Category Archives: no i’m not drunk

I suck at everything.

http://instagr.am/p/fOkZe/

Good news, everyone! I suck at everything! I want to cry and throw things and scream and laugh all at the same time, but I can’t. And you know why? Because I suck!

I usually talk about how even when things suck you have to find a way out because the more you say and believe they suck, the more they will.

SUCK SUCK SUCK EVERYTHING SUCKS I DON’T CARE, COME AT ME UNIVERSE. WITH YOUR MAGIC SUNSETS. I DARE YOU. Throw a sunset in my face, see if I give a fuck. I don’t. Spoiler alert GONE because I just said it. I DON’T GIVE A FUUUUU

How many times have I written that it’s okay to feel bad and it’s okay to suck as long as you realize it and then you can rise above it? So why can’t I? I am terrible at taking my own advice.

It’s so much easier to suck at everything than to try hard at anything.

The frightening truth is that I am not happy or okay with who I am, and I may never be. I was drifting along, like a plastic bag in the LA River, when I felt hate and loathing slowly pulse throughout my veins. For myself. People are like, “Shut up so many people would love to have your life” and I’m like, “So what who cares” and they’re like “You’re acting like a child” and I’m like “Nu uh I’m an adult” and then my mom hangs up the phone.

WILL SOMEONE HOLD ME?

I keep trying to work on my book. I take one step forward and two vodka shots back. It’s hard! It’s hard you guys! And what’s the point, anyway? Who cares? “I would rather watch somebody buy their underwear than read a book they wrote.” – Andy Warhol (true story).

There are so many people out there who are so much better than I am. And by better, I mean famous.

Guys life is hard. These are worse than White Girl Problems. These are Apocalypstick Problems. Or even Uncle Almie Problems.

Why do you suck?

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Public Displays of Affected.

I’m interested in your thoughts on public displays of affection. I moved to the UK last year and I see it everywhere (not that I mind), but it seems like much more of a taboo in North America. Why do you think that is? – Apocalypstick reader Andrew James Bond. That’s not his real last names. I gave him those. YOU’RE WELCOME, ANDREW.

I guess this is the part where I say “Americans are so much more uptight about sex than Europeans we suck blah blah” and that’s all true, though I still don’t know why this is. I guess because our movie ratings are stricter than yours and always were. Or maybe because you guys jumped on that whole bikini and then topless swimsuit thing. Or maybe you guys invented sex and we’re doing our best to imitate it. Maybe what we think of as sex is actually a really stimulating Scrabble game, and we’ve been doing it wrong all these years. But if you’re out with some friends and in front of you you see two young people making out real intense, you and your friends are probably going to look around awkwardly and think, “I don’t need to see this, I just want to ride the Matterhorn!!” or whatever, I don’t know what you do in your spare time. I go to Disneyland, that’s my choice. If anyone reading this wants to get me into Club 33, please email me. Click the “contact” button.

Here is the universal truth about PDA: we hate it unless we’re the ones doing it. (Look don’t even get up on me and say, “THAT’S NOT TRUE FOR ME.” I don’t care, okay? I can’t please everyone. Go home, little Timmy. Or whatever your name is. Darryl. I don’t know, okay? I’m just a girl with a computer.) I don’t like seeing it. I can’t explain why. Because I’m American? Because I went to an All Girls School for most of my important years of my youth? Because I watched too much Nickelodeon? I really don’t know. I want to blame Ren and Stimpy for something, and maybe this isn’t it. I’ll save them for something else, something real special, like why I’m afraid of kitty litter or veins.

But if I’m the one with an adoring someone all over me, I’m thinking, “I don’t give a fuck what you people think, I’ve waited too long to have someone like me like this, WE ARE KISSING NOW, DEAL WITH IT GOODY PROCTOR!” I just want to be loved by someone really sexy and successful, okay? Isn’t that what we all want? Who says, “I want to be loved by someone really unattractive and unsuccessful?” College kids, that’s who. Graduation day is upon us, people. Time to get your diploma and make out with someone hot.

