Category Archives: music

I Guess It's Time To Say Goodbye.

Aug
31
2009

I guess it’s time to say goodbye to the summer. Except for not really, because when you live in Southern California, there is no summer, there is Sprummerfall. You can go to the beach any day of the year, especially in September, it gets hottest in September. It gets cold in January, but only at night. People forget that LA is a desert so it cools down drastically during the night.

Did you all reach your summer goals? When I was in junior year of high school my friend and I made summer goals. Mine was to make out with the chunky lead singer from Louis XIV. Hers was to eat an entire pizza. Neither of us completed our goals.

I stopped making summer goals after I graduated because when you leave school, summer means less and less. Now that I work weekends my schedule is completely fucked. Sunday nights feel like Friday nights to me. This Monday feels like a Saturday. Where am I? Who am I? What in the fresh hell is going on?


I remember one September, I guess it was senior year of high school, our head of administrations said to us something like, “I always think of the fall as a time to make resolutions, rather than New Years.” Then she made fart noises with her mouth and did the worm off stage. No, no she didn’t do any of that. But it wouldn’t be totally crazy. We once entered a contest to get Blink 182 to come sing at our prom and so our administration got on the roof of our school, in their suits, lyp-synching to Blink 182. What’s my age again, indeed.

So I will make goals. I will try to:

~~ Hate myself less.
~~ Try some new shampoos.
~~ High five more.
~~ Send real letters.
~~ Give the finger less when I’m driving.
~~ Have more sympathy for Joaquin Phoenix.

I will try not to:

~~ Go so many days without washing my hair, or at least invest in dry shampoo. Which really dovetails nicely with goal two above.
~~ Say “fuck” in public because I once heard a really pretty girl describe something as being “fucking” whatever and it immediately made her look 10x less attractive.
~~ Eat so much cheese.
~~ Be too soft.
~~ Worry about Paula Abdul. She’s in God’s hands now.

If you’re in socal is your throat also burning from the fires? Are you also coughing? If you’re close to them I hope that you’re okay. That is one of the dangers of summer here. Here’s looking to a much better Sprummerfall.

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LOL

Aug
27
2009

Mufasa’s death was a terrible tragedy; but to lose Simba, who had barely begun to live… For me it is a deep personal loss. So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet, out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise to greet the dawning of a new era… in which lion and hyena come together, in a great and glorious future! — Scar, on schadenfreude, The Lion King

So we’re all familiar with schadenfreude right? Good. I think schadenfreude is the most comfortable human feeling. It’s right up there with biting into a hot pocket. How many of us hoped that our high school enemy would fall on the stage on the way to get her prom queen crown, or blackout and get stabbed by an angry biker gang, or something, I don’t know we didn’t have prom queens at my high school, I went to an all girls school so I don’t really know how normal high schools work. But that’s not important right now.

I know that at some point we have all wished our ex some kind of harm. Whether it was being insulted by Marshall McLuhan while in line at the movies or having a birdcage fall on their head, we wanted them to befall some sort of misfortune. And if you haven’t wanted that then maybe you should just get into your magical flying pirate ship and fly back to Happyface Island where monkeys are high fiving each other and barbershop quartets are singing on every corner. I don’t know.

We just want to laugh at their misfortune. My friend got the opportunity of a lifetime.

Her ex, a smarmy a-hole law school student, was bitchslapped by karma on national TV when he lost one million dollars on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?. I couldn’t watch the whole thing because I have this thing where I can’t watch “real people” get embarrassed. It makes me cringe. I can watch Curb Your Enthusiasm because that’s not “real” but hidden camera shit or something makes me turn away. But what I did see was glorious. He went from high fiving the audience like a tool to nearly bursting into tears when he lost everything. The best part is that REGIS PHILBIN told his girlfriend, sitting in the studio audience, to dump him.

I’m not going to go into the sordid details of their relationship so let’s just say that he wasn’t very kind to her. So there’s that. Also it would be cruel to laugh at this if he was a poor college student but this kid is 24 and makes six figures at his entertainment lawyer job and graduated from _______ Law so he’s set for life. He also went to college when he was 16 which is why he’s 24 and already practicing law. When asked what he was going to do with the money if he won it, he said he was going to go to Antarctica because it’s the only continent he’d never been to.

