Category Archives: dating

I FOUND MY KEYS.

May

2011

This comment on my last post, from Beat Of My Own Drum was so good I had to make a post out of it:

I hope feminists won’t hate me for an observation I’ve made. I’m all about women empowerment, after all. But I’ve observed that no matter how successful a woman gets in her career, it’s her personal relationships that she chooses to define her. It’s not true for all women, but it is for most, it seems. That’s probably why, even though we’re strong women, we wouldn’t mind being swept off our feet by a prince.

Or maybe it’s the Chanel suits and not having to work our asses off to earn enough.

Why did this never occur to me before? Is it like when you’re looking for your keys and you realize you’ve been holding them the entire time? Okay so who hasn’t known someone (celebrity or friend) by this description and this description only: _____’s girlfriend. Maybe some rockstars’ girlfriends/ex wives/whatever make their living by writing about their flings (which, shit, is pretty much what I do, fffffffuuuuuuu) and if that’s the way they wanna go, OK, you make that work like a factory. Is it just that their male partner’s fame eclipsed theirs? Let’s be real, no one was ever going to refer to JFK Jr. as “Carolyn Bessette’s husband.”

But even successful women of their own right can never dodge their relationship statuses: Marilyn Monroe AND Hillary Clinton both had trouble shaking off their man troubles, even though both women were powerful and famous. This is the one thing I really dig about Gaga right now: when she said, “Your career will never wake up and tell you it doesn’t love you anymore” she fucking meant it. We don’t hear about who Gaga’s dating (well, except for when she tried to convince us that she was bisexual; kissing your best friend at a crazy freshman NYU party DOESN’T COUNT I’M JUST SAYING). I don’t even care, come at me, if Gaga’s bisexual than I am part Batman. IT’S JUST SO FUCKING CALCULATED. EVEN MADONNA WENT THROUGH HER LESBIAN PHASE WHEN SHE NEEDED IT FOR HER CAREER. REMEMBER THE WHOLE SANDRA BERNHARD THING? WHY AM I SHOUTING? We hear about her career. And her outfits. But her career. It’s inspiring. Until she wears fake dinosaur bones in her face or whatever is going on there.

I don’t have any answers, but I now have a desire to define myself by who I am and what I do, not who I’m fucking. Or “dating.” Or “married to.” Or “divorcing.” Or “murdered.” Right???

I haven’t forgotten about my reader questions! In fact I am currently editing (with some rad people) my latest Apocalypstick video installment and this one is shot on nice cameras and with lighting that isn’t the glow of my MacBook! It looks great! We’ll probably have that done by the end of the month. I also have a new Betty Draper video to post so…you know, hold onto something, because that’s gonna knock you over. I’m also on vyou now but I don’t even know how to deal with that yet. I am drowning in Internet right now. AND I just started writing for The College Crush which is full of practical advice even if you are in high school or out of college.

Real Wild Child (Wild One) – Iggy Pop

MAD props to Robin for the gif!

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Teaser for Apocalandis Part Two.

Mar

2011

Here’s a little clip of what you’ll see in part 2 of Apocalypstick & Max Landis offer you advice.

We got a LOT of questions this time, so it’s going to take me longer to edit it. I may have to pull some Harry Potter shit and split it into two parts. I’ll try not to.

In the meantime, please enjoy this thoughtful and funny piece by Laurenne Sala. It has the wit and hilarity of a New Yorker cartoon. But with vaginae: Fruitcake

Feel free to use this post as a discussion of our videos, oral sex, vaginal odor, and vulva perfume. Please DO NOT use this post to talk about Charlie Sheen. This is a SHEEN-FREE ZONE. Yes, he’s so amusing and funny with his “tiger blood” and “winning” but he BEATS WOMEN and says HORRIBLE THINGS ABOUT JEWS. Of all people who deserve attention, he is at the bottom of my list. So if you want to Sheenize, take that shit to Twitter, or better yet, NOWHERE.

Thank you! And yes, I did change my font, because Helvetica gives me such a heartboner.

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Get Back.

Mar

2011

I don’t want a serious relationship. I am not ready.

Thus, if I am dating you, don’t turn it around and pull that line on me. You can’t say that first, because I said it first. That’s like firing me when I already quit. So let’s get that right out there, cowboy style. Don’t use that line with me, because I am already using it on you. It’s been used. It’s been played. It’s Mrs. Peacock in the study with the wrench.

