Category Archives: let’s just talk from our hearts

The Summer Fling I Never Had

summer fling

I’ve never had a summer fling. Those kids from Grease make it sound like such fun! If I had a summer fling, I imagine his name would be Jacques and his hair would be as dark as a David Lynch film. We’d meet in a hilarious and adorable way, like perhaps he accidentally took my drink at Starbucks, and I would tease him for thinking my name was anything like his, and he’d have a fiery French temper but an English wit, and he’d say something like, “I deeply apologize for the horror I caused; let me make it up to you.”

And he’d make it up to me by picking me up at my hotel (yes, I’m suddenly on vacation, it’s summer, where else would I be) on his Vespa, and I’d be very nervous at the prospect of riding on a Vespa, and he would say, “Shhh, I steer her well.” And I’d trust him, because that’s what you do when you’re on vacation in a fantasyland. You trust the guy with the Vespa.

I’d cling to him as we’d zip throughout the city, all the way out to the beach, where he’d procure wine and cheese from his Vespa. Oh, and there’s a blanket, somehow. Somehow he fit a blanket, because he’s magical Jacques. We’d sit on the blanket and drink wine and he wouldn’t ask me even once, “So what do you do for a living” because he knows such questions are mundane and boring and make me fret about my future. We’d exchange rapid-fire banter like we were in a Nora Ephron film, or hell, an episode of Gilmore Girls. It would be the exact mental stimulation I’d need. He’d keep me on my pedicured toes and then we’d dive in to the water, together, and I wouldn’t feel self conscious about my “bikini body” because he’s already make it clear that he thinks I am the most beautiful woman on Earth. I’d point out that Charlize Theron is also on planet Earth, and he’d say, “Shhhh” and then blow confetti out of his palm.

Because whimsy.

After the beach he’d drop me off at my hotel, always the gentleman, so that I could change for dinner. We’d go somewhere where men are required to wear a jacket and tie — that’s how you know this is a fantasy, as such places don’t exist anymore. But we’d find it and we’d go there, and I would eat and eat and drink and drink and dinner would feel like our own little Disneyland; a place where we can have fun and be indulgent and no one can judge us. He would insist on ordering one dessert with two forks, and the most magical thing about this meal is that at no point during the meal do we ever check our phones, not even once.

I suppose we’d make love that night, and I say “make love” because that’s what he would say, and the best part is, it wouldn’t sound cheesy or creepy or weird. He’d have that uncanny ability to utter the phrase, “shall we make love” and have it sound as though it were a brilliant and novel idea.

And we’d repeat this every day, sometimes changing it up and going to wine tastings, sometimes just spending the whole day in bed, sometimes just wandering around whatever made up city we’re in, and I would never have to plan anything and he’d insist on paying for almost everything, because he’s old school. He’s so old school he’d drape his jacket over a puddle and insist I walk upon it, and I wouldn’t at first, but he’d beg, and I’d say, “C’est la vie” and he’d roll his eyes and call me a “typical American” and we’d bicker but there’s so much passion there that we’d probably wind up eloping by the end of my vacation and we’d realize it was a very very bad mistake but neither of us would want to admit it, so we’d stayed married for 10 years while he had numerous affairs and I pretended not to notice.

Ah, don’t you just love summer flings?!

 

Originally posted on The Gaggle, by me. Photo by Gordon Parks via LIFE photo archives for Google.

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

JORDAN HINSON AND I ARE TAKING YOUR RELATIONSHIP QUESTIONS!

Time for another RELATIONSHIP VIDEO!

IMG_1341

L to R: Me, Kaity, Jordan. Don’t I look just precious??

My roommate, actress Jordan Hinson, and our fabulous friend Kaity, are doing a relationship advice video. I’ve done them before, here, with Max Landis. Now I’m relying on my gal pals to help me out.

Got a question about relationships? Dating? Sex? We’re here to help. There are three ways to send us your question:

  1. Tweet me @apocalypstick.
  2. Send it to me at my formspring.
  3. Comment here.

We will do our best to answer. We will probably be drunk, so get ready for some realness.

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

In A Nutshell Part 3

nutshell

In a nutshell…

  1. If you’re really upset, try eating something. Maybe you’re just hungry.
  2. “Don’t leave your sweater on a chair at starbucks.” — My friend Katie.
  3. When you’re nervous about something, project the successful, stress-free end result in your mind. Visualization can be powerful.
  4. Cook more often.
  5. Instead of being jealous of your friends, try being happy for them instead.
  6. Having jealousy is like drinking poison and expecting it to kill someone else.
  7. Remember: Facebook is not real life. It’s a projection of life.
  8. Let your friends know you care about them, even if it’s just via a silly text.
  9. When it comes to your emotions, you’re the one in charge here. Decide how you want to feel.
  10. Do little favors for people. You may need a little favor one day.
  11. Let yourself be surprised by the world.
  12. Don’t be upset if other people don’t notice your weight loss. As long as you notice it, that’s what counts.
  13. And don’t get discouraged if you’re not losing weight as fast as you’d hoped. Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll see a change.
  14. You can find a solution, or you can find an excuse. An excuse is easier; a solution is rewarding.
  15. Buy a new perfume (or cologne) just for the hell of it.
  16. Find little adventures to go on during the week. Maybe it’s just switching up your supermarket. Who cares, it’s new to you — boom, instant adventure.
  17. Don’t ask for help unless you really need it. Someone who asks for help all the time isn’t fun to be around.
  18. But if you really need it, definitely ask.
  19. Stop biting your nails. It’s time.
  20. Let someone else worry for you.

