Where Has All The Glamour Gone?

WHERE HAS ALL THE GLAMOUR GONE?


BB is horrified! Or she would be if she saw you ladies sashaying into Teddy’s in a goddamn pair of leggings. Look, leggings are fine if you’re working out or on your peroid, but if you’re going to have a night out, you better leave the leggings at home unless you are Karen O and you are performing. Night clubs in the 1950s and 60s used to be infused with glamour. I know this because I have a time machine, I built it out of empty fiber one boxes and starbucks cups, but that’s not important right now.

It’s the gentlemen who are really coming up short. Lads, cargo pants are great if you’re Indiana Jones. But since the chances of you being Indiana Jones are slim, I would opt for a pair of nice slacks.

Look at Serge Gainsbourg. HE’S LAUGHING AT YOU. HE’S LAUGHING THROUGH THE SMOKE. Gainsbourg is fuglier than those Muppet Old Guys, but he landed some of the most beautiful women ever made, and you know how he did that (aside from having insane talent and money)? He never dressed like a goddamn fish monger.

LOOK AT ANJELICA HOUSTON’S EYE MAKE-UP. FUCKING LOOK AT IT. That is extraordinary detail. Ladies don’t be afraid to falsify your lashood. It’s totally fine! The great thing about false eyelashes is that you don’t really need to wear any other makeup, if you want to be totally simple about it. Just fucking try it! You have nothing to lose! Your life could be completely different! Jumanji!

Faye Dunaway knows that the greater the lash, the greater the power. The power to stand completely still in a black turtleneck with your hands glued to your head.

Now what to wear?

The little black dress is always a classic because you can ever wear it on the beach!! There is nothing weird about this!! Scroll back up and look at BB’s LBD. They never fail. But listen, and please understand something:

THE AA DOUBLE NECK DRESS DOES NOT COUNT AS A LITTLE BLACK DRESS. NOT WHEN YOU’RE HAVING A GLAMOUROUS NIGHT OUT. And PS I spell “glamour” and “glamourous” with a u BECAUSE IT’S MORE GLAMOUROUS.

If you’re really going to put on the Ritz and valet park your car than you had better not be wearing that spandex dress UNLESS you have elevated it and taken it to a new level, one that only Molly Ringwald in that movie where she cuts up her dress, can take it. You better throw a fox stole and some diamonds on that shit and a bouffant had better be on your head. I’m sorry but that’s just the trade-off for wearing American Apparel on your big glamourous night out.

Don’t get me wrong, I think wearing jeans and AA is fantastic, but we’re talking about our big night here! We’re talking about Betty Draper and sidecars and Rockettes and Dean Martin and shit.

So now we’re ready to hit the town with a goddamn hockey stick! Some things:

Always talk to the hottest guy at the party/lounge/club. Don’t analyze the situation, just go for it. Remember, flat back, abs engaged. Walk right up to him, smile, and tell him your name. Tell him he looks familiar, but only if he maybe kind of sort of does, or he’ll call you on it. In which case you need a name ready. I found that the name “Tyler” works well; everybody seems to know a Tyler.

Decide what you want to drink before you hit the bar. The bartender does not want to play, “Ummm I think I want something, like, not too heavy, but like, fruity, or I don’t know, do you guys have any specials, or like, what beer do you have purple monkey dishwasher?” If you want the most bang for your buck (DON’T YOU JUST LOVE THAT 1950s AD SPEAK?) go with a martini. Most people think vodka martinis are sacrilege but I think that gin martinis taste like a doctor’s office so I stick with vodka. I also enjoy ordering a glass of champagne — it’s never good champagne, but you look amazing drinking it, and everybody wants one once they see you holding it.

And finally, just be amazing. Your parents will be so proud.

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How To Succeed (If I Had To Make A Guess)


I don’t claim to know anything about anything.

This blog is for entertainment purposes only. Now and then I like to share some advice or tongue-in-cheek wisdom and if you get something out of that I think that’s fantastic. But I don’t really know anything. One BIG thing that I do NOT know how to do is be successful. If I were successful then I wouldn’t be the dear struggling actress that I am (and to the reader who emailed me — I’m really not Kat Dennings, I promise. I’m sure she has her own blog; I know she has her own youtube.)

Back when I used to take ambien I would be seized with grand plans and things that I had to do as I was trying to drift off to sleep. This is why I don’t take ambien anymore. I would also see pictures or photographs moving. That’s another good reason not to take ambien. Once in my half-awake/half-asleep dreamlike place, I wrote a list titled:

HOW TO BE SUCCESSFUL

1. GET A TWIN! (Yes, I really did think this was a good idea, and no; I have no idea what it means either.)
2. GET PEOPLE TO CALL OTHER PEOPLE FOR ME, LIKE THEY WORK FOR ME. (???)
3. Hasgbjahg Fgsfs— (the writing got kind of difficult to read here.)