Just not in enclosed spaces, like lines for Disneyland rides or a crowded Starbucks, okay? WE’RE NOT READY FOR THAT. NOT IN AMERICA.

 

Golden Slumbers (Beatles cover) – Claudine Longet

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Worst. Feminist. Ever.

This Royal Wedding frenzy has me thinking I would very much like to marry a prince right now. How fucking easy. What an awesome life you have when your biggest obstacle is that you’re too tired to go to another charity ball? Sometimes I just don’t want to work (but who doesn’t, right?). I want to be adored and appreciated. I just want to stand there in a chanel suit and wave. And not even wave strenously. 

I’m probably not supposed to admit this. But damn, I would really like someone to swoop in and take care of me right now. Someone to love me with reckless abandon. Someone who protects me and then announces to the world that I am theirs. Look. I love my life and I love writing and everything I do. But if a prince came up to me right now — hell, I’ll settle for a rich producer — with a gigantic ring I would take it and then immediately pose for the cover of People Magazine. I should not want this, right? I should want satisfaction to come from me. From my actions, my success. And yet…fuck. That. Shit.

Thus, I am the worst feminist ever. But goddamn, between my job and a Kennedy…I’m sorry. I am choosing the Kennedy. Oh, in this scenario my job is working in Ralph Lauren, which is what Carolyn Bessett did when he met her. So yeah, that’s not really a toss-up. (Unless you really like your job in retail! That’s ok! I’m not trying to hate on anyones’ life choices!)

I realize how fucking terrible that is. But I just want someone to point a finger at me and say, “YOU are FUCKING GREAT.” Like an Uncle Sam poster, but instead of Uncle Sam, it’s Jon Hamm. Why can’t it be you, Apocalypstick? Why can’t it be you pointing at yourself in a mirror? I don’t know, Grandmother Willow. I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S AROUND THE RIVERBEND.

Can I still be a feminist if I really just want to marry a prince and peace the fuck out? If I want to do that, isn’t that my choice, and isn’t that just as valid as any choice a woman makes in her life? Or am I just the little girl who wanted to be a princess who never grew out of it (I’M LOOKING AT YOU, ARIEL AND BELLE. BUT NOT YOU, SNOW WHITE, YOUR MOVIE SCARED ME. I WILL NEVER LOOK AT YOU AGAIN)? JFK Jr. was the closest thing we had to royalty, maybe this is why we’re going batshit for Wills & Kate. Who is American royalty to us now? Jon Hamm? Who would be the big “catch”? You are, Apocalypstick. You are! No, shut up. I am no one. I am a girl with a blog who wants to be a Princess. That ain’t right.

Actually, you know what really ain’t right? These bridesmaid dresses are rumored to be $30,000 something dollars.

I think I just snapped out of this princess shit.

 

Your Song – Elton John

The most unabashedly romantic song of all time. OF ALL TIME.

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SHUT UP APOCALYPSTICK.

I don’t know what’s going on with me lately, or if this is something I’ve always done and haven’t noticed, BUT I CAN’T SHUT THE FUCK UP. By which I mean, if you engage me, I will go on tangents like they’re a free trip to Paris. If I’m introduced to a group, I am shy, unless I start drinking or unless you engage me. And if you engage me, watch the fuck out. You know those movies where there’s that adorable quirky girl that is fascinating? Or is supposed to be, but actually she’s not quirky, she just has no filter and won’t shut the fuck up?

HI!!!!!!!!

Last night I was at a dinner and I felt the need to tell this guy about myself, but 90% of what I told him was totally unnecessary and not remotely interesting. Example:

DUDE: What do you do?

