Finding out true love is blind.

vintage teenagers

There was a big song that came out a few years ago called “Finding Out True Love Is Blind.” Remember that? It was a guy doing his best Mick Jagger voice singing about different kinds of girls that he was going to do things to. The summer that came out, I had a goal, comrades. And that goal was to make out with the lead singer of that band. “I can do this,” I thought. “He isn’t even super attractive.”

But I never did. That would have required for me to actually do things, like go to their shows. That’s effort, man.

I don’t want to make out with this guy anymore, but if I don’t, that means I’ve failed. So someone needs to help me find this guy and we can make out and then I’ll know I’ve succeeded in life.

If I find a man attractive, I will go up to him and just tell him. If someone says something mean about me on the Internet, I’ll thank them for just talking about me.

What do they mean by “love is blind”? Is that a nice way of saying, “It’s okay to fall in love with an ugly person”? I am always paranoid that the person I fall for is attractive only to me. But why the hell should I care what my friends think? And I also worry that the friends of the someone I like think that I’m a Picasso Guernica era drawing. It shouldn’t matter. And it doesn’t. And all of my friends think I have good taste in men anyway. Except for that one time I liked a guy who had classic, to quote a friend, “Douche face.”

Are love and appearance tied together?

Next week I am doing my first Apocalypstick giveaway. I’ll be posting the prize on my Facebook and Instagram. Come back on Monday to enter!

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Which guy are you?

young beatles

I’ve dated a lot of gentlemen and scoundrels, and I’ve come up with a list of strangely specific types of guys that surprisingly apply to everyone. Or almost everyone. Here are some of the guys I’ve dated. Ladies, can you relate? And sirs, read this and ask yourself: which guy am I? And yes, some guys can be a combination of these.

 

The Classic Schmosby

Named after the character of Ted Mosby on “How I Met Your Mother” this is the guy who says, “I love you” on the first or second date. Most of the time, this is a stupid thing to do, because you’re draping a blanket weaved of awkward and creepy over your date. There are exceptions, yes. But do not think you are one of them.

 

The Sad Seinfeld

This is the guy who is a standup comedian/improv performer/comedy writer/all of those who thinks that this date is about making you laugh. At first, his observations seem witty and well placed, but a few hours later you realize you want to punch him right in the dick.

 

The Romney

This guy lies/exaggerates about everything, is unsure why you’re not honored by his presence, and despite having way more money than you will ever see, will go out of his way to make sure you split the bill or pay for all of it.

 

The Bro

This type of guy thinks he is still college, or maybe actually is (but a big university, not a liberal arts college). He made no plans for your evening aside from playing video games with his roommate. If you don’t want to do that, he’s totally up for making out in his car. But he has to move the car after an hour or he’ll get towed, because he didn’t want to pay for a parking space. Also his car smells like Doritos. But there are no Doritos in the car.

 

The L.A. Douche

Thinks he’s famous. Thinks he’s attractive. Thinks you need to know. Thinks you are going to have sex with him. Think he’ll be surprised.

 

The Guy Who Gives You Oral Sex Through Your Jeans

True story. What the fuck are you doing, guy? Is this really how you think it works? Or do you think you’re so good at it that denim stands no chance against your Jedi skills? I was so puzzled, I didn’t know what to do. It’s like suddenly, someone asked me to do calculus. Just, no idea. Not even sure where to begin.

 

Okay, your turn. Maybe I’ll make a part two.

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Living in small spaces.


marilyn monroe

Photo by J R Eyerman from LIFE photo archive hosted by Google.

Today’s post comes to you from blogger Kristen Costa.

My house is the perfect size for just one person- a great sized living area, decent kitchen, and two bedrooms that have plenty of space for a bed and office. While it’s big on charm and historic touches, it lacks in a big area- closet space.

One of the first tasks for me to figure out in this small house was how to optimize the space that I did have available to me. Organization tools and keeping things tidy is one of my secret strange enjoyments of life, so the task of figuring out how to put towels, household items, cleaning products, blankets, and other random items into one hall closet was a challenge I took on wholeheartedly!

