I was totally trucking through life, just thinking Leonardo DiCaprio was no longer crush-worthy and a pretty mediocre actor that seemed exactly the same in every movie. Then I watched him crash Jonah Hill's SNL monologue and thought "What the fuck?! He's a total babe. Like... he's a golden God. I ...I love him."
That's really all I had to tell you guys. I'm back into the way Leonardo DiCaprio looks again. I haven't felt this way since he climbed on top of Vera Farmiga in The Departed.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
I Have Really Always Loved A Good Turtleneck
When I was a little girl, around 11 and 12, my mom was into dressing me somewhere between a little preppy nerd and a cool girl. At the time, my parents had just become separated and we had my mother's cousin Jody as a roommate. She was a hair stylist so my 80's coifs were on point daily.
I also remember during this time getting clothing for Christmas and actually enjoying it. I didn't yet realize how much I would come to enjoy it in the future, but there were a few key pieces that I just felt very comfy and girly and cool in. One was a pink turtleneck with tulips around the collar and a matching sweatshirt (nerd heaven!). The other was my blue Guess sweatshirt.
This sweatshirt was a bold shade of blue somewhere between teal, cerulean and royal with the large, black Guess upside down triangle on the front. It was basically perfect. Especially for my complexion and hair color. I remember just really liking it a lot. It was simple, casual, authentic (not some bullshit knockoff crap), comfortable and cute. I would wear it a lot with whatever jeans or stretchies; pack my two different Esprit book bags full, let Jody spray my head full of Scruples hairspray (does anyone remember that stuff?!) and be on my merry way to school.
I wasn't always wanting more, I didn't wear the sweatshirt because it was name brand, that was just a perk. I didn't carry the Esprit bags because they were prepster essentials, I was just handed them and I liked the size and shape and colors. I didn't really know any better. I saw them in Hudson's department store, knew they were most likely cool, and went with it. My mother wasn't attempting to make me into a snob, she just thought I looked cute in these things. I didn't start demanding more and more designer clothing (well, I did want Multiples when they came out, but that was more just 80's fad worship). I didn't see these things as essentials for my well-being in my social circle is the point I'm trying to make here.
I think I would just like life to be like my old Guess sweatshirt and Esprit bags. Sure, it's lovely to know I have a badass sweatshirt and a rad book bag, but then I just sometimes want it to stop there. Maybe a great hair bow. But I don't then need every pair of my jeans to also be Guess. I don't need my life to revolve around more. Contentment with the lovely things I have should come first. More has become so rampant in my lifestyle that I don't remember a time before it. And it's not just me wanting more, it's more being given to me in such a manner that it becomes second nature. Where is the line between really enjoying all of these blessings and this life, and this life becoming ....too much? Is being aware of it enough to keep me from falling over the edge?
brb, going to search eBay for that Guess sweatshirt.
I also remember during this time getting clothing for Christmas and actually enjoying it. I didn't yet realize how much I would come to enjoy it in the future, but there were a few key pieces that I just felt very comfy and girly and cool in. One was a pink turtleneck with tulips around the collar and a matching sweatshirt (nerd heaven!). The other was my blue Guess sweatshirt.
This sweatshirt was a bold shade of blue somewhere between teal, cerulean and royal with the large, black Guess upside down triangle on the front. It was basically perfect. Especially for my complexion and hair color. I remember just really liking it a lot. It was simple, casual, authentic (not some bullshit knockoff crap), comfortable and cute. I would wear it a lot with whatever jeans or stretchies; pack my two different Esprit book bags full, let Jody spray my head full of Scruples hairspray (does anyone remember that stuff?!) and be on my merry way to school.
I wasn't always wanting more, I didn't wear the sweatshirt because it was name brand, that was just a perk. I didn't carry the Esprit bags because they were prepster essentials, I was just handed them and I liked the size and shape and colors. I didn't really know any better. I saw them in Hudson's department store, knew they were most likely cool, and went with it. My mother wasn't attempting to make me into a snob, she just thought I looked cute in these things. I didn't start demanding more and more designer clothing (well, I did want Multiples when they came out, but that was more just 80's fad worship). I didn't see these things as essentials for my well-being in my social circle is the point I'm trying to make here.
