What To Do When You’re Jealous.

Jun

2009

If you’re like me, then you’re a jealous person. And if you’re more jealous than I am that makes me jealous. Does that give you some idea of how jealous I am?

Unfortunately it’s not cool to be jealous. If it were I would be like Chuck Bass…or…Brian Setzer…or whoever the fuck kids think is cool these days.

Therefore here are some tips on what to do when you get really, really jealous:

1.) Laugh. But not loudly like, “HA HA HA LOUD NOISES I LOVE LAMP!” More like, “Chuckle chuckle oh silly person so funny you should think I would even care about this information.”

Example:

“Did you hear? David just got signed with CAA!”

Your response: Smile, as sincerely as you can. Take a sip of your martini (P.S., now would be a good time to start drinking martinis, if you don’t already) and say, “That’s fantastic. David must be so excited! ” Then from here you can either:

a.) Change the subject like it’s your fucking job or
b.) Casually drop some unfortunate news about the aforementioned piece of news.

“Oh my God, have you seen the new Woody Allen movie?” is a line that works really well, if you’re going to go with option a.), because it doesn’t matter if you’ve actually seen it and he’s always cranking out movies. Or you could go with, b.), “I heard CAA just did a massive round of cutbacks; I hope David found a secure agent!” The more concerned you can sound the better you’ll look. Remember, you want people to think that you actually care.

2.) This is an oldie, but you can always bring up something awesome about yourself to counter something awesome that you friend brought to the table.

Example:

“My boobs got huge! Isn’t that weird? I had to go up 3 cup sizes!”
“Wow, Jennifer, that’s great! By the way did I tell you that I ran into Ben Stiller yesterday and introduced myself and now he’s hired me as an assistant? It’s crazy! Out of nowhere I got this awesome-paying job! I guess that’s LA for ya, huh?”

Also, I recommend lying. Think about it this way: would you rather look like a jealous maniac, or soothe it all over with a silly little lie that makes you feel better? You got it space dogs, go with the lie.

P.S. From what I may or may not have heard from a few sources you do not want to EVER be Ben Stiller’s assistant.

3.) This one is tricky to pull off, but here goes: be really, really happy for that person. But not deliriously happy; again, we’re going for realism. I’m talking about this kind of happy:

“Tom I am so happy to hear about your new record deal! Really, I am. Let’s celebrate! Why don’t you buy me another drink and I’ll spot you for the rest of the night? You rockstar, you!”

And there you go: you’ve got a free drink and hopefully after that drink you’ll feel much better about the whole situation and won’t wind up texting your mom while crying in the bathroom thinking that you have no prospects in your future.

If none of these works and you still feel jealous as hell, think about it this way: life is all about luck and numbers. Don’t let people tell you shit like, “You just gotta really want it.” That’s asshole talk. That’s lazy advice. It’s like, Oh really, asshole, you mean I have to actually *want* it? As opposed to not wanting it? Gee, thanks!

Most of life’s big breaks come about by being in the right place at the right time and not being a total moron. And when that fails you, look at the statistics. Statistically, you will at some point in your life get a steady job and a loving partner of your own. It’s not brain surgery (or rocket science, haha gosh I’m silly) — it’s just looking at it from the point of view as life as a series of percentages and probabilities, not as a great cosmic entity. Because numbers don’t lie.

And yes, I am very jealous of Jayne Mansfield, even though she’s dead.

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OFF TO SAN FRAN

Jun

2009

I’m off to San Francisco for a week. I may update, I may not. Does anyone want to recommend any fantastic vintage stores in San Fran? Or anything else? Feel free to show off your cool knowledge of this city.

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Say Something Nice.

Jun

2009

In honor of my last post in which I decided to try to be less of a gossipy bitch and more like Audrey Hebpurn, I’m going to veer away from complaining. I’m posting a photo of Sharon Tate though because I’m a little Audrey’d out. And Tate was also said to be one of the kindest and sweetest people around.

~~ If someone is bragging about their job, let them. They probably worked really hard to get to where they are and you would be bragging too. If, however, they do this for longer than 10 minutes, kindly excuse yourself. DO NOT say, “Excuse me, but your bragging is giving me terrible diarrhea.” Instead say, “Excuse me, I’m going to get another drink. Can I get anybody anything?

