Stood Up? Stare Down.

Oct

2009

“The fact that you’re not answering leads me to believe you’re either (a) not at home, (b) home but don’t want to talk to me, or (c) home, desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy.” — When Harry Met Sally

Last night I got stood up. To quote the Clash song that I’ve posted on this blog at least twice:

I’ve been beat up. I’ve been thrown out.
But I’m not down. I’m not down.

OK Honestly, I’m a little down. But what does one do when one is stood up? One finds other plans, has fun, and then gets Taco Bell at 2 AM. This is the sacred ritual of the single. This is what I did. I sent out a mass text to all of my friends and “etcs” letting them know of my sad fate in hopes that someone would rescue me. A few people did. I chose a guy. I got very drunk. I went to a gay bar. I told pretty much everyone within my general vicinity that I was stood up. And yes, I ate the Taco Bell at the end of the night. I ordered a #5 because 5 is my favorite number. I didn’t even look at what it was.

Turns out #5 is nachos and a taco.

See how much we’re learning?

I’m sure the gentleman had very good reason for standing me up. Perhaps he was eaten by sharks. I find it entirely plausible that in Los Angeles at around 8 at night someone decided to go swimming in the ocean and was eaten by sharks. That happens everyday. It’s just not widely reported.

The thing is, I don’t think this [by which I mean getting stood up] happens to anyone but me. Just because that’s just my life. My life is one long series of unfortunate events but without the clever orphans. However, if you find yourself stood up, here are my suggestions:

— Call and/or text your girlfriends. They will suggest something like, “Let’s go to Pinkberry” or at least offer their condolences.

— Get out of the house. It doesn’t matter if all you do is go to Starbucks and get an iced tall skinny vanilla latte; just get out.

— Eat and/or drink something delicious. Just because.

— Find another boy (or girl) to get with. But don’t do this if it’s going to lower your self-worth. Do it because you want to have fun. If the guy is notoriously afraid of commitment and you’re hoping to be the Rory Gilmore to whoever it is that bitch wound up with in the final season, then STEER CLEAR GURL.

— Email me! Really! I’m addicted to my iphone! I always check my email! Even when people beg me not to! ESPECIALLY when people beg me not to!

— And finally, listen to these songs:

Gaston — Beauty and the Beast film cast
Stop Your Sobbing — Pretenders
Womanizer — Britney
Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) — Beyonce
Get Over It — OK Go
Tears Dry On Their Own — Amy Winehouse
Hot N Cold — Katy Perry
Girl Don’t Come — Sandie Shaw

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McLame

Oct

2009

A while back I did this impression of Meredith Grey from “Grey’s Anatomy” to amuse my friends. I feel like we’ve all grown closer, readers, so I’m now sharing it with you.

Before you watch this video you need to know that I do not usually look this ugly. No, seriously. I really don’t.

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If I Had the Chance

Sep

2009

Hey you. Thanks for meeting me here. Have a seat. No, not that seat. Don’t sit there. I swear to God if you sit there I will stab you in the throat. Oh, that seat? Yeah, that’s fine, you can sit there. I was kidding anyway.

I was thrilled to get your invitation. I can only assume that you’re bringing me here to tell me that those photos of you with that girl on facebook mean nothing. Yeah, I saw the ones of you in that canal in Venice. I guess it was very romantic but I’ve been in those canals and they smell like a house full of dumptrucks. Ok, fine, they don’t. I was just saying that because I felt like hurting you. Oh, that didn’t hurt you? Well yeah, I guess it wouldn’t. It’s not like you invented those canals. That was DaVinci. What? You’re pretty sure it’s not? Huh, that’s funny, which one of us went to college? Me.

I’m sorry. That was really, really mean.

Anyway you look well. I mean look at you, you’re fucking beautiful. You know it, I know it, that goddamn chair knows it. Look, I have no problem with the chair. It was a joke. This is great wine.

I just wanted to say that if you had a girlfriend you could have just told me. I wouldn’t have been hurt. It’s only now, after all this time of feeling like I’m in a cave with a single lit match, that I’m hurt. Oh, what I meant about the cave thing was that you left me in the dark. Yeah, that’s all I meant. No, I wasn’t implying that the match was burning my fingers. That’s dumb. That doesn’t make any sense. You’re an idiot.

I’m sorry, that was mean.