The first guy I was ever with broke my heart. He also came from a privileged background and I wanted nothing more than to see him crash and burn for running around on me with another girl. But guess what? After the dust had settled and we had both grown up a bit, he sent me an email in which he admitted that he treated me terribly and that he was sorry.

That’s all it takes. An apology, but a heartfelt one, in which you realized what an ass you were. Thats what makes the schadenfreude go away. And girls do this too. Girls are mean and break hearts and are assholes. It’s not just a guy thing. Being a dick has no gender. If you are one, you need to realize that at some point in your life you’re going to be humiliated on national television by Regis Philbin and that people are going to put that on youtube and laugh at you. Or something. But if you realize that you were a jerk and you feel badly about it then we’re going to be there for you with a kick to Regis’s crotch. Then we’ll watch the youtube video in which Bret Michaels gets hit in the head by the descending scenery at the Tony Awards, and that will never not be funny, and we will never need to apologize for it.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes — The Platters
Runaround Sue — Dion & The Belmonts
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do — Neil Sedaka
Pennies From Heaven — Regis Philbin

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What's My Name Again

Aug
20
2009
WHO AM I?

I just got bangs and I feel like my whole personality is different. In acting it’s very important to find your “type”. My type is quirky/artsy/bitchy Ellen Page bullshit, apparently, but I hate EP so I’m trying to sell a more Lizzy Caplan & Zooey Deschanel type vibe. (Although let me say that I will go with WHOEVER gets me the most buzz/money/whatever.) Hence the bangs. That Zooey is so hot right now.

But the bangs are really having an effect on me. I feel more like a little girl. I had bangs when I was a little kid. These take me back to that. Also they’re in my face/eyes constantly. And they’re making my forehead break out. Thus I feel more insecure. They’re easy to hide behind, too. So I do a lot of hiding.

People who see me probably think I listen to The Shins. They’re probably surprised that I’m not wearing flannel. I bought a flannel shirt yesterday. I felt like I had to. In 5th grade everyone had No Doubt’s Tragic Kingdom. It was like, “Welcome to 5th grade, here’s your copy of Tragic Kingdom.” This is no different. “Welcome to your bangs, here’s a flannel shirt, enjoy.”

Furthermore, I don’t think my hair dresser really listened to what kind of bangs I wanted. Although I brought in photos of Zooey D I find myself with a very distinct 60s haircut. The bangs are longer on the sides and kind of curve in. It’s like I’m wearing a Beatles wig with extensions. OK, it’s not that bad. I like the bangs. But they’re not the kind of bangs I was hoping for. Who would have thought that there were different types?

Oh I’m sorry. “Fringe” for all of you UK-ers. Yes, I think your term makes way more sense than ours. What in the sweet fuck is a bang? But a fringe, that’s actually something you can picture.

Maybe once they grow out I can get them re-cut to how I originally wanted. People can do that, right? Re-cut a fringe? Why doesn’t anyone understand me?

I have lots of vintage dresses but maybe I should buy more. I bought more striped shirts yesterday. That’s a start, right? I just want to be loved. I just want someone to tell me what to do and what to say and what to wear at all times. Can I pay someone to do that? To come over to my house and plan my outfits for a good 4 months ahead and tell me, “Oh you should absolutely say this at that party tomorrow” or “Honey, never tell this person this because they think this about you and this.” Oh gosh. Maybe I should just get a television in my room instead.

Devil’s Haircut — Beck
This Is Not A Test — She & Him
I Was Made For You — She & Him
You Make My Dreams — Hall & Oates

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Why Are You So Ugly?

Aug
13
2009

This is probably backwards thinking on my part but what really upsets me is when an ex’s current girlfriend/fling is less attractive than I am. If she’s more attractive then I can think, “Eh, whatever” but if she’s ugly then I think, “Holy shit, then what was I? I thought I was reasonably good looking but look at what you’re dating now. Girl looks like Dudley Moore with boobs.”

I’ll own up to the fact that this is mean but it’s not like I ever tell my ex, “Hey you’re dating Nick Nolte’s mugshot.” I keep it to myself. Well, myself and the internet. But it’s not like I name names or post photos. I would never do that. That’s way harsh, Tai.

