeful partnership secrets secrets secrets.
But I digress. I had a friend approach me last week and ask me "how exactly do you start vlogging?". And that sent the hamster in the wheel of my brain a-runnin'.
Vlogging is always something that came naturally to me. I never really thought of it as a process. I started vlogging back in 2006. I never did it as a means to really be entertaining or to bring thoughts or ideas to the table for discussion. I did it to keep in contact with my friends who were spread out across the country. We would record videos for each other with updates and rambles and that was entertaining. My old channel still has hundreds of subscribers to date for some weird reason. But with YouTube being such a wonderful commodity for comedians, bloggers, vloggers, gurus, gamers, educators, tutorials, etc., there does seem to be a bit of a formula to it.
So here's a couple tips to get you started, if you're interested in vlogging, but you aren't sure how to get started.
1- JUMP. When I decided I wanted to use YouTube as a platform to put comedy ideas on, I really had to think about how to approach it. Did I want to film full sketches? I don't have the camera equipment for that. Should I try it anyway? Did I want to do a series of reviews or just vlogs? What am I gonna talk about? Don't I need an audience for that? YES. SO WHAT? YES. YES. YES. EVERYTHING. NO.
There were a series of videos at the beginning of my YouTube channel (not no mo!) that were basically "Hehhhh, I dunno what to do with my channel..". Don't do that. Just jump into it. Regardless of the type of channel you want to start, or even if you're unsure of the type of channel you want to start, come up with a concept - big or small - shoot it to the best of your ability, edit it to the best of your ability and put it up on YouTube. You'll never believe the feeling of accomplishment.
2- GIVE YOURSELF TIME. To reiterate, I am by no means a professional vlogger or even a great vlogger for that matter. But the one thing I've noticed is that over time, your videos get better. The content will get richer after that first video. Often when I watch my videos back, they reinspire me into a completely new idea. As soon as you find a groove with your videos, you'll keep producing content and it will look better and better as time goes on. This is also the best way to find your voice on your channel (and probably in life). I've seen my personality, not necessarily change, but evolve differently than I thought it would since I've started vlogging regularly. And your videos will be shitty for a while.. and that's okay! Trust me, there's videos on my channel that I would re-do in a second, but if you don't have the shitty videos to go back and cringe at, you'll never know how far you've come.
3- SHOOT-N-EDIT. Being unemployed, I don't have the means to get a fancy Canon 60D or even the tripod that holds it. And I certainly don't have the means to purchase editing software. However, if you're in a similar situation, don't let this hinder your progress. I started out, on this channel, using my laptop's webcam. Now, I actually use my iPhone. I like that I can see what I'm filming, as opposed to shooting on a fairly shitty digicam. I edit using Windows Movie Maker. Eventually when I have more than $15 in my checking account, I will invest in a sexy Canon 60D, a MacBook and Final Cut. But having limited means doesn't mean you can't produce quality content.
4- UPLOAD-N-LABEL IT REAL GOODLIKE. Obviously, the next step is to put your video on YouTube, or whatever video hosting platform you choose -- believe it or not there are other options! But at this juncture, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a better one than YouTube, in my opinion. Give your video a title. I disagree with people who say your title has to be SUPER catchy. It can just be what it is. If you're doing a tag video it's perfectly acceptable to label it something weird. However, I would sincerely recommend you do not try "view-whoring" your videos by labeling them something they are not. Unless you get a kick out of negative feedback and whiny teenagers. Make sure you use relevant tags as well. Most people would tell you to be very expansive in the "info" section. Personally, I find my eye is caught more by videos with just a funny sentence or two in the video's info box.
5- BE PATIENT AND DO IT CAUSE YOU LOVE IT. If we could all make videos for a living, the general population would be far more introverted. It's a beautiful thing to make videos and create your little world of content on a daily/weekly/monthly basis. It's a hard feat to overcome, but try and forget you want attention on your videos. Definitely use your social media platforms to whatever you degree feels good to you. Don't annoy your friends. If they wanna see it, they'll see it. Trust me. They saw the link the first thirty two times you posted it. Give yourself time to build an audience. In the interim, find yourself a niche and a reason to love creating content for the world to see. Which leads me to...
6- BE PERSISTENT AND CONSISTENT. It takes quite a while to build your own little community on YouTube. It rarely happens overnight unless your kid just went to the dentist or your cat in a top hat just knocked a tinier cat out on its ass. So keep doing it. Come up with constants in your videos. Maybe make your intros a certain style that people recognize when they come to your videos -- same for the end of your video. Giving your audience a comfort in consistency on your channel is actually a very important element. And still in the vein of consistency, come up with some sort of schedule for yourself. Even if you don't want to cement days to post videos, be somewhat regular with your posting. Once a week is probably the most popular option. And don't stop. Just because you don't have a million subscribers doesn't mean people aren't watching or won't watch eventually. Give yourself time and create create create!
So there you go. There's my tips and tricks for how to be a vlogger. If you have any Qs or anything you'd like to add that maybe I didn't cover here, feel free to comment below or contact me on Twitter (@jeshface).
And as always, please subscribe to my channel HERE for content weekly at the very least. I'm currently participating in VEDA (Vlog Every Day in April), so there's a new video every day in the month of April.
