Category Archives: that’s disgusting

Cocktails That Describe My Life

Above cocktails: French 75, made by me. And yes, they were good.

So, I feel like I could chronicle my life in cocktails. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Here are some cocktails I make on a semi-regular basis that describe my life. I’ve included the ingredients in case you’d like to make them yourself.

The “I’ve Given Up”

INGREDIENTS: 

  • coconut water
  • whiskey
  • ice
  • a deep sense of failure

This is what you make when you’ve run out of everything except whiskey and coconut water. Surprisingly, they’re not terrible together. No, they’re not amazing together either. They’re fine.

The “I Feel Skinny”

INGREDIENTS:

  • cheap vodka
  • soda water
  • lemon or lime wedge
  • ice
  • the belief that you’ve actually lost weight, even though it’s really just your stomach forcing your pants down your body that makes them feel loose.

Yes, this is basically just a vodka soda, and yes,  I was inspired by Louis C.K. who noted that when his stomach gets big, it shoves over his pants, pushing them down, making him think he lost weight. “I did it,” he says, “I ate my way to the other side, I did.” Oh man, I feel you, Louis.

The “I’m Sick And Also Sick Of Everything”

INGREDIENTS:

  • hot water
  • chopped garlic, or a bulb of garlic if you’re lazy as hell.
  • fresh lemon juice
  • ginger (ground or fresh)
  • cayenne pepper (ground)
  • honey
  • whiskey
  • a profound sense of sadness

My friend Ben recommended this drink. I get sick a lot with colds or sore throat maladys, and this really helps clear congestion and makes me feel like I’m actively doing something to be not sick anymore. Forgive me, I sound like a graduate of the Derek Zoolander School of Kids Who Can’t Read Good And Wanna Learn Do Other Stuff Good Too.

The “Life Is Going Really Good For Me”

INGREDIENTS:

  • vodka
  • cocktail onions
  • cocktail onion juice
  • a whisper of vermouth
  • a false sense of security

Yes, this is just a dirty vodka Gibson, but it’s my favorite cocktail. It’s surprisingly hard to find in bars because no one has cocktail onions because this isn’t 1925 and it’s not a bar for grandfathers. But I love this drink. The whisper of vermouth is crucial. You could make like Winston Churchill and go up to the drink and whisper “vermouth” or just make it so dry you leave the vermouth in the other room. You get the joke here? You don’t add vermouth.

The “Fridge Surprise”

INGREDIENTS:

  • whatever mixer you have
  • whatever hard alcohol you have
  • a dose of “LOL fuck this”

I think we’ve all made the Fridge Surprise at some point in our lives. How creative can we get with our cocktails, as we stare into a fridge of margarita mix and an apple, we wonder. The Fridge Surprise is kind of a metaphor for life, really. We never know what we’re going to find in the fridge, but we’ve got to make the best out of it.

I’m sorry if you don’t drink; this was not a fun post for you.

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Do NOT Use This Pick Up Artist Technique

teenagers carnaby street 1960's london

Note: this is a bad technique if this is how you’re trying to meet a girl. Obviously if you’ve already been on one (or more) great dates and you think she’d dig this, then do it. This is being reviewed as a tip for how to meet a woman/get to know a woman you just met at a bar/public place. Do NOT use this pick up artist technique.

A new PUA (“pick-up artist”) technique for hitting on women suggests that you “accidentally” but on purpose graze a girl’s boob. Found on the polarizing “seduction” section of Reddit, one user posted this tip as “gold.” It’s actually an old tip, but it’s new to me. Here’s the plan, transcribed and edited for length:

This is a very important method of kino [to touched or be touched] that has never been mentioned…it’s “the boob touch.”

You need to be holding a drink in order for this to work. When you’re talking to a girl and standing close to her, you lean in and talk into her ear, while your hand that’s holding the drink makes contact with her boob. Leave it there; you’ll be surprised by how many girls let you keep it there and they may actually push up against it. Remember, this is the back of your hand touching her, so it seems totally unintentional. If she backs away, you can immediately realize that she’s gonna take some effort, so if you want you can “Next” her without suffering any humiliation whatsoever.

… Add this little “magic trick” to your arsenal, DJs, and you will be pleasantly surprised.

Apparently “this little magic trick” upset a few people, the few who pointed out that it was creepy were accused of, “white knighting more than usual.” Really sad that by saying, “hey, it’s gross to touch a woman’s boobs without asking” one gets insulted.

There are so many things problematic with this “method” without even reading the comments that support it, like “this is a surprisingly effective move” and “Fuck the negative comments…This type of kino isn’t bad especially when girls on the dance floor are grinding the shit out of your junk with their ass” I’ll just list them.

1. It suggests that women have boobs solely for guys to touch. That because we have them, and we’re in public, they’re yours for “accidental” touching.

2. What if women “accidentally” grazed a guy’s dong? (Yes, I say dong.) Go ahead dudes, joke that you’d love it, but I don’t think you would. I think you’d feel embarrassed. Which brings me to #3.

