Category Archives: yeah I might be drunk

10 Reasons Why Ghosts Are Fucking Dicks


Has this ever happened to you? You’re lying in bed, trying to drift off on the ole Slumbertrain, when suddenly, out of freakin’ nowhere, a ghost pops in, rattling his chains, moaning, scaring the everloving shit out of you, ruining your evening? It has, right? Of course it has, because ghosts are fucking jerks. They’re like toddlers — immature and full of spite. Which means they’re also like drunk adults. (My dad always said that kids are like small drunk adults, and I believe it’s the same for ghosts. Don’t ghosts do everything drunk adults do, aside from vomit? They’re loud, obnoxious, and unwanted — just like drunk people. I rest my pants.) Don’t even get me started on ghosts. If I start on ghosts, I may never stop. Because, like Miley, I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Don’t get the ghost industry tell you otherwise. Don’t listen to Jacob Marley or those Haunted Mansion bitches — they’re full of propaganda from the ghost industry. Just freakin’ full of it. Oh, what’s that? You want me to get started on ghosts? Okay. Here we go. Here are ten reasons why ghosts are fucking dicks. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because I totally did. I could go on about ghosts forever, those dicks.

10. They show up year round.

Ghosts should be decent and disappear after Halloween. Do they? No. Why? BECAUSE THEY’RE DICKS. Could you imagine if Santa just showed up all year round? Yeah, at first we would think, “Fucking sweet, Santa’s here!” And then it would be, “Oh, sweet, Santa’s here — again.” And then it would be, “Great, Santa’s breaking into my house again, get a fucking job, hippie!” When you’ve got a good thing going, you don’t keep pushing the good thing, because it ruins the good thing. Everyone likes a good scare on/or around Halloween, but after and/or before that? That’s ridiculous and/or annoying.

9. They’re unemployed and live rent-free.

Can you imagine if anyone else tried to do this? If your friend just randomly showed up and was like, “Hey, I’m gonna live in your house and not pay rent or have a job and scare the shit out of you, eternally”? Would you be like, “Oh okay, cool, bro, thanks!” No you would NOT. Why do we let ghosts get away with it?? Because they’re fucking DICKS. They don’t adhere to our rules, because they think they’re fucking awesome. It’s bullshit and it needs to stop.

8. They can’t/won’t let go and move on.

Ghosts are like a bad ex — they can’t (or won’t) just let go and move the fuck on. Like, HELLO, YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD. MOVE ON TO THE NEXT STATION, BUDDY. YOU CAN’T PARK YOUR CAR HERE. You know? But they just don’t get it!!! They stick around like post-it notes. And you’re just like, “What are you not understanding?” But instead of telling you why they can’t move on, they just point at shit and moan. Which brings me to this next point:

7. They’re bad communicators.

Have you ever heard of a ghost who explained, in plain English, why he’s haunting you? NO YOU HAVEN’T, BECAUSE GHOSTS ARE DICKS. They NEVER explain why they’re haunting you. Sometimes they’ll drop clues, like they’ll point to something all ghostlike and moan and you’re supposed to figure out what the hell that means. I would love to meet a ghost who told me straight-up why they were haunting me. “Hey, I’m here haunting the shit out of you because this is where I died and I’m unable to move on” is what I’d like to hear. At least that’s a FOUNDATION we can BUILD ON. Jesus.

6. They never apologize for being dicks.

Speaking of poor communication, not only are ghosts bad at explaining why they’re haunting you, but they never even fucking apologize, even if you help them move on to the next world. Have you ever busted out a Ouija board and asked a ghost what’s up and ever gotten an apology? Has the planchette ever spelled out “I-M-S-O-R-R-Y”? No, of course not, because they’re dicks. Sure, we’ve got “Casper the Friendly Ghost” but aside from him, has anyone actually ever had a friendly ghost? Nice try, Ghost Industry!

