Category Archives: fun times

How To Survive A Party Alone.

debby harry, debbie harry, coney island, blondie

Sometimes one of the bravest things you can do is go to a party alone. That and playing dead around a bear. It’s a toss-up. I don’t know if this is limited to women, but all my lady friends have issues going to parties alone. The usual fears swim about in our heads: what if I wind up sitting in the corner all by myself? What if no one talks to me and the host is the only person I know and they’re going to be too busy to talk to me? What if I am unbearably (see, bringing it back to the bears) awkward? What if I am overdressed? Or underdressed? Or not dressed at all?

I’m here to tell you that you can do it. I’ve gone to parties alone and only one — ONE — was awkward and not fun. So what did I do? I left. It’s that simple! You say your polite goodbyes and then get in your mini cooper and get the hell out of there. Was it an icky experience to just talk to people and have them wander off so I pretended like I had a really urgent text message? Yes. Even Apocalypstick lets her self doubt take over sometimes. That’s the worst, when you feel doubt inside and so it seeps outside and it’s like, seep the fuck back in, but it’s too late.

So here’s what you do. Before you walk in the door, take some Vicodin! Or as I call them, ‘Lil Vickees.

Okay. Fine. That’s a terrible idea.

Instead, create the feeling of being on drugs in a wholesome way. Listen to your favorite tunes before you leave, and on the drive there. Pump yourself up. Create the feeling of euphoria without drugs. Yes, it can be done, I’ve seen other people do it. Music makes the people come to together, yeah. Music has been proven to make your brain happy, or something, I’m not a scientist with a computer, I’m just a girl, standing in front of the Internet, asking it to love her.

Other ways to get in a happy mood? Dress in your favorite outfit. Look good so you feel good. If you feel best in a pirate costume, you wear the damn pirate costume. What would Lady Gaga do, right? Or what would Kate Middleton do? Just use their spirits to guide you as you dress. You know those heels that make you look and feel like a Supermodel, even though you’re 5’2″ or whatever? Put them the fuck on!

When you get to the party, smile and introduce yourself to whoever answers the door. Or whoever is nearby if the door is unlocked. I hate that. I hate walking into an open house without someone greeting me. What are we, ANIMALS?

It also helps to bring something. A bottle of wine, perhaps, because that’s what adults do. Or fruit roll-ups, if you want to go in a totally different direction. Either way you’re saying, thanks for letting me in your home; allow me to buy your friendship.

Engage people. Join their conversations, but not in a weird way when you hear people laughing and you jump over and start laughing even though you have no idea what’s going on. That is never appreciated. If you meet someone cool while you’re making small talk, stick around them, but not for the whole party. You want a buddy, not a parent. Don’t be afraid to make the rounds across the room. Ask people about themselves. People love to talk about themselves, especially if you’re in LA.

If you take this approach, I guarantee that you will make friends by the end of this party. That’s what Uncle Almie did a few days ago, and I had an amazing time.

Oh and alcohol helps. Alcohol always helps.

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Happy 2nd Blogiversary.

Two years ago today I started this blog. This was the first post. Yeah.

I just want everyone to know that before I switched from blogspot to wordpress, I had lots of comments on my old posts. I’m telling you this so that you know I was popular and won’t feel sorry for me. Also I want you to know I didn’t purposefully delete your comments. I never delete comments. I’ve gotten such great, insightful, and weird funny comments from you guys over the years and I cherish them. Even the mean ones, of which there haven’t been many, so thank you.

To thank everyone for sticking with me and continuing to read, I made y’all a mix “tape.” It’s not a tape. Obviously. You can download it onto your computer and then play it as you hold up a tape recorder and press record. I did that once. Got a great police siren in the background. Really added something to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” Anyway. It’s called “I Think I’m Having A Good Time.” It’s like those times where you’re at a party and you’re with your friends and you know you look good but you’re wondering if deep inside something is missing because you love pop music of the 60s and 90s but you’re not dancing just yet and you’re trying to figure out why.

TRACKLISTING:

1. Come See About Me — Diana Ross & The Supremes
2. And She Was — Talking Heads
3. Ca Plane Pour Moi — Plastic Bertrand
4. Donne Moi Ton Amour (Gimme Some Lovin’) — Sylvie Vartan
5. I Dig Everything — David Bowie
6. All Together Now — The Beatles
7. Nights On Broadway — Bee Gees
8. It’s The Little Things — Sonny & Cher
9. Sex And Candy — Marcy Playground
10. It Don’t Come Easy — Ringo Starr
11. These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ — Amanda Lear
12. Sweet Talkin’ Candy Man — The Carrie Nations (Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls)
13. What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted — Diana Ross & The Supremes

download I Think I’m Having A Good Time

I think I did it right, but if it doesn’t download properly, LET ME KNOW. PLEASE.

