i have some serious time on my hands.

so tonight i went to see a movie. it happened to be a romantic comedy. innocent enough beginning to this story. BUT. i actually do not really like romantic comedies. (from here on i will refer to them as rom-coms because i embrace obnoxious abbreviations and i do not like repeating myself! so...MOVING ON!) i don't like them because i used to watch a lot of them and they gave me stupid ideas about love and romance and even comedy. and life is a harsh letdown. boys don't show up at your door in the rain with flowers! they don't call you at 2am to say they love you! you don't go to work and suddenly have a giant delivery guy dressed in a rabbit costume singing you an adorbz song that warms the cockles of your stone wall guarded heart. one disappointment after another. real life! fuck you!

HOWEVER tonight i broke the self-imposed rule regarding rom-coms y me and saw one. and i think there should be a sign on the theatre door that says NO CHRONICALLY OR LONG-TIME SINGLE PEOPLE ALLOWED. yes that is a terrible sign. it requires a lot of reading and is possibly relationship-ist, but oh well because it's true.

i was sitting there, surrounded by my sea of food and drink (popcorn, chocolate, and root beer) just grabbing edibles from every which way and watching the movie in a dumbfounded open-mouthed state like a guppy in a fishbowl. in a fishbowl filled with plush seats and food and a movie screen and obnoxious dane cook-like fuckers that think they are GOD'S GIFT TO ANECDOTAL AND OFF THE CUFF HUMOR. but let's face it. they are (NOT).

so anyway, i'm watching it and the main character is all bummed out and she's going on bad dates is alone and sleeping on a couch and COME ON WHY YOU GOTTA DESCRIBE MY LIFE LIKE THAT?! why you gotta throw my extreme lows in my face? no one told me this was a biopic. ABOUT ME. THIS IS MY LIFE. MY LIFE IS MY BOYFRIEND. i hate you already. you should go. i don't see a FUTURE IN THIS. cue: serious anxiety filled drags on my root beer from the side of my mouth. *slurp slurp sweat sweat* (actual sounds that filled my empty little row of the theatre)

and then she meets her brother's friend and he is ADORABLE AS BALLS. hey you! marry ME! "maps" by the yeah yeah yeahs enters my head. WAIT. THEY DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVE YOU. MAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPSSSSS. he is so cute and sweet and they have sex and i'm shoveling mass amounts of popping corn in my mouth hole, thinking, "oh yeah! i remember that. sex. yeah, i had that once or something. i think it was back when dinosaurs ROOOOAMED the earth." my past, ladies and gentleman. let's welcome it to the stage! *applause*

but OF COURSE she doesn't love him like i love him and says "no! i am not for you! you are not for me! i choose the dick i used to date who hurt me because that is what i have to do for this movie to continue!" and he is SO heartbroken! they are two lost souls! drifting in the night! so cut to montage! he is sitting on a pile of craggy rocks and drawing! ohmygod he's so sensitive get in my pants i love you. then he's on a dock! very complimentary lighting behind his head! oh hey let's get together and put a ring on it. acoustic music from a college rock band! suhwooooon.

but we all know what will happen. they will see the error of their silly illy ways and get together in the END. and they make speeches that are so poignant and beautiful and come on way to shove my not love in my face! and then they make out and FADE TO BLACK and can we get an employee over here to mop up my heart and soul because they've just melted onto the floor below me.

i think it's even worse when you're sitting at home watching these awful and yet great rom-coms because you have access to way more edibles and a snuggie and then it's like someone get the tom collinses! these tears aren't going to make themselves! where's my pillow! i'll need this to pretend i have someone who cares about me! hughughug.

so basically this is why i only see action movies. because at least i know the statue of liberty will never be blown up by a robot or whatever and a huge tidal wave will never destroy the world! global warming!

E

don't touch me there! i wear cardigans now!

spoiler: i'm not that old. i'm still pretty young. all the parts of my body that stick out are still firm and in their place. like you cared to know. but i'm BUILDING A CASE, jack. pay attention. so basically i'm living in youth-ville, you know? i have awhile before the "blehs" start to hit. and by "blehs" i mean "the olds." i'll never have those. for a few years at least.

so ANYWAYS, ever since my last birthday (which was only like two days ago I KNOW), my body and mind have been all...BE OLD, DUDE! (this is their inner narrative) ever since, about, say, may, i have been feeling older. like really FEELING IT. and not in the blink 182 way. see, the fact that i can make that reference cements my youngdom.