Here’s my next point. If you broke up with your girlfriend within the past year, STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME. DO NOT TALK TO ME. DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT ME. YOU CAN STUFF YOUR SORRIES IN A SACK, MISTER. Why is it that I attract men who just got out of complicated relationships? IF YOU STILL HARBOR FEELINGS FOR YOUR EX OR ARE SUPER FRIENDLY WITH HER, GET. THE. FUCK. AWAY. FROM. ME. GET OUT OF MY OCTAGON.

Yes, everyone is probably someone else’s ex. But I have this uncanny ability to find them RIGHT AFTER they become an ex. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, or why this happens to me. I’m not angry with everyone though. I recently ended something with this guy I was seeing who wasn’t ready for a relationship either, and he is probably the only person I actually want to stay friends with. Usually when you date someone and it doesn’t work out, you’re like, “K bye” but I get where he’s coming from.

THAT BEING SAID. DO NOT. TALK. TO ME. IF YOU. JUST GOT OUT. OF A SERIOUS. RELATIONSHIP.

Not sure if your relationship was serious? Here are some clues:

— Every other night you collapse in a ball in the corner of your shower and sob.

— You constantly check your ex’s Facebook and are possibly signed in as them because you know their password.

— When you’re on a date, you sigh a lot and stare into the distance.

— You dated a.) for a long time or b.) in a short amount of time but it was so intense that you call your ex “She who shall not be named.”

— You can’t stop talking about your ex. Even when you know you should stop.

I’M GLAD WE ESTABLISHED THIS. If you’re not ready, don’t pretend that you are. Don’t convince yourself into thinking that you’re ready. Don’t date for a while. It’s a bad idea. If you need physical contact, get it from an ex that you are on good terms with and didn’t get your heart broken over. Do not tell me that you “just want to have fun” because I know what that means and I am not going to be your sexual release because your ex wasn’t ready to move it to the next level, or whatever the hell happened that lead to your break-up. If you want to be my friend, then that’s awesome, because I am a good friend. But don’t even HUG me (and I don’t mean one of those, hi it’s me your friend hugs, I mean those let me hug you at your waist for a few seconds hug) if you’re not ready to fully, 100%, date. I have to protect myself.

And if you kiss me, don’t suck at it. If I feel your tongue before your lips, then you suck at it. If I feel more of your tongue than your lips, then you are bad at it. If you pet my hair while you’re kissing me, then you are just fucking weird and should not do that.

Thank you.

Hold It Against Me — Britney fucking Spears

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The Time I Blew It With That Actor.

Jan

2011

I’m in a fashion shoot!! Whaaaaat??!! Check out the latest issue of Genlux!

Recently I got the chance to meet That Actor from this popular cable TV show. And I completely blew it.

Here’s how: vodka gimlet + two Moscow mules + approximately three shots of vodka + talking to That Actor = my own personal Titanic.

I watched his show occasionally but I mostly remembered him from this wonderful little indie movie he did when I was in college. I thought it would be a great idea to talk to him, never mind the fact that I was drunker than Ulysses S. Grant when he won the Civil War.

Neither of us knew who the guy was who the guy was who introduced us. Basically I grabbed this guy who was flirting with me and said, “INTRODUCE ME TO [THAT ACTOR] OVER THERE.” And he did, but for all I know he could have said, “Hi, I’m with the FBI, this crazy girl wants to kill you, I’m just going to need you to pretend to engage her so we can stand by ready with our guns.”

What did we talk about? I have no idea. I can barely remember. I know that I talked about Arby’s. Why? I have no fucking idea. I’ve never been to Arby’s. Maybe I have a secret deep passion for Arby’s and I’m hoping that one day I tell this to the right person who exclaims, “ME TOO!” and all will be well. Who the fuck knows.

