Are you in New York City? Are you planning on being in New York City? Do you want to be in New York City? If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, you should hop on over to my Yelp page and see where you should be going and what you should be doing (or, where and what you should be avoiding at all costs). A few people think I’m funny, cool, and/or useful - maybe you will too! Or, maybe you’ll think I’m a useless twat. Either way!
It was recently brought to my attention that I’m a little sassy, and that some people take offense to this. Of couse, my sassiness (some might say bitchiness, or worse) is something I’m very aware of, and I do recognize that it can be problematic at times. In many situations though, it’s a good thing - it can make people laugh, it can provide me with good material for my blog, etc. However, I should be more cognizant of the fact that my sassiness may (a) offend people and (b) be used as a crutch such that it takes over my entire personality. I realized that latter point as I took a look at a recent photo of myself. On New Year’s Eve, I used Photo Booth on my Mac to take a picture of my makeup just to be sure that I didn’t look all kinds of jenky. And, please, just take a look at the resulting photo (it has been edited, obviously, in an attempt to crop out/blur out my apartment). Apparently, I can’t help but look sassy and bitchy even in a photo for my own use in evaluating my makeup:
1. Heineken Light
2. “I could drink a cigarette faster than I could drink a beer.”
3. “He’s probably gay. He’s probably given a handjob and thought that was OK.”
4. Crew neck t-shirts with blazers
5. People from Queens
6. People with enough free time to own dogs
7. Terrible pick-up lines: “I’m not ready to get married, but if you have the ring already, then maybe.”
8. Broken glass mixed with gin and tonic
9. Being aggressively touched by strangers
10. This shirt:
Can you guess where I was? But of course, a “bar” in Meatpacking. It wasn’t really a bar, club, or lounge; rather, it was that strange hybrid of all three that only Meatpacking seems capable of producing.
2011 was a year of major changes for me, although certain things remained the same (as tends to happen). I grew up a lot over the course of the year - I learned to be OK on my own (really on my own, not just living alone) and I developed a love of bleu cheese, über-peaty scotch, brussels sprouts, and full-bodied red wines. I let go of certain rules, though I developed some new ones. I let new people into my life and I kicked others out. The latter part of 2011 will likely be the most memorable though.
It wasn’t until mid-2011 that I really began to feel like an adult - and it wasn’t the financial independence, increased responsibilities at work, or general lifestyle in Manhattan that made me feel this way. Rather, it was shaking some of the negative influences from my youth and college days and associating more with a whole host of new and diverse people. I’ve been exposed to a new side of life, New York, and myself through the people I met and got to know in 2011. And, by better defining my social life and friend group this past year as compared to years prior - when I would let rules, obligations, and social pressures dictate my life - I felt more mature and in control. I’ve also discovered a lot more about human nature, interpersonal relationships, and what it is that I want and need.
Some of the people that indirectly taught me these lessons are still in my life, others are not, and others are being or will likely be phased out - but regardless of these individuals’ roles in my life come next New Year’s Eve, they will always be an integral part of that “coming of age” period of my life - you know, that year or so we see portrayed in movies like Good Will Hunting, The Graduate, and Almost Famous, the period of your life that you one day talk to your kids about as they are finally embarking on their adult journeys.
I’m excited for what 2012 holds, and I feel like I’m in a much better place to begin a new year of my life - more confident, happier, and self-assured - than I was last New Year’s Eve. So, to 2011, goodbye. It’s time for you to go, like each year before you, but I certainly won’t forget you.
I love this person. And people tell me I have poor taste in men. I just can’t understand why they would say that!
This week, someone told me that they feel as though New Year’s Eve is incredibly overhyped. I responded that the same thing could be said about nearly any holiday. Why do we get so excited about eating turkey, which is inevitably going to be dry and unsatisfying, on the made-up anniversary of the day that perhaps some colonists dined with Native Americans instead of infecting them with smallpox and killing them off with their superior weaponry? Why do we all give each other chocolate and $3 teddy bears to commemorate a “religious figure” who illegally married young, naïve couples from his jail cell? Why do we get so giddy over the thought that some fat man with ruddy checks (i.e. an alcoholic) is going to break into our house via our chimney and leave behind gifts (or lumps of coal) after abusing an entire heard of reindeer?
