What You Need To Do.

Starring the cast of “La Piscine”.

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The first thing you need to do, if you’re a man, is to get a pair of womens sunglasses. Look at Alain Delon. He looks like a complete moron. But doesn’t he also look European and suave? OK, being European, like Delon, probably helps in looking European. But the ladies sunglasses will really take it to that next level. That level of, “What a douche…yet…I kind of want to be his friend, I bet he goes to lots of cool parties.”

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What you need to do is, if you’re a woman, work on your bikini body like Romy Schneider and Jane Birkin. Oh I know what you’re thinking, “But Uncle Almie summer’s almost over.” Guess what? Your body’s still gonna be there in the fall. Lurking under your Marc Jacobs coat. At any moment you may be called upon to showcase it in a bikini. Oh, you think I’m kidding? Once in NYC in the fall (or maybe even winter) I went to a spa with my friend and we needed to wear bikinis and I was like, what I don’t have one, so they gave me a disposible paper bikini to wear and it was so bad I needed a presidential pardon. But could I get one? No. Did That guy from The Fugees get one? Yes, he did. Wait what was my point? Oh yeah, stop eating.

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What you’re also going to need to do, for the gentlemen, is to get a manicure, so us ladies will have no problem with Jazz Hands! on our thighs. (JAZZ. Jazz). You don’t need to get nail polish if you don’t want to, but just trim that shit and make it look presentable. Women are always like, omg I love mens hands the most out of any of their body parts (I’m pretty sure this is a lie, I mean, what? Hands, really?) but still, take care of that because I like to give high fives a lot, and no that is not a euphemism, I’m just batshit for high fives.

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I mentioned the sunglasses, right? This goes for men and women. Get like, 10 pairs. They can be cheap, no one will notice. Get “day” sunglasses and “night” sunglasses. Get a sunglasses closet, like Elton John. DON’T wear them indoors because people will think you’re hungover. If you are hungover then use eye drops. NEVER let people borrow your sunglasses, because you will NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN. If people want to try them on, hand them over, count to five silently in your head, then grab them back, casually. Say, “Oh hey, are you excited for Season 3 of Mad Men?” and while they’re answering, just take them. They’re yours. It’s your life. Drink Coca~Cola.

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What you need to do is, if you’re a woman, stare wistfully at nothing. At most this will get you the attention of a gentleman; at least, it is a good pose for photos. People will look at you and think, “Gee, she seems interesting.” People who look like they have problems are the most interesting people. People who look insanely happy are usually the people you want to avoid because all they’re going to do is brag about why their life is so wonderful. You have martinis to drink and people to flirt with, you don’t have time for their bullshit. Besides, you wrote and directed a hit play, so you’re not sweating it either.

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What you need to do is, you need to have fun, like this extra. Who is she? How did she get this role? All she does in this film is dance. Maybe she has one line. Did she know someone? Was she a popular model of the times? Did they see her headshot and think, “I bet she dances like a nutjob and she kind of looks like Cher, get her agent on the phone.” Did she have an agent? Who cares? Look at the joy. If only we all had that joy. Just try it. Go through life like you’re a dancing extra in a movie about sexy Europeans in sunglasses. What could be the harm?
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I Want To Be A Rock Star. Kind Of.

If I had an album, this would be the cover:

It would be all Beatles songs as sung by the actual Beatles. So basically it would be Magical Mystery Tour but with a different cover.

I suppose at some point I would be sued or something and would have to actually record songs, maybe even write them. I mentioned this already on my blog (how sad) but I once wrote a song called “Pete O’Toole” and it goes like this:

OH Peter O’ Peter O’ Peter O’Toole
Look what you’ve done to my heart.
Peter O’ Peter O’ Peter O’Toole
I should have known from the start.
I was [something something something
Something something] of a fool.
But that was [something something something
something before Mr. O’Toole
OH Peter O’ Peter O’ Peter O’Toole
Look what you’ve done to my heart.

