Tag Archives: Los Angeles

La La Los Feliz

old los angeles apartment buildings

My apartment is not pictured here. I just think these are pretty.

After what seemed like a hopeless search, I found a place to live. My mom will be my roommate no longer. I will miss living with her. The last time I lived alone was in NYC when I was in college. I like to live alone. But I’ve never lived alone in LA before. That can feel very alone, I would imagine. But I am living in a great neighborhood (Los Feliz, hipster status achieved) where everything is within walking distance like liquor stores, bars, and my boyfriend. Perfect! I remember my fear and loathing of Silverlake that I had not so long ago. But people change you guys. They change from entitled people from the westside to entitled people from the eastside. I guess I’ll have to start wearing more vintage clothing and skinnier pants. And lose like ten pounds. And hold a pack of cigarettes as a prop. I’m not drinking PBR though, you have to draw the line somewhere.

My greatest hope is that in all this stress, I will lose weight. There has to be a silver lining in everything, right? Or maybe I will have a complete mental breakdown and be hospitalized, in which case I will get some sweet morphine and have conversations with cartoon characters. Speaking of which, I saw “Space Jam” recently and I don’t even know what happened there. How did that movie get made? Michael Jordan, what? I feel like someone said to him, “Michael, we want you in a movie, you can work with anyone you want!” And he said, “Looney Tunes.” And there was a pause and his agent said, “…okay. Let’s do it.”

But that’s not important right now.

Finding an apartment was stressful. Moving into the apartment is maybe even more stressful, especially since I have about a week to do it. Good luck, Future Almie! And Godspeed.

Anyone have any moving tips or tips for organizing an apartment, or even decorating it? I have a nonworking fireplace and it seems like Pinterest is encouraging me to put empty wine bottles, candles, or books in it. My life so hard.

This post is sponsored by the fab  apartment-finding service You Move Free.

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Life is weird.

Oh hay just posing at a fast food BBQ joint, no big deal. Instagram @apocalypstick

This going to sound like the musings of an incredibly stoned person, who is in bed eating Trader Joe’s snack mix while watching “Breaking Bad” but having to constantly rewind because they’re ironically too high to understand it, but I swear I am not stoned. Currently.

Life is so very weird. For example, I now both drink and enjoy iced coffee. You get what I’m saying? Big news. Life is weird, it’s like, one minute you’re the hottest bestest newest thing and the next minute you’re fat and bald and starring in a remake of The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3. You know? The weird thing about life is that things don’t seem to change day by day. You wake up and think, I have to do this same stuff again. But when you think really far back, there was a time when you weren’t doing that stuff. Somehow everything changed. And look at your friends, what are they up to? One minute they’re there, the next minute they’re gone, or sick, or incredibly famous. Usually all three, if you live in LA. Life is weird.

A lot has changed for me within the past year. A complete turn around. I even look different physically, in that I have never looked more like Mick Jagger in my life. And my stomach is constantly upset. I think it’s because beneath my skin is a fine layer of stress. Someone suggested I meditate. Sit in a chair and set a timer for 10 minutes and just sit there and breathe. I’m sorry, sir, but no. I can’t sit in a chair for 10 minutes and do nothing. I’ll just be thinking about the timer going off. I’ll start with one minute. Even that seems really hard. Heating up Hot Pockets in the microwaves seems to take hours.

I should eat less Hot Pockets.

I just want to know what’s going to happen. Where will I be next year? Actually, no, that’s too far ahead. Where will I be next month? Can someone spoiler alert my life? I don’t have time for this shit. I don’t want the journey, I want the destination. Fuck the journey, the journey sucks. No one on the Oregon Trail was like, “This is so awesome how we’re running out of food and dying of dysentery, it’s all gonna go downhill once we get there.”

Kids, help.

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How To Survive A Party Alone.

debby harry, debbie harry, coney island, blondie

Sometimes one of the bravest things you can do is go to a party alone. That and playing dead around a bear. It’s a toss-up. I don’t know if this is limited to women, but all my lady friends have issues going to parties alone. The usual fears swim about in our heads: what if I wind up sitting in the corner all by myself? What if no one talks to me and the host is the only person I know and they’re going to be too busy to talk to me? What if I am unbearably (see, bringing it back to the bears) awkward? What if I am overdressed? Or underdressed? Or not dressed at all?

I’m here to tell you that you can do it. I’ve gone to parties alone and only one — ONE — was awkward and not fun. So what did I do? I left. It’s that simple! You say your polite goodbyes and then get in your mini cooper and get the hell out of there. Was it an icky experience to just talk to people and have them wander off so I pretended like I had a really urgent text message? Yes. Even Apocalypstick lets her self doubt take over sometimes. That’s the worst, when you feel doubt inside and so it seeps outside and it’s like, seep the fuck back in, but it’s too late.

So here’s what you do. Before you walk in the door, take some Vicodin! Or as I call them, ‘Lil Vickees.

Okay. Fine. That’s a terrible idea.

Instead, create the feeling of being on drugs in a wholesome way. Listen to your favorite tunes before you leave, and on the drive there. Pump yourself up. Create the feeling of euphoria without drugs. Yes, it can be done, I’ve seen other people do it. Music makes the people come to together, yeah. Music has been proven to make your brain happy, or something, I’m not a scientist with a computer, I’m just a girl, standing in front of the Internet, asking it to love her.

Other ways to get in a happy mood? Dress in your favorite outfit. Look good so you feel good. If you feel best in a pirate costume, you wear the damn pirate costume. What would Lady Gaga do, right? Or what would Kate Middleton do? Just use their spirits to guide you as you dress. You know those heels that make you look and feel like a Supermodel, even though you’re 5’2″ or whatever? Put them the fuck on!

When you get to the party, smile and introduce yourself to whoever answers the door. Or whoever is nearby if the door is unlocked. I hate that. I hate walking into an open house without someone greeting me. What are we, ANIMALS?

It also helps to bring something. A bottle of wine, perhaps, because that’s what adults do. Or fruit roll-ups, if you want to go in a totally different direction. Either way you’re saying, thanks for letting me in your home; allow me to buy your friendship.

Engage people. Join their conversations, but not in a weird way when you hear people laughing and you jump over and start laughing even though you have no idea what’s going on. That is never appreciated. If you meet someone cool while you’re making small talk, stick around them, but not for the whole party. You want a buddy, not a parent. Don’t be afraid to make the rounds across the room. Ask people about themselves. People love to talk about themselves, especially if you’re in LA.

If you take this approach, I guarantee that you will make friends by the end of this party. That’s what Uncle Almie did a few days ago, and I had an amazing time.

Oh and alcohol helps. Alcohol always helps.

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Interesting Ways To Kill Myself.

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INTERESTING WAYS TO KILL MYSELF:

1.) Go to Universal Studios, get on the tram ride; once on ride wait until the tram comes to the part of the tour with the “broken bridge”; as tram crosses “breaking” bridge, wait for tour guide to give the spiel about how the bridge is out; scream, “THE BRIDGE IS OUT?? WE’LL ALL BE KILLED!” and dive out of tram into the shallow lake below.
2.) Train for my big wrestling comeback; when doctor tells me that if I wrestle my heart could go out, do it anyway, in a blaze of glory to “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
3.) Drive a convertible off of Mulholland Drive, Thelma and Louise style; hope for freeze-frame before plummeting to death.
4.) Get trampled in a flashmob gone horribly wrong.
5.) Swallow one of every kind of pill in the house, along with assorted change found in the bottom of my purse.
6.) Eat brie until I explode.
7.) Die of second-hand embarrassment while watching January Jones host Saturday Night Live.
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