Month: February 2013

cheers.

flappers drink bootleg alcohol in unison
i’ve recently discovered i can only hang out with groups of peripheral acquaintances i don’t know very well (or care about very much) for roughly 1-2 hours before i desperately want to stop small talking and run away to be by myself for a while. when i first moved to new york, i used to rock the fuck out of these kind of bright awkward social situations by finding my way to the boistrous weirdos who liked to laugh and dance till we made the walls sweat.

unfortunately,

i just don’t have the patience for that kind of crap right now. for any kind of crap, really. i mean, not to be that marble-less crayyyzay lady who reads her horoscope everyday and thinks it makes a pretty good point, but … like … all my shit’s in retrograde. basically, i’m not supposed to call, email, text, or broker any business deals until july and one or more of my electronic devices is going to have a tech tantrum and corrupt itself (hashtag … fantastic).

but,

despite impending smartphone fails and the fact that all the things i want the most feel like fuzzy faraways in someone else’s near future, i’ve been trying to convince myself that so long as i keep searching and writing and asking and fighting, there’s probably, mayyyyybe, sorta definitely a good chance everything will work out just fine. you know, like that one show i still haven’t started watching yet says:

clear eyes.
full hearts.
can’t lose.

losing my religion.

nice work
okay, i have an announcement. i’m officially over all this micro self help short listing. like, when did we all become soooo unequipped? soooo incapable? soooo unable …

to grow a pair?
to tough it out?
to do the thing?

is it because we’re in the double digit teenage years of the aughts?
because we’re no longer that asexually unaware 2012 in gapkid overalls?
because we’ve sprouted 2013 breasts and caught a nasty case of insecurity?
because i hate you! it does matter! i want to die in my room alooooooone!

okay fine.

if this is the year of our incredible internet bar mitzvah,
i’m skipping the all too lame friday night saturday morning services.
y’all sound the same and i just don’t give enough fucks.
my advice?

shut up and give me glow sticks so i can daaaaaance.

not a girl.

we shall be strong in our weakness
you may have to go through the wringer
last week, i let a beautiful woman at space.nk convince me to buy a beautiful opaque lip stain by hourglass. i got it because it comes in “raven” which is my favorite superfuckingbold shade of orange-y red (love) aaaaaaand because it dries so fast it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing lipstick after initial application (also, love). unfortunately, these two powers combined have turned off that part of my brain that understands if i put this on and then settle into a thumb under chin, fist over lips, lady on her laptop thinking pose a few hours later, i will smear a superfuckingbold shade of orange-y red opaque lip stain all over my face.

this happens mostly in public.

all the young dudes.

swoon
“so okay, i don’t want to be a traitor to my generation and all but i don’t get how guys dress today. i mean, come on, it looks like they just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy hair – ew – and cover it up with a backwards cap and like, we’re expected to swoon? … i don’t think so.”

– cher horowitz

intro to straight dude.

i miss those days
i like you
me: yentas! i have a 1st date question & need a straight dude’s perspective.
jj: [ … straight dude radio silence … ]
pg: [ … straight dude radio silence … ]
me: is it rude to wear red lipstick? like, it won’t come off as “oh, hello. i’m a hipster pain in the ass who’s gonna make it semi-difficult to nearly impossible for you to kiss me?” i just want to be sensibly sexy plus it would really put the period on the end of my black & white 1st date outfit sentence.
jj: i don’t think it’s rude. i think it’s probably actually totally sexy. like, “hey, new guy. i bet you can’t stop looking at my lips.”
pg: totally not rude! & if it happened, who wouldn’t want to show off a smooch from you?
jj: since when is lipstick prohibitive to kissing?
me: woah.

probably actually totally sexy … ?
NOT prohibitive to kissing … ?
waaaa waaaa weeee wah … ?

ladies.
laaaaadies.
take good notes.

this shit will definitely be on the final.

beyoncé unplugged.

beyonce
last night, after spending 45 super intense minutes with taye (or, as she likes to call it, “tayetime”), i stopped by angelica kitchen to pick up something healthy for dinner (or, as simon doonan likes to call it, “lesbian take out”). my order took longer than i expected and i realized mid-way through my walk home that the halftime show was definitely going to start before i got back to my apartment. since there was NO FUCKING WAY i was going miss even a small part of this and get downsized to a janky, post-stream recording hours later, i decided to pop into the first place i saw that had both the game and the sound on. aaaaaaaaaand that, my friends, is how i ended up openly crying in a laundromat on 1st ave and 11th st.

granted, my tears were caused mostly by joy, respect, awe, and straight up exhaustion through osmosis, it was still a little bit sad / embarrassing all the same. after about 15 minutes of sheer holy shit wtf no she didn’t-ness, sasha fierce did her signature knees up, floorward back bend and concluded the greatest fucking halftime show this nation has ever known. just then, one of the filipino laundromat owners rolled by with a shopping cart full of wash and fold deliveries and noticed that everyone in his shop was open mouth staring at the television. he stopped for a second and looked up at the screen. then he looked over at me (crying). then up at the screen (halftime). then over at me (still crying). then up at the screen (still halftime). suddenly, his eyes got really wide and he said …

“j-lo?”