Well, how did I get here?

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I am so sorry I haven’t updated in a while. A week ago I asked you to submit suggestions on what I should blog about next. Then based on those suggestions I asked you to vote on your favorite.

You assholes voted for me to discuss my thoughts on the movie Twins. I haven’t seen Twins and I haven’t gotten around to it yet. So this post will not be about the movie Twins.

P.S. Twins.

More P.S. I say “assholes” lovingly.

I haven’t gotten around to watching Twins or updating my blog because I have been busy and overwhelmed. It’s mostly great that I’m so busy but it’s also a little frightening. I’m trying to get used to an entirely new schedule and squeezing myself into it. By the time I get home from work (after sitting in traffic for two hours, no lies no fries) I am exhausted. I eat (poorly), exercise (sometimes) and basically go to bed. I want to do so much more! But my body and my brain check out. Sometimes I am able to cook dinner when I get home. Sometimes I shove a hot pocket into my mouth instead. But I do microwave it first, I am classy with limits.

I love my job. I love my blog. I love the other blogs and magazine I write for. I really do! But sometimes I just want to run away and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back. I asked my boyfriend to come with me and he said he was too lazy. I asked my friend Josh and he said he couldn’t because his skin tight jeans were at the cleaner’s. Then I basically ran out of people to ask.

How do people do it? How do they balance everything? How did I get here? This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife. It’s more like, this is a shed and this is an ugly, ugly woman who wears leggings as pants. And I am letting the days go by. Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was. Same. As. It. Ever was. I guess what I’m trying to say, is, it’s the same as it ever was. But it also isn’t.

And why the hell do I have an ad for paper towels on my blog? (Anyone with a cute Etsy store want to advertise on my blog?)

Please. Help me. What do you do when you get overwhelmed?

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Her & His.


Think of this as our homage to “She & Him” and you’ll get the idea. Enjoy!

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Readers talk back.

A long ass time ago I said I would interview the 1,000th person to “like” me on on Facebook and I did and then I forgot to post it because I’m an asshole. Congrats to Hillary for being my 1,000th like and to Matthew for being my superfan. I interviewed them both. They’re hilarious. Thank God. I mean, of course they are!!! Why wouldn’t they be??

1. Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?

M: Well, obviously. I also often feel like one that is drifting through the wind. Wanting to start again.

H: Totally. Actually, not totally. Partially. Actually, I feel kind of like a paper bag sometimes. Like, a paper bag can’t really drift through the wind, but it can definitely roll around on the ground while it tries to make it’s way to some new life experience. Also, “Paper Bag” is my fave Fiona Apple song. Yes, Fiona Apple is still relevant to me. 

 

2. How did you find my blog?

M: Well you see, I know this poet person (she tweets like a tweet god @fartmaster5000, that’s not her real name. lol) and she posted a video of yours on her Tumblr, “How To Get Over A Break Up”, which is still my favorite video of yours. For a while, I only watched your videos and LOVED them. Then, I eventually found and read your blog religiously and told ALL my friends about you and your loveliness. 

H: If I’m remembering correctly, I found your blog through Filleosophy. I believe it was when you gals did that advice formspring thingy. Then I proceeded to read every single one of your entries. You think I’m joking? Is Mick Jagger your real dad? Yes. 

 

3. What do you order at Starbucks?

M: Tall Carmel Macchiato, because life is sweet!

H: Starbucks is so intimidating! It’s like going to a foreign country where you don’t speak the language and the locals aren’t very friendly. I’ve only been once, and that was for a meeting with my boss. I didn’t order anything. Instead, I sat there clinging to my purse for dear life and making note of all the exits. What in the hell is a venti? Sounds like a type of car to me. 

 

4. What is your dream job? (It doesn’t have to exist!)

M: At times, being homeless in New York seems like it would be my dream “job”. I actually plan on attending film school, so I guess my dream job would be a film directing job. Or, you know, being a bum on the street. I’ll take what I can get.

H: This is really tough because I think I’d be content with doing nothing my entire life. Literally. I could sit and do nothing forever. BUT that is no way to live, so I think my dream job would have to be a professional people watcher. Is that creepy? I don’t mean it to be. I just want to go all over the world and observe. I don’t need interaction, just observation. Is that creepy? I think it probably is. Whatever, this is my dream and you’re all living in it. 

 

5. Someone is visiting your city/town. Tell them where to go and what to wear and what NOT to do.

M:  Hahaha! Well, I live in this little town called Paulding, Ohio. I think the population is around 8,000. So, as you might expect, fashion and culture isn’t exactly busting from every corner. I guess I would tell them to go to the nearest exit, wear whatever you please, and to NEVER come back again??