I remember he told me that he liked my necklace. I said, “I think it would look good with your outfit,” and promptly pulled it off of my head. I then went to put it around his head and said, I swear to god, “I think your head is too big for this.” I told him I wanted to burn down the decorative swimming pool in front of us. I may have made a “That’s what she said” joke. I said, a few times, “Wait, can we start over? I’m Almie” and shook his hand (on the bright side, he sure didn’t forget my name by the end of the night….if that’s a bright side.) I told him, I’m not crazy. (Which is really great, that’s how you really convince people you’re not crazy, you know, by putting that idea into their heads in the first place. That’s like if a cute little ten-year-old-girl came up to you and said, “I’m not evil.” You would think, “Holy shit, this girl is evil.”) He said I didn’t need to say that. Then, to officially claim my place as the biggest loser of all time, I told him my story about how my friend interviewed him in college and how that should have been me and how he owes me an interview. He asked what for. I said, “My blog!” and gave him my card. He asked what my blog was about. I think I said, “Dating, living in LA, and feeling awkward kind of like this.” I joked about my card, saying that the “actress” description under my name was “theoretical.” He was a complete gentleman this entire time. I don’t know why he didn’t immediately get up and say, “Excuse me…I have to go stand over there…now” and leave. Maybe he thought I was entertaining in an R2-D2 kind of way. Like, oh look at it beeping! Look at its lights! Look at it spinning! Neat!

At one point someone tore him away for a press photo and he told me it was his boss and he would be back. My friend swooped in, said we had to go because she was tired, and I said OK and then teetered off to the bathroom. When I came back, the glaring brightness of the bathroom lights clashed with the darkness of the club and I couldn’t see a fucking thing. I put on my glasses. I think black glasses work really well with a little black dress and vintage necklace, and fuck whoever disagrees, I’m awesome. I wanted to say goodbye to That Actor, and at least I knew this time I could see him, and who knows when I would see him again.

I found him and said goodbye. He told me he didn’t recognize me with my glasses on. I think I may have shouted, “YEAH, GLASSES!” and high-fived him, but I can’t be sure. However I’m pretty sure that once again, for the love of God, I talked about Arby’s. He told me to get in touch with his people regarding the interview and I said something like, “Pssshh, you have my card, you get in touch with me.”

First impressions are everything. When guys meet me, in any situation, they either think I’m a manic pixie dreamgirl, like Annie Hall meets Ellen Paige meets every girl who works at a vintage store in Brooklyn, or they think I’m the manic crazy sullen girl who stands outside of 7-11s shouting at some guy named Brian or Jimmy. I can’t control that. But I think everyone needs to know that I am never that drunk. Earlier in the night I was absolutely charming. We all go a little mad sometimes. Actually, quoting a line from “Psycho” is probably not my best defense. Putting this on the internet may not be my best defense. But I think it’s a pretty great story about how really all we need to be is ourselves. We don’t need to get drunk. We are good the way we are. We have nothing to prove.

Though I have to say I’ve been dating This Guy right now who finds my drunken shenanigans “hilarious/adorable” so maybe it’s all about finding the person who not only accepts your awkwardness, but gives it a high-five.

Now please tell me your personal tales of drunken destruction.

If You Want It — TV Girl

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Television Boyfriends.

Nov

2010

The Pros and Cons of TV’s Best Boyfriends
In No Particular Order

“Television! Teacher, mother, secret lover.” — Homer Simpson

Aiden Shaw, “Sex and the City”
Pros: Forgiving, thoughtful, caring, can make you a bench or chair.
Cons: Will clutter your bathroom with various Speed Sticks (they have different smells).

Ted Mosby, “How I Met Your Mother”
Pros: Wants to get married. Is romantic, kind, and sweet. Kind of looks like a young John Cusack.
Cons: Tells corny jokes and takes a really, really long time to tell a story.

Jim Halpert, “The Office”
Pros: The perfect balance of geeky and cute, really good at pining for people, height.
Cons: Lets the smallest amount of power go to his head.

Bill Compton, “True Blood”
Pros: Is a gentleman, probably knows how to do the Lindy Hop, believes that chivalry is not dead even though he is.
Cons: Kind of possessive, is easily captured, will at some point be mistaken for your son as he never ages, can’t stay in sunlight without bursting into flames, is probably a drag at dinner parties, and he might eat you if he’s really hungry.

Dawson Leery, “Dawson’s Creek”
Pros: Will wait for you forever.
Cons:

Pacey Witter, “Dawson’s Creek”
Pros: Scrappy and sarcastic with a sexy smirk.
Cons: Overuses SAT words and dresses like Kramer.

Don Draper, “Mad Men”
Pros: Is a successful executive and partner of an ad agency. If you act emotionally detached, will propose to you after knowing you for ten weeks.
Cons: Is a successful executive and partner of an ad agency. If you act emotionally detached, will propose to you after knowing you for ten weeks.