like i was saying. as soon as i walk into a clothing store, i go straight for the work casual clothing. i look at most skirts and there is a voice in my head that screams IT'S TOO SHORT! WHY IS IT SO SHORT? HOW CAN I BE EXPECTED TO FIT INTO A SKIRT FOR ANTS?!!! like seriously, though, i was looking through tops at H&M today and i found a top that was totally office chic and i was like, "psssh who would wear this it's for people who have 'the olds.'" and i was wearing that exact top in a different color! my world, you guys. it's flip turned upside down and NOT EVEN IN THE COOL WILL SMITH WAY. fucking sucks. PLUS i feel lost without my glasses. MY GLASSES. CONTACTS? no, i have grown too lazy/not wanting to be bothered to put in contacts every day. glasses? on my nightstand? next to my water, pills, receipts, and assorted sticks of gum/bobby pins pile? CONVENIENT.

not to mention i am ever expanding with age. i think that's because i no longer give a shit about fitting into a size medium shirt or dress or a size 28 pant. and i remember the fucking day i stopped fitting into size 28. i had grabbed two pairs of jeans, sizes 27 and 28, and i was in the dressing room. contemporary R&B was piping in the loudspeakers from the guess? store next door (i was in the mall). the jeans went to my thighs and after some serious work, i got them on but i knew that button wasn't going to meet the buttonhole on the other side. the two of them would only call to each other like lovers facing each other on cliffs separated by the ravine known as my stomach, looking with hopeful eyes to my struggling fingers, which would provide the bridge between them, and allow them to be reunited at last. well, that reunion never happened, and i took those fucking pants off, and re-evaluated my life.

i just don't care anymore. yesterday i bought a top that was size 12 because it was on sale for 15.00 and it fit and it was cute. like, really, i found a coral colored knee length skirt with an elastic waistband and it was the highlight of my day. i wanted to hide it away, bury it between the racks so no one else could find it. i felt like i hit treasure. my most recent purchases have included professional looking white cotton blouses and a liz lemon-esque green cardigan. until this year, i had never even owned a cardigan. now i own three. when shopping, i look at dresses, and if i can't wear my black or white flats with them, i don't even try them on.

and bathing suits. JEEBUS. at my age, i should be about bikinis and bandeaus and fun in the sun, et al, no? i bought a vintage bathing suit this year. a gold one piece with control top (or whatever it's called) for the middle of it. it's like 400 years old. i don't walk past the bathing suit section unless it's to scoff and balk at them. CHRIST YOU GUYS, i have gotten so good at balking at things. is it an olympic sport? I ALREADY WIN!

not to mention i almost solely listen to NPR now. i don't understand half the things going on on "all things considered," but for some reason dulcet tones and calm voices SOOTHE ME AND MAKE ME FEEL OKAY. OH OH OH and i was drinking on my birthday and i could feel myself getting drunk off ONE POINT FIVE BEERS. that's 1.5 you guys. COME ON!

so what have i/we learned from all this? i am starting to get "the olds." BOO! now i have to go fold my clothes and bake myself some cookies. bring me my nightmilk!

E

why am i not dead yet?!

so. another year. one more step on the staircase of death. one more floor in the elevator of my own demise. just kidding! i'm actually excited to be one year older! it means i'm doing something right because i'm still alive! in your face everybody who wishes i was dead. (probably no one, but maybe everyone, and you've got to put it in someone's face, right? correct.) but you guys aren't here for the self-reflection and the navel gazing, you're here for the CAKE!

well you can't have any! because this is the internet. and you can't eat anything off it. YET.

until the future becomes a reality, let's take a look back on all that's happened to me last year. LOAD UP THE SLIDESHOW MICKEY. settle in.

since my last birthday, i've moved to LA, worked at a dry cleaner's, been to fashion parties, met internet famous LA'ers, met a cool gal named V, gotten blackout drunk in front of adults and children (and then somehow managed to vomit on my bangs? how does that happen?), started blogging for missbehave, watched the inevitable and sadly unstoppable undoing of missbehave, became friends/lived with sarah morrison and olivia allin (whom i love), met my awesome new best friend jasmine, gotten to see tim and eric live and it's always sunny in philadelphia presents: the nightman cometh, eaten truckloads of tacos, gotten to see amazing indie movies, gone to the coolest shows (seriously i never thought i would ever get to see animal collective, white rabbits, asobi seksu, and camera obscura live. never ever ever), started writing for buzzine, and pretty much gotten to live it up. i honestly never thought my life would be this amazing and that it would all come so fast, but that's LA for you, i guess.

