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Once, I Had A Sisqo Website

You know the guy.

 

Take it in.  Now we both feel dirty.

Now we both feel dirty.

For those of you who know me as the lazy piece of crap I am now, you might be surprised to know that I was a very motivated and creative youth.  I voraciously consumed every Berenstain Bear, Clifford the Big Red Dog, and eventually, as a pre-teen, Nancy Drew, Babysitter’s Club and Sweet Valley High Book I could read – along with random terrifying and graphic sci-fi books my dad left around.  Then I started writing my own stories.  It got to the point that I eventually wrote my own “book series” called The Modern Young Women Series (trying to sound cool and sadly, not quite getting it yet), which was shamelessly modeled off of The Babysitter’s Club books. I wrote so much that eventually my electric typewriter was not enough for me, and I lusted for a shiny new computer of my very own.

At the tender age of 11-12 years old my wish came true, and along with my Macintosh Performa,  I was somehow granted completely unrestricted and unsupervised internet access.  Not knowing what the fuck the internet was at the time or what I was supposed to do on it, I ended up on websites dedicated to the only thing I really thought a lot about at the time: Michael Jackson.  After a few years of familiarizing myself with the interweb and a dizzying amount of fan-run websites, in the heyday of build-your-own-site platforms like Angelfire and Geocities, I figured I’d try my hand at making my own.  After teaching myself some very basic HTML, my Michael Jackson website was born.  I can’t remember much about it, but it looked like a typical homegrown 90′s website, and it had MIDI music of one of his songs playing on it.

Ugh, do you remember MIDI music?  If you don’t, this will jog your memory. Woof.

Not completely satisfied with my creation for pressing teenage reasons, I abandoned it and moved onto making a site for his little sister, Janet.  Man, did I love the Jacksons!

Still feeling artistically unfulfilled, and saddled with way too much fan-site competition, my next project became clear to me with the release of a song I think you’ll recognize as one of the most stunning and provocative musical creations in recent history:

My new website would be dedicated to the thong worshiping blonde haired song siren himself, Sisqo.  And this became my most successful internet project to date.  What did I call this site? (more…)

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Common Situations, As Experienced by Kanye West and Kim Kardashian

 

 

Making the bed

“KIM!  KIM!!!!!!! YOU THINK THESE COLORS IS FADIN?  THIS PURPLE AIN’T REGAL ENOUGH ANYMORE.  WE’RE ROYALTY UP IN THIS SHIT.  AIN’T NOBODY HIGHER THAN US!  NO ONE CAN CATCH US SLACKIN ON OUR FUCKIN COLOR FADE TECHNOLOGY!!!! BRING THAT ASS OVER HERE AND CHECK THIS OUT.  MMM YEAH, DAT ASS.  THESE COLORS AIN’T RIGHT KIM!!!  THIS AIN’T FIT FOR A FUCKIN GOD!!!!!!!  It is soft though.”
“I know, baby!”

Choosing what to eat at a restaurant

“KIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KIM.  KIM, YOU THINK WE SHOULD GET SOME CHEESECAKE?  THIS CHEESECAKE GOT CREME FRAICHE ON IT.  THE FUCK IS A CREME FRAICHE?  KIM, YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK A CREME FRAICHE IS?  CREME FRAICHE BE SOME WORTHY SHIT FOR A FUCKING EMPEROR TO PUT IN HIS MOUTH?  KIM, THIS CHEESECAKE GONNA FUCK UP MY STOMACH AGAIN?  I PROBABLY SHOULDN’T, RIGHT, GIRL?  YOU KNOW DESSERT MAKE MY DICK HARD THOUGH!  Ugh, it sounds positively sinful, doesn’t it?  We should be bad tonight.”
“Baby.  You’re right.”

