Category Archives: memories of my youth

Shopping Local In Los Angeles


I try to shop local, I really do. This is mostly because I used to work at a local, independent store in Los Angeles a few years ago that despite being around since the 1990’s, had to sadly close.

Working in retail comes with its own set of challenges, some of which I wrote about here. I think anyone in retail will tell you that sometimes, the customers are the worst part of the job (sorry, customers! I understand, I am one sometimes!). But I loved the store. The idea behind the store was like a real-life Etsy. It was divided into different sections/booths. Each section had its own vendor/artist. Each vendor/artist rented their own section and sold their work. Work like jewelry, clothing, housewares, art — that kind of thing. All artists/vendors were LA local. Sometimes they would come into the store. We would have street fairs.

When I bought something from that store (and most of my paycheck went right into the store), I knew EXACTLY where it was going. I knew it was going to the artist, and that made me happy. One of my all-time favorite purchases was a heavy sterling silver skull ring I named Keanu. It SO was NOT my style AT ALL, but for whatever reason, I had to have it. And I was happy to buy it knowing where exactly my money was going.

LA is freaking huge, and it’s getting harder and harder to find those supercool Portlandia-type independent stores and restaurants. Unless you live in the supercool area of Silver Lake/Los Feliz that I do. Before I moved here, I would make so much fun of this neighborhood. But now, living here, I love it. I can walk almost everywhere. That’s a crazy talent in LA. To be able to WALK to get to places. And I’ve discovered so many wonderful essential stores, all owned independently, all part of the local community (the essentials being clothing, records, and liquor. But I’m sure you figured that out).

So I urge you to shop local. Sometimes I shop at the farmer’s markets — I’m lucky enough to have 2 within walking distance. I realize not everyone is as fortune, but if you are, dude. You probably see them every week and think, “Oh next week, yeah, I’m totally gonna go. I’m gonna wear my cutest outfit and go to the mother effin’ FARMER’S MARKET and Instagram the HELL out of EVERYTHING!!!” and then the day comes and you don’t go because you’re “busy.” I do that too. But one day, they may not be there.

Do YOU shop local/independent? Why or why not?


How do you make your money matter? You can find out more at, which is one of the cooler websites I’ve seen, in terms of many things but especially animation and graphic design. Start local. Join your local credit union. Keep your money in your community. Make your money matter.

This post is sponsored by Make Your Money Matter, in association with PSCU, though all views expressed are my own.
Photo credit: me, @apocalypstick.


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I Speak Simpsons

Simpsons pictures that I gone and done

The Simpsons just began its 25th season and I haven’t seen a new episode in about 10 years. But I still speak the language.

People have written hundreds of essays about Simpsons quotes and quoting The Simpsons in everyday life. Quotes beyond your typical “D’oh!” and “Exccccellent” and “Eat my shorts!” (Although I don’t know anyone who still says that last one.)

Then there are longer quotes that seem misplaced, but make sense in the right context. For example, if it’s a bad day outside or something isn’t going your way, you could say, “Lousy Smarch weather.” Or if it is a beautiful day and things are going your way, you could say, “Everything’s coming up Milhouse!”


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What’s in My Bedside Drawer.

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of But all thoughts and opinions are my own, so come at me. old nyc metrocard

Bedside drawers can be very personal spaces. You could have ANYTHING in there. Like a baby. You could have a living baby in your drawer. And that’s your business. Or, if you don’t want babies like me, you can go to and figure out which method is right for you to prevent babies from suddenly occurring.

Because when people think about what’s usually in beside drawers, they think about super secret sexy stuff. We all know what I’m talking about. To quote Bea Arthur’s Dorothy Zbornak, “Condoms, Rose! Condoms! Condoms! CONDOMS!”

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Missing Holden Caulfield.

new york city pop art billboard ad underwear

Holden Caulfield, via J.D. Salinger once said,

Don’t ever tell anybody anything.  If you do, you start missing everybody.

This has always stuck with me.

