How To Be a Writer

May 15, 2014 § 3 Comments

And Other Life Lessons from Someone Who Is Only Barely Keeping It Together:
  •  Drink a lot. Drink till you strong-arm strangers into letting you give them piggy back rides and then you fall down and skin your knee and now your jeans have a hole in them.
  • Be existential to the point where it stifles your ability to have a conversation that doesn’t loop back to space and / or death. 
  • Watch people interact and make up backstories about their lives, previous lives and any future lives. 
  • Be an above average failer. Fail and fail again. And every time you fall off course, reassure yourself by convincing yourself ‘this is your path.’ Because it is. 
  • Be super broke all the time. Money is for people who want to buy things. 
  • Over-analyze everything. Cause who needs sleep?
  • Really care about what others think of you, even people you’ve never met.
  • Be in touch with your emotions. I like to do my crying during my daily commute to and from work. Thank god for LA traffic or I’d never find the time.
  • Read. Seriously. If books ever die I’ll be sad forever.
  • Be around whatever / whoever makes your heart go boom.
  • Don’t edit. People are always more than happy to point out your grammar mistakes. It would be cruel to take that away from them.
  • Think about shit. Like why hasn’t anyone update the keyhole? It seems like a pretty easy thing to do yet it’s been completely overlooked. Remember in Back to the Future II when she just scanned her thumb print? This world needs updated keyholes, less guns and, like, at least 10 times more shaved ice shops. 
  • Resolve to live in gratitude rather than regret. Don’t fall victim to the past or be a slave to the future. Now, is where it’s at.
  • Fuel the fuck up. 5-hour energy. Coffee SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS. I like to be cracked out to the point of WebMDing chest pains. (That’s for script writing. For blog stuff I prefer wine till I’m red in the teeth and crying at Youtube videos.)
  • Own your uniqueness. There’s a fine line between masturbating about yourself and completely turning your back on that magical sparkle that makes you you. Find that special place, nestle in and pay rent until you can afford a down payment on the mortgage there.
  • Draw strength from your spirit animal. Be it a lion, a shark or a butterfly.
  • Live life like it’s a god damn fairy tale. Even when it’s not. Even when it’s super shit. Because even when it’s super shit you’re still not dead. And that’s something right?
  • And lastly – write. It’s been said before but it’s worth repeating, you can’t be a writer if you’re not writing. You can’t even call yourself a writer if you’re not writing. Those are the rules. I didn’t make them, I just try to abide by them. And I advise you to do the same, my fellow writers, write the shit out of whatever the fuck you’re writing. I support you.

Ok, I think were done here. But also, I recommend you print this, fold it pamphlet style and keep it somewhere handy. Love you like a love song.

Oh one more thing, I liked this – Abandoned places around the world.

But This Wind Machine Is Just a Fan?

Underwater Photography

water photography / inspiration lush

Walking Through Water / Inspiration Lush

Underwater Photography

Underwater Photography

Underwater Photography

Cannon ball / inspiration lush

Bike in water / inspiration lush

Happily Drowning / Inspiration Lush

Drain / Water Photography / Inspiration Lush

Debunking The Dick Pic Myth

January 20, 2014 § 6 Comments

The dick pic has gotten a lot of bad press, but I believe the times they are a changin’.

According to Aziz Ansari and one of my very adamant co-workers, no woman wants to be sent a dick pic nor do women find dicks attractive. My initial reaction was to disagree with this rather bold blanket statement but I wanted to see if there was actual evidence to support my theory. So I conducted a study — no bullshit, I really did.

I majored in sociology, and as part of this major I was required to take several courses on statistical techniques, data analysis and quantitative research methods. And this, a dick pic study, is the one and only time those skills have ever come into play outside of academia. Who says liberal arts degrees are worthless? (Nope, not today.)

My sample population consists of 32 females whose ages ranged from 22 to 36*. Data was collected by either an emailed survey or phone interview. All subjects were asked the same questions. I analyzed the results and not to be cocky (pun intended) but I think you may find these conclusions interesting. Also for the sake of this post I’ll be shortening dick pic to DP (not to be confused with the other DP).

The primary significant finding was the majority of these women have had one or more positive experiences with a DP, thus disproving the theory that women don’t like DPs. Sure, there were several documented negative experiences, but some men, some noble trailblazers, are getting it right.