In a nutshell part 2.

Photo of Bill and Hillary on their wedding day via Daily Mail.

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

I’m So Bored

bored

Internet, we have a problem. I am so very bored.

It’s not that I don’t have things to do. I have a job (freelance writer) and I’m very grateful for my work and assignments. Every day I have a deadline. But every day I am so bored — with myself. I realize it’s a luxury to be bored, and I wish I had something more interesting to complain about, but that’s the truth — I suffer from terrible boredom, and since it’s with myself, I don’t know how to escape from it.

This is me every day:

bored

Every day after I finished whatever work needs to be done, I have no idea what to do with myself. Working from home is great, but it also has its downsides. You start to feel really trapped, because where you work is also where you play, rest, eat, and sleep. You get bored really quickly. Again, I am so grateful for my work and for what I do, and that I can do it. I have to find a balance.

Even if I get out of the house to go to the grocery store or for coffee or whatever, it still doesn’t help. And it all goes back to what my boredom is really about: me and my life. I feel I don’t have a solid arrow in my life pointing me to go where I need to go, and so sometimes, I feel like I’m drifting. I do my work, and I love it, but I wonder if I’m supposed to be reaching towards a bigger goal.

Do I want to be a writer “when I grow up”? If so, what kind? More books? Television writing? Journalism? I have absolutely no idea what to do, and so I don’t know what to do with myself, and thus, the boredom. And the fear. I believe, strangely enough, that boredom and fear go together. I fear, at my core, that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with my life. And because I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m bored. Boom — boredom and fear, BFFs.

Does anyone know what they’re doing? Do you know what you want to do with your life? Tell me. Do you feel bored and scared? Tell me. What are you afraid of? Tell me. I feel like I’m alone. If you’re a freelance writer, tell me. Tell me how you do it. Let’s just talk from our hearts.

 

 

Photo of Anita Ekberg by Allan Grant, 1955, via LIFE Photo Archives for Google.

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

I Hate Being Single

hate being single

So here’s a thing about being single: I hate it. I hate being single. I hate every part about it. I hate when coupled people tell you that it’s “fun” to be single. Like we’re going to or throwing outlandish parties every night.

hate being single

Pictured: my single life.

No. It’s really more like this:

hate being single

My whole life is like a pair of George Costanza’s pants. Interpret that how you will.

And I hate when coupled people say something like, “I miss being single/Hell, I wish I were single” — it’s like, really? You sure you wanna say that, because that’s a terrible thing to say. I’m telling your bf/gf just to spite you.

Being single sucks, honestly. You never have a date for anything, you have no idea where the next person is going to come from (or when), there’s a lot of lonely nights, and you don’t have someone to share fun inside jokes with. Some people consider all of these things pluses. I see them as big minuses. I want someone to have fun inside jokes with. The kind of jokes that lead to kisses and snuggling. And I don’t even particularly like cuddling and snuggling. I get bored. But damnit it, I want it. I want to know where my next inside joke is coming from.

“Where is my John Wayne,” sang Ms. Paula Cole. “Where is my prairie song? Where is my happy ending? Where have all the cowboys gone?” I don’t necessarily want a cowboy; I don’t think we’d have much to relate to. He’d be like, “I’m on a horse” and I’d be all like, “I hate horses, they scare me, they look like monsters.”

What I’m saying is, I just want to jump into my next relationship, but I’m not going to do it hastily; I still have high standards for myself, as any gal should. I’m not just gonna tango with the next guy who asks me to tango. Tango is a euphemism. For relationships. (Sometimes my writing is really complex, so I thought I should break that down.) I want to jump in, with my stupid full heart. I want a partner. I want the Don to my Roger, in a romantic way. I want to face the world knowing I have someone to text about it. Someone who will read the text and be touched that I thought of them.

I hate being single.

Do you relate?

 

Photo by Nicolas Venturelli via Flickr.

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

Love Your Boobs, Everyone Else Does

love your boobs

Ladies (and gentlemen), let’s talk about boobs.

Specifically, let’s talk about boob acceptance. Yes, I said it: boob acceptance. Because so many companies want us to feel bad about our boobs. The media is so ready to rate actresses based on cup size. Magazines tell small-chested ladies not to wear bandeau bathing suit tops because it’s not “flattering” — flattering, meaning, “big breasted”. (More on this later.)

There’s nothing wrong with having big breasts. And there’s nothing wrong with having small breasts, either.