~~ Usually they will decline your drink offer; if however, someone takes you up on it, just smile and nod. Then walk away and don’t get their drink. You’re not a butler.

~~ Wadsworth, however, is a butler. And it’s not his fault that his wife was a socialist. We all make mistakes!

~~ Everybody loves free food. If you ever feel like you’re going to go somewhere and you’re going to be terribly awkward, bring food. No one will notice how awkward you are!

~~ People love hearing their own name. It warms them up. Try it.

~~ However, don’t repeat their name more than once in a sentence. You’ll sound like Hannibal Lecter.

~~ Hannibal Lecter was really cool though. Smart, cultured guy.

~~ Really though, don’t creep anyone out.

~~ You can always find something nice to say about someone. Are they wearing a pleasant shirt? What about a festive necklace? Do they smell nice? Use these things to your advantage. Ex.:

“Mabel, I adore your necklace.”

~~ The great thing is that even if you don’t adore Mabel’s necklace, she’ll never know. I can’t think of a time when you will need to tell Mabel the truth about her necklace. Have you noticed that no one is really named Mabel? That must have been a popular name at some point.

~~ Apparently, Mabel means “lovable.” It is English in origin and is also spelled “Mable.”

~~ 1916 had the highest record of girls named Mabel. By 1934 it was less than half.

~~ Here’s my research: (http://www.babynameshub.com/baby-names-girls/Mabel.html)

~~ I’m really enjoying the song “New Mate” by the band Figurine.

~~ If I were to meet one of the members of the band Figurine, I would tell them this.

~~ And that is a nice thing to say.

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I Am Not Audrey Fucking Hepburn.

Jun

2009

I think sex is overrated. — Audrey Hepburn

I’m reading (ok, who am I kidding, I’m RE-reading) “What Would Audrey Do?: Timeless Lessons for Living with Grace and Style” (Pamela Keogh) and I’ve come to realize that I am, sadly, THE EXACT FUCKING OPPOSITE of my dear Audrey Hepburn.First, Audrey didn’t curse. I know, what the fuck. How can a celebrity go without cursing? Even Eliza Doolittle was like, “MOVE YER BLOOMIN’ ARSE!” Personally, I can’t go more than 5 minutes without cursing, even if all I’m doing in those 5 minutes is singing the theme song to Sesame Street. I like cursing! Sunny days, fuck yeah! Chasin’ those clouds away, motherfucker!

Second, Audrey didn’t blog about her sex life on the internet. Yeah I know she didn’t have the fucking (see???) internet back then. But Keogh suggests that Audrey would not have a myspace page. Audrey was discreet, like fucking Lady from Lady and the Tramp who was totally coy about wanting that meatball, she was all like, “Oh no, you take it, really I’m fine.” Audrey was a private person. In a way I think we’re worse off for not knowning what Audrey Hepburn was like in bed, aren’t we? Someone somewhere HAS to know! Somewhere there has to be a stack of letters she wrote to William Holden that describe their passionately discreet nights of love. Someone find those letters and publish them, please.

Third, Audrey had little to no ego. (According to Keogh, Audrey pretty much died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.) Keogh fails to mention how in one biography I read, Audrey requested an ASSLOAD of stuff to come with her while shooting “A Nun’s Story”, including a bidet. Excuse me? You really need a bidet to be flown to you? I digress. Not only am I selfish but I am a raging egomaniac.

Fourth, Audrey was damn thin. Enough said.

Fifth, Audrey always took the high road. I couldn’t find the high road with google maps. I try, really. So instead of shouting or saying something I’ll regret, I’ll just leave. And this backfires because I wind up looking like a huge bitch. AUDREY HEPBURN WAS NEVER A BITCH.

To paraphrase Samuel L. Jackson, “I’m tryin’ Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.”

I’m tryin’ real hard to be Audrey.