Or sometimes I’ll be dating someone and I’ll check their facebook profile and I’ll see photos of them with previous girlfriends and I’ll just be shocked by the homeliness of it all. It’s like they’re dating Jennifer Aniston but without the hot body. And it worries me. Why are they dating me? And is the person that I’m dating not really as attractive as I think they are? Because don’t hot people typically date other hot people?

I know, it shouldn’t matter. But this is who I am. Looks are important to me. I can’t date someone if I’m not physically attracted to them. I just can’t. Everyone has a certain type or two that they really dig. So If I dig a skinny awkward/cute type then chances are he digs girls with Zooey Deschanel haircuts. So imagine how alarming it would be if his ex looked like a Great Depression-era farmer.

Imagine that you’re at a party and there’s a glass bowl of champagne punch. It looks beautiful and it probably tastes great. But then someone plunks down a plate of half eaten baloney sandwiches on a tray cluttered with dirty napkins and chewed gum beside it. Are you still going to be as inclined to drink the punch? No. It’s like, why don’t you just poison the goddamn punch. Even if you tasted the punch and it was delicious, you’re going to start to wonder what kind of person throws a party where they allow rubbish on the buffet table.

I don’t think people should date under their hotness level. Look at Fred Armisen and Elizabeth Moss. That’s a great couple. Now look at Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob. They divorced. And why? Because he’s way less attractive than she is. Now look at Brangelina. Your honor, I rest my case.

(Oh don’t even start with, “Well what about Hugh Jackman, his wife is pretty normal looking.” Hugh Jackman is gayer than a handbag full of rainbows.)

WHAT. I’M JUST SAYING.

In conclusion, do not send me hate mail, I’m no Michelle Pfeiffer circa “Scarface” and I know it, okay? I’m just being honest. That’s what this blog is about. Honesty. Or something I don’t really know what this blog is about. Ask your mom.

The Ugliest Girl In Town — The Paris Sisters
Lola — The Kinks
Icky Thump — The White Stripes

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Let’s All Just Feel Badly For Ourselves.

Aug
07
2009


Remember all of that stuff I say about “letting it go” or something? Sometimes you just want to drink and eat McDonalds and feel sorry for yourself. Or maybe that’s just me. I don’t care, it’s my blog, I’ll write whatever I want. Anyway. Here you go, self (and possibly others), for when you want to drown in your swimming pool of self pity:

~~ You failed. You failed and you should feel bad.

~~ Everyone is lying to you. It’s not going to be OK. It’s going to be terrible. How naive are you? What are you, a Disney princess? Even worse, you’re a Disney animal. You’ve got big eyes and you talk even though you shouldn’t because you’re only a raccoon or some shit. Even worse, you’re a flower. You’re a talking flower. What the fuck.

~~ Oh you think that life is skipping down a yellow brick road, looking at puffy white clouds, while it rains gold and honey. Well guess what? Gold is heavy and honey is sticky. And if that shocks or upsets you, then I’m sorry.

~~ Have fun working at your day job for the rest of your life. You’ll get auditions, you’ll get called back, you’ll meet the producers, and then you’ll blow it. Because you suck. Everybody knows it. But nobody knows it enough to care, or tell each other. That’s how small you are. There’s not even one website that hates you.

~~ Why don’t you just keep eating? Oh, I see that not only are you eating, but you’re drinking too. Why not? No one thinks you’re attractive anyway.

~~ You’re not even rich enough or famous enough to be this short.

~~ There’s a reason why all the boys hit on your friends and not you: they’re better looking.

~~ You think that life is a journey, not a destination. Well get off the fucking bus, because you’re here.

~~ Just keep eating, really. No one likes thin people. It’s not like thin people get benefits or anything. It’s not like thin people are better than you are. Oh no wait IT’S EXACTLY LIKE THAT. But go ahead and have that 3rd glass of Sofia sparkling wine.

~~ YOU ARE BAD AT EVERYTHING THAT YOU DO. You don’t even breathe correctly; you always breathe through your mouth. What are you, a barnyard animal? Even barnyard animals get benefits; fairs, parades, petting zoos. Have you ever been a prize pig? Fuck no you haven’t. You haven’t been a prize anything. This means that even pigs have a better chance of winning something than you do.