Picking out what to wear

“KIM.  KIIIIIIIIIIM!!!!!!!!  KIM?????????? KIM!  THIS DRESS IS FOR YOU.  YOU SEE THIS?  THIS IS A FUCKING NEW ERA OF DRESS.  CLOTHES AREN’T JUST CLOTHES, KIM!!!!!!!!!!! CLOTHES ARE OUR STATEMENT TO THE WORLD, AND OUR STATEMENT IS FUCK YOU!   YOU CAN BOW THE FUCK DOWN!  WE RUN THE FUCKIN WORLD!  YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I’M SAYIN KIM?  CHEST BUMP ME RIGHT NOW, GIRL!!!!!!! DAMN THEM TITTIES IS BOUNCY AS FUCK!  LET ME ZIP THIS UP, GIRL!  OH YEAH DAT ASS.  LOOKIN LIKE THE PERFECT QUEEN TO THIS FUCKIN KING RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO ONE CAN MESS WITH US.  NO ONE CAN TOP US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE ON THIS SHIT, KIM!!!!!!!!!!!  KIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE ON THIS SHIT!!!!!!!  Where’d you get those heels, girl, them rhinestones are so sparkly.”
“Oh baby, I know.”

Changing North’s diaper

“¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡KIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  THIS SHIT FUCKIN STINK, KIM.  WHAT WE GOTTA DO TO MAKE THIS BABY SHIT OUT A FLOWER?  NORTH WEST DOESN’T FUCKIN SHIT SHIT, SHE SHITS FLOWERS.  THIS BABY IS GONNA BE THE FIRST HUMAN BEING TO EVER SHIT OUT SHIT YOU WANT TO SMELL!   PEOPLE GONNA WALK BY THE BATHROOM AFTER SHE SHITS AND BE LIKE, “THOSE PEONIES?!!!!!!!”  YOU GOD DAMN RIGHT THOSE ARE PEONIES!!!!!!!!  WE ARE GONNA MAKE THIS HAPPEN.  THIS CHILD WAS FUCKIN CHOSEN.  THIS CHILD IS A GODDESS.  KIM THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN, KIM.  WE GONNA GET HER ON AN ALL FLOWER DIET, KIM.  WE GONNA CHANGE THE FUCKIN GAME RIGHT NOW.  I think we’ve been feeding her too much fiber, honestly.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Kanye.”

 

I just made your head hurt.   Here:

welcomePeonies_09

 

Sorry.

 

 

 

 

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Life: Hard Sometimes.

This is about to be so honest that I struggled with the idea of posting it, because I don’t want to be judged on one rough patch that I’m going through, and I generally frown upon oversharing. But fuck it.  Our problems are a part of who we are, and I think we all just want to be understood.  I know I do.

I’ve been in and out of therapy several times in my life.  As a kid because of the horrifying things going on in my house, again after my dad died, and I attempted again shortly after I moved to LA and found myself lonely and depressed.  Recently I decided to try again because I realized I have an eating problem.  I stuff myself to the point of wanting to explode, and it happens often enough that I’m getting concerned with myself.

So I’m only a few weeks in, and naturally I’m confronting all sorts of issues.  I’m revisiting all the scary things I witnessed my dad do,  I’m revisiting his mental illness and suicide, I’m revisiting all the teasing and manipulation I endured in school, I’m trying to talk my way through why my first instinct is to be a nasty bitch to men if they dare to try to talk to me, I’m exploring resentment towards different people in my family, I’m realizing the effects of not having a male figure in crucial periods of my life, I’m confronting my social anxiety and crippling self-awareness and insecurity, and I’ve been feeling extremely overwhelmed.  I thought I had dealt with and worked through a lot of major issues I’ve faced, because most of the time I really do feel fine, but if there were no loose ends to contend with I likely wouldn’t be trying to fill some gaping hole with cheeseburgers and ice cream.  In counseling, the pot is being stirred, and I’m having trouble figuring out if talking about all this heinous shit that undoubtedly led me to choose food as a consolation method is helping the problem or just adding to it.

Can we ever really resolve the crappy things that have happened in our lives and make peace with them?  Yes, I absolutely think that’s possible.  But how?  Is it something that happens because you crack it all open and expose the throbbing bloody mass of shit and horror and take a long swim in it in hopes of making it to clean water on the other side?  Or does that just pull you down and suffocate you?