I’m just getting sick of this. All of this, stuff that you can’t even be held accountable for. I’m just getting sick of never being the girlfriend. I am always the girl on the way to the girlfriend. I’m Goodluck Chuck.

I am never the girl in photos.

What do I mean by that? Well, after a guy disappears from my life, lo and behold I see him on facebook with a new girl. They may not have even declared their relationship but it’s obvious. I always wonder, why isn’t that girl me? And usually I’m much more photogenic than these girls. I’m sorry if that shocks or upsets you but it’s true. But no guy ever wants to take photos of me and put them on facebook. No guy wants to have a photo tagged of us, of his arm slung around me, smiling at me with pure adoration. They save that for the girl after me. I am the girl the guy doesn’t show off.

This is what I mean when I say, I am never the girl in photos.

It’s OK, I’m fine now, I have Sven. Oh? Sven is my boyfriend. He looks like the guy in a 1960s ad for cigarettes. Sometimes. Other days he looks like a British guitar player. Sven isn’t exactly what you would call…real. Yeah, he’s my imaginary boyfriend. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Stop giving me a weird pity look. It’s fine. Really! Look, pretend I didn’t say anything. I was kidding. I was 80% kidding. Don’t worry about the 20%.

Never worry about the 20%.

Half of me wants to throw this drink in your face and the other half wants to kiss you. So what the hell am I supposed to do now? This is good wine, I don’t know if I should waste it on your face. Your beautiful, beautiful face.

I tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna buck up. I’m going to stop looking at your facebook photos. I’m going to have to leave my iphone at home. I’m going to be the strong person that is hidden somewhere inside me, like a grape in a goat. Shh, I’m not done. I’m going to admit that I am the cliche who doesn’t feel validated unless it’s from a guy. But I’m going to be fine. I’m going to make videos and put them on this blog (really, I will). I’m going to keep writing. I’m going to get cast as a co-star in something.

I will realize that you are not everything I think you are.

And I’ll even pick up the check for this.

I’m just going to go to the bathroom first. I am definitely not going to slip out the back. Really. I’m not going to leave my credit card here at the table though because I…need it…in the bathroom. Yeah. I’m just going to be right back. I’m not not leaving forever.

Sike.

She’s Not Me — Madonna
Hello Stranger — Barbara Lewis
How To Quit — Sam Phillips
I’m Not Down — The Clash
Bloody Motherfuckin Asshole — Martha Wainwright
Ring Of Fire — Amanda Jo Williams
Brown Eyes — Lady GaGa
If You Close The Door — The Velvet Underground

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To The Gentlemen.

Sep

2009

Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.
— Dr. Emmett Brown

People often ask me, “What’s your blog about?” I usually say something like, “Oh it’s about being a girl in Los Angeles.”

I don’t know what this blog is about. But I do know that people read it. So on the off chance that one of the four people who read this is male, this is for you, buddy:

1. Zachary Braff, stop following me. This is the 2nd time in 6 days that you and I have been in the same place. Oh I know: you didn’t mean it, it’s an accident, you don’t know who I am, blah blah blah.

2. This one is important. Gentlemen:

If you are on facebook and you are in a relationship you need to put that shit on your profile.

If you have a girlfriend you need to click the little button that says “In a relationship.”

It takes two seconds and saves heartache.

I am talking to you, guy I vaguely alluded to in a post a month or two ago/guy who broke my heart about six months ago. Guy who I’ve kind of missed.

You don’t even need to put the name of the person you are in a relationship with. But you need to declare it. To not declare it is tacky. And weird. I’ve had guy friends who counter that with, “I don’t want people to know about my personal life on facebook.” Are you serious? Really? Really Charlie? Then don’t get on facebook. Get on linked-in or get your own website where you can put whatever the fuck you want.

3. If you have my number and are texting/calling me for the first time to see me, please suggest dinner. I am worthy of dinner. Drinks = please take off my skinny pants and do things to my genitals on my couch while “Who’s The Boss?” plays in the background. I don’t want to speak for all women, I really don’t, but I know that most of us appreciate being asked on a real date. And look, there are times when all I really want to do is get into your skinny pants with the TV on for background noise. But if you don’t invite me out to dinner then you will never find out. Now if you’re taking me out for drinks at a jazz club or something, that’s different. But if you ask me to meet you at the bar where they serve free hot dogs, then have fun with yourself and Tony Danza.

