November 2012

From A to Z

November 16, 2012

Let’s call this a writing exercise.

And let’s hope it works.

I’m going to use the alphabet – yes – the alphabet – to try to get myself through a (publishable) blog post.

I honestly don’t know what else to do. I’m @#$%ing stuck.

So, I picked the alphabet to prompt me…one letter at a time.

I’m almost embarrassed…almost…

A is for a$$hole. It’s the first word that came to mind. And it’s my first letter. Cut me some slack. Ok. I changed my mind. A is for animation. This cartoon makes me smile. Thank you JC Little. Thank you so much for this.

Cartoon Courtesy of the Seriously Talented, JC Little

B is for bangs. DUH. B is also for Broncos. And burgers.

C is for campaign. I still think Ke$ha should have been elected President. This gem is just one of the many reasons why…

“I think people can stand to take themselves just a little less seriously. I’m fighting the war against pretension.” – Ke$ha

D is for Dempster. Amy Dempster, if you’re reading this, I cannot begin to thank you for all you do for me…including your terribly inappropriate text messages. I heart you, and the texts (please don’t stop sending them).

E is for Eminem. And Rihanna. I’m obsessed with “Love the Way You Lie, Pt. II.”

F is for friends that still believe in you, even when you’ve stopped believing in yourself.

G is for Gangnam Style. Why am I so obsessed with this air pony riding South Korean dude? I love his music video. I love it so much. I want to ride an air pony, right now.

H is for Harry and the Hendersons. I have NO idea why, but I can’t stop thinking about the scene in the movie where John Lithgow is trying to send Harry back into the wilderness. He tells him he doesn’t love him anymore (but he really does). I think he might even slap the poor Sasquatch. It’s awful. I’ve thought about this scene at least once a day for the last two weeks. I haven’t seen this movie in years, maybe more than a decade. I have to see it again. Soon.

I is for ice skating. I’ve never been. And I will probably never go. I’m afraid I’ll break my ankles. Both of them. At the same time. I’m completely capable of something like that.

J is for Jay-Z. And Justin Timberlake. We could have had it all.

K is for Kevin Fippin. And Curtis Corona. One day, these two are going to be my backup dancers/hype guys in a very famous YouTube video. Mark my words.

L is for learning something new every day. I’m basically Billy Madison (thanks for the reference, Potty Animal). If the alphabet wasn’t your first clue, I’m going back to Kindergarten.

M is for McFlurry. I really want one right now. And some Mexican food.

N is for New York. I’d give just about anything to get good news from you right now. Patience has certainly never been my virtue. But, I really want and need this win. I would not disappoint. Not you. Or me. I promise.

O is for Oregon. It’s an inside joke. It’s not actually that funny (at least not to me). But I don’t have a better word for “O.” So, you’re being forced to participate in a bad, inside joke. I’m sorry.

P is for P!nk. These are some of my favorite lyrics from one of my favorite new P!nk songs:

“The Great Escape”

Oh, terrified of the dark, but not if you go with me

And I don’t need a pill to make me numb

And I wrote the book on runnin’,

But that chapter of my life will soon be done

I’m the king queen of the great escape

You’re not gonna watch me checkin out of this place

You’re not gonna lose me

Cause the passion and pain

Are gonna keep us alive someday

Yeah the passion and the pain

Are gonna keep us alive someday, someday

Q is for qrap (it’s technically – crap). Can I text a friend? I’m texting Paul Lanning. We’re almost always both awake in the middle of the night. This just happened to be one of the few times Paul passed out before me. Lucky for me (and Paul), I chose to sleep on this post before publishing. And…I woke up to a text from him. Q is for quinoa. Thanks PL. You’re…I mean…we’re…amazing. Right?