My therapist recommended that I start trying to write things to get them out.  Obviously she meant for me to do this for myself, and not for my friends on the internet to read it.  I know that others out there, probably even a lot of you, have dealt with worse and aren’t whining about it in a public forum.  But here I am, not only writing this but posting it, because I spend most of my time internalizing and hiding all of my problems from people who care about me.  Any serious shit I share with anyone I make jokes about, in hopes of giving a glimpse of the truth without making anyone too uncomfortable and also making it seem like it doesn’t matter/there’s nothing to worry about.  Covering real feelings up with humor and self-deprecation is clearly my other coping method.  (Don’t think for a minute I’ll stop doing that, either.  Sometimes I really AM just acting like a drama queen to make you laugh – so it’s okay to laugh, if you want to.)

I don’t talk to people about things because I want to come off as strong, as someone who can take care of herself, as someone who doesn’t really get bogged down by all the loneliness she so frequently jokes about and doubts of her own self-worth. Dwelling on negativity doesn’t lead to anything good, and I do not want to be pitied.  But ask the 18 pounds of junk food I am putting down in a week (slight exaggeration) how well whatever I’m doing now is working.

I don’t know whether to talk about things or not talk about things, but I know the desire to figure out some sort of path to go down is there.  And I know I’ll be okay.

I know being honest enough with yourself to call a therapist and say you need help with some shit is a big deal in and of itself.

I know that anyone who is determined enough to put in the work can be a better version of themselves and that things really can improve.  I also realize how monumental of a task it is to make honest, difficult changes in your life.  Especially on aspects of yourself that seem so hard-wired into your personality you don’t know where the fuck to start.

We are all, for better or worse, the product of our own experiences, and it’s up to us to figure out how to accept who we are, flaws and all, and function as the most sane and healthy versions of ourselves that we can be.

Some times are more difficult than others.  And if any of this resonates with any of you, please accept a virtual hug from me.

 

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Boob jobs! Titty is a fun word to say.

When I was around 13 years old I remember looking in the mirror at my chestal region and thinking, ‘these are gonna be awesome in a few years when they’re bigger!’  A few years later with nothing, and then a few years after that with more nothing, I finally came to the conclusion that my boobs finished baking long ago.

Right around this age.

Right around this age.

The tiny two was all I was ever going to have.  I tried to fight nature.  I massaged them to death, I asked my doctor to give me the highest hormone birth control possible hoping that would trick them into growing, I took some sort of voodoo magic horse pills claiming to increase cup size but in actuality just made you burp up herbs for hours.  These little suckers remained staunchly themselves.  They were not budging.  I hated it.  I wore padded bras (still do.  sorry bros) and it took me until my early 20s to even dream of taking my shirt off if I was letting a guy do some things to my things.  (sexiest sex euphemism ever!)

Eventually I seemingly made peace with their size and resigned myself to a lifetime of not being able to fill out a bathing suit.  The idea of a boob job entered my mind occasionally, but I didn’t think of it as a serious option for a couple reasons: 1. If my body didn’t react well to the surgery and I got sick or something, I’d have put myself through suffering for fucking tits.  2. If implants made it harder to detect breast cancer, I’d have also just done that to myself.   Plus, hi, expensive.

But recently, the thought of actually doing it kept popping up in my head and I figured I had nothing to lose by at least going for a couple consultations.  In most offices, they’re free, so why not?  Several months ago, I went through with it.  Because when in LA you do as the LA bitches do and you consider slicing up your shit with a scalpel.

Here is what happened. (more…)

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9 Valentine’s Day Ideas For Single People (One Involves Monkeys)

vdayJust because you are a single unicorn running wild this Valentine’s Day, you don’t have to be sad that you have no one to feed you chocolate strawberries and shove flowers in your face.  Those things die anyways, just like the love between a couple that has grown to hate each other.   No, there are other things you can do to get through this day without murdering anything, and I’m here, as your resident single & luvin’ it buddy, to share them with you.