Even Patrick Bateman took his women on dates.

4. I always say that with a great number comes great responsibility. I’m not joking. I mean, I am kind of joking when I say it because to say that with a serious tone of voice would make me sound like a tool, but the sentiment behind it is real.

5. Be a gentleman.

I’m going to stop here because if I go any further then my head may explode. This is why my relationship with Sven is so good. Imaginary boyfriends are the best kind of boyfriend.

**Note: guys who have been gentlemen to me and are awesome, thank you. This is not directed towards you. Pizza party!**

To elaborate on #3, here’s the post that started it all: Does Anybody Date Anymore?

Let’s Talk About It — White Denim

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Why Are You Facebooking My Friends?

Sep

2009

What kind of sick game are you playing, buddy?

Several months ago I wrote about this guy I was seeing that was worse than Phil Spector and OJ combined. At least OJ was in the Naked Gun movies and those were funny. And Phil Spector is responsible for some of the greatest music of all time. They had redeeming qualities.

This guy, who we will refer to as Captain Asshat (which is really generous of me considering he is not in the navy), decided at some point to facebook all of my friends. After our blow-out he practically raced to his computer to unfriend me (which really showed me) but stayed facebook friends with all of my real friends. I think this is the sign of a sociopath. We weren’t even considered boyfriend/girlfriend, just dating casually, so why did he feel the need to facebook them in the first place? And why did he hang on to them? From what I understand he continues to comment on their status, “liking” things, even taking things from their profiles and claiming them as his own, which really bothered one of my dearest friends.

Facebook is getting out of control. People post the most personal things as their status updates, or choose photos of them in their bathing suits doing yoga poses for their man profile. Are we ready for this? I don’t think I am.

However I will be the first to admit that I do not have a flawless facebook record. For with facebook comes facebook stalking, of which I am guilty. My friend and I like to go “boy shopping” in which we check out the profiles of guys that we have in common to see who is single, who is hot, and who has similar interests. But it ends there.

Just because it’s the internet doesn’t mean it doesn’t have repercussions in real life.

And the difference between me and Captain Asshat is that I don’t go around friending people who I have no business friending. Captain A is venturing into an area of facebook in which he should not be. No fly zone, buddy. Park the plane, Travolta. Go home.

Even weirder is when you’re friends with your friend’s bf/gf and then they break up. Do you still stay facebook friends with them? I suppose it depends on how friendly you were with them and how bad the break-up was. But I think it’s weird if you stay facebook friends and try to pass it off as a real friendship. Basically, friend’s ex, stop commenting on everything and facebook iming me. We never hung out before and we’re not going to now. And stop trying to get intel about my friend. She’s moved on.

Goddamn I wish facebook was around when Seinfeld was on the air. Think of the episode possibilities! George trying to facebook Marisa Tomei. Elaine accidentally posting something personal as a note instead of as a private message to the guy she was seeing. Kramer starting a facebook group that turns into a real religion. And Jerry would probably be on my side about facebook grey areas. “You just don’t stay facebook buddies with your ex’s friends! It’s bad form! Come on!” And think of the great wall interactions: NEWMAN — “Hello Jerry.” JERRY — “Hello Newman.”

Serenity now.

Rumors — Lindsay Lohan (yeah you read that right)

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Boats Against The Current

Sep

2009

Firstly, Happy Jew Year! Even if you’re not Jewish use this as a chance to start anew. Lastly, can you guess which famous novel this title references? I know what you’re thinking: what happened to secondly, thirdly, et cetera? Answer: Life is too short, just cut to lastly. That’s really all you need. First and last.

When it comes to men I am unconventional. Were I given the opportunity to have one celebrity of my choosing I would pick Paul McCartney, pants down. None of these teenaged/20 aged vampires for me. I want a real legend. I want someone real someone so wonderful that you almost wonder if they actually ARE real. I mean has anyone actually met Paul McCartney? Maybe he’s just a computer. WHY DO YOU THINK THE BEATLES NAMED THEIR COMPANY APPLE? Pick up your mind, because I just blew it all over the place.