Listen, I don’t recommend doing anything on this list in the great name of success. And I think that deep down, I’m afraid of success, which is why I don’t attempt it. What if I actually do really well in life? Then what? I know, it’s weird, it’s like a Shannen Doherty complex or something.

But I think I have some general ideas as to how to be successful:

1. Do something that scares you. By which I mean, do NOT inject poison into your eyes or put a tarantula on your face, but rather do something outside of your comfort zone because it will help you grow. Using me as an example, with acting, I’ve been advised to go to an improv class because it could help me as an actor. Improv terrifies me, which is probably a good sign that it’s something I need to do. I used to be too scared to take an acting class; now I’ve been in and out of them for years, much like rehab. I’m kidding about the rehab part, and I’m sorry for joking about rehab, rehab is great!!!!

2. Don’t beat yourself up when you fuck up. Because it’s over with. If you could go back in time and change it, you would, and you know you would. Let that be enough. Realize that there is an ocean of time ahead of you that will give you many chances to not fuck up.

3. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. If you don’t ask for help then the answer is always “No”!!!

4. Don’t be too polite. Do NOT be a miserable bitch. Do NOT throw hot coffee in peoples’ faces. DO NOT slash someones’ tires. What I mean by this is basically, stand up for yourself! The only one who can be your biggest defender is you. Unless you’re in court, then I would seriously get a lawyer. You never represent yourself, that’s Law & Order Rule #1. (Rule #2? “When I left, she was still alive!”). Eleanor Roosevelt once said something like, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Bitch was right! So when someone does you a favor say “Thank you” and move on. SAYING “THANK YOU” ONCE IS PLENTY IF YOU MEAN IT. Remember, desperation makes people nervous!

5. Don’t compare your progress to someone else’s. This one is hard for me because, as we all know, I am super jealous. If I were a super hero, jealousy would be my superpower. And what a dumb superpower, it wouldn’t even be able to help anyone! It’s tempting to want to look at Sally Mae and say, “Wow, Sally Mae has a boyfriend and a job and washboard abs” and then to cry about it, but don’t! Because for everything Sally Mae has, there’s something YOU have that SHE doesn’t. There always is! Because if she didn’t…SHE’D BE YOU. DID I JUST BLOW YOUR MIND? Really though, we’re all doing our best in this world and some people get there faster than others, but we all get there. Again, just look at the odds! Odds are by the time you die you’ll have done something great in your life! Even Phil Spector, who is now sitting in jail for murder, still changed music forever!! Wow!!

We’ll stop there for now. Decide to be successful! And just holler if you need me. I’m much better at giving my advice than taking my advice.

Succexy — Metric

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We Need To Talk About Your Boyfriend.


Hey Girl.

So you have a boyfriend. That’s great! You have someone’s lap to sit on at picnics. You have someone to take to your friend’s party. You don’t need to scout out guys at said party. Because you’ll be holding your boyfriend’s arm, tracing his veins with your fingertip, something all couples wind up doing without realizing it (watch for it next time). You have someone to force into couples costume for Halloween. You have someone all of your friends can look at and think, “Goddamn I’m jealous.” And that’s great!But girl unless your boyfriend is Captain Kirk, he ain’t going anywhere. You don’t need to spend every waking moment together. Or every sleeping moment either. And all of those cosmic moments in between. He’s always going to be there for you, and if he’s not, then he’s not a very good boyfriend and you should *NSYNC his ass (and I don’t know what this even means — am I referring to their hit “Bye Bye Bye” or their break-up or what? I don’t know guys, that’s the beauty of life!!).

I understand that in the beginning you’re going to be Lady GaGa for each other and that’s really great. It’s an exciting time.

But girl.

Girl.

Unless your boyfriend is Warren Beatty, from the above photo, from that exact era, I need to tell you something: He’s Not That Great.

Is this pure jealousy speaking? In some occasions, yes (see “Unless your boyfriend is Warren Beatty…” above). But most of the time, your boyfriend is going to be just like everybody else’s boyfriend. He’ll be there for you, yes, but will he be there for us? No, and that’s not his job. Your job, however, is to be there for us. Because you’re our friend. Not a Phoebe friend, because that woman was a goddamn bitch on the show “Friends” who acted like she was from goddamn outerspace, and was mean to Ross for no goddamn reason — I’m talking about real friendships, the kind that cannot fit into a Thursday night time slot.


Why are my references so 90s? But that’s not important right now.

What is important is that you stop and realize that girl, we’ve known you long before this dude did, unless you have some kind of Dawson/Joey situation. OK did VH1 just air an “I love the 90s” series that beamed directly into my brain? Anyway, we were there for you when you got your period on your pants in 8th grade and we loaned you our sweatshirt for you to tie around your waist. We were there for you when you first got drunk on cheap rum and we talked to you as you were barfing in the bathroom. We were there for you when you were in college and wondered, “What the hell am I going to do when I graduate”?

And where was he?