ME: Oh I’m a writer, I mean sort of, I have this blog, wait here’s my card! I don’t mean to be weird it’s just I have these cards and I really like them but I’m trying to get rid of them because I should have gotten them glossy but I didn’t, so now I want to get them glossy but I should give these out first. But you seem really cool so I actually really want you to have my card. (Takes out card, gives it to guy. Guys says card is cool, thus making the mistake of engaging me further.) Yeah, I love these, I love the people who made my blog, they’re called Shaterboxx media, you should contact them if you need a website or blog or something, so I have this blog, it’s about dating and relationships and living in LA, but I don’t really know, so I do that, and I blog for other sites, and I used to have a part time job but I quit that, and now I’m doing something else, but this ring I’m wearing was from my old job, but anyway, I write and oh I also have a column for this magazine, it’s called Genlux, it’s this fashion magazine, I don’t know, I have a relationship column in it. We just did this photo shoot, it’s in the latest issue, with Emmy Rossum on the cover, where we did this fashion spread on bloggers and I was in it, but I wasn’t crazy about my hair at first but I don’t know, I always have issues with my hair. I just got my bangs trimmed.

YES. ALL HE ASKED ME WAS WHAT I DO.

Dustin, if you’re reading this, thank you for not punching me in the face.

There’s a fine line between Annie Hall and Annie, Get Your Gun And Shoot Yourself In The Face. Oh my God, these puns, I’m like Carrie Bradshaw. I mean I think she’s awesome, but she had some pretty bad puns. Isn’t it weird how she’s such a big cultural figure that she’s become more famous than Sarah Jessica Parker?

AND THERE WE GO WITH ANOTHER TANGENT.

I guess most of my blog is tangents, but I hope that they’re somewhat related to each other, like some weird inbred family. It’s just that my brain is constantly rambling with anecdotes and things that I shouldn’t say out loud, but actually most of the time it works out. Something that you would say to a normal person would get you slapped but maybe it’s because I’m charming or because I hang out with awesome people, but they get it. They go with it. If they don’t go with it, it’s awkward. It’s usually awkward either way, but it’s especially awkward when someone is on a totally different wavelength. It’s like what do you talk about? You talk about Facebook.

Facebook has replaced weather as the default conversation topic.

It’s sad but true?

I don’t know, I’m just going to shut up and drink my wine.

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Heaven Is Overrated.

Pictured: not Train.

If you’re a part of my generation then you are more than familiar with the hit sounds of Train. I’m not talking about that Train that Ringo made sure was on schedule, but that was a good show, I’m talking about Meet Virginia, Soul Sister, motherfucking DROPS of JUPITER Train. And I happened to score an exclusive interview with the lead singer. Because I made it up.

APOCALYPSTICK: Hi, lead singer of Train!
LEAD SINGER OF TRAIN: (breaking into song) HAAAA-AAAY. HAAAAAAAAAAAY. HAAAA-AAAY HAAA-AAAAY.
A: Oh yeah, like that song you guys have that’s everywhere. How are you?
LST: Train!
A: Right, sure. Let’s start with the tough questions. Who would win in a knife fight: you or Rob Thomas?
LST: I am a peaceful man and I don’t believe in violence.
A: Okay but let’s say you’re in a knife fight with the Smashmouth guy, who would win?
LST: I would. I would stab the shit out of that guy.
A: Excellent. We thank you. In “Drops of Jupiter” you sing that, “She checks out Mozart while she does Tae Bo”. What the hell does that mean?
LST: She works out in front of a bust of Mozart. He’s great thinspiration. I thought I made that pretty obvious.

A: You seem to have an obsession with women working out. In “Meet Virgina” you sing about a girl who, “Wears high heels when she exercises.” You know women don’t do that, right?
LST: It’s a metaphor.
A: For what?
LST: For… (long silence) …America.
A: Okay. So back to “Drops Of Jupiter”–
LST: Are you going to keep asking me about “Drops Of Jupiter”?
A: From this point on, all questions will be about “Drops Of Jupiter” and “Drops Of Jupiter” only. Did you know that of this song and your performance of it at the Grammy’s a few years back, Kanye West said, “I liked when Train did ‘Drops of Jupiter.’ That was the first time I’d heard that song and I was like, ‘Oh shit, this is great!’”
LST: Yeah, Kanye and I are really tight.
A: Really? How so?
LST: I follow him on Twitter.
A: Uh…well, I mean…so do I. So does everyone.
LST: Yeah but I follow him really closely.
A: It doesn’t sound like you guys aren’t that close.
LST: We’re close. I always know exactly what’s on his mind.
A: So does everyone else. He’s Kanye West. He makes it known.
LST: (Pause.) Can we go back to “Drops Of Jupiter”?