Have a totally sexy Sunday.
FIND ME HERE:
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM
TUMBLR
YOUTUBE
WORDPRESS
Which brings me to the reason you clicked on this post. Now, I am by no means a professional vlogger.. though I'm taking steps toward that tomorrow through a hopeful partnership secrets secrets secrets.
But I digress. I had a friend approach me last week and ask me "how exactly do you start vlogging?". And that sent the hamster in the wheel of my brain a-runnin'.
Vlogging is always something that came naturally to me. I never really thought of it as a process. I started vlogging back in 2006. I never did it as a means to really be entertaining or to bring thoughts or ideas to the table for discussion. I did it to keep in contact with my friends who were spread out across the country. We would record videos for each other with updates and rambles and that was entertaining. My old channel still has hundreds of subscribers to date for some weird reason. But with YouTube being such a wonderful commodity for comedians, bloggers, vloggers, gurus, gamers, educators, tutorials, etc., there does seem to be a bit of a formula to it.
So here's a couple tips to get you started, if you're interested in vlogging, but you aren't sure how to get started.
1- JUMP. When I decided I wanted to use YouTube as a platform to put comedy ideas on, I really had to think about how to approach it. Did I want to film full sketches? I don't have the camera equipment for that. Should I try it anyway? Did I want to do a series of reviews or just vlogs? What am I gonna talk about? Don't I need an audience for that? YES. SO WHAT? YES. YES. YES. EVERYTHING. NO.
There were a series of videos at the beginning of my YouTube channel (not no mo!) that were basically "Hehhhh, I dunno what to do with my channel..". Don't do that. Just jump into it. Regardless of the type of channel you want to start, or even if you're unsure of the type of channel you want to start, come up with a concept - big or small - shoot it to the best of your ability, edit it to the best of your ability and put it up on YouTube. You'll never believe the feeling of accomplishment.
2- GIVE YOURSELF TIME. To reiterate, I am by no means a professional vlogger or even a great vlogger for that matter. But the one thing I've noticed is that over time, your videos get better. The content will get richer after that first video. Often when I watch my videos back, they reinspire me into a completely new idea. As soon as you find a groove with your videos, you'll keep producing content and it will look better and better as time goes on. This is also the best way to find your voice on your channel (and probably in life). I've seen my personality, not necessarily change, but evolve differently than I thought it would since I've started vlogging regularly. And your videos will be shitty for a while.. and that's okay! Trust me, there's videos on my channel that I would re-do in a second, but if you don't have the shitty videos to go back and cringe at, you'll never know how far you've come.
3- SHOOT-N-EDIT. Being unemployed, I don't have the means to get a fancy Canon 60D or even the tripod that holds it. And I certainly don't have the means to purchase editing software. However, if you're in a similar situation, don't let this hinder your progress. I started out, on this channel, using my laptop's webcam. Now, I actually use my iPhone. I like that I can see what I'm filming, as opposed to shooting on a fairly shitty digicam. I edit using Windows Movie Maker. Eventually when I have more than $15 in my checking account, I will invest in a sexy Canon 60D, a MacBook and Final Cut. But having limited means doesn't mean you can't produce quality content.
4- UPLOAD-N-LABEL IT REAL GOODLIKE. Obviously, the next step is to put your video on YouTube, or whatever video hosting platform you choose -- believe it or not there are other options! But at this juncture, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a better one than YouTube, in my opinion. Give your video a title. I disagree with people who say your title has to be SUPER catchy. It can just be what it is. If you're doing a tag video it's perfectly acceptable to label it something weird. However, I would sincerely recommend you do not try "view-whoring" your videos by labeling them something they are not. Unless you get a kick out of negative feedback and whiny teenagers. Make sure you use relevant tags as well. Most people would tell you to be very expansive in the "info" section. Personally, I find my eye is caught more by videos with just a funny sentence or two in the video's info box.
5- BE PATIENT AND DO IT CAUSE YOU LOVE IT. If we could all make videos for a living, the general population would be far more introverted. It's a beautiful thing to make videos and create your little world of content on a daily/weekly/monthly basis. It's a hard feat to overcome, but try and forget you want attention on your videos. Definitely use your social media platforms to whatever you degree feels good to you. Don't annoy your friends. If they wanna see it, they'll see it. Trust me. They saw the link the first thirty two times you posted it. Give yourself time to build an audience. In the interim, find yourself a niche and a reason to love creating content for the world to see. Which leads me to...
6- BE PERSISTENT AND CONSISTENT. It takes quite a while to build your own little community on YouTube. It rarely happens overnight unless your kid just went to the dentist or your cat in a top hat just knocked a tinier cat out on its ass. So keep doing it. Come up with constants in your videos. Maybe make your intros a certain style that people recognize when they come to your videos -- same for the end of your video. Giving your audience a comfort in consistency on your channel is actually a very important element. And still in the vein of consistency, come up with some sort of schedule for yourself. Even if you don't want to cement days to post videos, be somewhat regular with your posting. Once a week is probably the most popular option. And don't stop. Just because you don't have a million subscribers doesn't mean people aren't watching or won't watch eventually. Give yourself time and create create create!