For some reason my friends were not enthusiastic about helping me write this song. I can’t imagine why. It has a catchy tune, which you cannot tell from lyrics alone, but it does. The music video would be super. I see myself wearing a newspaper hat. Maybe involve puppetry. Probably can’t use any photos of Peter O’Toole. I would want to avoid lawsuits. Remember that music video, “Land of Confusion” or whatever by Phil I Am An Asshat Collins? And the Reagan puppet, do you remember how fucking creepy that Reagan puppet was? And when he was all sweaty? Goddamn that video gave me nightmares.

But that’s not important right now.

My friends Laura, Abe, and I decided it was high time for us to form a band. Then Laura and I realized that that meant we had to write a song. Abe helped us by providing chords. Laura came up with a melody. I came up with the lyrics. Laura did too, and Abe did to a far far lesser extent, but shhh. I want to call our band “French People”; no one really supports that one. Then I said, “What About The Jagging Micks?” and that was greeted with more silence. Abe wanted us to be like She & Him. We sound more like 2 girls in a room singing while someone plays guitar. You can download it here: The Man For Me — Abe, Almie, and Laura but don’t expect it to change your life.

(There were too many Stones so I had to repeat Abe.)

Anyway. My dad once tried to teach me guitar but then I was like, “Oh wait, this is annoying” so I stopped. I vow to pick it up one day. Literally pick it up, I’ll get to learning how to play it at some point later. I can play the clarinet and the piano but it’s really rusty. I also look great holding a ukulele.

Stay tuned for my post on “The Coolest Kid In Los Angeles”. Spoiler alert: it’s not a Coppola! Spoiler alert: it’s my cousin.

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True Lies. Nothing To Do With The Film.

“It takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen.” — Homer Simpson

On what occasion is it okay to lie? There is, after all, a time and place for everything, right? Given that 5% of the people you are going to meet are actually going to want to hear your true opinion, here is what to say to the other 95% percent and when.

THE QUESTION: What have you been up to lately?
Lie.
Most of the time people only ask this question to make sure that you’re not doing better than they are. Think about it. How many people do you know of would actually care if you said, “Well I spend most of my mornings sleeping, my afternoons crying, and my evenings drinking?” They would probably feel really awkward and slink away, but be secretly relieved that you don’t have a 6 picture deal with Fox. This is the kind of question people ask when they don’t know you well enough. This is an Aunt Mabel type of question (i.e. something your Aunt Mabel would ask you at Thanksgiving). Therefore when someone asks this question, rather than roll your eyes and/or tell them the truth about your sad life, I find it’s much more constructive to say, “Well I spend my mornings exercising, my afternoons taking meetings and figuring out my five year plan, and my evenings with this great guy I’m seeing”. Spin, spin spin. “Unemployed” can be “traveling”, “weighing my options”, “taking meetings”, “writing”, “taking classes” and other vague descriptions of activities. (If you have a really great life then of course these rules don’t apply to you, GEORGE CLOONEY.)

THE QUESTION: Don’t you think my new boyfriend is cute?
Lie.
You don’t need to lay it on too thick but you don’t need to call him straight-up fugly either. Say that he’s not your type but add something like, “He has beautiful eyes” and then ask your friend if she’s really excited for season 3 of Mad Men. Don’t tell them that you usually don’t go for guys who could body double for Jason Seigel (ouch, I felt that one). Don’t tell them that he looks like the kind of guy who would steal your car. Just say whatever they want to hear and move on. If however they are a rapist or violent asshole then you need to be honest. Hopefully that part goes without saying.

THE QUESTION: Do you like my new hair?
Lie.
Hair grows back, hair dye washes out. Again, for the 5% of people who know who preface their question with, “I really want your honest opinion, please” then what they really want to hear is, “Wow you look great!” All anyone wants out of this world is to look great. If you want to know what people really think of your new hair then don’t say anything, just wait for their comments. If they say, “You changed your hair!” then what they’re really saying is, “and it sucks” or “and it’s barely any different but I feel like I should say something or you’ll be pissed.” Don’t forget: the truth lies just as much in what people DON’T say than what they DO.