1. Get a monkey.  With a monkey destroying your apartment and flinging shit at your walls, you won’t have any time to experience sadness or regret or desperation or any of the other pesky emotions this day can bring up.

2. Buy every flavor of Ben & Jerry’s and rate each one on this scientific scale I have created for you. As the cliche goes, the single and lonely person drowns their feelings in a pint of B’s & J’s.  It’s tired.  Let’s make this a science experiment rather than an exercise in despair.  Clean out the freezer case at Ralph’s/Price Chopper with one of each flavor.  Ignore the sad eyes the grocer is giving you at the checkout.  You are fine!   You might not be spooning a person today, but you are going to be spooning the fuck outta (more…)

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10 More Things Women Wish Men Knew About Sex

 

The first time I wrote one of these, I spent a lot of time cringing before hitting the publish button.  So I thought to myself, let’s do it all over again!

1.  It’s a nice thought, but the act of sex itself does not need to go on for an hour.  Trust me, this is not the type of making her “not be able to walk straight” sore that you want to aim for.  A better idea: breaking up activity into smaller chunks with breaks in between.  Then you can call it a marathon and wow, don’t you sound like the man now?

2.  Stop trying to recreate the insanity you are seeing in porn.  Porn is shot to (more…)

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10 Things That Made Me Realize I’m Becoming A Crotchety Old Hag

Are you aging too?  Wow, how weird!  The whole life process, man.  They said it would happen, and would you look at that.  It totally is.

1.  I get viscerally angry over slang.

The phrase “turn(t) up” makes me so mad you might as well have just slapped my mother. Oh my sweet god do I hate it.  I mean, I get it.  You’re saying let’s turn it up a notch, basically.  Like, let’s party.  Let’s crumple up our cares and shoot them out of a rocket launcher and dance naked in the moonlight.  I got it.  I’m okay with the sentiment, but say those words again and I’ll punch you in the tit.

I feel the same way about “about that life.”  Do you even know what you’re saying?  “Pizza.  Yeah, I’m about that life.”  What life?  You’re about pizza life?  If anyone is about pizza life it’s me, and I would never say I’m about pizza life.

2.  I am slowly getting too out of touch for certain technologies.

I’m talking about Snapchat here.  Apparently youngsters these days are dumping Facebook in favor of things like Snapchat  I knew Facebook’s days were numbered when (more…)

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15 Things Women Wish Men Knew – Sex Edition

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1.  Hey, maybe don’t bite my nipple off.

2.  Lol dirty talk lol.  Some of you can do it well, many of you can only do it hilariously.  Know what your talents are…and aren’t.

3.  You do realize vaginas are sensitive, right?  Maybe you like your dick smacked around, but most of us do not appreciate that treatment on our lady parts.  You should never approach a vagina like you’re about to (more…)

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I Noticed You Stopped Asking Why I’m Single, So Now I’ll Tell You

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You know what’s worse than people constantly asking you whether you’re dating and why you’re still single?  When they stop asking.  When they’re so tired of being inundated with “no” “nope” “not even a little bit” and “are you fucking kidding me?”‘s that they just throw you into the forever alone box and leave it at that.  Who wants to constantly (more…)

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I SUCK AND OH GOD WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE! A Case For Calming Your Shit

If you’re anything like me, you constantly look at the people around you, measure yourself against their seeming successes, take a look back at yourself, mentally kick yourself in the ass for being behind/a failure/not knowing what the hell you’re doing, eat a gallon of ice cream and cry while listening to your Sia, Drake and Enya mixtape (those are still a thing, right?) as you stare at yourself sobbing in the mirror surrounded by tissues and wine and a confused looking dog. Um. Something like that completely imagined scenario. Haha, LEFT FIELD COMING IN FOR A LANDING! Amirite?

I’ve never felt good enough for much of anything. Sometimes it’s crippling enough that I choose inaction as the only action. If I do something, I’m just going to suck at it! And people will judge me. With their eyes. And words. And no thanks.

Why does anybody do this to themselves? I guess (more…)