So there you go. There's my tips and tricks for how to be a vlogger. If you have any Qs or anything you'd like to add that maybe I didn't cover here, feel free to comment below or contact me on Twitter (@jeshface).
And as always, please subscribe to my channel HERE for content weekly at the very least. I'm currently participating in VEDA (Vlog Every Day in April), so there's a new video every day in the month of April.
Have a totally sexy Sunday.
FIND ME HERE:
TUMBLR
YOUTUBE
WORDPRESS
Thursday, March 27, 2014
It's Not You, It's You Pretending to Be Me
One thing I truly abhor is people who don't know how to be themselves. I empathize, but I truly detest it. It's hard to know who you are in this big, bad, buttfucking world of judgment and contempt for other human life. I get that. It's hard to accept judgment based on what is true in your heart. I get that.
As a child, I had friends who were popular at other schools. My best friend growing up (20 years now) was very popular at the school she attended. I, on the other hand, was not at all popular at my school. The popular girls and their parents looked at me like I was born with thirty six heads and asked everyone to draw a little picture on each one of them. And to tell you the truth, I liked that. I knew, even at a young age, that these girls were vapid because their parents taught them to be. I, on the other hand, was funny and strange and had friends who were funny and strange. This somehow melded nicely with friends in other schools who were popular. My ability to not give any fucks gave them the ability to give a few less fucks than they did, I think. Not to toot my own fuckless horn, but that seems like a thing.
Now, I don't want to say I've never had one of those mini identity crises where I question myself, because I absolutely have. I've wondered if I should wear my hair a certain way or do my makeup differently in order to be more this or that. Definitely. That's normal. And I definitely hit some weird phases in terms of what I liked and what I listened to and wore. But I just like to try on different hats and learn about different things. I never wanted to be anyone else. I don't know how to be anyone else. That's not to say I think I'm perfect or better than anyone else, but I can't fake being something I'm not. I just can't. Unless I'm getting paid to do it.
If you feel like you're constantly hiding behind some facade of trying to be something or someone that you're not, just remember that it's going to take you ten times longer to get to who you actually are if you keep doing this. It's okay to let other people and other styles and ideas influence what you like and who you are, but don't make that wholly who you are. Bring 90% of you and 10% of the influence to the table.
And if you never figure you out, that's okay too. Nothing really matters if you think about it hard enough.
That's all the brainleak you get for today.
As a child, I had friends who were popular at other schools. My best friend growing up (20 years now) was very popular at the school she attended. I, on the other hand, was not at all popular at my school. The popular girls and their parents looked at me like I was born with thirty six heads and asked everyone to draw a little picture on each one of them. And to tell you the truth, I liked that. I knew, even at a young age, that these girls were vapid because their parents taught them to be. I, on the other hand, was funny and strange and had friends who were funny and strange. This somehow melded nicely with friends in other schools who were popular. My ability to not give any fucks gave them the ability to give a few less fucks than they did, I think. Not to toot my own fuckless horn, but that seems like a thing.
Now, I don't want to say I've never had one of those mini identity crises where I question myself, because I absolutely have. I've wondered if I should wear my hair a certain way or do my makeup differently in order to be more this or that. Definitely. That's normal. And I definitely hit some weird phases in terms of what I liked and what I listened to and wore. But I just like to try on different hats and learn about different things. I never wanted to be anyone else. I don't know how to be anyone else. That's not to say I think I'm perfect or better than anyone else, but I can't fake being something I'm not. I just can't. Unless I'm getting paid to do it.
If you feel like you're constantly hiding behind some facade of trying to be something or someone that you're not, just remember that it's going to take you ten times longer to get to who you actually are if you keep doing this. It's okay to let other people and other styles and ideas influence what you like and who you are, but don't make that wholly who you are. Bring 90% of you and 10% of the influence to the table.
And if you never figure you out, that's okay too. Nothing really matters if you think about it hard enough.
That's all the brainleak you get for today.
Friday, March 14, 2014
Fear.
Today, after four years, I am cutting my hair. I am terrified. I've never been afraid of cutting my hair. The last time I did it, the hairdresser did a really shit job and I swore I'd never cut it again. And I haven't... until now.
It's just fucking hair. It grows the fuck back.
These are things that I'm telling myself.
Five years ago, I would have made fun of me for this.
I just keep reminding myself that my long hair is a burden. It falls out in fistfuls. I always lean on it when I sit up in bed. It tangles constantly. When I wanna box dye it it takes 2-3 boxes. It's time for it to GO.
I will miss you, many inches. But only a little.
Wish me luck.
I may barf.
It's just fucking hair. It grows the fuck back.
These are things that I'm telling myself.
Five years ago, I would have made fun of me for this.
I just keep reminding myself that my long hair is a burden. It falls out in fistfuls. I always lean on it when I sit up in bed. It tangles constantly. When I wanna box dye it it takes 2-3 boxes. It's time for it to GO.
I will miss you, many inches. But only a little.
Wish me luck.
I may barf.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
beingsocial.edu
Since I lost my job back in October, I've gotten very good at staying home. Most of the time it's because I can't afford to go anywhere and because I've developed very special relationships with Carrie Bradshaw and Danny Tanner, among other very important people. My couch officially has an imprint of my ass in it and I am fully willing to admit that. Okay, the last one was a bit of an exaggeration.