THE QUESTION: Can I borrow your book/DVD/money/whatever?
Lie.
YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR BOOK AND/OR DVD AND/OR MONEY AGAIN. I don’t care if they’re your best friend. They will lose it. They won’t do it on purpose but it will happen. And would you really want a material item to come between your friendship? Why risk it? Say, “Oh, I loaned ‘Rushmore’ to my brother.” If they say, “But I see it right there on your shelf” say, “No that’s just the cover; they have the actual DVD.” If they follow that up with, “Why didn’t you give them the DVD in the cover?” say, “Aren’t you excited for Season 3 of Mad Men?”

THE QUESTION: What do you think of Paul Dano?
I’m honestly curious about what you think. I think he’s creepy. Great actor, really creepy. I can’t look at his face for too long or I start to hear the piano theme from “Eyes Wide Shut”. It’s that type of creepy. Paul Dano definitely looks like the type of guy who would steal your car. He and Jack White. If I ever see those two walking down the street I will simultaneously cry and shit my pants. HOWEVER, if I am ever in Paul Dano’s presence I will NOT tell him that I think he is creepy. This is called lying by omission and it’s a beautiful thing.

Look, you don’t want to be known as a lying fiend, but honesty is only valuable when it’s over something or someone you care about. Otherwise it’s like foreign currency. Spend your honesty wisely.

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The Promise of Parties.

“I’ve finally learned not to do long, elaborate introductions [at parties] — the kind where you tell too much about a person so there’s nothing left for the other person to ask. It’s something most people already know, but I did it for years and it was awful. I’d say things like, ‘This is Jane and her father likes black men and her mother had a facelift and she just graduated from Brown and she goes to AA every day and she’s just the girl for you because she’ll boss you around and you like that.’ Instead you should say just enough to get people slightly interested. If, for example, a man likes fat women, say, ‘This is Tom, he’s a chubby chaser.’ Period. And that will get them talking, even if it’s only to deny it or say how rude you are.” — Andy Warhol, Andy Warhol’s Party Book

Ahhh there’s nothing like the anticipation for a weekend party. Who will you meet? What will you wear? Will there be food? Why doesn’t anyone ever have any good alcohol? I mean am I the only one who wants a goddamn martini at a party? Oh no thanks, the red plastic cup filled with red bull and vodka is a great substitute, really. I’ll just step outside. Oh wait I can’t, because there are like 25 people smoking out here. You guys are all going to have such gross wrinkles around your mouths. Granted, you do look really cool now though. Would I like one? Oh no I couldn’t possibly. Hell, OK. It’s a party! I’m sorry, what? No i was just planning on holding it, I don’t smoke. You…you want it back? Well I really don’t think that’s fair, you offered it to me. Fine, take it back, jerk.

Really though, I do love parties.


The best party I ever went to, I went alone. It seemed daunting at first, and I was awkward as hell. But I met some great people. And I didn’t have to worry about following someone else’s schedule. Parties would probably be more fun if people brought less people. Because then you wind up talking to your lame friends all night. If you’re going to do that, then just stay at home, and order a Pizone from Dominos. Do they still make those?

The best part about parties, if you’re a woman, usually winds up being the part where you’re getting ready for it. Unless you’re running late, then it’s hell. I always run late because I try on my entire closet before I leave. Then I call my friends and tell them I’m 20 minutes away. 20 minutes is a magical thing. It’s the perfect amount of time. No one will question it. When my friend, Abe, is running late, he tells the other person on the phone, “I’m parking.” And I’ll say, “Abe, we’re like, 20 minutes away, we’re nowhere close to parking.” And he says, “Trust me, no one will notice.” And he’s always right!

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(From my Mad Men themed party. That’s actually Abe on the far left, next to me. I adore theme parties!!)

Going to a really nice bar and/or lounge is almost as good as going to a nice party, sometimes better. They usually play better music at hip bars/lounges than they do at your friend Greg’s house. And what’s the deal with Greg’s obsession with Boston? It’s like, dude, we all love “Saturday In The Park” and “More Than A Feeling” but they’re not the best party jams. OK, “More Than A Feeling” is actually a great party jam. The build up to, “I close my EEEEEEEYES and I slip AAAAWAAAAAAAYYYYY” oh damn I’m getting chills just typing it!