I want to be the sweet, THIN, modern woman who can keep her ego in check and not flip the fuck out over every damn thing. And also Keogh makes it crystal clear that every goddamn man Audrey met wanted to marry her. Did you know that Audrey dated JFK? WELL SHE DID. Who have you dated? That guy who works at Diesel? The Cobrasnake? The indie rock musician who kind of looks like Johnny Depp if you squint? NONE OF THOSE MEN ARE JFK. YOU FUCKING LOSE. GODDAMN YOU AUDREY HEPBURN. Keogh also famously quotes the dancer who, in a chorus line with Audrey before she hit superstardom complained, “I’ve got the best tits on stage and yet they’re staring at the girl who hasn’t got any.” Hepburn was sexy and she had no boobs. I mean in this day and age she would be given some kind of award for that shit, some InStyle luncheon or VH1 clipshow tribute or I don’t know.

I know I have more sex appeal on the tip of my nose than many women in their entire bodies. It doesn’t stand out a mile, but it’s there. — Audrey Hepburn

How did she do it? This book suggests that I attempt sainthood. And you know what? I’m going to. Because although BB is one of my true old school heroes (uh, before the whole racism thing) she and Audrey actually held very similar ideals: if something’s not working out for you — be it with a man or your career or friends or whatever — leave, because you’re better than that shit. Of course, Audrey wouldn’t have said “Shit”. BB probably would have said, “Merde” so that makes me feel a little better.

From now on I shall attempt not to dive over to my computer to blog about every little thing. I shall try to be more discreet. I shall try to be kinder and more patient. I shall try to get a 22 inch waistline. I shall try to hold my head high even though my neck is like 1/5th of the neck she had. I won’t stop being msyelf but maybe I’ll be just a little less of myself. And a little more Audrey.

Or, whatever.

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IT'S ALL ABOUT ME! (And by extension, you.)

Jun

2009

I will not be ignored, Dan.

If you’ve been keeping up with my blog or if you are even a vaguely observant person, you may have come to the conclusion that I am vapid, insecure, and a raging egomaniac.

I just want to assure you that you are indeed correct.

I absolutely need to be the center of attention at all times. It’s always been this way. When I was a little kid I once burst into tears and threw a tantrum at a birthday party because the other kids didn’t like “Home Alone 2”. Enjoy your goddamn ice cream cake and My Little Pony now, bitch.

However I’m not totally psychotic; I realize that not everyone wants to lavish me with attention. I’m not sure why though because I am easily always one of the most interesting people in the room. It’s just a fact. (ONTD? Anyone?). In between beating myself up and wondering why every man I meet doesn’t fall in love with me, it’s actually amazing I’m able to function at all.

And, to be honest, because honesty is the word of the day, it is actually hard for me to function when a guy I fancy is hitting on a friend of mine and not me. To quote Pat Benatar and not Jordin Sparks, I don’t know who that goddamn bitch is fooling with her “new” song, “Love is a battlefield.” And I fight like those people fought over Oprah’s free KFC coupons. Those brave souls.

Ladies, we need to be nice to each other. If you like a guy and you know I like him, don’t be a dick and pretend that you don’t notice that he’s hitting on you. Hint: if he threw you into the pool, he’s hitting on you. Guys are sometimes very easy to understand. And women are the mindfucks.

Does the previous paragraph make no sense? That doesn’t matter at all really, because my point is this, and I’ve said this from (almost) day one of my blog:

Would Brigitte Bardot put up with this bullshit?

Fuck no you dumb bitch. I need one of those memes, those, “Look at this goddamn president” memes made up for Bardot. BUT THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW. Remember what BB said: “I don’t get left. I leave. I decide.”

I was at a party and everyone else had left, and it was down to 7 of us, and everyone is coupled off except for me. Did I feel like an ignored loser? Fuck no, I grabbed my shit and left, without saying goodbye because 1.)I doubt they’d notice, as I mentioned there were 2 couples on the deck and the couple in the goddamn pool who are practically in love with each other but won’t admit it and 2.) Because I need all the attention and drama. Home Alone 2. Home. Alone. 2.

Ladies; if you’re at a party and you’re not being paid attention to, and the guy/girl you like is hitting on your friend, then 1.) hit on someone else at the party, preferably hotter or 2.) just leave. Because you don’t get left. You leave. You decide.

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She's Just Not That Into You.

Jun

2009

I think I finally have an idea of what it’s like to be a guy.

