Category Archives: memories of my youth

Whatever happened to the teenage dream?

justin bieber wrapping paper

I mean this is what instagram was made for, right?

Why did I hate being a teenager so much? Being a teenager is awesome. Nothing you do matters. Nothing. Teenagers, I’m not trying to put you down; on the contrary. I’m trying to empower you. Don’t you realize how awesome it is when nothing you do matters? You can do anything. Anything! Go to school, don’t fuck up your grades, and then do whatever the hell you want. Stay out late on a school night. Wear something stupid. Be ignorant. Don’t try to be an adult. Being an adult kind of sucks, I’m gonna be real. There are a lot of great things about my life, like I get to legally drink (even though I still get carded which is both flattering and extremely embarrassing), I don’t have to tell my parents what I’m doing all the time, and I can basically say, “Fuck this shit, I’m an adult!”

Now here are the downsides: as an adult, drinking takes a harder toll on my body, I actually miss my parents telling me what to do because now I have to make those decisions for myself, and if I say, “Fuck this shit, I’m an adult!” I have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. And guys, my knees hurt. I’m in my twenties, not even my late twenties, and my fucking knees hurt after a workout. Which reminds me, does anyone have a good workout DVD/whatever other than The 30 Day Shred? Because The Shred works but it kills my knees every time. And as vain as I am, I don’t think it’s worth it. So yeah, your stupid knees hurt and you have to find a job and keep it because you have to pay for boring shit like bills, and sometimes you cry in the corner of the shower thinking, “LOLOLOLOL” in your brain. Because being an adult can be absurd.

I didn’t appreciate being a teenager because as a teenager I felt ugly, hated that I looked so young, and wished I didn’t have to go to school. Those were my problems. Those aren’t problems. Those are, “Shut up you’re not ugly, one day you will LOVE being told you look young, and get your shitty body to school you idiot it’s a lot easier than real life.”

Teenagers: have some fucking fun. I mean it. If not for you, then for Uncle Almie.

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A history of Valentine’s Days.

couple in the parkFollow me on Instagram @apocalypstick

People love to hate on Valentine’s Day. Their favorite line: “It’s just a stupid holiday created by Hallmark.” Yeah well duh, thanks Dr. House. But think back to when you were a kid and how much fun Valentine’s Day was, unless you were Ralph Wiggum. You got a bunch of free candy and you weren’t even sure why. You gave everyone overpriced flimsy cardboard Disney or Snoopy valentines and you dropped them into the Vday themed paper bags you had taped to your desk. Or whatever. It was fun and we were young, no promises, no demands.

I’m not saying that I love this holiday but I don’t hate it. There are very few days when I can drink champagne and eat chocolate with reckless abandon and not be judged for it. This is one of those days. I never do anything particularly romantic on Valentine’s day.

On my very first Valentine’s day that I had a boyfriend, he led me to believe that he had secret plans but then revealed that he did not and perhaps I was just seeing what I wanted to see. I forced him to make plans and we managed to get a table at an awesome restaurant (I lived in NYC at the time). It was one of those restaurants that was in the meat packing district which mean that it was too cool to have an actual sign outside so we searched for it as I teetered dangerously in heels on the cobblestone streets. However, because it was so last minute, we had to eat at 5.  But that was fine, I get really hungry around then. The food was delicious and they gave us free desserts and a love themed mixed CD, which I promptly lost a few days later. We got very drunk and went back to my apartment and I complained a lot about something and we went to sleep.

The year after that Kadner came over and we drank champagne and watched “Lost” and through a turn of events that I still don’t understand I had cat whiskers drawn on my face with an eyeliner pencil.

The years after that I don’t think I did anything. My parents gave me chocolate every year and some goodies and if not for them I would be your typical Forever Aloner.

Last year my friend Max hosted a gathering of singles at a BBQ place. That was delicious. Afterwards we went to karaoke where I belted “You Oughta Know.” Also delicious.

Tonight I had the idea of cooking my boyfriend dinner but I just realized that means I actually have to cook something so I’ll probably stop at Whole Foods instead. I meant to make plans but I got busy and it slipped out of my hands and my head. So this is what we’re doing and I’m fine with it. Sure, my dream would be to have a surprise of some sorts: like maybe I’m whisked away to THE PIRATE RESTAURANT IN DISNEYLAND HOW SWEET WOULD THAT BE WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER but I’m thrilled to even have someone to love on this day who isn’t related to me, so that’s enough, really.