You know how certain songs cause you to time travel? You hear a song and your mind takes you back to where you were where you heard it and what you felt and who was there. When I hear “Thirteen” by Big Star I remember this incredible date this sweet guy took me on in New York. I didn’t have a lot of time and I warned him, trying to convince him that we couldn’t go out because even though I wanted to, I knew it wouldn’t work out. I was just too busy. But he was persistent, and not in a creepy way. In a way that was so sincere that I let my smile take up my entire face. I told him I had, “like, two minutes” — and he took it to heart. He hailed a cab and we went to an Italian restaurant…down the street. We went through three courses in about one minute. Literally. He planned this ahead. We took our leftovers over to a movie…on the sidewalk. He set up a TV to play Manos: Hands Of Fate, the best of the worst films ever made. It’s such a bad film that he was able to condense the entire thing into twenty seconds. Then he asked if we had time for coffee. Well, we had about thirty seconds. We went back to the Italian place that suddenly had coffee and desert set up on the table. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. And somewhere, “Thirteen” by Big Star was playing. And I will forever tie that song to that incredible memory. It didn’t work out between us. I eventually went back to my ex.

Also, none of this happened to me, this happened on How I Met Your Mother.

Ha ha. Got you.

Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.

I got terribly astray from what I was saying, which was that if you let it, anything can remind you of everything. As humans we try to find connections in our lives, where there are none. For example, you’ll tell your friend over lunch about someone you went to high school with, and hours later, you’ll run into that very person on the street. And you’ll say, “My God, what are the odds?!” But if you really thought about it, you’d realize that the odds weren’t that extreme; maybe you were in an area where your former classmate lived, or you only noticed your classmate walking down the street because you had just mentioned them, or your classmate mentioned on Facebook a place they went to for lunch and that’s why you went there; you simply disassociated your classmate from the entire experience because it’s more meaningful to believe that it all happened by some delightful wink of the universe.

don draper wink

Okay, look, I’ll finally get what I’ve been trying to get to. And that is, it’s nearly impossible to forget anybody or anything you’ve ever done that ever meant something, even if it was only slightly. I’ll see a girl wearing fingerless gloves and I’ll think of 14th street in NYC. I’ll hear a Bob Dylan song and have a sudden and brief fervent passion for a boy I had a crush on in college. I’ll smell a certain shampoo and remember my staying with my ex-boyfriend at his house in Rochester. And I do these things — we all do these things — because we want to. Even though it hurts. Because unless you’re a psychopath, you can’t but feel emotion, even if it’s people you think you don’t give a monkey about. It creeps in, but you don’t notice it. To you, it’s like, “Why the hell am I missing Stephanie from elementary school? I haven’t thought about her in years.” It rains and I think about my apartment in New York City. And I think about what a hassel it was — but a great hassel — to move in. I thought about how it would be a ragtag group of me and my friends dragging a couch up a staircase like in Friends. Asking them, hey, can you move for free? I’ll treat you guys to coffee. And then I’m nostalgic for a moment that never even happened.

And that’s why I understand Holden Caulfield, that beloved outcast, so beloved by our generation it’s become cliche. Because nostalgia will fucking kill you if you let it. It’s like alcohol or drugs. Some people can enjoy nostalgia recreationally. Others let it ruin them. The worst thing is that sometimes you don’t even need to talk to someone from your past. All you have to do is see their photo or time travel via a song or memory and you’re right there and by the time you come back, you’re completely hungover with nostalgia.

God, imagine how i’m going to feel when I’m forty.


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This was taken around ’07 or ’08 before I dyed my hair dark. I remember when this was taken. I hated my body and thought I was fat, so instead of wearing a bikini and getting in the pool, I’m wearing track pants and posing goofily with a pool net. Being silly was my default. If I looked purposefully goofy then I couldn’t be scrutinized for my appearance. That was a very sad, very sick girl. I am now 10 – 12 pounds heavier than I was in this photo and I wish I looked as “fat” now as I did then. I’m learning every day and trying to be healthy and accept myself. If you have similar issues, please don’t listen to the voice in your head that tells you you’re not good enough. I wasted and missed out on fun because God forbid anyone see me in a bathing suit. NOT WORTH IT. I’m too fabulous. You are too!

(I originally posted this on Instagram and on my Facebook page and it seemed to get a big response, so I thought I would share it here too.)

More on body image:

A woman with curves.

Because I just don’t care anymore.

Mirror error. 


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This post was written last Friday around 10:30 PM.

bob dylanHave you felt that moment when you look up someone you had a crush on and they have a girlfriend and live in fucking KOREA I AM SO FUCKING LONELY? What the hell and why do I ruin everything? This was in college and I had my moment and I didn’t resist the shining adventure and we had sex in my bathroom while my friend was sleeping on the couch, it was a studio apartment, I’m not really sure what you want from me, and it was New York (!) and I was young and blonde, I mean, that’s just going to happen. He wanted me, I wanted him, and then, the way things happen in New York City when you’re on your own for the first time, he became a bisexual drug addict and left school.