Dylan McKay, “Beverly Hills, 90210”
Pros: Classic bad boy but without a crippling drug habit, rich, is sensitive deep down, and owns a lot of sharp looking dusters and overcoats.
Cons: Will disappear for weeks/seasons at a time, has a bad temper, will hit on your best friend while you’re in Paris, and hard to pin down; as one imdb user puts it on the “Beverly Hills, 90210” message boards, “[His] house was located right on the border between Beverly Hills and Narnia.”

Michael Bluth, “Arrested Development”
Pros: Patient, quick-witted, looks good in a suit.
Cons: Him?

Jack Shephard, “Lost”
Pros: Takes a leadership role, is a doctor, handsome, and likes dogs.
Cons: Looks bad with a beard. Loves to crash planes into mysterious islands. Has daddy issues. Cries a lot. Is dead.

UPDATED:

James “Sawyer” Ford, “Lost”
Pros: Good at shooting people. Good at punching people. Good at threatening people. Good at giving orders. Good at jumping out of airplanes. Also, this: Jack: “Do you recognize anything?” Sawyer: “Yeah, there’s my favorite leaf.”
Cons: Hates fat people. Hates freckled people. Hates doctor people. Hates Asian people. Hates polar bear people. Is also dead.

Eric Northman, “True Blood”
Pros: Has abs you could tap dance on, looks good in anything, has power, runs his own successful business.
Cons: Will not be able to take lazy strolls on a summer afternoon, will fuck with you for three seasons unless your name is Godric or you are a viking descendant, may die in a freak gasoline fight.

Zack Morris, “Saved By The Bell”
Pros: Is widely considered the class heartthrob, gets into lovably wacky shenanigans, will help you if you are, “so excited, so excited…so scared.”
Cons: Has a strange obsession with his high school principal. Will freeze-frame your ass. Is known for having a really big…cell phone.

“Uncle Jesse” Katsoplis, “Full House”
Pros: In a band, great hair and smile, good with kids.
Cons: Has questionable taste in denim, talks like a 1950s greaser, stays home a lot.

Robert Stack, “Unsolved Mysteries”
Pros: Great deep voice, looks good in trench coats, likes to help others.
Cons: Everything he says will sound ominous; you will wonder if, “We’re having dinner at 7:30” is the last thing you ever hear.

TV — Darlings

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Silverlake.

Sep

2010

Jon Hamm’s girlfriend met Jon Hamm at a party in Silverlake.

You know who I meet at parties in Silverlake? The Internet. Attractive men with equally attractive twee little girlfriends. Grown men in Ninja Turtle T-shirts and neckbeards. Men of indeterminate sexual orientation. Poor clones of George Harrison and Cat Stevens. Rapists. Pirates. Knaves.

Not once have I met a guy even remotely similar to Jon Hamm. Not in looks or personality. I realize that Jon Hamm is a tall order. But is it such a difficult request of the universe to ask for someone not a complete and total fucking disappointment? Getting so routinely disappointed gets old. Furthermore, I don’t understand this sudden adoration for Silverlake and Echo Park. Silverlake used to be known as the place where my eccentric crystal-loving, ghost-channeling, bass guitar-playing uncle, lived. And now it’s a mecca for young rich white hipsters? What fresh hell is this where I have to drive to East L.A. to go to a house party? When did this great migration to Silverlake and Echo Park occur and why? Is it so that Hollywood producers can buy large 1920s cheap houses for their kids to live and party in? Probably. “This is an amazing apartment,” you say, mouth hanging open, wondering how they can afford it until you realize that they don’t. And if they can afford it, they’re basically living in a closet, even though for the same price they could afford something bigger and less gross in the Valley. Oh, but heaven forfend anyone live in the Valley. Let’s instead live near Dodger Stadium. That makes sense. Why are you people here?