I think I would just like life to be like my old Guess sweatshirt and Esprit bags. Sure, it's lovely to know I have a badass sweatshirt and a rad book bag, but then I just sometimes want it to stop there. Maybe a great hair bow. But I don't then need every pair of my jeans to also be Guess. I don't need my life to revolve around more. Contentment with the lovely things I have should come first. More has become so rampant in my lifestyle that I don't remember a time before it. And it's not just me wanting more, it's more being given to me in such a manner that it becomes second nature. Where is the line between really enjoying all of these blessings and this life, and this life becoming ....too much? Is being aware of it enough to keep me from falling over the edge?
brb, going to search eBay for that Guess sweatshirt.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Velcro
When I am pressed against other human skin, it's almost impossible for me to disengage. Even when the lures of movement from the bed are "You ready to go look at puppies?" or "Want to go get Starbucks?" it seems impossible. Even when I am told "You stay here with Breaking Bad, I'll go get you a pizza. What kind do you want?" I still cling to skin or t-shirt or throw out a last-minute scalp rub to get him to stay in lockdown for at least a few more minutes.
Deals actually have to be proposed to me to clean myself. "If you start this episode, watch 10 minutes, pause, shower, then you can come right back here and watch the rest while I check movie times." On the sofa? Same diff. I am just as legs intertwined, head on stomach, spooned out as in a bed. Walking down the street? I am tucked under his arm like a clutch. In the car? I am fingers interlaced. You better learn how to drive totally left handed.
I will purposely set my alarm up to an hour early just to hit snooze and cuddle back up because is there anything better than the pillowy moments in the dream-like state between sleeping and awake? No. No there is not.
Oh, you're hot? Your arm is asleep under me? I'm hurting your neck a little? Legs are cramping? None of these conditions are my problem because I am splayed out comfortably across, under, over, or twisted around some part of your body and I will probably stay that way for at least the next 4 hours. Thank you for your patience, body heat, understanding, and getting up to retrieve my Chapstick.
Deals actually have to be proposed to me to clean myself. "If you start this episode, watch 10 minutes, pause, shower, then you can come right back here and watch the rest while I check movie times." On the sofa? Same diff. I am just as legs intertwined, head on stomach, spooned out as in a bed. Walking down the street? I am tucked under his arm like a clutch. In the car? I am fingers interlaced. You better learn how to drive totally left handed.
I will purposely set my alarm up to an hour early just to hit snooze and cuddle back up because is there anything better than the pillowy moments in the dream-like state between sleeping and awake? No. No there is not.
Oh, you're hot? Your arm is asleep under me? I'm hurting your neck a little? Legs are cramping? None of these conditions are my problem because I am splayed out comfortably across, under, over, or twisted around some part of your body and I will probably stay that way for at least the next 4 hours. Thank you for your patience, body heat, understanding, and getting up to retrieve my Chapstick.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
"I'm Sweaty And Sore Right Now, But If You've Got 5 Minutes, I Have A Mouth *Insert Wink*"
New year. New stuff. And old stuff. I mean, some stuff is just good no matter what year it is, you guys.
Things I'm into:
1. Beauty regimen. I've been wearing underliner (eye liner under the eyes) and more color on my mouth. I love it. I pop. And it makes going back to my nude medicated Baby Lips that much more exciting. I'm also washing my face more and moisturizing like I'm in a wind storm. I'm obsessed with cuticle care because I realize now how much I look at other people's hands. I swore this was going to be the year of the more feminine, bombshell me. Pretty hurts.
2. Avocados. Gimme that good fat. I've been putting them everywhere and with everything.
3. My sisters. I've pretty much always been into them, but they're all so different now with different opinions and snarky comments and I love it. They're more grown up than ever, but still down to snuggle me and that's a pretty killer combo.
4. Lazy activism. Luckily, a lot of my friends are involved in charity work and I can jump on their bandwagons and ride away into the giving sunset. This normally includes a great party and a sparkly dress, which is a bonus. I also forward a lot of great feminism or awareness essays. I'm into it! I haven't done anything of my own just yet, but I'm working on it....