It’s not the original meaning behind these holidays that matters anymore; rather, what’s important about holidays is that they give us the opportunity to come together with others over something positive for a change. Which is even more meaningful given that we live in a world that is full of negativity and clouded by the endless stream of depressing stories offered to us by the 24-hour news sources. What I’m saying might be a bit twee, and others would likely argue that holidays are only good for commerical reasons, for capitalistic pursuits. Nonetheless, if we just choose to look at holidays through a more positive lens, I think we could all agree that they offer a much-needed break from the “tragedies” of everyday life and provide an occasion to connect with others or reconnect with loved ones. And, really, could you ask for anything better than that?
Regardless though, if any holiday involves Ryan Gosling wrapped in a string of lights, I’m in.
(Source: feministryangosling)
It doesn’t give me enough characters to be moody and introspective. So I can only be snarky and vulgar. For the most part, at least. You all should follow me there.
Word: Golden Dick, noun, gold-en dick
Definition: A slang term that refers to a male partner, sexual or romantic, with high net-worth who bestows much of his wealth onto his female companion. Synonyms include “Sugar Daddy,” “Caretaker,” “Baller,” and “Big Poppa,” among others.
“Ooo girl, where’d you get that fine-ass bracelet from? That shit looks like it must have cost twenty-grand! Where are you getting all your money from?”
“Oh, you know, God.”
“Oh come on now, I know God didn’t come down from Heaven like that.”
“Alright well, you know, I date wealthy men.”
“So you found yourself a golden dick?”
“More or less.”
“That’s right, bitch. God didn’t give you that. God gave you a hole for you to make your money from.”
You all don’t know this, but music is a huge part of my life. Listening to music is one of my favorite pastimes. I am totally content just sitting on my couch, listening to music, and doing nothing else. I can be a bit ADD at times and flip around a lot. Alternatively, I sometimes find myself fixated on one song and will listen to it 17+ times in a row. I listen to music in the morning, at night, while I run errands, pretty much all day during work (much to the chagrin of my co-workers, who already struggle to be heard by me given that I’m deaf in my left ear), etc. As such, I decided to put together a list of my 50 favorite songs of the year - the music that’s been keeping my ears cozy all year long. Some songs were released in 2011 while others came out in years prior and were only discovered by me this year - so I’ve organized my list into 2011 Songs and Non-2011 Songs. I initally attempted to order these songs based on my level of love for them, but that was extremelty difficult, so you all should think of this as a list “in no particular order.” I hope you all enjoy at least one of these songs as much as I do, and I’ve tried to link as many songs as possible to Bandcamp so you all can listen to them in full and purchase them - if you want - in order to support these great artists. I think they’re all pretty aurgasmic.
2011 Songs
Non-2011 Songs
When I joined Tumblr, I did so because I thought it offered a better platform to interact with other bloggers and potentially other like-minded people than the comparatively austere WordPress. However, I did not realize that Tumblr was more or less Pinterest Part 1, full of 16 to 19-year-old girls reposting pictures of anything ranging from glitter to hardcore penetration gifs without really attributing anything to anyone. It can be annoying having my dashboard comprised almost solely of pictures, gifs, and quotes (particularly when they get reblogged multiple times by others that I follow), and sometimes I’m just aggravated when someone posts something I love (a dress, a hotel, a shade of nail polish) but I have no way of finding out where it came from. I just can’t figure out how no one on Tumblr gets in trouble for essentially stealing the work of others or why we are all so content getting spammed by “curated content” blogs. To be fair, there are some that I love, follow, and draw inspiration from, but I regularly come across copy-cat blogs or blogs that are more sloppily curated, and I can’t understand how they have amassed so many followers.