(sidenote: shoutout to everyone that's held out their hand to me and help me cross the proverbial street this year: sarah, meghan, lillian, sam, and sydney jane. if it wasn't for all of you i maybe would be dead. if not dead on the outside i'd be dead on the inside. wahhh, the emo! not really, but you guys have all helped me way more than you know. THEY DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVE YOU.)

LA is pretty cool and while i probably can't see myself living here for the rest of my life, i do see myself settling down here for quite a while. maybe i'll get a coldwater flat in that cool little space between echo park and downtown. maybe probably! i could be maybe dead by then!

SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! i'm not dead and that's cool! i hopefully won't be dead for a bit so good morning, and in case i don't see you, good afternoon, and goodnight.

E

(ps: the above is a picture of my mom's dog wearing my glasses. i'm a photographer. it's deep. hire me.)

i've made a grave mistake

above these words is the trailer for irene in time, the movie i ACCIDENTALLY INADVERTENTLY saw today as a result of me walking into the wrong theatre at the movies. it was the worst thing i've ever accidentally done on a tuesday ever, in my whole life. except for the accident i almost got into about 45 min prior. FORGET THE MINOR DETAILS. LET'S MAKE A CASE!

okay so basically this movie is about irene who's sad because her dad got in a boat and sailed away to boat heaven (OR SO THEY HAVE US THINK!!!) when she was little and now she can't date because she's trying to find a man like her dad. okay god/world. i didn't have a dad growing up. is this cosmic synergy trying to tell me something? fine. i'm in the theatre and i'm stuck because my desired feature started twenty minutes ago. I'M LISTENING. TELL ME YOUR STORY.

so irene thinks she has to follow dating rules and whatnot to get a guy. she has tons of books. she reads them in the pool. they don't seem to work for her. CUT TO scene of her with "current" boyfriend. they're in her room and she's eating food off his plate and chewing loudly and is generally annoying. he leaves. SURPRISE! but it's not because she eats like a cow chewing gum and is loud, it's because HE'S not right for her. the rules, you guys! the rules ain't working! oh noeeessss!

also she's a singer. she sings these awful songs that were originally written by the lady who did the soundtrack. they sound like the end result of setting a jukebox from 1983 on super easy listening. one song is about finding love in starbucks. can't have that kind of crosspromotion, irene! i see all too easily what you did there! (sidenote: there's also a scene where she's sitting next to a table with a pink can of Tab on it. nostaligic crosspromotion! for the record i no longer drink Tab. i have graduated to just getting wasted every night. i am an adult and these are my words!)

so where were we? ahhh yes. so she meets this guy. well, "meets" is a loose term because he is her producer. he is also 'roided out of his mind and sorta looks like he could benchpress me or whatever. he scares me. and i want him to cut his hair and stop looking at everyone like they're his next meal. but irene likes him and that's what's important. i'm here for her. all the best. RIGHT. she doesn't know she lurves him yet though, so she keeps dating.

she meets a guy who's nice but weird and says stupid one-liner type things like, "we will all laugh at gilded butterflies." not really. he is not that smart. not really either. she hates him and dumps him and then it's back to the bathrobe and the wine and the solitaire. THE SINGLE GIRL'S LIFE FORREAL Y'ALL.

this just in! her old ex is back in LA and wants to go to dinner with her. COOL! but he wants to double date. oh boy, what'll she do now? easy. get her lesbian friend to do her a solid! because that's what lesbians are here for! to go on dates with your ex's friends.

so on that date she and her ex go to the bar and talk, leaving the lesbian and dude sitting there. the dude decides she is who he was waiting for (of course!) and asks her out. this is maybe 20 minutes deep into the "date." she says, "you know i am into women. sorry." he kisses her and then she says, "no sir. i will not take your offer for which i would glady date a woman tomorrow." something like that. back to irene. her ex, who hasn't seen her for seis years wants to marry her. MOVIE OVER! not. because irene's a traditionalist and they haven't even seen each other for twenty minutes yet for god's sake! so she says no. sad panda.

CUT TO the roundtable of women in their over-thirties hanging around talking about their daddies. "my daddy was DA BEST. FOR SERIOUS. HE COULD HAVE BEAT YOUR DAD HARD IN A CORPORATE SOFTBALL GAME"..."my daddy was never around. i hate him"..."my dad was so aloof! ALOOOOOOOOOF! 'tis a word i learned today on the internet. it describes my dad perfectly!" it's so sad! it's like drivin' and cryin' but they're sitting in plastic white lawn chairs wearing bathrobes! it's so weird and uncomfy but i can't look away because a part of me wants to walk out of the theatre!

i almost did. but damnit, i paid my six dollars and bought a fucking drink! so i stayed.

so then they're all eating lunchdinner outside. everyone's there. all friends, all family. irene talks to her mom about her dad and her mom's like, "men suck. do it for yourself." irene is sadfaced. CUT TO the lesbian and her mom. she's finally coming out. her mom is shockedface. she's like, "how long have you known?" (because when the stork makes you gay he mails you a confirmation letter and then you KNOW you're gay) and the daughter's all like, "well i used to have crushes on girls but i dated guys and then you and dad made me all angsty and i dated girls." because lesbianism and homosexuality is a form of teenage rebellion! you guys, this is it! we've cracked the code. let's infiltrate the high schools already.