Living in a small space with a lot of stuff is the first issue at hand- how many cleaners does one really need? How many extra facecloths should be clean and available for use at any one time? As I tried to organize the storage spaces, it was clear that I had to cut down a lot of the items that I was trying to fit in. Living on a small scale doe not mean going without, it just means thinking about the necessities and actual needs of day to day living instead of the convenience of having everything you want in one place. Plus, if items are pared down to what only needs to be available on a regular basis, there is much less frustration and time spent looking for something when you really need it. Nothing more frustrating than trying to search through a shelf of random medical supplies to find one Band-Aid while your finger bleeds!

Walking into any home improvement or décor store and going to their organization section can either fill you with glee at the options or make you feel overwhelmed by all the various storage possibilities. It’s important to go with measurements for your space, especially if you are looking for baskets or containers to fit squarely into a shelf space in a closet. It can also be helpful to make a list of what you want from your organizational tools- all the bottles organized in one easy to grab kit? Somewhere to hang towels? Whatever the issue is, there is undoubtedly a storage solution for it. And don’t count out other storage options not originally designed just for bathroom or closet- I use an over-the-door shoe storage hanger on the inside of one of my closets to organize medicines and first aid supplies, and a small pencil box in my kitchen to organize small utensils.

In my opinion, the best tip for organizing a small space is to have things serve a dual purpose. I get a lot of great comments on how much the decorative boxes stand out in my living room; many people say they would never think to use them as a décor element in a room. The best part about them is not that they are pretty (though that helps!), but also that they store various placemats, tablecloths, and other random dining items that I use every so often. Having elements in the space that multitask is the Holy Grail of organization!

In the end, it all comes down to what works for you and what makes you happy. If going into a closet or drawer makes you frustrated week after week, it’s time to change the situation. Being in our own spaces, no matter how large or small, should be all about us and the things that make us happy, so spend a few minutes purging and sorting to get your storage into its happy place.

Kristen Costa is a lover of all things history, books, and research. Her day job is as a museum curator but loves sharing her passion for writing and the written word with the world. As a freelance blogger, her clients include an apartment-finding service for those seeking Fort Worth Apartments. She lives in Massachusetts, but on the border of RI so calls both states home. She currently is living on her own for the first time (at the age of 29!) and loving every single minute of it. Her blog is Life By Kristen.

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D’oh-mesticated.

crazy hair

Dear comrades, it’s me, Uncle Almie, live in my apartment, and it looks like the Lion King spooky graveyard in here with just a touch of Hoarders. I fully admit that I completely suck at living alone, in the sense that I could be neater, I could be cleaner, I could be a lot more better to do good for me adult. I’m capable of being organized for other people. But for myself, I’m a mess. Let me break it down for you:

— Dishes. In the sink. On the counter. Everywhere. This is why I hate to cook. Because then I have to clean everything. I’m sure this is why lots of people hate to cook. I will let this shit sit for days. Then finally, I rationalize, “Look, you didn’t exercise today, and washing dishes burns calories, so just do it.” And yes, I have calculated how many calories I burn washing dishes. (It’s 53 calories for 26 minutes.)

— Laundry. At this point, I am giving away clothes because I can’t deal with having to put them in places and having to keep washing them. Oh, such problems, I know. I would rather throw everything away and just start over with 3 tee shirts, 5 dresses, and 1 pair of pants. I’m selling stuff. Mostly because I am stone cold broke, like a delicious milkshake, but the benefit is that it’s less clothes for me to wash.

— The fucking bathtub I hate you bathtub so much I can’t even, why don’t you drain, I’ve done everything for you, and why do you get dirty so quickly, why are you doing this to me, just drain, why won’t you just drain???

Really though the biggest issue is feeding myself. Some nights I completely surrender to Eat24, my favorite website in the world, and order in food. And I love them because we both hate having to wear pants. They make it their mission to keep you from having to put on pants in order to eat. I respect the hell out of that. My favorite thing to do is to eat a lot and then lie down. And they get that. Yes, I am a fangirl for a food delivery website. And I have no shame.

In fact, this post is brought to you by Eat24 and because we are all up in each others’ delicious love, they offering all Apocalypstick readers a coupon for a free appetizer or $5.00 off whatever you want! Just enter the code lypstick at checkout. For more info on coupons, click here.  *some strings attached. The code is one use per account and expires on 9/30 at midnight.