5. Blow Jobs. I'm not into saying "no" to some one's sexual needs, but I'm also not keen on having to shower directly after Pure Barre because I don't want to have sex all sweaty and gross. A beej is a great middle ground that is quick, efficient, and I don't miss The Mindy Project. If he's happy, I'm happy. Plus, I get to demand things later on. I enjoy leverage.
6. Great conversations. It is very refreshing to have very intelligent, vocal, analytical friends that pay attention to a plethora of different subjects. I hang out with a great group of open-minded and open-mouthed individuals. They motivate me and inspire me and let me know I'm in a "safe place" when we've all had too much booze.
7. Dressing up. I find myself less and less enthusiastic about denim.....I can't decide if this is a phase or not. But, honestly, skirts and tights or dress pants are more comfortable anyway. If I'm out of yoga tights, I might as well be DAC ready. Within reason, of course.
8. Organization. I am currently in the process of redoing my office. Oh please, baby Jesus, let this be the year I become organized and keep it up. Please.
9. Protein. Not in a fad diet kind of way, but in a way that I need to gain good weight to convert to muscle in Pure Barre. I eat too many salads. (and pizza) I bought 3 different kinds of fish yesterday and individually froze them in the work freezer, so this is a good start. MEAT, y'all.
10. Being happy. Being myself. I'm really happy lately. And content. And people seem to respond really well to it. I have stress, I have worries, but for the most part I'm happy in a way that I'm actually skeptical of my own feelings. I don't normally like to be too happy because I feel it will lead to some sort of tragedy I didn't see coming and feel unprepared for, but it's happening beyond my will and I'm gonna ride this wave out for a while and see what happens. So far, it has only lead to great things.
Things I'm into:
1. Beauty regimen. I've been wearing underliner (eye liner under the eyes) and more color on my mouth. I love it. I pop. And it makes going back to my nude medicated Baby Lips that much more exciting. I'm also washing my face more and moisturizing like I'm in a wind storm. I'm obsessed with cuticle care because I realize now how much I look at other people's hands. I swore this was going to be the year of the more feminine, bombshell me. Pretty hurts.
2. Avocados. Gimme that good fat. I've been putting them everywhere and with everything.
3. My sisters. I've pretty much always been into them, but they're all so different now with different opinions and snarky comments and I love it. They're more grown up than ever, but still down to snuggle me and that's a pretty killer combo.
4. Lazy activism. Luckily, a lot of my friends are involved in charity work and I can jump on their bandwagons and ride away into the giving sunset. This normally includes a great party and a sparkly dress, which is a bonus. I also forward a lot of great feminism or awareness essays. I'm into it! I haven't done anything of my own just yet, but I'm working on it....
5. Blow Jobs. I'm not into saying "no" to some one's sexual needs, but I'm also not keen on having to shower directly after Pure Barre because I don't want to have sex all sweaty and gross. A beej is a great middle ground that is quick, efficient, and I don't miss The Mindy Project. If he's happy, I'm happy. Plus, I get to demand things later on. I enjoy leverage.
6. Great conversations. It is very refreshing to have very intelligent, vocal, analytical friends that pay attention to a plethora of different subjects. I hang out with a great group of open-minded and open-mouthed individuals. They motivate me and inspire me and let me know I'm in a "safe place" when we've all had too much booze.
7. Dressing up. I find myself less and less enthusiastic about denim.....I can't decide if this is a phase or not. But, honestly, skirts and tights or dress pants are more comfortable anyway. If I'm out of yoga tights, I might as well be DAC ready. Within reason, of course.
8. Organization. I am currently in the process of redoing my office. Oh please, baby Jesus, let this be the year I become organized and keep it up. Please.
9. Protein. Not in a fad diet kind of way, but in a way that I need to gain good weight to convert to muscle in Pure Barre. I eat too many salads. (and pizza) I bought 3 different kinds of fish yesterday and individually froze them in the work freezer, so this is a good start. MEAT, y'all.
10. Being happy. Being myself. I'm really happy lately. And content. And people seem to respond really well to it. I have stress, I have worries, but for the most part I'm happy in a way that I'm actually skeptical of my own feelings. I don't normally like to be too happy because I feel it will lead to some sort of tragedy I didn't see coming and feel unprepared for, but it's happening beyond my will and I'm gonna ride this wave out for a while and see what happens. So far, it has only lead to great things.