I ran into a guy I knew from somewhere (vagueness is key on the internet). I was in a jovial mood so I invited the guy for a drink. I wasn’t looking for anything serious with this guy but I thought some drunken flirting, kissing, etc might be fun.

Two martinis later (vodka, dirty, always, please, thank you) I decided that it had been way too long since I last had sex. So against the Audrey Hepburn part of my brain, I decided, “Fuck it, I’m allowed to have fun and get laid.” I followed this gentleman back to his house.

Sexing ensued. And at some point during it, I realized, to quote the Bluth family, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.” This gentleman really actually *liked* me. Like liked, liked. “Do-you-like-me-Check-yes-or-no” like.

I’ve been this guy before, the “I like you guy”, the one making cute little jokes, cuddling, so happy to be in the bed with a certain person. Thinking that everything was going so well. But, unfortunately for him, he’s not what I was looking for. I was looking to get laid, plain and simple. No messiness, no promises of future dates, just a fun romp. But he didn’t know this, and how could he? Now here is where I understand where men are coming from.

Because see, there’s nothing actually wrong with his guy. He’s adorable, kind, etc. It’s not like there was something he could have done to change my mind/feelings about him. It’s just that he’s not what I want right now. It’s like if I went into a store and said, “Show me your best china” and you brought me back a Marc Jacobs coat, I would say, “That’s a great coat but that’s not at all what I’m looking for.”

Now I get it. I get why things seem to be going so great with a guy — we have a great evening, kissing, cuddling, etc — only to not hear from him the next day. I’m just not “it”. Not what he’s looking for. “Just not that into me” etc. And it’s actually true. Because I’m a Marc Jacobs coat, he knows, I know it. But he’s looking for cutlery. And you can’t cut a steak with a coat.

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Karaoke.

Jun

2009

HEY GANG!

I’ve been MIA lately (I’ve got more records than the KGB, too). I’ve been sick. I got a CANKER SORE in my THROAT. I had constant throat pain. I was on vicodin and something even stronger.

But the great news is that I lost a lot of weight! Sadly I think I may have gained it all back at this point. But I’ve never been so thin in my life. I guess that will happen when you can’t eat solid food for a week.

Now I guess I have to rely on eating well and exercising. It’s 2009 haven’t we found something easier yet? Someone should make a pill that decreases your appetite the way it does when you’re sick without totally damaging your immune system. Or I could just take a bunch of diet pills with a bunch of caffeine pills and see what happens. I’m guessing it will be a “On this very special episode of ‘Saved By The Bell'” moment.

I am so lazy. Exercise is a perpetual chore that has seemingly no end unless I want to be fat and miserable for the rest of my life. I have found though that Karaoke is fantastic exercise, although the risk of embarrassment is far greater. Or maybe not, I often trip when I jog, and it seems like I’m constantly pulling my sweatpants up.

Karaoke will take you from this:

(a perfectly polished nice lady, with an admittedly messy room)

to this:

(a beast. OF BURDEN! see it’s funny because that’s what I was singing at the time.)

My favorite songs to whip out for Karaoke are “Poker Face”, “Bitch”, “Beast of Burden”, anything by Winehouse, “One Way Or Another” and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. I gotta say though, I am very serious about my Karaoke and I kind of hate it when people hog the mic. It’s like, we listened to your very special rendition of “Lady In Red” now please give me the mic before I grind your bones to make my bread.

But one of my absolutely favorite ways to Karaoke is to “Shatnerize” everything. You know, sit on a stool (preferably with a cigarette) and talk your way through the song. Shatnerizing works especially well with David Bowie songs, for some reason, which is what I did with “Starman”:

I…didn’t know what…time it was.
The lights were…low.
I leaned back on my…radio.
Some cat. Was laying down some rock and or roll.
“Lotta soul!!”
He said.

Try it sometime. Finally I prefer Karaoke in front of a crowd as opposed to having a private room. When I’m in a private room I feel like I’m just playing Rock Band and I’m thinking, I paid $26.41 for this? But when you’re in front of a crowd it’s SERIOUS. BUSINESS. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s REAL. Real awesome.

In conclusion, my all-time Karaoke goal is to duet with Adam Lambert. I might settle for Zachary Quinto.