Much love for Emily who made the cover art. She’s super talented and you should read her blog here and follow her here.

 

We’ve had some good times. Do you have a favorite post? If so, please tell me. I love your feedback. Unless it’s hateful, then go fuck yourself. Have a fun weekend!!!!! xx

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That’s The Power Of Love.

Who do these bitches have in common (aside from important people)???? ME!!

Is “Back to the Future” the most important film of the 80s? Of course not. IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT FILM OF ALL TIME.

My Lea Thompson Story:

It was another day at work in which I was probably trying to move things with my mind from behind the counter (because when it’s slow, what else are you going to do) when a woman in my glasses came up to make a purchase. They weren’t literally my glasses of course; mine were in my purse. But they were the same classic, I’m an artist goddamnit but I also love money Ray-Ban glasses. At the store we are required to ask for I.D. for any and all purchases. I asked this young looking woman for I.D. and when she slid it over I saw Lea Thomp– and then my brain went, “Oh shit, it’s Marty’s mom!!” and I blurted out, “Oh, I don’t need this, I know who you are” and gave it back to her.

She laughed and said, “I wish I knew who I was.”

I didn’t recognize you with your glasses,” I said. “I have the same ones! I just got them.”

She seemed excited by this and asked me where I got mine. “Lens Crafters!”

“They had them there??” She exclaimed. “I probably paid way too much for mine! How much did you pay, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I didn’t mind, but my brain pretty much froze. I’m bad with remembering numbers, I’m better with words/phrases. So I sort of stood there, saying “uhhhhh” and mumbling numbers, gradually getting quieter and quieter, like the Tin Man rusting. It was probably very weird. She cheerfully said, “Never mind”, trying to save me from myself.

“Sometimes I worry I’m not cool enough to wear them,” I said. She laughed and said something like, “I know right? But If I am, you are. Believe me, you are.” Then she went off on her way and I had to fight every urge to yell, “THAT’S THE POWER OF LOOOOOOOVE!!” as she left.

My Michael J. Fox Story:

Full disclosure: aside from Captain Hook, Michael J. Fox was my first serious celebrity crush. I have “Back to the Future” to thank for this. Then in middle school, “Spin City” came out and my love for him was only intensified. I watched all of his crappy 80s movies. Even the weird one where he and Sean Penn are fighting in Vietnam and Sean Penn rapes a woman in the jungle and MJF is like, “Wait what” and my naive self was like, “Wait what?”. In college our school had The Actors Studio and all New School University students were allowed to go to the tapings. I went to the MJF taping and watched James Lipton try to be stoic and say things like, “I own a cave in Malta.” (Seriously.) After the taping I waited out back for MJF to come out so I could tell him how awesome he was and how we had a friend in common (the founder of my high school) and etc but I waited at the wrong entrance. My friend Sean, who I always referred to as “Moondog” because he seemed like a surfer but wasn’t, told me that he happened to run into MJF as he was leaving and shook his hand. I said, “How nice for you, Sean” and quietly seethed. Surf’s up, bitch.

A couple of years ago I had an assistant job for a really nice director. I did things for him and his wife, like go to Fred Segal. It was on one of these Fred Segal excursions that I saw him. Michael J. Fox, chilling out max and relaxing all cool. I couldn’t even look at him, he was so awesome. I slid inside the store, made the exchanges, and then got into the bathroom to collect myself. “If he’s there when I come back, I’ll say something” I told myself. When I got out, he was gone.

But he wasn’t! He was sitting outside! I had to do it. I came up to him, trying really hard to turn down the crazy that I give off naturally.

“Hi!” I said. “Actually, we have a friend in common.” I explained that I went to the same high school that was founded by his friends. “Will you tell them I said hi? My name is Almie!” He was very gracious. I don’t know why I asked him to tell them hi, I hadn’t spoken to them in years. We talked about what good people they were. Then to make things even more dorky I added, “In high school, I won an award named after [one of the founders] for being creative or something!” I said that because I am four-and-a-half and carry Play-Doh in my pocket. But he was very kind and at least feigned interest. “What’s your name again?” he asked, probably to make a note to tell them that a very disturbed individual who went to their school accosted him in the Fred Segal parking lot. I told him, I think he said my name was pretty, but unfortunately I can’t remember most of what he said because the whole time my brain was chanting, “MICHAEL J. FOX MICHAEL J. FOX MICHAEL J. FOX” like the “Charge!” chant at sports events.