CUT TO one scene where irene and lesbian friend are hanging out with straight and lesbian friends. lesbian #1 is like, "irene kiss her!" lesbian #2 is all smiles. they kiss. because homosexuality is fun! it can be a big fun experiment! get more wine! let's try again! they keep going with other people. it's like girl's night out but no one's standing on the bar and they are in the living room. sadface.

also creepy producer guy is 'bout it, 'bout it with irene. they hang out and kiss and things are greeeat. so she's found a guy. mazeltov! she doesn't need those books anymore. so they have a book burning party because irene is secretly a communist. and she needs to make sure no one else gets those books ever. NO ONE. no one except the fire god, because she must appease him so that he doesn't rip her eyes out while she sleeps. so she sets those pages aflame! a part of me dies inside when this happens. it is still dead.

NOW they're going to move out of their huge villa (villa coola). irene lives in the guesthouse. she is like thirtybillion and living in the guesthouse. she's like will smith and carlton but not as cool because jazzy jeff never comes over. lord knows how many times she invites him. he, too, is ALOOOOOOF! anyway, moving party. enter irene's BRITISH MOTHER WEARING A PINK CHENILLE THROW! because she is old and british. and irene is american! hmmmmm....

in her bedroom, irene is just farting around and finds this hidden secret hatbox that she's somehow missed seeing for fifteen some-odd years. in it are all these pictures. and a leather jacket, so she can look badass. oh, it isn't so she can look badass? pointless, then! the pictures are of this woman who is oldish and brunette and thin looking. irene must find her.

and find her she does. at the catalina jazz club, where all your dreams come true. she introduces herself and blahblahblah it turns out her father knew that lady. she gives her a russian doll set. irene's like, "cool, but what is this?" she's like, "for srs dood? you don't know what this is?" she's like, "okay byeeeee." END SCENE.

then we dig rull rull deep and it turns out the singer lady is irene's real mom. this still doesn't explain why irene is a REDHEAD. i don't believe she's related to anyone. nope. so everyone's sadfaced but then irene's like, "it's whatever i don't care who my mom is. i gotta be finding my papa!" so she opens the russian dolls. the last two are taped. say what (karoake)? it's because there's a message in them. the msg says, go to the sea or whatever! so she does!

and she begins to walk into the ocean and then all of a sudden i'm like, "is she gonna go straight into the ocean? is she gonna die?" i was on the fucking edge of my seat with excitement you people. but she did not die. she found her father who had just been sailin' around for like twenty years. ain't no thang.

OH ALSO the producer guy is married and with child. he left irene and broke the news to her at the airport. because he is an asshole and he's got to get home to benchpress his wife and child.

i hated that movie.

E

tough luck tom cruise

fuck you guys. FUCK. the debate being argued in my brain right now is basically uncontrollable. see here's what's going on in the big glittery swamp up there. forgive durden (band made of pure wondermazingness and whose first album got me through working at the kumon tutoring center - yes i used to come in contact with little kids and in fact teach them on a daily basis) is coming to LA at the end of may and the tickets are only 10.00, which is insane and amazing and beautiful because i have nada to spend on concert tickets at the moment. great.

the downside here is my inability to probably find someone to go with me to this. i would just say "fuck it" and go by myself because jesus, forgive durden might be one of my favorite bands and sometimes i have to cave and say "really dude, you like these guys a lot. just GO already." but i don't even want to imagine the hordes of obnoxious tweens with the racoon eyeliner and the striped hoodies i'm going to encounter and i'm not sure i really want to do that alone.

so...buy the tickets? go alone? or sit it out and listen to the album in my bedroom with one lit candle and the volume on full blast? seriously. decisions, decisions, decisions! and the fact that i can't just solve this conundrum with weed or TV guide makes it that much harder.

E

bup bup bup!