I’ve been on the hunt for some great original content blogs on Tumblr, but it’s been harder than I would have imagined. In my (brief) quest, which took place via a Google search, I came across an amazing article on Get Off My Internets that discusses the way in which Tumblr has completely clouded the meaning of “original content” such that it has become increasingly more difficult to find anyone on here that shares unique thoughts:
I’ve gotta say, this continual PR push from Tumblr that a valued blog is one composed of content that doesn’t belong to the blog owner and is instead the equivalent of an inspiration board or magazine cutout scrapbook has got to be really frustrating to the bloggers that actually try. Even Sara Zucker…must wonder why she even tries. She could start posting photos of her favorite editorial spreads and call it a day. They’d still love her for her “original” stringing together of pretty pictures.
I get that they want blogs with a strong follower base and consistently high traffic, but to say that they chose these bloggers because of original content is way off the mark and, frankly, embarrassing in the way it’s embarrassing to watch someone say something really stupid in front of a crowd. Are they confused about the definition of “original content”? Are they egotistical enough to think they can define it however they want? Probably both.
I could be old-fashioned, but I think it sets a poor example to reward people for hijacking other people’s hard work. Their argument would probably be that the Tumblr platform is designed for reblogging and content sharing. However, if that means that a blog entirely composed of stolen photos with credit only randomly assigned is something to be celebrated, then their leadership is even more intellectually challenged than I thought. Hmm, actually? It’s par for the course.
Ironically enough, I’ve kind of “stolen” someone else’s content for the purposes of this post - but at least I attributed it! In any event, if anyone knows of a great blog featuring mostly original content, please let me know. It’s always nice to get a taste of others’ writing styles, be exposed to new ideas and opinions, etc.
I’ve always been one for escapism. My whole life, I’ve loved acting, dressing up in costumes, seeing plays, going to movies, and generally doing anything that will allow me to be someone else or insert myself into some other life for a brief moment. It’s not that I’m unhappy with myself or my own life - it’s just that there are so many other lives, situations, personalities, images, identities, etc. that I’d like to try out. Life is too short for monotony, so I try to branch out and explore when possible. However, I am very tethered to reality by this unrelenting need to be “right” or “good.” I am intensely practical and focused on advancement of goals, collection of accomplishments, etc. As such, I find it hard to engage in any “escapist” activities on more than a superficial level. Nowhere is this better displayed than through my hair.
I have long, dense, rather pretty hair - if I can go ahead and just say that about myself - and I keep it cut in a very conservative, “classic” style. There are very few layers in the back, there are long layers around the front to keep it from looking heavy, I part it on the side, I wear it straight nearly every day, and that’s about it. Nothing too exciting. I always fear getting a wild haircut, as it takes so long to grow out - and if I really hate it, I don’t know how I would handle being stuck with it for months. I had one horrible, awful haircut at the age of 10 that ruined my self-esteem and social life for years, and I had another less-than-great haircut in college that required a ridiculous amount of maintenance, Therefore, I try to steer clear of anything that’s going to be “permanently” ugly or unmanageable.
I do, however, get extremely bored with my hair and thus my overall appearance, so I turn to color as the solution. Color can be covered, so I view it as a “temporary” means to imitate some other person who I see any think, “I love their look.” Naturally, my hair is a light brown color with blondish streaks here and there. Not bad. Actually quite pretty. Nonetheless, I’ve been covering it with dye for the past five or six years. In just the past 12 months, my hair went from a somewhat brassy, medium brown to medium brown with a smattering of highlights, to a very highlighted blond, to a cool dark brown, to a somewhat botched ombre, and then to a very botched red/plum. Right now, I am recovering from the red disaster and have been trying to get it to fade for about two months. On Saturday, I have an appointment at a new salon to try and correct this dye job gone wrong, where I hope they can remove some of the red without having to dye my hair a very dark brown. Even though I look fine with very dark hair given that my eyebrows are practically black, I’m really more interested in going back to my “natural” color. When I say natural though, I actually mean a little darker with a few highlights around my face in a kind of ombre style - but certainly no overall ombre again.