But back to Jon Hamm. How perfect can one person be? Talented, handsome, great sense of humor, smart, thoughtful, and a feminist? What’s the catch? AND WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT THIS SILVERLAKE PARTY? Your career had not yet bloomed. You were working on the set of a soft core porn movie when you came to that party and your future girlfriend offered you a non-paying role as an asshole in her latest play. I need to be a casting director for theatre, clearly. What better excuse to get to know a handsome man? “I should cast you in my play,” I would say, after inhaling thoughtfully from my cigarette. Sick move! She didn’t even offer him a paying part! Bitch move! But it worked. They got to know each other, they fell in love, and years later they are still together even though he is now ten times as famous as she is. Meanwhile I can’t maintain a relationship for longer than six months. I’ve kept hair colors longer than I’ve kept relationships. HIGH FIVE! I’m told that I need to love myself before anyone else can love me. Super! I have a better chance of having tea with Michael Caine on the fucking moon.

But back to Jon Hamm. How can someone so attractive be so humble? Jon Hamm doesn’t walk into parties like he’s walking onto a yacht. I like to think that if a Jon Hamm equivalent was at a Silverlake party and I was at this Silverlake party, we would find each other. The silent understanding of, We do not belong here, we are not cool enough would come between us and we would forsake the cigarette smoking and discussions of, “how like, weird David Lynch is” (stunning observation, neckbeard) and we would be all right. But this never happens to me. Then again, this never happens to anyone. Except Jon Hamm’s girlfriend. She probably had it together. I, clearly, do not.

Still.

If you live in Silverlake and you’re under the age of forty then I’m sorry to tell you that you are a total fucking asshole.

Young Turks (The Disco Pusher Remix) — Au Revoir Simone

EDIT!!:

Dearest Almie…my little niece (whose birthday is my pin code) ,

Don’t think you can hide. So now I know how you really think of me… “the
place where my eccentric crystal-loving, ghost-channeling, bass
guitar-playing uncle, lived.” You could at least have said handsome or good
looking…would have softened the blow…

Well, regardless of your judgments, your blog made me laugh. Very clever.

Love,
your eccentric Uncle Steven

For the record my Uncle is cooler than all of the lame hipsters who live in Silverlake. IT’S HIS LAND.

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Give Up The Ghost?

Aug

2010

There is no way that this winter is ever going to end as long as this groundhog keeps seeing his shadow. I don’t see any other way out. He’s got to be stopped. And I have to stop him.

I don’t even need to remember things anymore, not when I have Google. The internet remembers things for me. Google helps me find them. However Google doesn’t once ask, “Are you sure you want to search for this?” This where trouble occurs. Sometimes you find things that you don’t want to find.

You know how sometimes it doesn’t matter how old something is, it can still feel like it just happened? It’s the same way you can watch a movie you’ve seen countless times but it still moves you. Like when the bum pops up from behind the dumpster in “Mulholland Dr.” I freak out every single time. I know it’s coming, and I try to prepare myself, but it still scares me.

To paraphrase the cowboy from “Mulholland Dr.” let’s get right down to it, shall we?

I’m sick of being a back-up. I’m never the first choice. I am like Ralph Wiggum. Lisa didn’t “choo choo choose” him. She took a valentine card given to her, crossed off her name, and gave it to Ralph to make him feel better about how no one cho cho chose him. I am a second-hand valentine card. Am I being irrational? Maybe. But looking back on my dating history, I feel like I’ve come to a horrible realization that anyone I’ve dated and/or “dated” was with me because they weren’t with who they really want to be with. If their girlfriend hadn’t broken up with them, they wouldn’t have been with me. And I wonder how many other people feel the same way about themselves. And I wonder if we’re all just dating out of desperation. Because the person we want doesn’t want us.

My friend countered with something like, “No you just haven’t met the right guy yet! And any guy who doesn’t want to be with you isn’t worth your time!” To which I say, even the right guy for me…will only be with me because he’s not with somebody else. In that, he’ll always have the ghost.

Do we ever really give up the ghost? The past is everywhere. It’s never leaving. Thanks to the internet it will always be there.

At what point do you acknowledge the past without letting it ruin your present, let alone future? You can forgive someone. It’s like I said (and yes, I am about to quote myself), “There comes a moment in every 20-something’s life when they realize, ‘Holy shit, I’m a total asshole.'” We all do stupid things when we’re young and touching people and liking it. So you can understand and you can forgive. But how do you forget if you can’t really, short of brain damage, forget?

I don’t really know how to explain what I’m feeling any better than the Groundhog Day quote posted above. Except I’m not feeling that about a groundhog. But you know?

Too early for flapjacks?

Time Of The Assassins — Charlotte Gainsbourg

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