3. “You’ll be surprised by how many girls let you keep  it [your hand] there [on her boobs].” Wanna know why she’s “letting” you “keep it there”? She’s embarrassed. She’s embarrassed for you, and she’s embarrassed for herself. She wants to believe that it was an accident, because everyone wants to believe that no one is purposefully creepy and weird, and she feels embarrassed that you did that and she’s actually trying to save you humiliation. Then, when you’re not moving it, she’s wondering, “Okay, wait, is this on purpose? Oh God, what do I do?” Because, you see, as much as women would like to rightly tell you off, a lot of women are still too scared to do so, because we’re ingrained to be polite, and also, we’re afraid you’re going to flip out and hurt us. (“We” is shorthand. Not every woman has these fears, the same as not every man believes this is an effective way to hit on women.) Guys, you may not understand this. You may say, “Bullshit, if you don’t like it, just say so.” It’s not always that easy. If you’re a woman, it is very likely that at some point in your life, you’ve been catcalled/harassed on the street or had some guy get in your face and call you a bitch (or worse) for not wanting to give him your phone number. And sometimes, we just get so tired. We’re so tired of having to deal with this shit. It’s 2013.

4. This tip further suggests that if we do not fancy your public groping, it’s because we’re high maintenance and not worthy of your attention. It’s almost as though we shouldn’t be offended when you touch us. That maybe we should even offer a friendly boob grab upon meeting.

5. And finally, the last terrible thing about this advice is that it gives you permission not only to do this but to not be embarrassed when a woman calls you out for putting your hand on her breast, in public, without asking. Yeah, whoops, our bad. Sorry, guys!

To any men who read this “kino” technique and think it’s good: it isn’t. Is that to say that some woman out there wouldn’t love this? No. Is she a bad woman for liking this? No. I am saying that the majority of women would not appreciate this, at all, and it’s not worth being branded a creep in trying to find out. Because you will be. You will be known as “that creep who touched my boob at the bar” by the woman you touched, and all the friends she told. And believe me, she will tell her friends.

If you want some non-creepy pick up ideas, I got some for ya right here.

Reposted from The Gaggle. Written by me. Photo credit: “Teenagers in London’s Carnaby Street” from The National Archives UK via Flickr Commons

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Beautiful Women With Ugly Men

What is with super beautiful women pairing up with super not beautiful men? Are they super talented? Super rich? Super man? Superman? Batman? Wait what’s going on you guys?

Oh right. Pretty women with ugly dudes. Now this gives me hope because I’ve been told I’m beautiful (by myself, looking in the mirror, this counts though I am pretty sure) so maybe I haven’t found a guy yet because the guys I’m going after aren’t ugly enough. (Of course these guys are also massively talented. And famous. Maybe that’s they key.) Observe:

Jane Birkin with Serge Gainsbourg

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Serge, but even Jane is looking like, “Damn am I really letting this dude touch me?” He also banged Bardot for a while! Now Serge Gainsbourg has a sexy voice and is a brilliant writer but dude’s got a face like the Aggrocrag from Nickelodeon’s “Guts”! What!! I’m just saying!!!

Kate Moss with Pete Doherty

Pete Doherty looks like an overgrown baby (with a cocaine addiction). Yeah, his music is…OK. I mean no one’s going to say, “Babyshambles is the greatest band ever!!” and if they are then take another look, because you’re probably talking to Pete Doherty. This woman went from Johnny Depp to this dude. I don’t think I need to say any more.

Sharon Tate with Roman Polanski

Polanski actually looks kind of cute here. But let’s be real: dude is short and straight-up odd-looking. Even before he got all rapey he was a little unsettling. I would be too if I went to a concentration camp when I was a kid and lost my mom there. Whoa, that’s kind of going off topic. Holy shit now all I want to do is hug Roman Polanski and tell him that it’s going to be ok. What is wrong with me?? Damn you Sharon Tate, you’re so goddamn endearing that I can’t help but fall in love with him too. Plus people tell me I kind of look like you. Not that that has to do with anything at all, I just like to brag.

Britt Ekland with Peter Sellers

I’ll admit, it’s a bit of a stretch to call Peter Sellers “ugly”. He’s a little paunchy with a lot of chest hair and a distinguished nose, but I find him sexy too. However she’s BRITT EKLAND. Brit Ekland! BRITT EKLAND.

Audrey Hepburn with Mel Ferrer

Hey Audrey, sup? You’re just chilling with the Ghost of Christmas Future? Awesome. How’s the–WHOA, WAIT, THAT’S YOUR HUSBAND? BACK THE FUCK UP. Audrey did you know that pretty much every man in the world has a crush on you? Even today? Like everytime I hung out with this sexy sexy man he would go on and on about how hot you were? Ok so he turned out to be bisexual but I think my point still holds? You’re Audrey Hepburn. This is really the man for you? William Holden threw himself at you but you turned him down for this dude? Because Holden couldn’t have children? You just buy them at the children store! Come on now! That’s what all of the hot celebrities do! Look maybe I could be a little more sympathetic if Ferrer didn’t turn out to be an angry control freak with fidelity issues. Man. Audrey Hepburn. Man.