R is for Robert Thomason. Brace yourselves. I have put this off long enough. It’s time to break all of your hearts (if you’ve been following along). Robert and I can no longer be pen pals. I did respond to his last letter. He sent me two letters in response…to my response. I vividly remember the day I got them. I needed them. I needed THAT kind of smile on my face. I ripped the first letter open, and no sooner dropped it…as if someone had lit the paper on fire in my hands. I ripped open the second letter. I was sure it was a practical joke. It was not. The second letter was even worse than the first. My sweet, too-good-to-be-true, little, old man, my first novel, my New York MoMA moment…said something about touching tongues. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. Rest in peace, Robert. He is still alive (as far I know); I’m simply AND understandably killing our newfound friendship.

S is for shit (I had to spell it out this time). You just can’t make this shit up. I swear this kind of shit only happens to me (please refer to “R”).

T is for Tequila Avión. I don’t know why I haven’t already aggressively approached them about being some type of official ambassador for their brand. I have a few solid tequila drinking, Vegas/Miami/Mexico/Wherever going years left in me. I really feel like my tolerance, plus my bangs, plus their product…are a perfect fit. And if it’s not Tequila Avión, I should probably contact the company that manufactures my flat iron. We’re also meant to be.

U is for ugly. U-G-L-Y you ain’t go no alibi, you’re ugly. I heart Wildcats.

V is for vodka. Or vajazzling. Take your pick.

W is for water. I should drink more of it. But I have zero desire. I’d rather eat fish sticks.

X is for XOXO, which is my really lame way of bringing this blog around to Gossip Girl, one of my many guilty pleasures. The love of my life, Chuck Bass, had to be mentioned at some point. And I used C for Ke$ha. I thought this made the most sense.

Y is for YOUR bed. The one YOU made. The one YOU’RE having trouble sleeping in. I’m mostly talking to myself here. Mostly.

Z is for Zooey Deschanel. She bangs.



Potty Animal

November 4, 2012

I’ve been trying, for what seems like A LIFETIME, to update my blog.

I’ve written several new posts. None of which I finished. All of which now reside in my blog morgue.

I’m STILL trying to write a new post. For one reason, or another, I just can’t do it.

I want to beat my head against a wall (I think I’ll drink mimosas instead).

In the meantime, and because I can’t stand the thought of my blog being stagnant much longer, I’d like to exploit my friend Maren.

I warned her. I told her to stop sending me these pics. I told her if she didn’t stop, they’d end up on the blog.

She just couldn’t help herself.

She keeps sending them my way.

Maren takes pictures of herself – in restrooms – and randomly texts them to me (Lord knows who else gets them).

Lucky for me (and for Maren I suppose), she is gorgeous, even on the pot.

The photos are ridiculous, but totally tolerable (you’ll see).

Bottom line…Maren really is one-of-a-kind.

I feel like I could put her on a time-out and she would actually sit in her room until I told her she could come out and play.

She’s eternally optimistic. And those of us that aren’t…sort of want to beat the optimism out of her Kardashian-ish a$$ (her buns are truly a work of art).

She’s one of the most generous people I have ever met (which should be obvious, given what she’s willing to share – via text).

Maren can still pull off pigtails. And onesies. I bet she could even make overalls look good.

And she’s amusing. So amusing. She’s amusing like one of those cymbal-banging monkeys. You want to clap and giggle when she claps and giggles. You don’t even know why you want to do it. You don’t even realize you’re doing it once you start doing it. You just become a cymbal-banging monkey when you’re with her. She’s THAT amusing (at least I think she is).

Maren reminds me, every day, why you shouldn’t take yourself too seriously.

She has a @#$% ton of fun.

She reminds (and reassures) me that you can grow up, but you should NEVER lose your kid at heart.

Maren is one of my best friends. I bust her chops about these seriously stupid pictures, but they make me laugh so hard. They NEVER fail to put a ginormous smile on my face. I am so grateful for Maren’s lust for life. I am so grateful for each and every one of my friends. I feel more grateful for them every day. They are literally bringing me back to life. I’m not sure how I will ever be able to repay them for that.

So, without further delay, I’d like to humiliate my favorite Potty Animal, Maren…

Bizness Casual

I Gotta Feeling


"Civilized" Savage

You Are My Sunshine

Hook & Ladder? I barely know her.

And for my final act...

P.S. I know it’s hard to believe…but I did get permission to use all of these photos.