The worst party I ever went to was at a lovely girl’s house and it wasn’t her fault but my two dear friends BOTH had boyfriends/boy interests there and I was shut out so I went to talk to a cute boy who I knew through someone else, and he was in town for one night, and just as we were getting to the good stuff, the hostess’ PARENTS waltz in and HIJACK our conversation and leave me in the dust!! This is the problem with “cool parents”. It’s all fun and games when they supply you with weed and wine but when they start mingling and COCK BLOCK YOU that’s when they need to go into their room to watch a Tivo’d “Law and Order” with a glass of milk or some shit.

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The Andy Warhol quote at the top made me realize that people have really let their party etiquette go to shit. No one really properly introduces people anymore. Usually people forget. I can’t count how many times I’ve been standing next to a friend who is carrying on a conversation with someone I never met. Usually I have to say, “Hi, I’m Almie” and then it’s just weird for everyone. Especially because they don’t catch my name the first time. And they’ll say, “Oh Amy?” And I’ll say, “No, Almie.” And they’ll say, “Is that short for something?” What the fuck would it be short for? Almanda? Please do me a favor and introduce your party guests to each other! Don’t think you’re too cool to do that. My dear friend Erika is very good with introducing people and I always have a good time at her parties. Coincidence? No, dear sir or madam, no.

Finally, no more Apples To Apples at parties. I hate that game. I always lose.

Party — Envelopes
More Than A Feeling — Boston
Let’s Face The Music And Dance — Ella Fitzgerald
Party Girl — Bernadette Carroll

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Let It Die, Part Two.

I don’t know if it’s a girl thing or what but I’ve been noticing that a lot of my female friends have a hard time letting it go. They lament over their mistakes, their roads not taken, their misfortunes.

CUT IT THE FUCK OUT.

I know, this is far easier said than done. Yesterday I spent the day wallowing in a sorry haze (this is why you should always take your meds on schedule, kids) and even though I wanted to emerge I just couldn’t. I felt like Patrick Bateman:

“…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cool gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours…I am simply not there…Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being.”

(That’s quoted from the book, and not the movie, by the way. I love the movie but the book takes the edge of me, if only because of an awkward scene involving Bateman and Tom Cruise in an elevator.)


It’s not a good thing to feel like Patrick Bateman. I think it’s a defense mechanism, a way of trying to hide all of my anxious feelings. It’s still better than when I would revert to pretending I was Agent Dale Cooper, taking into a deck of cards like it was a tape recorder. Ha ha I’m just kidding, I would never do that…

If you were to lie in bed and think of all the faux-paus you’ve made in your life you would go crazy. If you were to list all of your missed opportunities and awkward moments and times where you just wanted to slap yourself, Chris Farley style, shouting “STUPID STUPID!” then you’re not going to get to sleep any time soon and you’re going to wake up feeling like a zombie.

Try this: when you start to think of all the ways in which you wish your life were different, think of the ways that you make it good. Think of something you did in the past that was awesome, even if it was just making a funny joke or getting a birthday gift for a friend that she really appreciated. Start small! Then think of the bigger things. There is no mistake you made that is too great to keep you from another opportunity. Unless you are:

— Phil Spector
— O.J.
— That woman who just ate her baby
— Tim Burton

(Aaahhh I kid, Tim Burton will probably be fine blah blah.) But really, you have to let it go. You know, I know it, Tim Burton knows it. The only way to ease the pain of past stupid decisions is to make good ones in the future. Again, to quote Oprah quoting Maya Angelou (shut up, it’s still good advice):

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I Suck At Everything (And So Can You)!

“What’s the use in trying? All you get is pain.” — Super Emo band The Monkees
“If you’re going to do something, do it right.” — Charles Manson

My mom told me a story that when she was a teenager, her mother gave her a silver cigarette case for her birthday saying, “If you’re gonna smoke, smoke right.” My Oma (I think that’s Yiddish for Grandmother) was basically saying, “Look, you’re going to do something stupid, so suck at it really well.” Is there anything more pure than that?