“I just think you’re awesome” I blurted out, before running to my car. I think he smiled and thanked me. I got into my car, tried to keep it together, because I really didn’t want to hit another car in front of Michael J. Fox, and before I left I waved. He waved back. Then I got on my phone (hands free!) and called my mom. She picked up and I screamed, “IJUSTMETMICHAELJFOXAAAHFREDSEGALAAHAHH” and she thought I had gotten into a car accident.

Having grown up in LA I never get psyched over seeing celebrities, but “Back to the Future” celebs will always be exceptions (same goes for ‘Twin Peaks” celebs). Is there anyone you flipped out over meeting or really want to meet?

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Shameless Genlux Post!

(MAD MEN!)

I’ve been away and I’m sorry about that. But. BUT. YOU CAN TELL ME TO STUFF MY SORRYS IN A SACK, BECAUSE I COME WITH ANOTHER SACK. OF GIFTS. OF POMPOSITY. Sort of. My interview with Jason Lewis (aka Smith Jerrod) is out and ready to read in the latest issue of Genlux! The Summer 2010 issue, the one with Jessica Alba on the cover!

Now if you don’t get Genlux, guess what?? Thanks to the wonder of the Internet and the fine people at Genlux, you can read it ONLINE. AND EVEN CLICK THE PAGES AND THE PAGES TURN AND IT MAKES A NOISE LIKE IF YOU WERE REALLY TURNING PAGES. THIS IS THE FUTURE! MEET GEORGE JETSON! HIS BOY ELROY! DAUGHTER JUDY! JANE, HIS WIFE! DISGRUNTLED ROBOT!

Go here: http://www.genlux.com/inthisissue.htm. Hint: page 36 for the interview. My regular column is on page 114 and it’s about — what else — my hatred for Facebook. I KNOW, I KNOW. I also wrote something else in there — try to find it! You know, if you’re an unpaid intern at some production company and are really, really bored at work.

Friend Like Me — Robin Williams. Yes, the Genie song from Aladdin. So what? Don’t pretend you’re not going to download it and enjoy it. Don’t even.

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The Happiest Place.

Let’s say that you go to an amusement park, a place known as a sort of most elated location on our planet. Let’s say it may or may not be located in Southern California and the mascot may or may not be a mouse. Let’s just pretend, just for fun, that you decide it would be a good idea to get high.

This is a terrible idea.

I’ll start at the beginning.

Let’s say that after eating you decide it might be a good idea to “elevate” your senses. You start to feel it as you go into a 3D show that may or may not star one of the greatest performers of our generation and John Huston’s daughter as an intergalactic queen with obscenely long nails. Let’s say that as you enter the show you begin to feel pleasant effects of what you may or may not have ingested. After the show let’s say that you decide to go on a rollercoaster through outerspace. This seems like a fantastic idea.

That is, until you’re waiting in line. You’re in a confined, strangely lit hallway and suddenly you find yourself reassuring yourself that you are not actually going to go into space. Then the line opens up and suddenly you squeeze your companions hand tighter. “I’ve made a terrible mistake” you might think. “I wonder if I can still back out. But if I back out can I do it like a normal person, or will I be screaming? I better not risk it. I better stay in line.”

“Are you afraid of the rollercoaster?” your companion asks. You want to scoff. You want to roll your eyes. Instead you nod and try not to cry as you whisper, “Yes.” But you don’t want to turn back. You feel fairly certain that you’re safe but by George if you actually wind up in space that’s just something you’ll deal with when you get there.

You’re strapped in, ready to go. There are lights and movement. You begin the ride screaming out of real terror. Eventually this turns into a scream of delight. You get off of the ride feeling accomplished. “This is fun,” you think.

But then suddenly, it isn’t. You can’t walk normally and you need to sit down. So you sit down on the bench. But why is everyone staring at you? “They’re not,” you’re assured. But then why does it feel like every single little kid who walks by is staring deep into your soul? Can kids tell when you’re high, the same way that kids can sense ghosts? You know how they say children are very perceptive. One girl walks by in a tutu, her eyes locked on yours. “I’m human!” you want to cry out. “Stop staring at me! I’m not a monster, I’m a man!” Then you realize that the David Lynch reference would be totally lost on her. This is why children are useless, you think. They never understand your art house references.

You start to wonder why there are so many children around you and why they’re all screaming. You feel like you’ve been sitting on the bench for an hour. “Let’s stand up,” your companion suggests. “No,” you wail. “I can’t. I don’t remember how to walk.” “Yes, you do. I’ll help you.” “I can’t walk!” You protest, wringing your hands, like Orson Welles in the second half of Citizen Kane. “Let’s walk. It’s just like sitting here, but moving.” That sounds reasonable. You let your companion guide you. He reassures you that no one is staring at you. You’re walking! “I am a robot,” you think. “With walking robot technology.”