5. They’re elitist.

Why is it that ghosts only haunt rich people? It’s called Disney’s Haunted Mansion, not Disney’s Haunted 700ft² Studio Apartment. Why is that? Ghosts have the time to terrorize Nicole Kidman and her kids in a freakin’ English manor but not the time to terrorize us normal folk? I see what you’re doing, Ghost Industry. You’re saying you don’t have the time to deal with us unless we’ve got rooms and rooms to haunt, and that is beyond elitist. Some of us can’t afford sprawling estates for you to roam and moan in. It’s like we don’t even matter to you. And frankly, I’m offended.

4. They break shit and don’t pay for it.

Ghosts just love to break shit. Lamps, dishes, creepy porcelain dolls — doesn’t matter, if it’s breakable, they’ll break it. And they never offer to pay for the stuff they wreck either. I mean, they’re already taking up rent-free space and now they’re breaking shit? What’s up with that?? Not cool.

3. They’re insomniacs.

Why don’t ghosts ever haunt during the day? Why is it always when we’re trying to sleep? Why can’t a ghost realize that it’s a beautiful day and do a little haunting then? Why do they wait until it’s dark and creepy and past midnight? Why? You guessed it, because they’re dicks. I guess they’re jealous that we can sleep and they can’t, for whatever reason, which I think is bullshit. If they can break shit and make noise, why can’t they sleep? It’s just another lie perpetuated by the Ghost Industry.

2. They’re stupid.

Yeah, I’m being real here — REAL CONTROVERSIAL — but I don’t care, I’m just gonna say it: ghosts are stupid. They’re not a very evolved species. In this technology fueled times of email and texting and everything else, have you ever had a ghost try to communicate properly, via one of those channels? Nope, they always go the old fashioned way — by moaning in chains, or breaking shit (see above). Is it because they’re dicks? YES. Is it also because they’re stupid? YES. Name one intelligent ghost. Name one ghost who wowed you with their intellectual prowess. You can’t, can you?

1. They’re just not that scary anymore.

If you’re going to do something, you should do it right and be the best at it, and I think at this point, ghosts just aren’t scary enough. You know what the scariest thing is that I can think of? HBOGo not working. That‘s fucking chilling. And because no ghost is as scary as my Internet not working, I’m calling them dicks because of it. You have ONE JOB, ghosts, ONE JOB! And you’re still not as scary as an “Internet timed out” notice. For SHAME.


Anyway, it’s all these reasons and probably more that  are total dicks, and if you’re not brainwashed by the fucking Ghost Industry, you’ll go right along with me, because if there’s one thing no one likes, it’s a goddamn ghost. And I feel no regret or remorse saying that.



Photo by Nina Leen via LIFE archive photos for Google.


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Happy Sunday Night.

photo by Laura at

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what kind of book I want to write. A few people have told me that I’m like the new Carrie Bradshaw. I think that’s rad and I would love to be the new Carrie Bradshaw if only for license to dress more creatively. However, I don’t know anything about relationships. Clearly. I’m at home on Valentine’s Day evening drinking a Manhattan and watching “The Simpsons.” Or as I call it, Sunday Night. The one time I had plans on Vday it wasn’t terribly fun. I sort of bullied the guy I was seeing into taking me out to a nice restaurant (because otherwise I don’t think he would have planned anything, probably just hanging out in front of the TV) and it was delicious food but looking back the whole thing was so forced. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take me out but it’s more like I so desperately wanted to feel like it was working. THIS is what couples do, right? They go out on Valentine’s Day, right? I drank a lot and we got home early and I probably ended the evening watching the 1:00 AM Oprah rerun. I bet it was good, too. The Oprah rerun. It was probably about how there are HUNDREDS of CHILD PREDATORS lurking in YOUR neighborhood. Lisa Ling investigates.