Just remember. It’s fine to be excited about your boyfriend, and we’re happy for you, but we need you too.

SO TEXT ME GODDAMNIT.

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Strange Weather.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a few days. Between Farrah and MJ dying it’s been a very strange couple of days. We live near the Jackson home and all of our streets are blocked off and as I was jogging I got stopped by the news for an interview. The whole thing is just surreal.

outside jackson home june 26

(photo by my mom.)

Ben — Michael Jackson

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My Sim Life.

Meet my Sim boyfriend.

His name is Clifford (I didn’t name him). I think he’s totally dreamy in a Jean-Paul Belmondo sort of way. He was unemployed when I met him and now he has a job as a “fan”. Uh, OK. I moved into his house after our marriage because it was bigger than mine.

Let me explain. I think admitting to playing The Sims is kind of like admitting that you masturbate about six times a day. (I’ve said the same thing about American Idol, and I watch it, too.) But lately given that in “real life” I’m kind of unsure what the hell I’m doing, I choose Sim Life. It’s just so much easier.

Meet my Sim Self. Actually when I designed this sim, I didn’t do it with me in mind, but I realized that it kind of subconsciously turned into a virtual me. We look very similar. But she’s athletic, I’m not. Her favorite music is indie, her favorite food is Dim Sum, and her favorite color is black. That’s not too bad. “I” have a job as a con artist, and for some reason, this is my work uniform:
Yeah, a mesh crop top with torn jeans, that makes sense. But look at those abs! Look how thin I am in Sim form!

My relationship with Clifford is so easy. We always have fun, we never fight, and he always wants to make out.
Here we are busting a move. My Sim self, like my real self, loves to dance.
Just look at that face. Look at how lovingly he gazes into my eyes. The outfit is diabolical but my Sim boyfriend has no problem wearing whatever I want him to wear, so that’s not important right now.
Clifford is SUCH a skilled dancer and look how thin I am!
And here I am dancing with my best friend, Darlene Bunch. She old.
I asked Clifford to marry me. His response? Exxxxcccellent.

So our wedding day arrived. My dead ghost mother showed up:
And some guy passed out. You can see him behind the horrendous-print chair.

Here we are reciting our vows:
Because I’m a sim I had no problem getting married in a black top and tweed pants.
Easiest wedding ever.
The kiss. Um, I hope I don’t kiss like that in real life. My mouth is gaping.
After the wedding we immediately moved into Clifford’s house. Look at how cute my husband is!
Look at how goddamn swell our lives are.

Oh Clifford, do you exist as a real person? Do you wear burgundy blazers with white ties? Will you find me?

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Tips On Looking Your Best.

First of all, you NEVER want to look your best.

Why?

Because once people see you at your best, everything is downhill from there. You’ve set the bar too high. Every time you see them you won’t look as thin, pretty, handsome, healthy, whatever. You always want to look good but you want to give people a hint of just how amazing you really are. I’m not saying to give yourself a black eye before you go out. Just don’t go ape on the cosmetics and such.

Then you have to decide if you’re going to dress for yourself, for a man, or for your friends. People always tell you you should dress for yourself, but if I dressed for myself, I would go everywhere in pajamas. I’m not Lady Gaga; I can’t get away with wearing whatever the hell I want wherever I go. I like to dress for men, because men are easiest to please. Tight jeans, a white tank, heels, and unfussy hair usually suffice. Unless you’re dating some fucking hipster who prefers to see his women dressed in Tiger Lily headbands and knee highs or some bullshit. In which case I would think about dating someone new. I don’t care if you love him, he’s a douche and none of your friends like him. They still hit on him though, when you’re in the bathroom.

Always take the damn compliment. A few days ago I dyed my hair and fucked up. The top of it was lighter than the bottom. So when I was complimented on it, I was tempted to say so. But I stopped myself and said, “Thank you.” I felt much better. Then when a different person asked me, “Did you mean to make the top lighter than the bottom?” instead of saying, “Shut your goddamn mouth, Irish”, I said, “Yes, I was going for a Blondie/Debbie Harry look.” Then I smiled and told myself that I was still pretty. I could have aqua hair and I would still be fairly attractive. You are too; I’m sure of this. Only beautiful people read my blog. I’ve done studies. (By the way I got my hair fixed today but that’s not important right now.)

Stand up straight and walk with your abs engaged. The next time you’re in your car or sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons for tuppence a bag, watch how people cross the street. They’re hunched over like monkeys or Kirsten Dunst. If you walk with your shoulders back, people will think you’ve lost weight. Hand to God. Try it next time and report back here. And if you keep your abs engaged you’ll strengthen your core, which is what those people at Core Pilates in New York told me before I quit because I preferred sleeping and eating to, you know, actually doing stuff. But once you do this it will become second nature, and you’ll have excellent posture without even realizing it.

The most important thing about looking your best is to always speak nicely of people…to their face. Save the insults for the internet. That’s what it’s for.

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