“Why don’t we try a calm ride, to distract you?” You think about the idea. “What about pirates?” he offers.

“NO. NO PIRATES.”

“Why?”

“TOO SCARY. IT’S DARK AND THEY HAVE WEIRD FACES. IT’S SCARY. NO FUCKING PIRATES!! ANY FUCKING PIRATES AND I’M LEAVING. NO PIRATES.”

“Okay. No pirates.”

You walk in circles. You wonder how long this will last. You think that the child version of yourself would punch you for wasting your day at this place being high to the point where you can barely walk. “Shut up, inner child,” you growl. “Children get to walk around like they’re high all the time. It isn’t fair.”

You lose track of time. Why is there so much noise? Where did all of these people come from and where are they going? Why won’t they just leave? Are you hungry? These are questions you cannot answer.

You have moments of clarity where you think, “I’m absolutely fine.” Then it’s like taking off your glasses where everything snaps out of focus and suddenly you’re thinking, “There’s no fucking way I’m getting on that submarine.” This happens for a while.

“I’m feeling better,” you announce. “Are you still afraid of everything?” you are gently asked. “Not as much,” you reply, sighing with relief.

Then the worst thing of all happens. You round a corner. And there, lumbering towards you, so close you almost crash into his stiff, outwardly stretched arms, is a 6 foot tall sad donkey. “Come play with me,” you imagine him saying. “Forever and ever and ever and ever…”

You jump and run from the giant donkey, not looking at where you’re going. You reach a clearing and put your head down. “I did not just need that right now,” you gasp. And then you laugh. And laugh. And suddenly you can’t stop laughing. But you feel that if you don’t, you will die. It’s a difficult balance.

Finally you are back to normal, riding in a honeypot. That’s when your companion starts to find the honey-loving bear and his jubilant tiger friend a little too intense…

I Run With You, Spirit Animal — Evan Voytas

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Your Muppet Man Guide.

 

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Do you really want to know something about a man? Ask him who his favorite muppet is. I’m serious. For months now I have been asking every guy I know who their favorite muppet is. The best part is that not one of them has asked me why. NOT ONE. People just love muppets! Anyone who doesn’t is a serial killer and/or rapist and you should get away from them as soon as possible and definitely NOT date them.

Here is your muppet man guide:

If they like Gonzo they are artsy. They probably live in Venice. They probably have facial hair. They probably enjoy bizarre, kinky sex.

Boys who choose Kermit are mellow and usually trustworthy. But in reality they probably just couldn’t think of another muppet and/or felt that they had to choose Kermit because they also play the guitar.

If they chose Miss Piggy they are probably gay.

Guys who like Animal are most likely fun social types who don’t necessarily have to play an instrument but aren’t necessarily not doing cocaine.

Those who chose any of the Fraggles are stoners and were probably watching Fraggle Rock when you asked them who their favorite muppet was, but were too stoned to appreciate the coincidence.

Fans of The Swedish Chef are into improv. This is also true if they chose Fozzie Bear, but are probably more into writing or stand-up than Improv.

If they chose Rowlf they are kind, goofy, and endearing. Good boyfriend material.

Statler and Waldorf, AKA The Old Dudes in the Balcony, are introspective types. They probably blog.

Out of all of the guys I asked, these were the muppets I heard about the most. If they chose any other muppets, one of the lesser known ones like Rizzo The Rat, then they are thoughtful, quirky and maybe even trying to get into your pants. The other possibility though is that they just really love The Muppets.

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My True Obsession.

 

shannen_doherty

 

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT LOST

Matthew Fox’s clean shaven face.

When it reminds me of “Twin Peaks.”

No Brandon Walsh.

Desmond.

The first season.

The way Miles looks and acts like Billy Crystal.

Jack’s constant crying.

The way every episode ends with a slow zoom of someone’s shocked/scared face with a swirl of trumpets and then L O S T

That Michael shot Anna Lucia.

The cliffhangers.

 

WHAT I HATE ABOUT LOST

Matthew Fox’s Ron Burgundy beard.

When it reminds me of bad James Bond movie, the Pierce Brosnan years.

No Brenda Walsh.

No one ever asks questions. It’s never, “Oh, where did this Scottish guy with half of his shirt buttoned come from, and why are we trusting him?”, “Hey guys, what are The Others?”, “Where did you get that gun?” etc.

There are way too many people who happened upon that island.

Josh Holloway’s dramatic acting.

Jack’s constant crying.

The way every episode ends with me having to go online to understand what I just watched.

That Michael shot half the island.

The cliffhangers.

 

Time Of The Assassins — Charlotte Gainsbourg

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