I am sick of The Secret. I am sick of picturing me as a super successful actor with Paul McCartney as my boyfriend. We all know that Paul McCartney is probably not ever going to be my boyfriend. (I still can’t give up the probably DON’T YOU DARE ASK ME TO GIVE UP THE PROBABLY.) Good things are not happening to me no matter how hard I picture them.

Then I realized that I actually have to try. So I tried trying.

Trying sucks.

The more I try the more I think that I suck.

But don’t misunderstand me here. This feeling that I suck is not a sad feeling. It’s almost a relief. I’m good at something! I’m good at sucking!

I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t have an agent, and I don’t look like Jayne Mansfield. BUT HOW AWESOME IS THAT CONSISTENCY??! Screw boyfriends, none of them are going to be anything like Paul McCartney anyway! So that’s one down! We’re almost there gang!!

If you can wake up in the mirror, smile, and say, “I suck!” THEN YOUR DAY CAN ONLY GET BETTER FROM THERE. Thinking about the things that you don’t have makes you realize that, holy shit, look at all the room for stuff I can have! Cheerfully admit that you don’t have a job, and lo and behold, watch the world continue to go on! No weird “The Happening” shit here. No one around you is killing themselves! And they probably suck too! But they’re alive just like you are. SO SUCK HARDER THAN THEM, DON’T LET THEM BEAT YOU AT ANYTHING!!

And hey, no matter how hard you suck, you can’t suck harder than Tim Burton! That guy used up all his good ideas 4 films into his career! Did you guys see “Planet of the Apes”?? Holy shit that sucked! That was the suckiest suck to ever suck!! Imagine how must fun he must have had making such a suckfest! The whole time he was probably thinking, “Fuck this is gonna suck, how did I convince people to give me money for this? PIZZA PARTY!!”

Seriously, don’t lie awake at night thinking of how much you suck. The key is not to beat yourself up for sucking. Embrace it. Remember what the rich hobo said: “When you got nothing you got nothing to lose.”

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Let It Die.

I made out with this dude 3 years ago and lately he has been trying to ~~get with me~~ again. I’m not saying that I’m a golden horse on a carousel; in other words, I’m not trying to brag. I’m just amazed that this dude is still trying. It was 3 years ago and I was drunk and he grabbed me and kissed me and wouldn’t let go. We’ve been the most awkward of “friends” ever since.

He’s been inviting me to lots of facebook events and I have politely declined. I always like to explain why I cannot come to an event because I hate when people who I expect to come to my events click “no” and don’t say why. In real life you would give me some sort of explanation. Don’t try to hide behind facebook just because you can. It’s rude!

Anyway I’m on facebook merrily surfing my way through other peoples’ lives when he AMBUSHES ME VIA FACEBOOK INSTANT MESSAGING. NOT COOL. I wasn’t even aware that I was signed in! And he was like, how’s it going with acting and I’m like, uuhhh fine and he’s like, I’m a financial adviser now and I’d love to give you a free session (and I’m thinking LOL what are you going to advise me on, I have no finances) but I’m like, sure and somehow i told him we would meet up for drinks sometime and free financial advise?

WHY AM I SO UNFAILINGLY POLITE?

It’s like today I had a job interview at a store and I got weird vibes from the guy right off and he was being condescending to me and asking me odd questions and not only did I sit through the interview but at the end I told HIM to have a nice day!! What the fuck??!! HE’S SUPPOSED TO SAY THAT SHIT TO ME.

Whether it’s a job interview or a first date you need to stand up for yourself. You don’t need to be flat out rude or flash them your hoohah like Sharon Stone did in Basic Instinct, because Sydney, let’s be honest, YOUR MOM WAS NO SHARON STONE, but you really don’t want to be too polite or it’s like saying, HEY BRO, WALK ALL OVER ME PLEASE, THANKS!!! SMILEY FACE!!

I feel like I am the only person who does this. I feel like stronger, cooler girls would tighten their lips and say, “Thanks but no thanks” and move on with their lives. I feel like Faye Dunaway and Brigitte Bardot would never put up with this bullshit. So why do I?

But still, dude who I made out with 3 years ago: let it die, bro. Let it die.

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