AND, BECAUSE HE DELETED HIS FACEBOOK ACCOUNT, I NEVER HEARD OF HIM AGAIN. Until now. Until this sad moment, when I stuffed my face with meat and cheese and chocolate and then almost did Wii fit but stopped to look up this ASSHAT on Google and now I’m sitting here in a push-up bra and sweatpants BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I WORK OUT, FUCK YOU, and I discover that he still exists, has a girlfriend, and lives in Korea. This is the same boy who once adored me. The same boy who once came into class, excited, and said, “Last night was crazy. I slept in an arm chair man,” the same boy who couldn’t afford to buy a GAP shirt so instead he went the a thrift store across the street and bought a GAP shirt from there.

FUCK YOU, DUDE. FUCK YOU FOR MOVING ON WITH YOUR LIFE AND BEING HAPPY AND MOVING TO KOREA. Even though I only remembered your existence about 20 minutes ago. How could you do this to me? How could I let you do this to me? What is this? Why am I so sad and lonely and pathetic and undesirable to those I desire? DAMN IT. WHY DO YOU LIVE IN KOREA???


cat mayor



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almie rose child actor apocalypstick

My nana still keeps my childhood headshot framed in her room. Solidarity.

I have no regrets. Sometimes I need to constantly remind myself of this, because it’s easily to slip into that terrifying moment of, “Oh shit, I’ve ruined my entire life with that one decision.” And that’s ridiculous and I know that. I need to feel good about my decisions, and if I made one I didn’t like, I have to say, “Ob la di ob la da, life goes on” and not worry about. That’s how I want to do things.

For a while though, I did have one regret. I thought about what I would do if I had the chance to do it over. I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t quit acting at six years old.

I was a fairly successful child actor. Not famous by any means. But I did some commercials that paid very well. National commercials pay very well, you’d be surprised. My big hit was a commercial for Clarion liquid makeup. No, it was not makeup for children. This was one of those artsy commercials. It was shot in black and white, in a deserted street, with a model walking down it. Then it cut to me standing against a wall. I think I was standing next to a little boy. Cut to the model. Cut to a slow close up of my face. Boom. Clarion liquid makeup.

Those few seconds of standing against a wall set me for most of my life. The shoot was very long, so long that I was late to my own birthday party. But so worth it.

I loved acting. My entire life I thought I would be an actor. I went to a lot of auditions. But apparently one day, I threw a fit, and I told my mom I had enough. I don’t remember this. I have a pretty good memory of that time. I remember I was a total dick in an audition because I wanted to play with my friend Katie and didn’t want to be there. My mom was the total opposite of a stage mom, so as soon as I told her I wanted to stop she jumped away, hands in the air, saying, “Okay! No problem, we’re done.”

I don’t know why I did that. I was a kid. Kids are stupid. Kids don’t think in the long run. I need to be easier on myself. But I was on a roll. I got cast in a sitcom starring the mom from “Home Improvement” and some famous dude. Then that show fell apart when the mom from “Home Improvement” decided to do “Home Improvement.” Bitch.

Though I stopped acting professionally, I kept doing it. I was in every high school play. I wrote my own plays in elementary school, high school, and college. I went to acting classes and casting workshops. I loved acting. But I couldn’t catch a break. “I’m born and raised here, shouldn’t it be way easier for me to get into this industry?” I always wondered. But connections fall through. I would kill it at an auditon only to be told, “We need a name, but you were great.” I got meeting with agents who said things like, “Come back to us when you’ve done more work” (how the fuck am I supposed to get more work without an agent?) and one who told me, “The bridge of your nose is very straight and narrow, I would think about that.” I thought about it and determined that she was an asshole.

One day I came to a conclusion. I could struggle to get auditions for shitty projects that two casting directors in a room would see, or I could make my own videos my own way that thousands would see. It was an easy choice. Fuck the industry. All you actors out there, I encourage you to do this your way. Keep going to auditions if you want to, but do your own thing. Use the internet to your advantage. We’re lucky to be in this era. The internet is your friend.

Every once in a while I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t quit when I was six. Would I be a famous actor now or a has-been? Or none of the above? Things are working out for me pretty well, but every now and then I feel a pang of jealousy when I see “my type” getting roles that I could have gotten. That episode of “Mad Men” where Megan explained to Don why she had to quit her successful job to peruse her dream of acting really got to the heart of me. I understand, Megan. I understand.

What would you do-over if you could?


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I was compensated for this post as a member of Clever Girls Collective. All the opinions expressed here are my own.


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