~~ And fuck you, Beck. You are not a loser and you are not allowed to sing a song about how you are one. Just go back to your Scientology castle and hang out with Giovanni Ribisi. No one is buying your bullshit. You are not a loser. Goddamn you and your lies. You sit on a throne of lies.

~~ What don’t you fucking understand?

~~ Oh Oh Oh I get it, you’re going to be really hard on yourself, oh that’s so hilarious, oh how you dazzle me. Great scott! Oh here we go with the Back to the Future references.

~~ I think I might be Marty McFly for Halloween, what do we think about this?

~~ GET OVER YOURSELF. WHAT THE HELL. You’re acting stupid. You ARE stupid. You don’t even know how to tie your shoes the real way! You just make two bunny ears and tie those together. That’s idiotic.

~~ The failboat has no room for you, it cannot contain your failure. Everyone on the Titanic is laughing at you, as the ship is sinking. That is how much you fail. The captain’s like, “LOL” and Leo DiCaprio is like, “OMG” and Billy Zane is all, “SRSLY U GUISE.”

~~ How is “Titanic” over a decade old?? You are OLD.

~~ Welcome to your life. There’s no turning back.

~~ You stole that from Tears for Fears. How sad is that?

~~ That’s not sad, that’s a great line.

~~ From a new wave 80s band.

~~ So?

~~ So you don’t find that lame?

~~ It’s not my fault that Tears for Fears said it best! Fuck you!

~~ What? Fuck YOU.

~~ Fine!

~~ FINE.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World — Tears For Fears
I’m A Loser — The Beatles
The Decline And Fall Of Me — Sparks
Take The Long Way Home — Supertramp
Sad Songs (Say So Much) — Elton John
Torn — Natalie Imbruglia
Even The Losers — Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Everybody Wants To Rule The World — Patti Smith

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The Promise of Parties.

Jul
31
2009

“I’ve finally learned not to do long, elaborate introductions [at parties] — the kind where you tell too much about a person so there’s nothing left for the other person to ask. It’s something most people already know, but I did it for years and it was awful. I’d say things like, ‘This is Jane and her father likes black men and her mother had a facelift and she just graduated from Brown and she goes to AA every day and she’s just the girl for you because she’ll boss you around and you like that.’ Instead you should say just enough to get people slightly interested. If, for example, a man likes fat women, say, ‘This is Tom, he’s a chubby chaser.’ Period. And that will get them talking, even if it’s only to deny it or say how rude you are.” — Andy Warhol, Andy Warhol’s Party Book

Ahhh there’s nothing like the anticipation for a weekend party. Who will you meet? What will you wear? Will there be food? Why doesn’t anyone ever have any good alcohol? I mean am I the only one who wants a goddamn martini at a party? Oh no thanks, the red plastic cup filled with red bull and vodka is a great substitute, really. I’ll just step outside. Oh wait I can’t, because there are like 25 people smoking out here. You guys are all going to have such gross wrinkles around your mouths. Granted, you do look really cool now though. Would I like one? Oh no I couldn’t possibly. Hell, OK. It’s a party! I’m sorry, what? No i was just planning on holding it, I don’t smoke. You…you want it back? Well I really don’t think that’s fair, you offered it to me. Fine, take it back, jerk.

Really though, I do love parties.


The best party I ever went to, I went alone. It seemed daunting at first, and I was awkward as hell. But I met some great people. And I didn’t have to worry about following someone else’s schedule. Parties would probably be more fun if people brought less people. Because then you wind up talking to your lame friends all night. If you’re going to do that, then just stay at home, and order a Pizone from Dominos. Do they still make those?

The best part about parties, if you’re a woman, usually winds up being the part where you’re getting ready for it. Unless you’re running late, then it’s hell. I always run late because I try on my entire closet before I leave. Then I call my friends and tell them I’m 20 minutes away. 20 minutes is a magical thing. It’s the perfect amount of time. No one will question it. When my friend, Abe, is running late, he tells the other person on the phone, “I’m parking.” And I’ll say, “Abe, we’re like, 20 minutes away, we’re nowhere close to parking.” And he says, “Trust me, no one will notice.” And he’s always right!