Mischa Barton with Cisco Adler

They broke up in 2007 I think (haha “I think” like I don’t know this for sure, like my life isn’t sad enough to know that they broke up in February of 2007) and I say thank God. Cisco Adler, much like Jack White, looks like the kind of guy who would steal your car. And did you see those naked photos of him that were making their rounds on the internet? I’m not going to post them here because I don’t feel like gagging for the next 45 minutes but feel free to look them up. I don’t get it Mischa! You had it all. A hit show, a thin bod, a cool name…and this is what you chose. You saw this, deemed it fuckable, and fucked it. So glad you moved on, girl.

So ladies, if you’re hot and you haven’t been having luck, maybe you should hit up an ugly dude. Just make sure that he’s rich or about to become super famous!

xxoo

If Looks Could Kill — Camera Obscura

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Party Chat

Last night was bizarre.
First of all, yesterday began with The Mad Men casting. I waited in a long ass line only to be told at the front of it that since I was not registered with central casting I needed to come back tomorrow. Oh hell naw. I called my mom and begged her to come by to give me my social security card which I needed for registration and the beautiful wonderful woman that she is, she drove out to Burbank to give it to me. (Yes I live with my parents, and No I don’t think that’s sad. But I am going to milk it until it gets sad.) So finally once I registered I had to wait in another long-ass line so I could be photographed so the casting people could look at my photo out of hundreds in their casting book and somehow pick from that my beautiful face.

I think I looked great. They have my number and they’re going to call it? Right? Right. I would give my left tit to be on Mad Men.


(Natalie Wood is so goddamn fantastic)

Because I spent the entire day at the casting I had to go straight from there to this party in Hwood that my dear friend Laura was invited to because she writes for Angelino magazine. I was her plus one! By the time I got there I had a massive headache because I realized only then that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast because of the casting. The party was hosted by Julianne Moore and was promoted by Soyjoy, who we soon found out, makes fucking disgusting soy protein bars. I needed food so I chowed that down as well as the microscopic hours’dourves that were circulating. I also threw back a small sour apple martini and chugged down 2 bottles of water.

We got to stand a few feet from Julianne Moore and holy fuck the woman is tiny. She’s maybe 5’4” and this is in heels. And she looks like a goddamn 20 year old. She’s gorgeous. (From the back though her elbows give her age away. But she’s still fucking gorgeous.)

By this time my head wouldn’t stop throbbing. Some sort of iron chef show was about to start, with Julianne Moore as one of the judges, so we went upstairs to watch. Along the way I ran into a lovely girl who was at the Mad Men casting so that was fun. LA is really very small.

We sat upstairs and in a few moments we realized that Amy Smart was sitting across from us with her publicist or something. She was wearing an absolutely hideous dress. It looked like a giant scarf. WTF.

And suddenly I began to feel quite nauseous.


I’m sitting there, feeling sick, my head throbbing when Laura says the most beautiful words: “This is dumb, I wanna go.”

So we left and then I realized, I need to get to the bathroom, now. I felt myself ready to vomit and I really didn’t feel like embarrassing myself. However the line to the bathroom was long so I said, “Fuck it, let’s go” and figured maybe I could force it down. Thankfully a beautiful man said, “Are you looking for more bathrooms? There’s some downstairs.” I could have hugged him, but instead, my stomach having heard the news, sent me on a mad dash to the restrooms.

I threw up the ritz cracker-sized turkey burger appetizer. I told Laura I was sick but that I was okay. So off we headed into the night.

As she was driving me to my car I realized that I needed some advil because my headache was even worse. And then I realized something horrible: I was going to be sick again. Thanks to Laura’s mad driving skills we made a screaming left turn into an alley near a 7-Eleven where a homeless man watched me vomit into the street while poor Laura, horrified, could only mutter, “Oh MY God.” I then went into the 7-Eleven to purchase advil, tums, and a loaf of white bread, since I remember hearing that bread was good for an upset stomach.

We drove to the parking lot where my car was, and sat. I could barely eat any bread and I have never wanted to be home so badly in all of my life. I could feel another wave of vomit rising so I convinced Laura that I was absolutely fine and was ready to drive home. She reluctantly drove away and as I watched her hybrid disappear into the night, a geyser of vomit erupted from my throat, sending me into fits of projectile vomiting in the bushes of a parking lot, splashing my dear Marc Jacobs pumps in the process.

However, after that, I felt much better, and got home without further incident.

I still have no idea what happened. I am not the sort of person who gets randomly sick like that. And I’ve fasted all day before, on Yom Kippur, and usually break the fast with champagne, so I don’t know what made last night any different. It was one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to me, but it made me realize the truth in an old cliche:

Timing is everything.

Imagine if I had vomited at Julianne Moore’s party?

It would have been Far From Heaven and the last of my Boogie Nights, for after an incident like that, my name would be one of The Forgotten and I would be known as the Psycho who was ill.

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