One man I’ve always harbored not-so-secret feelings for is Quentin Tarantino. Personally I think Pulp Fiction is his only great movie; the rest are lovely and mediocre. I haven’t seen Inglorious Basterds yet and I don’t plan to and here’s why and it’s probably silly of me but I’m uncomfortable seeing Jews act like Nazis. I get that the Jews are punishing Nazis and that theoretically that should be a great wonderful thing but the idea doesn’t sit well with me. I guess I’m just the biggest stick in the mud that there is.

But I love Quentin Tarantino’s bizarre face. His features are the complete opposite of perfection. His ego is a few notches below Kanye West’s (though to be fair I do love Kanye so maybe ego is an attractive thing to me in a man). He’s not an ideal heartthrob. But I love the way Tarantino talks and behaves. He’s like the Animal Muppet but with a vocabulary beyond “ANIMALLLLL!” Don’t get me wrong; were Tarantino still a video store clerk I would want nothing to do with him. I can admit that. But he’s not a video store clerk; he’s a director of some very cool, very famous, very big films. Pulp Fiction! Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta, walking around, talking about burgers all the time. That’s good stuff.

Recently I finished a casting workshop for the casting director of a new/old TV show. In this workshop, during the first week, we were assigned in pairs to do scenes. My partner was a really nice, really funny guy who nailed the scene. We nailed it together, Maxwell Hammer style, bang bang. As we were rehearsing I found myself becoming attracted to this guy, despite his lack of extreme thinness or other hipster quality. At the end of the night I realized why.

He kind of looked like Quentin Tarantino.

It’s not like you would ever mistake him for the fast talking large headed director but there was a shadow of a resemblance and that was enough for me. Did you ever meet someone who looked like a good friend of yours and you treated them as such? You felt like you had known them forever. But it’s based purely on physical or behavioral attributes. This is what happened to me.

In conclusion, guy I did this workshop with, find me and email me.

If you haven’t been completely insulted by this point. Because I think the whole Tarantino thing is a compliment. And you’re more attractive, I swear. Though I think T is hot to begin with.

I’ll just stop.

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That Mad Ache.

Sep

2009

I’ve established that I Dont Want A Boyfriend (and btw Sven is doing fine thank you) but what I would like to kiss, be kissed, and kiss again. I don’t even want sex, I’m going through a robot phase right now (in which I feel…well, like a robot, and robots don’t sex, unless it’s robot sex, which I guess is plugging one robot into another? Oh gosh, how explicit) but I could go for a good kiss. A GOOD kiss.

The type of kiss where you’ve been dying to kiss each other and you both know it but neither of you are sure of when, where, or how it will happen, only that it will happen, because it has to happen. Maybe you’ve met through a mutual friend and the three of you are hanging out and at some point the two of you lock eyes and think, “Yes.” (Isn’t yes the most wonderful word? I have a necklace that says Oui on it. It’s my favorite thing.) That tension becomes harder for you all to ignore, like Lady GaGa in her outlandish outfits sitting behind Beyonce at the VMA’s.

You flirt for him, telling jokes, and they all land. At one point he’s drinking water and you tell a joke and he laughs so hard he spits his water everywhere and you think, “Goddamn I’m good.” I don’t know if there’s anything more powerful than making a man laugh. And you’re doing this back and forth routine and you’re thinking, God when is our friend going to leave us alone together? But you don’t know each other well so you’re not even ready to be alone together but you know that you want to be eventually. You part ways, for now.

Finally one of you caves, inviting the other one over to “hang out” or get dinner, or whatever. You both focus on your menus, or the book titles of the bookstore where you meet, or anything printed in front of you, because you need to keep your eyes busy so you don’t lock them on the other person the entire time. “We are living in a society,” said George Costanza. We can’t just kiss people we just meet, or can we? No, we can’t. Have some decorum.

But then the moment happens, and it always feels like it finally happens, like it’s been dragged out for hours, like a Robert Altman film. Like one of the lesser known Robert Altman films, or maybe Gosford Park. Ugh. One of you makes the move, maybe it’s silent, maybe it’s sudden, maybe it’s clumsy, maybe one of you even says, “Come here” before you do it, just to be safe, and then you kiss and it’s that perfect kiss where you can feel the intensity of the other person without feeling their entire tongue. It’s the kind of kiss that is so perfect that all you want to do is keep kissing, because what could be even better than that?

That’s what I want.

I Melt With You — Modern English

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