However, the urge to go out does eventually strike my brain piece. When it does, I get excited. Like... too excited. Like... kid-in-a-candy-store too excited. But then after about an hour, I realize that my show is on that night. This turns me into kid-with-diabetes-in-a-candy-store conflicted.
I love to see my friends and I love to be social, but sometimes it takes a little extra oomph to actually get me to take off the sweatpants and apply that makeup nonsense to my face. So to give myself that urge to go out, I do the following things:
- I drink a ton of coffee. More than three cups of coffee should do it. After three cups, I'm impossibly hyper and I have to do something to get rid of all that excess energy.
- I drink a ton of booze. The beaut part of living in the city is not having to drive. Plus I don't have a car. So, I get myself a little liquored up before an outing, which puts me in the spirit of the evening.
- I doll up to party anthems. Give me a beat, Ke$ha. This place about to blow, you all.
- I change clothes like forty different times. My life is a constant belief that I'm having PMS. I'm not sure if it's an excuse or a hormonal problem. Because of whatever that is, I feel gross in almost all of my clothes. So I try to pick the one that makes me feel the least gross, but I'll eventually give up on looking at myself and leave.
Great. You're ready. Now here's what I do when I go out:
- I feel out my friends. Sometimes you have to figure out if your friends are out to get balls-out drunk or just have a few social cocktails. Most of my friends are alcoholics, so the former usually applies to me.
- I talk to strangers. In an attempt to feign interest in the outside world, I try to talk to strangers. This not only makes me seem social, it also gives me an opportunity to make strangers feel uncomfortable, which is only in my top ten favorite things to do ever.
- I get bored easily and turn into a pile of pity. I can only handle 2-4 hours of socialization in the world of nightlife. Frankly, by the time 1am rolls around, I'd rather be making out with a bag of Doritos than some douchebag with a flat-brim hat and extensive collection of Affliction t-shirts.
- I go home. Turns out I just like being at home. Plus, as I said, home has Doritos.
This where I leave you to shower... because I'm going out tonight.
I'll miss you, Doritos.
However, the urge to go out does eventually strike my brain piece. When it does, I get excited. Like... too excited. Like... kid-in-a-candy-store too excited. But then after about an hour, I realize that my show is on that night. This turns me into kid-with-diabetes-in-a-candy-store conflicted.
I love to see my friends and I love to be social, but sometimes it takes a little extra oomph to actually get me to take off the sweatpants and apply that makeup nonsense to my face. So to give myself that urge to go out, I do the following things:
- I drink a ton of coffee. More than three cups of coffee should do it. After three cups, I'm impossibly hyper and I have to do something to get rid of all that excess energy.
- I drink a ton of booze. The beaut part of living in the city is not having to drive. Plus I don't have a car. So, I get myself a little liquored up before an outing, which puts me in the spirit of the evening.
- I doll up to party anthems. Give me a beat, Ke$ha. This place about to blow, you all.
- I change clothes like forty different times. My life is a constant belief that I'm having PMS. I'm not sure if it's an excuse or a hormonal problem. Because of whatever that is, I feel gross in almost all of my clothes. So I try to pick the one that makes me feel the least gross, but I'll eventually give up on looking at myself and leave.
Great. You're ready. Now here's what I do when I go out:
- I feel out my friends. Sometimes you have to figure out if your friends are out to get balls-out drunk or just have a few social cocktails. Most of my friends are alcoholics, so the former usually applies to me.
- I talk to strangers. In an attempt to feign interest in the outside world, I try to talk to strangers. This not only makes me seem social, it also gives me an opportunity to make strangers feel uncomfortable, which is only in my top ten favorite things to do ever.
- I get bored easily and turn into a pile of pity. I can only handle 2-4 hours of socialization in the world of nightlife. Frankly, by the time 1am rolls around, I'd rather be making out with a bag of Doritos than some douchebag with a flat-brim hat and extensive collection of Affliction t-shirts.
- I go home. Turns out I just like being at home. Plus, as I said, home has Doritos.
This where I leave you to shower... because I'm going out tonight.
I'll miss you, Doritos.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
The National Post vs. Me vs. Kim Novak... and Something About Donald Trump
Age gracefully. What does that mean to you? To me, it means to not feel ashamed of getting older. It means loving yourself the way you are naturally. It means no plastic surgery of any kind, except the absolute necessary kind. And by "absolutely necessary", I don't mean "to cover those wrinkles on your face". I mean "to cover the skin missing from your face after that horrible car accident".
I happen to find the naturally aging female more attractive than most youthful, photoshopped female. I'm sorry, have you missed my 9,000 posts about Marcia Gay Harden? They're the best sort of women. Classy and sexy and with a poise that a girl in her 30s wouldn't even know how to fake. And that's coming from a heterosexual female.
Nevertheless, I was horrified to find myself ranked in a list of people who criticized Kim Novak for her plastic surgeries in an article on The National Post.
If you're too lazy to click the article, my tweet was this:
"Kim Novak's plastic surgeon gave her a procedure called 'Taste This Lemon Forever' #Oscars".
Now, this was meant as a light jibe toward a very obvious procedure or two (or twelve).