H: Welcome to Raleigh, North Carolina! We have something for everyone in this fair city! Would you like to go to a place where all the dudes are named ‘Trip’ and wear Callaway visors? Natty Greene’s, it is. How bout a bar full of flannel-clad men with beards and Buddy Holly glasses? Raleigh Times, it is. Better yet, want to go somewhere where you can drink three Long Island Iced Teas and ask the D.J.(multiple times) to play “Diva” by Beyonce and can he turn the fog machine on pleazzzz? Downtown Sports Bar, baby. (Yeah, I did that once. I love Beyonce. And fog). What to wear? Stick to skinny jeans, a tank top, and heels (or black flats, if you’re me). If it’s cold, throw on a blazer. I’ve also seen lots of girls wearing fur vests lately. I used to want one until I saw that lots of girls are wearing them lately. What NOT to do? There’s nothing you can’t do! Just like NYC. I will say this, though: don’t be from any other state besides North Carolina. I’m pretty sure smuggling cocaine into the country is easier than getting into a bar with a Virginia license. You think this i.d. with the pretty dogwood flower background is a fake, man? OKAY. WHATEVER. This thing has RAISED PRINT, dude. 

 

Follow Hillary here and read her blog here. Follow Matthew here.

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We’re adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?

Picture of me taken 600 years ago at MoMA by Julia Gazdag.

I wrote something for Hello Giggles that will be out tomorrow/in a few days called “Top ten ways to tell you’re an adult.” (Oh hay in the mean time check out the other things I’ve written for Hello Giggles, and it will open in a window so you can read it right after this, don’t even worry about it, friend.) It made me think a lot. I don’t usually think a lot, it’s easier to just do stuff and then apologize. (<– just tweeted the fuck out of this.) I had to really think about how I’ve changed in the last few years and the whole process was so meaningful and inspiring, like a tampon commercial. It wasn’t as sad as I thought it would be. I say sad because recently I turned into someone who cares about their age and I hate it. I blame everything and everyone but myself. So sometimes looking back can be a little frightening.

Do adults feel like adults, ever? Will I reach a point where I look down and think, “I just balanced the shit out of that checkbook.” I really don’t want to. I like buying things and occasionally checking what’s up with my money, and hoping it all works out. I like to do stupid guff that makes me feel like a kid.

Guys I am Tom Hanksing the fuck out of this situation. You know, Big. I don’t mean that I am a little kid named Josh trapped in a boyishly good looking 30 something man. But close! I am little Uncle Almie with her long messy tangled fringed hair under a Mickey Mouse cap stuck in grown Almie’s body. Unfortunately, it’s not cute for me to act like this. I’ve reached the age where it is not acceptable to act like I don’t know how to act like an adult. Indoor voices. And I’m too old to pretend that I don’t know better.

And that’s how I know I’m an adult.

When and how did you realize you were an adult?

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What is love? (Baby don’t hurt me.)

Magnificent t-shirt given to me by Moody Twin. I love this shirt. There’s nothing blatantly sexy about it, as in, there’s no nudity but I would never wear this to work.

How is everybody doing with their resolutions to be better selves? Remember, you can start NOW. Feel healthy and good on New Year’s Eve, not the week after! I am failing sort of miserably. I’m gonna go all Gwyneth next week and juice fast my life. My diet has been candy, cookies, and melted cheese. Totally delicious but my body is really mad at me. I’m tired all the time, even after a good night’s sleep.

I have to treat my stupid body better. Be better at being better. Is good? Yes, is good.

Love is treating yourself well. It’s about more than accepting who you are. It’s about embracing it and celebrating it. That’s real love. Then when you can do that you can love other people. If you can’t love other people, try cats first. Cats are great because they’re like little people but they can’t argue with you and they’re nice and soft.

Love IS having to say you’re sorry.

LOVE IS MAKING A NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION AND ACTUALLY STICKING TO IT.

People love to ask, “How do you know if you’re in love?” If you have to ask, then you’re not. It’s not like, “do I have to sneeze?” where the answer is uncertain. There is an actual clear answer here.

And I just realized that while I have categories on this blog for “relationships” and “dating” and even “sex” I don’t have one for love. Does that mean something?

~~What is love to you, you guys? ~~ ***~~***

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UGLY SWEATER!

 



BCBGeneration is hosting an Ugly Sweater Party and here’s a little video I made to promote it. In it I am wearing what I thought was an ugly sweater but a lot of people think it’s really cute and want it. You be the judge.