I’m cooking a lot more than I used to, but sometimes it’s nice to just go home, order in, and watch the original Law & Order series, back when Rob Lowe and Vanilla Ice were just it. Do you guys cook more or order out/eat out more?

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Swept.

joseph szabo

Photo by Joseph Szabo.

I want someone to sweep me off my feet, the way Romney sweeps all questions about his tax returns under the rug. Fuck it, I am a romantic at heart. I’ve tried to tell myself that I’m not. Today, I am coming forth and admitting my truth: I like romance, I like to be romanced, and I love the fuck out of candles. Someone adore me. Really, truly adore me. Because we all deserve that. We should all have that experience, of being Tears For Fears-style head over heels and have it being reciprocated. That’s the key, you don’t want to be the creep who is in like with someone who has no interest. Yeah, that sucks, but you have to find a way to accept the situation and walk away. The sooner you learn how to do this, the better. I found that the only way to get over someone is to find someone else to get under. I don’t mean that in a sexual way, but if you want to interpret it as that, go ahead, why not.

I’m sick of all this hipster cynicism. I like looking at photos of people who are in love. As long as they’re not ugly, I mean, let’s not get carried away. I like when people do adorable stupid shit like surprise their loved one with a Doctor Who painting or whatever the fuck the kids like these days. I like looking at photos of weddings and I like reading the stories of how when the bride and groom first saw each other, they couldn’t speak, because they were so overwhelmed by their feelings of complete love and joy. I’m really sick of the whole attitude of, “Fuck it, we’re all going to die one day, nothing lasts forever, and everything has an expiration date.” Is that really how you want to live your life? Wouldn’t you rather be happy?

Someone back me up on this. Or argue with me, that’s fine too.

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How to land a musician boyfriend.

This is going to be part one of a saga. Here is what I have so far:

1. Be a model.

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The wedding trap.

pattie boyd and george harrison

Oh look we're all happy and shit now but then I'm going to leave my amazing husband for his shitty friend Eric Clapton which is the stupidest decision because who leaves George Harrison but damn do I love your wedding outfits.

It’s happening, comrades. My friends are getting engaged. Dear diary. As of this point in my life, I’ve had friends of friends get engaged, and friends of yore get engaged, but one of my best friends, my friend since kindergarten (that’s like, 20 years) is engaged, and that’s real. That’s a direct friend. That’s not like, oh, Lula Mae from Facebook that I had two classes with in college and saw her last year at a Brooklyn party and we spoke for twenty minutes, no. This is real. This is life.

I’ve blogged about marriage before. Here I am going mad over Will & Kate’s wedding. Here I am going on about how I want a wedding but not a marriage. And here’s a controversial post where I explain why I think you’re a jerk if you don’t give your guests a +1 to your wedding. You don’t need to read those first but if you want to, they open in a new window for your enjoyment, so have at it. Oh, one more. In this post, I explain why the marriage system should be like renting a car. There.

I am so thrilled for my friend. I am deliriously excited for her. I, of the Pinterest board “Wedding Insanity.” Because I really, really do love weddings. And I love people who are in love and want to get married. I just fear it for myself. It’s a trap. And the trap is the party. The dress. The food. The attention. That party is to me what mousetraps are to mice. But there’s no cheese before my sudden end. Only marriage. That frightens me.

Things change after marriage, they do. Having not been married, I do not know exactly what changes, but I’ve heard the experiences from those wiser than I, and I have some common sense, so my idea is that after marriage, you’ve gone from Oz back to Kansas. You’re muted. You’re so happy to be home with your Auntie Em and Uncle Henry, but the days of munchkin lands and yellow brick roads and trippy poppy fields are behind you now. Your new life is in that farm, with a family. Even if you don’t have children, you’re still a unit.

Children. I do not want children. That is a different post.

I want to be in love. I want someone to be in love with me. I believe it was Oscar Wilde who said, “Do not fall in love with a man who doesn’t make you feel like the most awesome, incredible, baddest bitch on the block.” Those of course weren’t his exact words, but the sentiment was the same. If I had that, and if I had money (because I think it’s just stupid to get married if you’re poor, but that’s another post), then I could do it, I could go to Kansas.

But for now I’ll stay in Oz and screw around with brainless scarecrows and heartless tin men and cowardly lions while wearing fabulous shoes instead.

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