Above most things, I am a feminist of sorts. I love a facetious "get back in the kitchen" joke as much as the next guy and I do fancy myself a hard-to-offend comedienne, but I really am a pretty staunch feminist. That being said, I'm also very against plastic surgery. Again, the unnecessary kind.
Women are certainly held to a high standard of looks, especially as they age. In a so-called man's world, it's easy for a man to say a woman has to look a certain way in order to be perceived as attractive. Personally, I've never given a damn about vanity or its related nonsense. Do I wear makeup? Yes. Do I have to wear makeup in order to leave my house? NO. I am comfortable in my own skin. And not just because I'm 28. Because I value myself as more than my face or my breasts or my waistline. I am a human being with thoughts and feelings and ideas and something to say and that's way more important than the inevitable crow's feet that will make themselves at home on my face.
However, I can empathize with the pressure of being held to an unrealistic aesthetic standard. All women are held to that standard, whether they play into it or not. And I'm sure with Hollywood being an intensely vain environment where one can either Botox that forehead or never work again, it's probably really easy to say "One more injection, doc!"... at least until the procedure is over. Then, I imagine, it's difficult to say anything. Rimshot.
But I want to be very clear when I say that I was in no way tearing Kim Novak a new asshole for her choices. Would I have rather have seen her take the high road and age gracefully like June Squibb, who is three years her senior at the age of 84? Definitely. But I certainly don't want to be mistaken for clawing at my own gender. In fact, I'd like to do the opposite. I'd like to tell women to stop while they're ahead. To leave your faces alone. You're worth more than your face. More than that waistline. More than that haircut. More than any value placed upon you by a man or any other woman.
Ultimately, we all make choices for ourselves and only we know what's best for ourselves. So it's not my place to tell any woman she can't have any face she wants. It is my place to say that Donald Trump is a moron and I don't ever want to be publicly associated as agreeing with him on anything. EVER.
I happen to find the naturally aging female more attractive than most youthful, photoshopped female. I'm sorry, have you missed my 9,000 posts about Marcia Gay Harden? They're the best sort of women. Classy and sexy and with a poise that a girl in her 30s wouldn't even know how to fake. And that's coming from a heterosexual female.
Nevertheless, I was horrified to find myself ranked in a list of people who criticized Kim Novak for her plastic surgeries in an article on The National Post.
If you're too lazy to click the article, my tweet was this:
"Kim Novak's plastic surgeon gave her a procedure called 'Taste This Lemon Forever' #Oscars".
Now, this was meant as a light jibe toward a very obvious procedure or two (or twelve).
Above most things, I am a feminist of sorts. I love a facetious "get back in the kitchen" joke as much as the next guy and I do fancy myself a hard-to-offend comedienne, but I really am a pretty staunch feminist. That being said, I'm also very against plastic surgery. Again, the unnecessary kind.
Women are certainly held to a high standard of looks, especially as they age. In a so-called man's world, it's easy for a man to say a woman has to look a certain way in order to be perceived as attractive. Personally, I've never given a damn about vanity or its related nonsense. Do I wear makeup? Yes. Do I have to wear makeup in order to leave my house? NO. I am comfortable in my own skin. And not just because I'm 28. Because I value myself as more than my face or my breasts or my waistline. I am a human being with thoughts and feelings and ideas and something to say and that's way more important than the inevitable crow's feet that will make themselves at home on my face.
However, I can empathize with the pressure of being held to an unrealistic aesthetic standard. All women are held to that standard, whether they play into it or not. And I'm sure with Hollywood being an intensely vain environment where one can either Botox that forehead or never work again, it's probably really easy to say "One more injection, doc!"... at least until the procedure is over. Then, I imagine, it's difficult to say anything. Rimshot.
But I want to be very clear when I say that I was in no way tearing Kim Novak a new asshole for her choices. Would I have rather have seen her take the high road and age gracefully like June Squibb, who is three years her senior at the age of 84? Definitely. But I certainly don't want to be mistaken for clawing at my own gender. In fact, I'd like to do the opposite. I'd like to tell women to stop while they're ahead. To leave your faces alone. You're worth more than your face. More than that waistline. More than that haircut. More than any value placed upon you by a man or any other woman.
Ultimately, we all make choices for ourselves and only we know what's best for ourselves. So it's not my place to tell any woman she can't have any face she wants. It is my place to say that Donald Trump is a moron and I don't ever want to be publicly associated as agreeing with him on anything. EVER.
It's Totally Cool to Love Yourself -- Just Don't Force Your Love For You On Others
I'm here to complain near you today. Hope you're ready.
I've seen a pattern with some of my friends and acquaintances recently. It's something I like to call "Forced Confidence".
Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.
con·fi·dence. noun \ˈkän-fÉ™-dÉ™n(t)s, -ËŒden(t)s\. : a feeling or belief that you can do something well or succeed at something
Thanks, Julie Andrews.
Confidence by definition is a belief that you can do something. To inherently feel comfortable doing something because you know you will succeed is what forms it into Self-Confidence. To have the belief that you are capable of and worthy of success. Both are great things to have.
Here's the rub; if you're truly a confident person, you don't need to announce the fact that you're confident. Again, by definition, having confidence would lead one to believe that you already firmly have faith in yourself and your abilities. When you declare these abilities to, say, your entire Facebook audience, this is saying something else entirely. This is what is commonly known as "fishing for compliments".