Friday, January 10, 2014
I Miss Swishing Through The Beverly Center
I'm not sure if it's because I have been light headed for two days with no explanation of why or what, but I have been thinking about and looking at pictures of the years 1999-2003 lately and really missing that time. Like.... really missing it. Can I just describe what that time was like for me?? For starters, I was under 25 years old, so that's just a great jumping off point right there.
Do you even know how many shiny fabrics I wore?? Do you know how big all my cargo pants were an how tiny my shirts?! I was basically a Japanimation character. It was GLORIOUS. I rarely wore a bra because I selected shirts so tight that they held my breasts in place. (because these tits are deliciously small and have literally not moved or changed since I was 19)
I would go out to Palm Springs and select the tiniest dress I could find from one of the 10 dollar dress stores and rock it with ZERO insecurity. The more skin showing, the better.
Sprouty hair? Yes. Bright colors? Absolutely. I was basically the antithesis of everything I am now. Wearing just jeans and a t-shirt was done super ironically and probably included some whacky hair style or wrist band. Or both. Maybe a trucker hat. I wouldn't be caught dead in the cable knit and blazers of now. You couldn't pay me to wear loafers. You have to be KIDDING to even suggest classic slacks or a conservative cocktail dress. Clothing should be bright, tight, plastic and probably metallic. It was all so fun.
I miss my light blue Frankie B "jeans". I miss my flare leg Miss Sixty black jeans. I miss my little Abercrombie board shorts. I miss my gingham (the only preppy print I owned then) "shirts" that were just a piece of material that tied twice in the back.
Seriously... Bring back Delia's catalogs, bring back platform flip flops. Bring back long, swishy cargo skirts and wife beaters all day erry day.
Hit me baby, one more time!
Do you even know how many shiny fabrics I wore?? Do you know how big all my cargo pants were an how tiny my shirts?! I was basically a Japanimation character. It was GLORIOUS. I rarely wore a bra because I selected shirts so tight that they held my breasts in place. (because these tits are deliciously small and have literally not moved or changed since I was 19)
I would go out to Palm Springs and select the tiniest dress I could find from one of the 10 dollar dress stores and rock it with ZERO insecurity. The more skin showing, the better.
Sprouty hair? Yes. Bright colors? Absolutely. I was basically the antithesis of everything I am now. Wearing just jeans and a t-shirt was done super ironically and probably included some whacky hair style or wrist band. Or both. Maybe a trucker hat. I wouldn't be caught dead in the cable knit and blazers of now. You couldn't pay me to wear loafers. You have to be KIDDING to even suggest classic slacks or a conservative cocktail dress. Clothing should be bright, tight, plastic and probably metallic. It was all so fun.
I miss my light blue Frankie B "jeans". I miss my flare leg Miss Sixty black jeans. I miss my little Abercrombie board shorts. I miss my gingham (the only preppy print I owned then) "shirts" that were just a piece of material that tied twice in the back.
Seriously... Bring back Delia's catalogs, bring back platform flip flops. Bring back long, swishy cargo skirts and wife beaters all day erry day.
Hit me baby, one more time!
Monday, January 6, 2014
Where ARE My Dragons (You will not get this reference unless you are Khaleesi or watch Gay of Thrones recaps)
I am hella bored, bros. Judging by the news, I should also be fearing for my life, but really I just want to be able to leave my street so I can go to my fucking office. And maybe later get some of those cream-filled donuts from Taco Bell.
But no. I am forced to sit here and read and listen to everyone talking about how they had a sanctioned snow day. Not us. There is no rest for the home services industry! But, alas, I can't make it down my street without the help of neighbors pushing from behind and shoveling in front so I decided it was best to just kick it at the crib. Shane is at work even though he's the Vice President of his company, so I guess I shouldn't be bitching.
I suppose I should take this time to reflect on all the funnies happening lately. The DACers have fully adopted me (even though I will most likely only become a member of the Detroit Athletic Club by marriage because it costs a fortune, and I already get to attend all the events anyhoo). Enough so that they are begging me to go on their damn ski trip even though I refuse to ski and said I won't leave the pub the entire time. They all feel this is completely acceptable and almost encouraged. Therefore, I'm definitely considering it.