Tell me about your romantic Vdays (or any dates) in your past.

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We’re adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?

Picture of me taken 600 years ago at MoMA by Julia Gazdag.

I wrote something for Hello Giggles that will be out tomorrow/in a few days called “Top ten ways to tell you’re an adult.” (Oh hay in the mean time check out the other things I’ve written for Hello Giggles, and it will open in a window so you can read it right after this, don’t even worry about it, friend.) It made me think a lot. I don’t usually think a lot, it’s easier to just do stuff and then apologize. (<– just tweeted the fuck out of this.) I had to really think about how I’ve changed in the last few years and the whole process was so meaningful and inspiring, like a tampon commercial. It wasn’t as sad as I thought it would be. I say sad because recently I turned into someone who cares about their age and I hate it. I blame everything and everyone but myself. So sometimes looking back can be a little frightening.

Do adults feel like adults, ever? Will I reach a point where I look down and think, “I just balanced the shit out of that checkbook.” I really don’t want to. I like buying things and occasionally checking what’s up with my money, and hoping it all works out. I like to do stupid guff that makes me feel like a kid.

Guys I am Tom Hanksing the fuck out of this situation. You know, Big. I don’t mean that I am a little kid named Josh trapped in a boyishly good looking 30 something man. But close! I am little Uncle Almie with her long messy tangled fringed hair under a Mickey Mouse cap stuck in grown Almie’s body. Unfortunately, it’s not cute for me to act like this. I’ve reached the age where it is not acceptable to act like I don’t know how to act like an adult. Indoor voices. And I’m too old to pretend that I don’t know better.

And that’s how I know I’m an adult.

When and how did you realize you were an adult?

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That Mad Ache.


I’ve established that I Dont Want A Boyfriend (and btw Sven is doing fine thank you) but what I would like to kiss, be kissed, and kiss again. I don’t even want sex, I’m going through a robot phase right now (in which I feel…well, like a robot, and robots don’t sex, unless it’s robot sex, which I guess is plugging one robot into another? Oh gosh, how explicit) but I could go for a good kiss. A GOOD kiss.

The type of kiss where you’ve been dying to kiss each other and you both know it but neither of you are sure of when, where, or how it will happen, only that it will happen, because it has to happen. Maybe you’ve met through a mutual friend and the three of you are hanging out and at some point the two of you lock eyes and think, “Yes.” (Isn’t yes the most wonderful word? I have a necklace that says Oui on it. It’s my favorite thing.) That tension becomes harder for you all to ignore, like Lady GaGa in her outlandish outfits sitting behind Beyonce at the VMA’s.

You flirt for him, telling jokes, and they all land. At one point he’s drinking water and you tell a joke and he laughs so hard he spits his water everywhere and you think, “Goddamn I’m good.” I don’t know if there’s anything more powerful than making a man laugh. And you’re doing this back and forth routine and you’re thinking, God when is our friend going to leave us alone together? But you don’t know each other well so you’re not even ready to be alone together but you know that you want to be eventually. You part ways, for now.

Finally one of you caves, inviting the other one over to “hang out” or get dinner, or whatever. You both focus on your menus, or the book titles of the bookstore where you meet, or anything printed in front of you, because you need to keep your eyes busy so you don’t lock them on the other person the entire time. “We are living in a society,” said George Costanza. We can’t just kiss people we just meet, or can we? No, we can’t. Have some decorum.

But then the moment happens, and it always feels like it finally happens, like it’s been dragged out for hours, like a Robert Altman film. Like one of the lesser known Robert Altman films, or maybe Gosford Park. Ugh. One of you makes the move, maybe it’s silent, maybe it’s sudden, maybe it’s clumsy, maybe one of you even says, “Come here” before you do it, just to be safe, and then you kiss and it’s that perfect kiss where you can feel the intensity of the other person without feeling their entire tongue. It’s the kind of kiss that is so perfect that all you want to do is keep kissing, because what could be even better than that?

That’s what I want.

I Melt With You — Modern English

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