I can’t really offer relationship advice. A coworker asked me for some a few days ago. She was seeing this guy that she was off and on with for a while now. In the past he was not able to commit. Now he seems different. All I could tell her was that sometimes when we don’t know what to do or make of someone all we can go on is past behavior. You’re welcome to keep trying but the odds of it winding up differently than before are slim. I think it’s AA that has the saying that goes something like “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” I read this on the stall of the bathroom at acting class. BTW, thanks to the Lesly Kahn Institute for the travel coffee mug. I’m sure you didn’t intend for it to be used as a martini shaker but that’s what I did and it worked beautifully.

Anyway I think my point is that I can only offer my take on things and hope that you make the right decision for yourself. The worst thing though is that I can never take my own advice. I guess it’s like the shoemaker whose kids never have shoes or the therapist whose kids are the most screwed up of all, or something. That old thing. If you want a get a guy to like you or stay with you, I can’t help you there. But if you’re doing something and you need someone to take a look at it, I can step back, observe and say, “Hey, this is silly, friend” or “Maybe you should not do that” or “Try this” or “Yes, I believe we have that in a size 7, would you like to try it in red as well as black?” That last suggestion is what I would say if I were working at a shoe store. But I would never do that because I don’t like looking at feet. I also don’t like looking at close up photos of hair. Or touching the palms of hands. And I don’t want you to touch my palms either. It gives me the creepies. I can’t explain why. I can hold your hand though but only if I really like you. That’s very intimate. Why do you think The Beatles wrote an entire song about it?

Suicide Is Painless — The theme from MASH


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Stood Up? Stare Down.

just playing
“The fact that you’re not answering leads me to believe you’re either (a) not at home, (b) home but don’t want to talk to me, or (c) home, desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy.” — When Harry Met Sally

Last night I got stood up. To quote the Clash song that I’ve posted on this blog at least twice:

I’ve been beat up. I’ve been thrown out.
But I’m not down. I’m not down.

OK Honestly, I’m a little down. But what does one do when one is stood up? One finds other plans, has fun, and then gets Taco Bell at 2 AM. This is the sacred ritual of the single. This is what I did. I sent out a mass text to all of my friends and “etcs” letting them know of my sad fate in hopes that someone would rescue me. A few people did. I chose a guy. I got very drunk. I went to a gay bar. I told pretty much everyone within my general vicinity that I was stood up. And yes, I ate the Taco Bell at the end of the night. I ordered a #5 because 5 is my favorite number. I didn’t even look at what it was.

Turns out #5 is nachos and a taco.

See how much we’re learning?

I’m sure the gentleman had very good reason for standing me up. Perhaps he was eaten by sharks. I find it entirely plausible that in Los Angeles at around 8 at night someone decided to go swimming in the ocean and was eaten by sharks. That happens everyday. It’s just not widely reported.

The thing is, I don’t think this [by which I mean getting stood up] happens to anyone but me. Just because that’s just my life. My life is one long series of unfortunate events but without the clever orphans. However, if you find yourself stood up, here are my suggestions:

— Call and/or text your girlfriends. They will suggest something like, “Let’s go to Pinkberry” or at least offer their condolences.

— Get out of the house. It doesn’t matter if all you do is go to Starbucks and get an iced tall skinny vanilla latte; just get out.

— Eat and/or drink something delicious. Just because.

— Find another boy (or girl) to get with. But don’t do this if it’s going to lower your self-worth. Do it because you want to have fun. If the guy is notoriously afraid of commitment and you’re hoping to be the Rory Gilmore to whoever it is that bitch wound up with in the final season, then STEER CLEAR GURL.

— Email me! Really! I’m addicted to my iphone! I always check my email! Even when people beg me not to! ESPECIALLY when people beg me not to!

— And finally, listen to these songs:

Gaston — Beauty and the Beast film cast
Stop Your Sobbing — Pretenders
Womanizer — Britney
Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) — Beyonce
Get Over It — OK Go
Tears Dry On Their Own — Amy Winehouse
Hot N Cold — Katy Perry
Girl Don’t Come — Sandie Shaw


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