How my hair isn’t falling out, I don’t know. And why I continue to put myself through potential chromatic agony, I can’t explain. In the last year, four or five of my seven or eight dye jobs have resulted in anger or tears. As my best friend said to me this morning while discussing my hair appointment on Saturday:
I feel like you going to the salon is like the kickoff at the first game of the Miami Dolphins season every year. So much hope, but disappointment is inevitable.
So, we’ll see how Saturday goes. I know this intense red pigment is going to complicate things tremendously, so this might be a month long process. But I’m kind of excited. My new salon is in Brooklyn and is half hair salon, half tattoo parlor. The man cutting my hair is named Corvette and is a former drag queen. So this is either going to be awesome or awful.
Maybe this past year of minor hair traumas and thousands of dollars down the drain should be a lesson to me that I should give up this need for escapism, this chromatic wanderlust, and just be content with myself - but hey, where’s the fun in that?
During my senior year of college, I began to date one of my best friends. He and I had been extremely close for a little over a year, had watched each other go through shitty relationship issues, and generally could say just about anything to one another. The transition to a romantic relationship, as you can probably imagine, was a little challenging. Particularly because I was so hesitant. However, he went above and beyond what most guys would do to woo a woman and worked extremely hard to make me comfortable, to get me to commit to a relationship, and to make the switch from buddies to boyfriend/girlfriend as easy as possible.
One day, however, he “slipped up.” While joking around about whether or not we were going to ever have sex (I insisted that would never happen, that is, until I drank an entire bottle of Nuvo - don’t ask…), he called me a “cum dumpster.” I thought this was hilarious and cracked up laughing. We then continued on with our conversation and finally went on our merry ways to class, or beer pong tournaments, or whatever it was that we did back then.
A few hours later, I received a phone call from him. Now, let me preface this by saying - this guy has called people troglodytes, Nazis, lobotomized Down Syndrome retards, idiot savants, c*nts, whores, etc. When I picked up the phone, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. He sounded like how you would imagine a dog would sound if they could come and tell you, “Hey, so I just crapped in your shoe. Whoops!” I asked him what was wrong, and he goes, “Listen, I just want to apologize for what I called you earlier. I know you didn’t take it seriously, but that’s just such an awful, grotesque thing to call you and, well, I’m just really sorry.”
Since then, I have incorporated “cum dumpster” into my vocabulary wholeheartedly. I have found, however, that men - across the board - take offense to this term. I can say “slampiece,” “slampig,” “c*nt,” etcetera without any man batting an eye (or, at least without giving me a negative response), but to this term, I have almost universally heard that I should never utter that word again. That all changed last night though when chatting with a male friend - who is 28-years-old - about the term. He proceeded to whip out his phone and show me the Contacts entry above - which refers to a “whore” he knows with lip injections. The phrase used might be slightly different, but it is very close and essentially means the same thing. So, I’m glad to see that all is right in the world. I knew all guys couldn’t possibly be opposed to this hilarious term.
There are so many things and so many people that make my life wonderful, and I just wanted to put it out there in the universe that I really value and appreciate all of that. There have been too many days lately where I’m down and whiny and generally feel like life kind of sucks and that no one in mine really matters at all - but that’s just not true. I have some really amazing friends; an incredible, unique, loving family; and I get to live in one of the greatest cities in the world where I can try so many new things, eat new foods, be exposed to awesome music, etc. So, today, I just want to say thanks for making my life so beautiful. Because I don’t do that often enough.
Is this adorable and romantic? Or, do you just think to yourself, “Damn, dude, your girlfriend is a fucking idiot. Who goes bare-legged in 5 inch heels out into the snow?” Alternatively, is this a romanticized photo of the “morning after” slash “walk of shame”? So many possibilities!
(Source: thebadboyisback, via abigaillx)