(that shirt is only 33.00! it used to be 110.00 dudes!)

i can see you all are clearly busy moving about your daily lives and whatnot but if i could have your attention for ONE SECOND please? thank you!

karmaloop is having yet another MAYJAHH sale you guys. por serio. 50-85% off. it's a little bit ridiculous, actually. RIDICULOUSLY AWESOME. i was just trolling it, y'know adding shit i can't afford to buy to my cart so i could look at it a little longer before the BILLSBILLSBILLS (can you pay my?) called me away and my bank account shut down my dreams.

(it's actually a bit depressing because the glasses i paid 16.00 for - on sale - are now 4.75 on sale. relativity, people, relativity.)

but you guys look like you have some money! head over to k-loop and shop your streetwear loving hearts out. but do it soon because this sale only lasts for another two days. so, till wednesday. i mean it guys, DO IT. and if you haven't gotten this princess of the posse top by now (um, what?!), you can get it on the mad cheap.

now you have your mission. by reading this post in its entirety, you have chosen to accept it. go forth, be free, and buy america!

E

in which TV is clearly out to destroy my heart and soul.

(photo via mtv.com or whatevskis)

you guys can i be real for a second?

i love TV. like i fucking love it. if there was a way for an electronic device/digital cable stream and a woman to be joined together in holy matrimony, i would've swam into the pacific and climbed onto that boat a long time ago.

but why does everything i love have to hurt me in return? WHY MUST YOU DO THIS? THEY DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVE YOU!

this is probs my fault (that's okay TV...it was never you...it was always me, i know it) because i threw myself into the big masochistic pit of fire also known as watching MTV so in turn i suppose i brought this on myself. i MADE myself watch college life and the phone. i did this.

basically college life is this dipshit - sorry, innovative and compelling, TV show wherein some college freshmen are followed by cameras at ALL times and they talk and sob and wear school hoodies and apparently all attend some kind of prison style college deep in madison, WI. basically i can't stand it because i live(d) it. not to mention MTV just ripped ITSELF off. i wasn't in college back then, but i distinctly remember loving (despite the almost tangible shitty qualities those shows emitted from my TV screen) sorority life and fraternity life. so good going there MTV. you beat yourself to your own original concept like five years ago.

let me synopsize this fucksenserey for you. there are a handful of kids involved but you only need to know about two:

alex: she is 19. she is a bonerkill. this girl is like one walking livejournal entry and all the entry tags are FML. she's like "waaaaah waaaah boys won't put their penises in my vagina! i have no hope with dudes for the rest of my life! the boy i like didn't text me after we watched one tree hill together waaaahhhh even after i put an 'i like you. check yes or no' note in his locker!!! wahhh!!!" okay i know colleges don't have lockers but you see where i am going with this. essentially she is what i am slowly but surely becoming.

no one said i was proud of it you guys. no one.

and then you have kevin. he is everyone's bro-dude. if you give a mouse a cookie, he'll like ask you for milk or something (don't really remember) but if you give kevin a few hours, he'll make you a party. like a mysterious and magical little keebler elf whose medium is hard liquor and red plastic cups. he is that guy that you will want to punch repeatedly in the face sober, but who's meaty arm you will more than gladly cling to when blackout drunk. (you will probably say "more, more, more! and tell me that one story of how you once sucker punched your seven year old neighbor when he took your frisbee! holy shit did you just pull that red cup from behind my ear?! i love you because you're magic! pour me more sam adams!) i imagine the following things go through his head on an hourly basis:

"tits! i hate math! this baseball caps is too tight! tits! ass! i love college! asher roth! i love drinking! i love women! miller lite! beer pong! man, i really appreciate how hard my parents worked so that i could go to school despite the poor grades i achieved in high...whoops! TITS! ASS! DRINKINGSMOKINGSEXCOLLEGE!"

college life is an epic fail of a television show. you guys at MTV want drama? you should have let me film my dorm experience. bitches were threatning to pee on my washcloths and get their sisters to beat me up. because of loofahs and thermostats!!!! there was some diddy approved dramz going down dudes. did i get a show? no. does that leave me feeling bitter? no... does that make me not want to watch this one? YESYESYES.

i was also going to talk about the phone (ay dios mio) but because i have spent so much time ranting about this fuckery, i will just leave it with this equation i have created (in my opinion) perfectly summarizing what you've got here:

mtv's the phone: phonebooth + eagle eye + M.I. - colin farrell - being interesting + money + teenagers.

there's some cloverfield style filming and mildly (like, mild salsa mild) intense and dramz music thrown in for good measure.

TV WE CAN'T GO ON LIKE THIS. GET IT TOGETHER. IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO APOLOGIZE. WE CAN WORK IT OUT. but the sadfaced kids, fleshbeards, gripping reality television, and all other no-noes must GO.

E