IMG_5660
(From my Mad Men themed party. That’s actually Abe on the far left, next to me. I adore theme parties!!)

Going to a really nice bar and/or lounge is almost as good as going to a nice party, sometimes better. They usually play better music at hip bars/lounges than they do at your friend Greg’s house. And what’s the deal with Greg’s obsession with Boston? It’s like, dude, we all love “Saturday In The Park” and “More Than A Feeling” but they’re not the best party jams. OK, “More Than A Feeling” is actually a great party jam. The build up to, “I close my EEEEEEEYES and I slip AAAAWAAAAAAAYYYYY” oh damn I’m getting chills just typing it!

The worst party I ever went to was at a lovely girl’s house and it wasn’t her fault but my two dear friends BOTH had boyfriends/boy interests there and I was shut out so I went to talk to a cute boy who I knew through someone else, and he was in town for one night, and just as we were getting to the good stuff, the hostess’ PARENTS waltz in and HIJACK our conversation and leave me in the dust!! This is the problem with “cool parents”. It’s all fun and games when they supply you with weed and wine but when they start mingling and COCK BLOCK YOU that’s when they need to go into their room to watch a Tivo’d “Law and Order” with a glass of milk or some shit.

Photobucket

The Andy Warhol quote at the top made me realize that people have really let their party etiquette go to shit. No one really properly introduces people anymore. Usually people forget. I can’t count how many times I’ve been standing next to a friend who is carrying on a conversation with someone I never met. Usually I have to say, “Hi, I’m Almie” and then it’s just weird for everyone. Especially because they don’t catch my name the first time. And they’ll say, “Oh Amy?” And I’ll say, “No, Almie.” And they’ll say, “Is that short for something?” What the fuck would it be short for? Almanda? Please do me a favor and introduce your party guests to each other! Don’t think you’re too cool to do that. My dear friend Erika is very good with introducing people and I always have a good time at her parties. Coincidence? No, dear sir or madam, no.

Finally, no more Apples To Apples at parties. I hate that game. I always lose.

Party — Envelopes
More Than A Feeling — Boston
Let’s Face The Music And Dance — Ella Fitzgerald
Party Girl — Bernadette Carroll

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Let It Die, Part Two.

Jul
29
2009

I don’t know if it’s a girl thing or what but I’ve been noticing that a lot of my female friends have a hard time letting it go. They lament over their mistakes, their roads not taken, their misfortunes.

CUT IT THE FUCK OUT.

I know, this is far easier said than done. Yesterday I spent the day wallowing in a sorry haze (this is why you should always take your meds on schedule, kids) and even though I wanted to emerge I just couldn’t. I felt like Patrick Bateman:

“…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cool gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours…I am simply not there…Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being.”

(That’s quoted from the book, and not the movie, by the way. I love the movie but the book takes the edge of me, if only because of an awkward scene involving Bateman and Tom Cruise in an elevator.)


It’s not a good thing to feel like Patrick Bateman. I think it’s a defense mechanism, a way of trying to hide all of my anxious feelings. It’s still better than when I would revert to pretending I was Agent Dale Cooper, taking into a deck of cards like it was a tape recorder. Ha ha I’m just kidding, I would never do that…

If you were to lie in bed and think of all the faux-paus you’ve made in your life you would go crazy. If you were to list all of your missed opportunities and awkward moments and times where you just wanted to slap yourself, Chris Farley style, shouting “STUPID STUPID!” then you’re not going to get to sleep any time soon and you’re going to wake up feeling like a zombie.

Try this: when you start to think of all the ways in which you wish your life were different, think of the ways that you make it good. Think of something you did in the past that was awesome, even if it was just making a funny joke or getting a birthday gift for a friend that she really appreciated. Start small! Then think of the bigger things. There is no mistake you made that is too great to keep you from another opportunity. Unless you are:

— Phil Spector
— O.J.
— That woman who just ate her baby
— Tim Burton

(Aaahhh I kid, Tim Burton will probably be fine blah blah.) But really, you have to let it go. You know, I know it, Tim Burton knows it. The only way to ease the pain of past stupid decisions is to make good ones in the future. Again, to quote Oprah quoting Maya Angelou (shut up, it’s still good advice):

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