Big thank you to all four of you (no really, thanks) who commented on my last post on what you want/like about my blog. Apparently what you like is honesty. You like my honesty. You want the truth? Here’s the truth:

The truth is, I’m sitting in my bathrobe right now. I’m sick.

Yet I’m drinking red wine. Out of a big goblet, too. No kidding, it’s a genuine goblet.

I’d let Pete Campbell rape me. But then I guess it wouldn’t be rape. Rape means never having to say please.

My career is as dead as Warren G. Harding. It’s so dead it’s not even worthy of being one of the better dead presidents. My life is a serious of near-misses. I’m shooting a short film on Saturday and I don’t even have my few lines memorized for it yet.

~~

Dude, how come girls [always say to you], ‘Date me date me’? And no girl every says that to me?

I have no idea. It’s a weird thing girls do when you’re friends with them. It’s a girl crush.

NOBODY DOES THAT TO ME WHY AM I A FAIL.

Naw you’re not a fail.

THEN THE GUYS ASK ME OUT AND IM LIKE OKAY AND THEN THEY TRY TO KISS ME AND IM LIKE NO THNX AND THEN THEY GET MAD AND SEND ME MEAN TEXTSSSSSSSS.

Aw I’m sorry. But guys don’t really ask me out so I’m a fail too.

UM YOU GET ASKED OUT BY CELEBS OKAY.

Not exactly.

~~

Most of the time I pretend that I am discovering the world as a time traveler from the future. As in, “Oh, look at how this person acts, this 2009 person.” I can forgive people a lot more this way. They’re not from the future, like I am.

I hate anyone who is even moderately successful in my field.

Nail-biting is my greatest vice.

I want to take up smoking because I have chunks of time in which I need to be self destructive but in an elegant way.

I can have a lot of fun.

I ate cream cheese wontons for dinner.

I feel everything crushing me, like I’m in that trash compactor in Star Wars, but I’m not screaming out for help. I just don’t care. C-3PO is an asshole. I’m sick of his attitude and the last thing I want is for him to save me. This is my garbage mess. That fucking robot with his fucking cocky bullshit sarcasm and sideways head motion needs to get off of my fucking back. Let me die in my own garbage.

I once got a guy off by counting. He wanted to have phone sex but he didn’t want me to talk dirty. He just wanted me to countdown from 20.

I think my friends hate me. They don’t return my calls. I wish I had at least stolen things from their houses while I had the chance.

Lauren Marie — Girls
Goddamn — Girls
Hellhole Ratrace — Girls

These tracks are from Girls and their fantastic new album, “Album.” Let me know if you like it. Or don’t, it’s Manhattan, who gives a fuck.