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How I met my boyfriend on Google+.

This isn’t me and my boyfriend but you can totally pretend it is, I’m fine with that.

Google+ is great for posting stuff that you’re too embarrassed to post on twitter and facebook, since no one uses it. What is the sound of one hand clapping? Google+. Where do good statuses go to die? Google+. Where’s the best place to hide a dead body? Google+. And so forth.

So who would have ever thought that Google+ would help me find my boyfriend? Most people don’t even know what Google+ is. I explain that it’s like Facebook if no one used Facebook. You connect with people, post statuses, and you would use it to procrastinate if it weren’t so horribly boring.

But that’s not important right now.

My friend posted a status of a ridiculous iphone cover that looked like real sushi. I wrote about it on Hello Giggles, but that’s not what this story is about. And now I’m hungry. Why does everything bad happen to me? Anyway. He posted this photo of this sushi phone and I commented on how awesome it was and then found other awesome things on that website and posted those on his Google…circle…wall…whatever, as well.

Then a message from someone else popped up. Because Google+ is as dead as any graveyard, the bones of interactions past still remain. Here is exactly what I saw:

“Is this the Almie that went to Emerson for a little while back in ’03? I think I may know you.”

Rather than say something like, “No you must be thinking of another Almie who went to Emerson in ’03” I decided not to be a sarcastic jerk for once and responded that yes, it is the same Almie:

“You’l [sic] have to forgive me, my time at Emerson is a blur. Did we have the same classes or something?

 Fucking suave, Uncle Almie.

I want to add that my time at Emerson was very brief and very blurry. I was going through a serious depression at the time. We’re talking Kirsten Dunst, can’t bathe for herself, “It tastes like ashes” Melancholia depressed. I was there for one semester. I did manage to be pretty involved in the community. I auditioned for and got one of the two newscaster roles for the SNL Weekend Update type show EVVY Update to be aired on the Emerson school channel. We would report on what students were doing for the EVVYs which was some kind of student run award show for students and I don’t remember what EVVYs stand for or what we actually did but I do remember that Chloe’s dad was kind enough to film a “Congrats to the EVVY winners!” clip for the show, that I’m wondering if they ever used, and Chloe’s dad has a secret bathroom in his office, where the bathroom door looks like a wall and you don’t know it’s a door until he presses it in and then you’re like, “Holy shit, Chloe’s dad is Batman.”

But that’s not important right now.

I also managed to get on the writing staff of the comedy magazine. It was here that I met my friend Dave Horwitz — but I don’t remember us being friends at all. Years later we connected back in LA (via MySpace, MY LIFE IS THE INTERNET) and he told me, “Don’t you remember me? We were on the comedy magazine together.”

I blinked.

“…We sat next to each other every week.”

Blink.

“I saw you doodling pigs wearing top hats.”

“Oh yeah!! I remember those!”

My point is, I sat next to this guy every week for months and I didn’t remember him at all. This is important to the story. The story of how I met my boyfriend on Google+ not how I met Dave Horwitz on MySpace. That’s a good story too, but I kind of just told it. Oops.

So. My future boyfriend just told me that he remembered me from Emerson and I told him, basically, “Who the fuck are you?” [“Did we have classes together?”] He said:

“I don’t think so, actually. I think it was even vaguer than that. Like we were both commuter students and met at a commuter event or something maybe…”

I wasn’t a commuter student. Like, not even close. I decided it was time to kick this shit into full gear. It was time to take this to Facebook.

I contacted him on facebook and we exchanged flirty messages back and forth, the kind where I would be giddy to see that little “1” in my inbox and I would ask my friend Katie, “How should I respond??” and she would say something and I would ignore it and then do whatever I wanted.

So we arranged to meet. We met at a trendy wine bar on the border of Los Feliz/Silver Lake/Narnia where the bartenders had old timey barbershop quartet mustaches and the patrons were loud and recorded themselves having fun on their iphones. We had a wonderful first date, and I will tell this story at some point, if anyone cares.

A few dates later, he confessed that we had indeed met before. We’ve since determined that it was likely outside a showing of “Lost In Translation” near my dorm. Apparently, we stopped to chat and we even exchanged numbers. And I don’t remember this. By the time he called me, I had already dropped out and moved back to LA, which I told him on a message I left him. And again, I don’t remember any of this. But through the magic of the internet, we found each other again.

Aw you guys, right??

So without Google+ I never would have (re?) met this great guy. Thus, I can never leave Google+. I will go down with this ship.

How did you meet your sig other? Do you believe in fate?

Boom.

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