For example..
To say "I feel good about how I look today" (probably in a less generic way) is confidence.
To say "I feel good about how I look today and you should too" (again, in a less generic way) is fishing for compliments.
Unless of course you really are self-confident and saying those things, in which case you're just narcissistic and should probably get that in check as well.
You are professing a false sense of self-confidence, thereby actually making you look self-conscious. These are easily read throughable lines. I understand "read throughable" isn't really a phrase, but roll with me, won't you?
Rather than trying to fool the world, or at least your immediate acquaintances, into thinking you're a self-confident person with your shit together who gives absolutely zero fucks about what the world thinks of you, why don't you instead work on becoming that self-confident person with your shit together who gives absolutely zero fucks about what the world thinks of you.
Just telling people that you're confident doesn't make you confident, in the same way posting photos of your dinner on Instagram doesn't make you a fucking chef.
I've seen a pattern with some of my friends and acquaintances recently. It's something I like to call "Forced Confidence".
Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.
con·fi·dence. noun \ˈkän-fÉ™-dÉ™n(t)s, -ËŒden(t)s\. : a feeling or belief that you can do something well or succeed at something
Thanks, Julie Andrews.
Confidence by definition is a belief that you can do something. To inherently feel comfortable doing something because you know you will succeed is what forms it into Self-Confidence. To have the belief that you are capable of and worthy of success. Both are great things to have.
Here's the rub; if you're truly a confident person, you don't need to announce the fact that you're confident. Again, by definition, having confidence would lead one to believe that you already firmly have faith in yourself and your abilities. When you declare these abilities to, say, your entire Facebook audience, this is saying something else entirely. This is what is commonly known as "fishing for compliments".
For example..
To say "I feel good about how I look today" (probably in a less generic way) is confidence.
To say "I feel good about how I look today and you should too" (again, in a less generic way) is fishing for compliments.
Unless of course you really are self-confident and saying those things, in which case you're just narcissistic and should probably get that in check as well.
You are professing a false sense of self-confidence, thereby actually making you look self-conscious. These are easily read throughable lines. I understand "read throughable" isn't really a phrase, but roll with me, won't you?
Rather than trying to fool the world, or at least your immediate acquaintances, into thinking you're a self-confident person with your shit together who gives absolutely zero fucks about what the world thinks of you, why don't you instead work on becoming that self-confident person with your shit together who gives absolutely zero fucks about what the world thinks of you.
Just telling people that you're confident doesn't make you confident, in the same way posting photos of your dinner on Instagram doesn't make you a fucking chef.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
A Working Actor
Being a working actor is not something that happens overnight. In fact, for most aspiring actors, it's a struggle to even make it happen at all. DUN DUN DUUUUUN.
Yesterday I got to be a working actor. It was an extra role in a television show for NBC and it was fantastic. It was everything I'd ever wanted to do-- except it was negative 14 degrees the whole time. But I didn't care. I was just happy to be there.
Ever since I was a weird little child in a weird little world of my own, all I've ever wanted to do was be an actor. Pretending to be somebody or something else was the only skill I had -- and is probably the only skill I still have. I was never academically minded and I can't stand working in a damn robot office all day. It's the only thing I feel I know how to do and how to do well. It's the only thing I enjoy doing.
That being said, my decision to move to Los Angeles is final. My goal is to work part time remotely for a company that is yet to be determined (PLEASE COME FIND ME!) and work as an extra as often as I can. Then I will take that money and experience to Los Angeles when my lease is up, where the job market is way more competitive, but is also more bountiful.
I may be called to work on a few more episodes of the show and with that, I have something to add to a resume.
Stanislavsky THIS, bitches.
Yesterday I got to be a working actor. It was an extra role in a television show for NBC and it was fantastic. It was everything I'd ever wanted to do-- except it was negative 14 degrees the whole time. But I didn't care. I was just happy to be there.
Ever since I was a weird little child in a weird little world of my own, all I've ever wanted to do was be an actor. Pretending to be somebody or something else was the only skill I had -- and is probably the only skill I still have. I was never academically minded and I can't stand working in a damn robot office all day. It's the only thing I feel I know how to do and how to do well. It's the only thing I enjoy doing.
That being said, my decision to move to Los Angeles is final. My goal is to work part time remotely for a company that is yet to be determined (PLEASE COME FIND ME!) and work as an extra as often as I can. Then I will take that money and experience to Los Angeles when my lease is up, where the job market is way more competitive, but is also more bountiful.
I may be called to work on a few more episodes of the show and with that, I have something to add to a resume.
Stanislavsky THIS, bitches.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Save ABC's Trophy Wife!
Every year EOnline helps save one show!
This year, the show that needs the savin' is Trophy Wife!
With three clicks you can help!
Click here and then click Trophy Wife and click Vote and you're done!
Please please please and thanks! :D
This year, the show that needs the savin' is Trophy Wife!
With three clicks you can help!
Click here and then click Trophy Wife and click Vote and you're done!
Please please please and thanks! :D
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Ventura Highway...
It's looking like LA is winning the race, y'all.
This winter in Chicago is pure and total treachery. I hate it. I also just took a wild guess at how to spell "treachery" and I got it right first try. I guess you could say things are looking up.