Can we all agree that breasts are great? They feed our kids. As a mother, which I am not and probably never will be, I find that amazing. We’ve got baby restaurants in our bodies.

But when you’ve got small baby restaurants, you’re suddenly forced into thinking that you should have bigger ones. I went through a few years where I yearned for bigger breasts. I called my parents, crying, like a total brat, begging for breast implants. That’s probably one of my most shameful moments. I didn’t appreciate my body and all the great things it could do for me — I was upset because I didn’t have a C-cup.

Let me pause here and say, if you’ve got or are getting implants, that’s totally fine, too! I want you to love your body, and if you have the means and the ability, and you want to pump those suckers up, go ahead. Not my business.

I would just hate if you did it because you felt like you had to. You should never change your body for someone else, especially for just an idea of what someone else wants. You should love your body. And it’s damn hard sometimes, I understand.

When I saw an article in a major women’s magazine advising women what bathing suits to wear based on their cup sizes, I was annoyed. They took a beautiful A-cup sized woman, who was smiling and happy in her “before” photo, bandeau top and all, and put her in a padded bra in the “after” photo, with the caption, “FIXED!” What the hell needed to be fixed? Why shouldn’t she flaunt her small boobs? What is so offensive about small boobs? Why do they need to be “fixed”?

Do you know how hard it is to find a bra for my boobs that isn’t padded? It’s like the world is telling me I’m not good enough. (Though I don’t feel bad; I have a theory that hipster guys love small boobs.)

But I’m sick of it, I’m done. Yes, some of my bras are padded, and some of them aren’t. Sometimes I feel like having some artificial cleavage, and sometimes I don’t. And that’s my decision to make, and yours, too. There’s nothing inherently bad about push-up bras as long as they don’t make you miserable for what you don’t have. Because I see them as celebrating what I do have: they may be small, but they’re awesome, and sometimes, they get a little assist.

I’m not going to give a list of models and actresses who are smaller chested, because that’s silly, and the point isn’t to make everyone worship at the altar of Audrey Hepburn (whoops — okay, no more names). The point is to celebrate our breasts for what they are and aren’t. We’re too fixated on boobs. Back when I was shaming my body, my argument was that I needed implants to “make me more balanced.” Where the hell did I get that notion? My body isn’t a level that’s going to be used to hang a picture frame. Balance is all in your head. Proportion is all in your head.

So use your head and accept your boobs. I don’t care if you think they’re “too small” or “too big” or “too lopsided” or “too saggy” — they’re yours. Forever. Just love them already. Life is too damn short to hate your boobs.

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook

I’m Trying To Be A Positive Person

grumpy cat positive person

It’s way easier for me to be a negative person than a positive one, and I think that’s true of most people, but I probably only think that because I’m used to being a negative person. I wrote an article for The Gaggle titled “How To Be A Positive Person Written By A Negative One“. I believe in every word I wrote; it’s just hard to follow it sometimes. It’s like a life habit that I’m trying to break.

Q: How many negative people does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: “Fuck it, we’re screwed.”

Kanye West once said, “I’m so gifted at finding what I don’t like the most” and I really resonated with that. I am incredibly gifted at finding what I don’t like the most in any situation. And if things are going poorly? I’m ready to flee the city and move back in with my mommy.

My negativity has affected my friendships and my relationship, so it’s definitely something I’m looking to change. I’m trying to change it by changing my habitual negative response. So when I feel like things are going poorly, instead of reflecting on that, I try to focus on what I have, even if it’s a small thing or total duh thing. For example, I have all my limbs. And this isn’t me being a sarcastic bitch, I am honestly grateful for my limbs. I’m a writer, so it’s pretty sweet that I have arms and hands, and I like my legs. Even if I have to start there, that’s where I’ll start.

I’m also ready to change my verbal response when I get questions like, “How have you been?” Instead of saying, “Just dealing with the crushing anxiety in the pit of my stomach every day” I say things like, “I’ve been doing well, how are you?”

Is it a lie to say you’re doing well when you’re not, or is it just positive thinking? I don’t think of it as a lie, I think of it as reinforcing the positive. If I say things are good, maybe I’ll believe that they’re good. And, again, I have all my limbs.

So, if you’re like me, you need to get your shit together. Your friends and loved ones are gonna get real tired of your complaining, if they haven’t already — and guess what, they have. From this moment onward, you need to focus on the good things you have in your life, even if it’s just “I like my hair” or “There’s a new episode of my favorite show on tonight.” It’s okay to start small. You just have to start.

Embrace the good. There’s a lot of it, if you stop being a whining jerk. Remember: life doesn’t owe you anything. It’s up to you to make the best out of life. This year is going to go by whether you do something positive or not. So do positive things, make positive changes, and be positively upbeat that it’s going to work out for you, even if you can’t see the path. Just grab a flashlight and keep walking.

 

Photo of my cat Billie Jean by me @apocalypstick.

Share

Follow me on Twitter | Facebook