she bangs

Like Speaks To Like

May 12, 2013

One of the most intelligent women in my life (that’s you Maid Marian), looked me square in the eyes, and said:

“You aren’t learning a lesson here. You are getting beat over the head with it.”

She was right.

And my head @#$%ing hurt.

Basically, I’ve been so focused on my fears…and so obsessed with my fear…I’ve managed to attract the things I fear most.

I have literally drawn these things (and people) to me. Like a magnet.

Before I attempt to replace the fear. And focus on what I really want (rather than what I don’t want or cannot control). Before I can comfortably let go of this heavy cargo. I have to share one last terrifying thought.

I’m afraid I make faces ridiculous enough to go on greeting cards. Either that, or I had a daughter. And I didn’t know I was pregnant or gave birth.

Please see example included below.

Now, I’m letting go…

 

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Revelations

January 18, 2013

These are, by far, the most profound things that have crossed my mind since the start of the new year…

  • All tights should be crotchless. Every single pair. I’ve got some Spanx (I’m not ashamed to admit it) with an amazing adjustable crotch – so once you get the mother@#$%ers on – you DON’T have to take them off…until you actually want to take them off. If you’ve never worn tights, you won’t appreciate this crotchless sentiment. Just know that tights are one of the best and worst things ever manufactured for women. The individual that finally opened up the crotch is a genius. Nothing is worse than trying to get them to fit like they did the first time you put them on. I’ll say it one more time. All crotchless everything. I mean, all crotchless tights.
  • You don’t need to pay for collagen. You just need a terrible cold. I recently rubbed my lips so raw, while repeatedly blowing my nose, that they blew up like big, red balloons. They were dry. And they hurt. But they were superstar beautiful (I swear). I slapped a little lip gloss on those bad boys, and they were good as new. They were also the only thing you could see on my face, aside from my dry, red nose. Ridiculously hot. I know.
  • Speaking of having a terrible cold…I don’t understand where snot comes from. I don’t know where it’s made. I just know it’s disgusting. I don’t want little snot gnomes creating congestion and pressure in my head. Ever again.
  • I read something (a long time ago) that said…

If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.

For some reason, that sentiment keeps coming back to me. It reminds me how much the people I love, and I, deserve a better 2013.

  • My sister from another mister (that’s you Peg) says “emotions are like opinions, they’re not right or wrong.” She says we’re all entitled to feel however we want whenever we want…to feel that way (whatever way that is). She says things like this to me all the time. But this one really stuck. It reminds me how hard it can be not to judge others. And it reminds me how devastating it can feel to be judged. It also reminds me how important it is to allow not only yourself, but the people you care about, to feel anything and everything there is to feel. Because if it’s not felt, if you hold back, if you just bottle it all up inside…it will eventually…shut you down.
  • I have a really unhealthy relationship with Pitbull. Not the dog. The man. The rapper (is he technically a rapper?). I love him. You can laugh now. Unless you love him (and Bud Light Platinum) too (insert fist pump here).
  • I want to be the person who writes the messages on/in greeting cards. It would save me so much money on…greeting cards. And, I am so inspired by the people and unique occasions in my life. In fact, some of you have already inspired entire collections. I might have to change the names of the collections to protect you. And to protect me from you. But you’ve still seriously inspired me. I know I could make cards that somebody as demented as I would want to buy. So, how do I do this? Where do I start?
  • THE FIRST LADY CUT BANGS. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. This means, not only could I be the head of a Mexican drug cartel, I could also be The First Lady. Needless to say, my future is SO bright right now.
  • I really want triceps. I wonder if you can buy them.
  • Few things are as difficult as forgiveness. It’s hard to ask for forgiveness. It’s hard to believe you deserve to be forgiven. It’s hard to forgive others. It’s just as hard to forgive yourself. And it’s hard to move forward, even when you’ve told yourself, or somebody else, you forgave.
  • On that note, I am surrounded by people who forgive. They constantly teach and impress me. I have so much to learn from them. And so much to be thankful for. I am so thankful for them.
  • I need someone who has had laser hair removal, a Brazilian bikini wax and given birth – to compare the three types of pain for me. I need to know if they are at all similar or related, in any way. And no, I am not considering giving birth.
  • Having the ability to read lips is both a blessing and a curse. It made me a great bartender. I could have your drink in hand before you actually told me what you wanted, because I could see you tell your friends what you wanted from across the room. But this gift has also made me a cranky biatch. I have watched women talk @#$% about my weight, my outfit, how they felt about the man I was with (AWESOME) or even worse, I’ve watched some of my best friends talk about me behind…err…in front of my back. I’m not saying I’m not guilty of doing the very same thing. I’m just saying, you start thinking twice about doing things like this when you can read lips. You (also meaning I) shouldn’t do it anyway. But when you know how it feels, when you can actually see it happening to you, when you can actually read every catty word coming out of a person’s mouth…and it’s all about you…it sincerely makes you want to try to be the nicest version of yourself. It makes you want to be a better human being, even if you mess up from time to time.
  •  All condiments should be served in a little glass jar, with a little wooden spoon. Next to fried chicken and a waffle. On top of bacon. Thank you Oliver Ridgeway.

 

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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.

http://vimeo.com/38030448

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.

 

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