The most sparkly and fur-enveloped member of the DACers is BMO. She is fabulous. I'm in love with her. She's like a human version of my all time idol, Miss Piggy; opulent, indulgent, fierce, beautiful - and my 6 year old self is so fucking geeked out to be friends with her I almost can't stand it. We have already had several mini adventures together like running down Grosse Pointe Blvd in formal dresses during a rain storm, and she feels ski trip will really set things on another level. Probably because they stay in a giant "ski mansion" and she takes a bath every year in champagne. This is real. She gets into a bathtub of champs and kicks it for a while. She said I am invited to join this time if I agree to go. I would probably stick with the hot tub, but you never know after a few glasses of goose what I'm capable of.
Which brings me to the next funny. On NYE, we all agreed to do a "chill night" at this "chill bar" that totally worked out until about 1am when I went to retrieve a card from the bar and they told me they "didn't have it". While I waited and demanded someone straighten shit out, I watched this 24ish year old asswipe with an ironic mustache verbally torturing some girl. It was utterly ridiculous and reminded me of everything completely despicable about the Millenials. Anyway, long story short, I ordered 2 ice waters and informed this poor female that one was hers to throw in his face. She looked at me sheepishly, with tears in her eyes saying "I don't think I can, will you too?" and I said "Honey, this isn't my fight, but you let that fly right for that 'stache because you have earned it" and juuuust as I was saying that and taking a drink of mine at the same time, he said something so damn vile to her I ended up turning around and slowly streaming a fountain of water onto his face from my straw. He was SO ridiculous, he was just trying to scrape the water off his face while still yelling at this girl as if he didn't understand where it was coming from. By the time my stream had diminished, girl had found her inner Beyonce' and honey TOSSED that glass of water directly into his mug. It was glorious. I mean, ice cubes bounced off this dude. I high fived her and walked away as all the men in our group held off the men in their group and we bounced laughing all the way. Now, normally, I would wake up the next morning after an incident like this (tossing vodka on the $6000 rug because I was mad, cough cough) and feel very guilty and ashamed. I woke up feeling completely ok with it. No girl ever deserves to be talked to that way. And certainly not by a child with a mustache. Just, no. Another girl in our group saw him drop his phone and smashed it into the floor with her stiletto . Looks like he won't be talking to anyone for a while. Sorry we're not sorry, dick.
So, come to find out, this story was told aloud by my surgeon friend TCQ the next day over a group lunch. Which THEN parlayed into everyone else saying they refused to tell their stories because none were that dramatic/amazing. THEN I was forced to stand up and tell the story yet again at brunch this past Saturday. These people delighted in my defense of poor girl with a mouth fountain. Made me feel like a hero. But let's hope that's the only time in 2014 I have to spit in a dude's face.
Now, the biggest fan of said water crusade is Charlie. Charlie is a wonderful cherub man I have actually known for over a year now and I just adore him. He's one of those Manhattan-drinking, charcuterie-plate-making, Downtown-swank-living, Red Wings enthusiasts that you can't help but love. HE told me I actually win best NYE person ever in his book which prompted me to give a speech thanking my Mother, Father, Jesus and vodka. It was moving to say the least. Anyway, this man has organized an event to go see FUCKING MONSTER TRUCKS at Ford Field on Saturday. Yes. Monster Jam. You fucking know it. BMO is attempting to refuse to go as she is too shi shi for this type of ridiculous shit, but I informed her I would think about the ski trip if she attends. I don't believe that's fair as ski trip is expensive and Monster Jam is like twelve bones, but whatever. I'm a team player.
Also, Shane finally forced me to watch Gay of Thrones on Funny or Die and I laughed so hard I gagged. He's always right about what I will and will not laugh at.
So....you know. Just living life, getting it, loving every second! Well, accept for all this effing snow. I think I'm going to brave it now for those Taco Bell donut things....them shits are goooooood.
But no. I am forced to sit here and read and listen to everyone talking about how they had a sanctioned snow day. Not us. There is no rest for the home services industry! But, alas, I can't make it down my street without the help of neighbors pushing from behind and shoveling in front so I decided it was best to just kick it at the crib. Shane is at work even though he's the Vice President of his company, so I guess I shouldn't be bitching.