My mom's on a rampage. She's living with my grandmother until the spring, when she will move somewhere out west. They don't get along, to say the least. What's more, it's now super uncomfortable for me to go and visit them. So.. that's fun.
Also it's snowing again today, which is just the fuckin' tits. I've always liked snow and cold and winter in general. I never wanted to live in a one-climate place because I loved seasons.
Fuck seasons.
I'm thinking Los Angeles. Beaches. Sunny skies. Constantly. Yep. It's lookin' like LA.
Also, if you missed it my cheap, easy, idiotic makeup tutorial is up..
This winter in Chicago is pure and total treachery. I hate it. I also just took a wild guess at how to spell "treachery" and I got it right first try. I guess you could say things are looking up.
My mom's on a rampage. She's living with my grandmother until the spring, when she will move somewhere out west. They don't get along, to say the least. What's more, it's now super uncomfortable for me to go and visit them. So.. that's fun.
Also it's snowing again today, which is just the fuckin' tits. I've always liked snow and cold and winter in general. I never wanted to live in a one-climate place because I loved seasons.
Fuck seasons.
I'm thinking Los Angeles. Beaches. Sunny skies. Constantly. Yep. It's lookin' like LA.
Also, if you missed it my cheap, easy, idiotic makeup tutorial is up..
Monday, February 10, 2014
A Look Back: Facebook
Are you fucking sick of those Look Back videos on Facebook yet?
Great. Me too.
Here's the antidote...
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
A Series of Incomplete Thoughts
Ohhhhh man. I thought I'd take today to just talk at your faces.. it took me three hours to bring 40 minutes of talking down to less than 10 minutes of talking. Trust me, it was just as incoherent at 40 minutes.
Enjoy?
Enjoy?
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Los Angeles vs. New York City
At the very beginning of the year I made the sound decision to move back to where my heart is, NYC.
However, I'm reaching a juncture where I'm trying very hard to make a career happen for myself. One that doesn't involve meth or stripper poles. Just kidding. One of those is totally out of the question.
I also need a change. A big change. Where I know no one and have opportunities falling out of the sky, even if it's a fucking rat race to touch those opportunities with my pinky finger.
So, I'm seriously considering Los Angeles instead. I'm weighing them both and look at jobs in both and will make a decision as the time nears.
Come June, I'm just going to have to pick a coast and go with it. I've lived in both states before, but I've not been to Los Angeles since I was a little girl. My memories are bleak. But I've heard more lovely things about it than terrible things. New York is always lovely. I miss it terribly everyday. Anything's better and safer than Chicago. Just sayin'.
So that's my current dilemma.
What do you think?
I don't give a shit.
Mmmbye.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Trophy Wife - Season 2
I know I go on and on about Trophy Wife quite a bit on all of my social media platforms. This show is just such a beautiful hidden hilarious gem that I would be heartbroken if ABC took it off the radar because it's absolute shit at promoting its shows properly.
SO I created a petition to get our little engine that could a second season. In three days we've acquired 500 signatures and counting. Please if you can spare a minute of your time and just click the little link below and sign it, the world will rejoice.
http://www.change.org/petitions/abc-give-trophy-wife-a-second-season
Thanks, babes!
SO I created a petition to get our little engine that could a second season. In three days we've acquired 500 signatures and counting. Please if you can spare a minute of your time and just click the little link below and sign it, the world will rejoice.
http://www.change.org/petitions/abc-give-trophy-wife-a-second-season
Thanks, babes!
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Ten Movies You Need to Watch (Hidden Gems Edition)
So, I wouldn't call myself a movie buff, because I think that phrase implies a certain standard for film and almost a pretension around it. I would call myself a person who used movies to escape as a child and continues to do so throughout her adulthood. That being said, I have hundreds of movies. Hundreds and hundreds of movies. Sometimes I find myself drawn to movies purely by the actors in them. I figured once a week I'd share with you a list of films that I wouldn't have normally noticed unless a certain actor's filmography brought me to them. So here's ten for you now...
10. Garden State. Great lost in your 20s movie with a soundtrack too big for its size. Natalie Portman brought me to that film and I've loved it unconditionally from the moment I saw it.
9. Scotland, PA. A very, very strange modernish take on MacBeth. Very intriguing and funny. Maura Tierney brought me to that bad boy. Took it from Blockbuster as part of my severance package way back when.
8. Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal. The Hannibal Lecter series. I was always a fan of the books, but Anthony Hopkins brought me to the films. In particular Hannibal -- such a beautifully shot film. Florence. Need I say more?
7. Meet Joe Black. Another Tony Hopkins vehicle. I stayed for Marcia Gay Harden though. But we'll get to that one in a minute. Such an interesting story and pulls at whatever heartstrings are.
6. STAR!. I cannot praise this movie enough. The acting. The visuals. The musical numbers. A biopic of Gertrude Lawrence and a damn good one. The film that made me fall in love with (the real) Noel Coward. Julie Andrews brought me to that one -- and she's fucking BRILLIANT in it. It's like three hours long, but give it a go if you can find it.
5. Girl Most Likely (or Imogene - if you're in Europe). This movie was a flop in the theaters, but it was so adorable. The ending was a little flat, but it was really sweet and really uplifting. Kristen Wiig brought me to that gem.