A: Please. That song defined my high school years. Well, not all of them, just one. It wasn’t really the full year, it was maybe like six months. Or maybe it was in middle school, I have no concept of time. Then I kind of forgot about it, because I stopped buying those “Now That’s What I Call Music” CDs but then I got to that point where it was cool and fun to reminisce over 90s music and then I remembered the song and got in stuck in my head for another six months and now I think it’s the greatest pop song ever written, but my friend Dave says it sucks. What do you think?
LST: I think your friend Dave is a dick.
A: Oh snap! Now let’s talk about that key change, because the key change is what really makes the song. (I’m referring towards the end of DoJ: “did the wind sweep you off your feet“).
LST: That was my idea, that was all my idea. I have ideas.
A: Was the line about the soy latte your idea too? And, hey, what’s the best soy latte you’ve ever had?
LST: I don’t drink coffee. I just put that in there because it rhymed.
A: …It did? With what?
LST: It rhymed with this line we had before it but then we took that line out.
A: “She acts like summer and walks like rain.” How does one do that?
LST: Summer was this bitch I dated in high school and Rain is an exotic dancer with a limp.
A: You look so good and you’re in your 40s, how do you do it? You’re legit hot.
LST: Trains!!
A: Thank you for this made-up interview. I can’t wait for your next hit song that will nestle in my brain and play in a car commercial.

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I’m So Gifted At Finding What I Don’t Like The Most.

I think it’s pretty clear from the above exchange that I might be depressed as fuck. That or I just sit in front of the computer until I smell. But really, isn’t that the same thing?

People tell you that, “Time heals all wounds.” People tell you that, “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” People tell you that, “It’s always darkest before dawn.” These people are liars and assholes and should go to cliche rehab.

Let’s address their first groundbreaking, brilliant point. Time does not heal anything. Time just separates you from the thing that happened to where you are now. Sure, the pain may not feel as fresh, but it doesn’t erase the fact that the pain was there. All time does is enable you to trick yourself into thinking and believing that you’re fine, because it happened how ever many weeks/months/years ago and you’ve changed ever so much since then. And if time really did help you, fuck you, you liar.

Second: the whole it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. There’s been rumors that there’s a drug out that erases memories. Real “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” shit but without the whimsical touch and Jon Brion soundtrack. If this drug exists I need it in me like, yesterday. I would erase it all. Like that. The good memories do not outweigh the bad. The damage is done. My good friend Abby said, “You know I realized I’ve never met your parents” and all I could think was, “Yeah let’s really get to know each others’ families so that when you leave me I can feel especially terrible and embarrassed. Because it’s not enough to have you go away, but I would love to break-up with your family as well. If a whole clan can reject me instead of one person, that would be awesome.” And this is just my great friend Abby! How the fuck am I supposed to trust someone who wants to have sex with me? And by the way, I am not having sex with anyone, that ship has sailed, or sunk actually. My sex drive is the Titanic, shit is just dead and buried. I didn’t even get a string quartet to play me off, goddamn.

Yes, it is always darkest before dawn. Literally. But after dawn comes, the darkness is still there, it’s just inside of you. So now you’re like a goddamn haunted house, wherever you go, the poltergeists follow. You are completely and totally fucked. Get all the exorcisms you want, but that demon knows, “LOL you’re mine, bitch” and it’s right. When you’re dark inside, there is no difference between day and night. Things that seem bad at night are just as bad in the morning. They’re waiting for you. It’s like having own personal Tyler Durden. Have fun, kids! Make some soap!!!!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to drinking wine and listening to Regina Spektor.

But the wine is pink!! I CAN STILL HAVE FUN.

Torn — Natalie Imbruglia

(Yeah, let’s do this shit right.)

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