I suppose I should take this time to reflect on all the funnies happening lately. The DACers have fully adopted me (even though I will most likely only become a member of the Detroit Athletic Club by marriage because it costs a fortune, and I already get to attend all the events anyhoo). Enough so that they are begging me to go on their damn ski trip even though I refuse to ski and said I won't leave the pub the entire time. They all feel this is completely acceptable and almost encouraged. Therefore, I'm definitely considering it.
The most sparkly and fur-enveloped member of the DACers is BMO. She is fabulous. I'm in love with her. She's like a human version of my all time idol, Miss Piggy; opulent, indulgent, fierce, beautiful - and my 6 year old self is so fucking geeked out to be friends with her I almost can't stand it. We have already had several mini adventures together like running down Grosse Pointe Blvd in formal dresses during a rain storm, and she feels ski trip will really set things on another level. Probably because they stay in a giant "ski mansion" and she takes a bath every year in champagne. This is real. She gets into a bathtub of champs and kicks it for a while. She said I am invited to join this time if I agree to go. I would probably stick with the hot tub, but you never know after a few glasses of goose what I'm capable of.
Which brings me to the next funny. On NYE, we all agreed to do a "chill night" at this "chill bar" that totally worked out until about 1am when I went to retrieve a card from the bar and they told me they "didn't have it". While I waited and demanded someone straighten shit out, I watched this 24ish year old asswipe with an ironic mustache verbally torturing some girl. It was utterly ridiculous and reminded me of everything completely despicable about the Millenials. Anyway, long story short, I ordered 2 ice waters and informed this poor female that one was hers to throw in his face. She looked at me sheepishly, with tears in her eyes saying "I don't think I can, will you too?" and I said "Honey, this isn't my fight, but you let that fly right for that 'stache because you have earned it" and juuuust as I was saying that and taking a drink of mine at the same time, he said something so damn vile to her I ended up turning around and slowly streaming a fountain of water onto his face from my straw. He was SO ridiculous, he was just trying to scrape the water off his face while still yelling at this girl as if he didn't understand where it was coming from. By the time my stream had diminished, girl had found her inner Beyonce' and honey TOSSED that glass of water directly into his mug. It was glorious. I mean, ice cubes bounced off this dude. I high fived her and walked away as all the men in our group held off the men in their group and we bounced laughing all the way. Now, normally, I would wake up the next morning after an incident like this (tossing vodka on the $6000 rug because I was mad, cough cough) and feel very guilty and ashamed. I woke up feeling completely ok with it. No girl ever deserves to be talked to that way. And certainly not by a child with a mustache. Just, no. Another girl in our group saw him drop his phone and smashed it into the floor with her stiletto . Looks like he won't be talking to anyone for a while. Sorry we're not sorry, dick.
So, come to find out, this story was told aloud by my surgeon friend TCQ the next day over a group lunch. Which THEN parlayed into everyone else saying they refused to tell their stories because none were that dramatic/amazing. THEN I was forced to stand up and tell the story yet again at brunch this past Saturday. These people delighted in my defense of poor girl with a mouth fountain. Made me feel like a hero. But let's hope that's the only time in 2014 I have to spit in a dude's face.
Now, the biggest fan of said water crusade is Charlie. Charlie is a wonderful cherub man I have actually known for over a year now and I just adore him. He's one of those Manhattan-drinking, charcuterie-plate-making, Downtown-swank-living, Red Wings enthusiasts that you can't help but love. HE told me I actually win best NYE person ever in his book which prompted me to give a speech thanking my Mother, Father, Jesus and vodka. It was moving to say the least. Anyway, this man has organized an event to go see FUCKING MONSTER TRUCKS at Ford Field on Saturday. Yes. Monster Jam. You fucking know it. BMO is attempting to refuse to go as she is too shi shi for this type of ridiculous shit, but I informed her I would think about the ski trip if she attends. I don't believe that's fair as ski trip is expensive and Monster Jam is like twelve bones, but whatever. I'm a team player.
Also, Shane finally forced me to watch Gay of Thrones on Funny or Die and I laughed so hard I gagged. He's always right about what I will and will not laugh at.
So....you know. Just living life, getting it, loving every second! Well, accept for all this effing snow. I think I'm going to brave it now for those Taco Bell donut things....them shits are goooooood.
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