4. The Hole. Not a porno. A thriller I first watched in parts on YouTube in my apartment in NYC at 3am. Thora Birch drew me to that mindfuck film.
3. Ghost World. Thora Birch movie #2. This movie is perfect in so many ways. The music is incredible. The character of Enid is incredible. Visually it's beautiful. It's just a film about being different and lost and it's lovely. And based on a comic book of the same name.
2. Wet Hot American Summer. If you're unfamiliar with this movie, you need to join the cult, because this movie is one of the best hidden gems of them all. So insanely funny and random. David Wain. Michael Showalter. Michael Ian Black. Amy Poehler. Paul Rudd. Bradley Cooper. Janeane Garafalo. David Hyde Pierce. Christopher Meloni. Molly Shannon. Need I go on?
1. If I Were You. Told you I'd get back to Marcia Gay Harden. Intrigued by this movie's plot, I watched it once on Netflix and I haven't stopped watching it since. I put it on when I go to sleep at night. Every night. It's so sweet and sad and silly and emotionally brutal. It's a little taste of everything - and MARCIA GAY HARDEN. Perfection. Always.
There ya go. Check out those ten flicks. Ten more next week.
Fuck off.
Bye!
PS - SPEAKIN'-A MOVIES, TOMORROW'S VIDEO IS GONNA BE A FUCKING AWESOME MOVIE ROMP, SO DON'T FORGET TO DO THIS.
10. Garden State. Great lost in your 20s movie with a soundtrack too big for its size. Natalie Portman brought me to that film and I've loved it unconditionally from the moment I saw it.
9. Scotland, PA. A very, very strange modernish take on MacBeth. Very intriguing and funny. Maura Tierney brought me to that bad boy. Took it from Blockbuster as part of my severance package way back when.
8. Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal. The Hannibal Lecter series. I was always a fan of the books, but Anthony Hopkins brought me to the films. In particular Hannibal -- such a beautifully shot film. Florence. Need I say more?
7. Meet Joe Black. Another Tony Hopkins vehicle. I stayed for Marcia Gay Harden though. But we'll get to that one in a minute. Such an interesting story and pulls at whatever heartstrings are.
6. STAR!. I cannot praise this movie enough. The acting. The visuals. The musical numbers. A biopic of Gertrude Lawrence and a damn good one. The film that made me fall in love with (the real) Noel Coward. Julie Andrews brought me to that one -- and she's fucking BRILLIANT in it. It's like three hours long, but give it a go if you can find it.
5. Girl Most Likely (or Imogene - if you're in Europe). This movie was a flop in the theaters, but it was so adorable. The ending was a little flat, but it was really sweet and really uplifting. Kristen Wiig brought me to that gem.
4. The Hole. Not a porno. A thriller I first watched in parts on YouTube in my apartment in NYC at 3am. Thora Birch drew me to that mindfuck film.
3. Ghost World. Thora Birch movie #2. This movie is perfect in so many ways. The music is incredible. The character of Enid is incredible. Visually it's beautiful. It's just a film about being different and lost and it's lovely. And based on a comic book of the same name.
2. Wet Hot American Summer. If you're unfamiliar with this movie, you need to join the cult, because this movie is one of the best hidden gems of them all. So insanely funny and random. David Wain. Michael Showalter. Michael Ian Black. Amy Poehler. Paul Rudd. Bradley Cooper. Janeane Garafalo. David Hyde Pierce. Christopher Meloni. Molly Shannon. Need I go on?
1. If I Were You. Told you I'd get back to Marcia Gay Harden. Intrigued by this movie's plot, I watched it once on Netflix and I haven't stopped watching it since. I put it on when I go to sleep at night. Every night. It's so sweet and sad and silly and emotionally brutal. It's a little taste of everything - and MARCIA GAY HARDEN. Perfection. Always.
There ya go. Check out those ten flicks. Ten more next week.
Fuck off.
Bye!
PS - SPEAKIN'-A MOVIES, TOMORROW'S VIDEO IS GONNA BE A FUCKING AWESOME MOVIE ROMP, SO DON'T FORGET TO DO THIS.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Polar Vortex 2.0
My ass is assleep, but check out the survival guide I made for round 2 of the polar vortex.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Bucket? More like FUCK IT.
Listen, I have my period. Get off my dick.
Contradictory.
ContraDICKtory.
I've done eleven squats this week. I ate rather healthfully. With the exception of lots of chips, cheese and that veggie burrito I had for lunch. Ahem.
I'll get back to the bucket. Spoken like a true procrastinator.
In other news, I'm heading to rehearsal to play happy fun time with other grown ass people.
Show Friday night. But I'll pimp that later.
Alright. Fuck off. I'm outta here. Mmmmbye.
Contradictory.
ContraDICKtory.
I've done eleven squats this week. I ate rather healthfully. With the exception of lots of chips, cheese and that veggie burrito I had for lunch. Ahem.
I'll get back to the bucket. Spoken like a true procrastinator.
In other news, I'm heading to rehearsal to play happy fun time with other grown ass people.
Show Friday night. But I'll pimp that later.
Alright. Fuck off. I'm outta here. Mmmmbye.
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