I sifted through and drew out the reoccurring themes that I believe to be the deciding factors of a successful DP. Below is a summary of the information, along with a few direct quotes from study participants. Warning: this is going to get intimate.

A Gentlemen’s Guide to Dick Pics

Do you think it’s ok for guys to send DP?

‘I don’t like dick pics. Sorry. Dicks aren’t pretty.’

‘Only if it’s requested.’

‘Yes I think it’s absolutely ok and in fact, I like receiving them.’

‘Fuck yea. I got unlimited texts up in my phone plan.’

Lesson Learned: Know Your Audience

  • Some ladies shy away from a little exposure. Others will open your image with delight. Ask yourself, will my special lady treasure this for the gift it is? Will she treat it with the respect it deserves? If yes, then send away my friend. If you aren’t sure then you probably don’t know this woman well enough to be sending her pictures of your dick.

Have you ever appreciated receiving or found a DP attractive?

‘I do think it’s appreciated & I tend to find it attractive when it’s after a little hard core sexting & I know I contributed to it’s hardness, lol, or girth :)’

‘I got one from a guy I had grabbed drinks with and I swear he has like the holy grail of penises so it was practically a marketing tool…like I was not feeling him in a dating way but it was turned around into a hook up situation based on the pic. HOWEVER this can also work the opposite way…there was another guy I hooked up with once and I don’t remember it being all that good and then we would do the long distance drunken texting/sexting…his pic made me not want to come back for seconds’

Lesson Learned: Play Up Your Strong Suits

  • I think all men should take pride in their area but in regards to sharing your DPs you need to give yourself an honest evaluation. If you got it, flaunt it. But if you find that your member is not one of your strongest features, consider some alternative options; maybe your lady friend would find a picture of your studly abs or adorable dimples more enticing?

Was there something about the picture that made it more appealing than others?

‘Absolutely! I’ve gotten some real artistic shots and I appreciate them taking the time to be all Godard with it.’

‘More appealing when I knew I had something to do with the making (of the erection). I prefer close up…full body is nice but not when it’s flaccid, that’s just ugly!!’

‘It helps if they clean up their bedroom.’

Lesson Learned: The Rules of a Selfie Apply

  • Choose a flattering angle, be conscious of what is in the background and maybe throw on a filter if need be.

During these conversations a few unprompted topics came up. One of which was the time the picture was received.

‘It’s also super weird if I get a pic when I’m sober.’

‘It’s more appreciated after 9 pm. Getting a dick pic when the sun is still out can be alarming. For instance, I was recently playing Hide & Seek with my niece. I had just gotten tucked into this bomb ass hiding spot in my mom’s armoire and all of a sudden “BA DING” goes my text alert (Yes my H & S game needs work and I should’ve silenced my phone). I look and it’s a nice full body dick pic. As I look at it, my niece finds me. Kind of awkward.’

‘If you absolutely cannot resist sending pix of what your slaggin’ they are more appropriate after 9 pm (when my) DVR is played out (as is netflix, hbogo and hulu) (and I’m done) with wine and weed.’

Lesson Learned: Timing is Important

  • Women noted feeling troubled or embarrassed by a DP received at a time they considered inconvenient. A few subjects admitted to instances they initially found a DP to be disturbing or ‘gross’ when sent at an inopportune time but when they revisited the same picture in the ideal mood and location, typically their home, the picture was looked upon more favorably. The highest likelihood of a positive reaction was when women received a picture while participating in a back-and-forth sexting conversation.

Is there anything you would suggest to guys that you think would improve their dick pics?

“Flaccid is not ok unless you want to scare women.’

Lesson Learned: Hard > Soft

  • The sample as a whole shared the unanimous opinion that hard dicks were preferred over flaccid.

Is there any advice you think guys should know about sending dick pics?

‘Send sparingly, send hard, use good judgement.’

 ‘Dick pix are gross and weird if you can see the guys face.. and even more gross and weird if he’s smiling in the pix. PERVY!’

‘I learned this from a Lifetime movie about teenagers sexting. The mean girl character was making fun of the good girl who sent out a titty pic. Hello! The number one rule of sexting…neck down, thighs up. no distinguishing marks or tattoos.’

Lesson Learned:

  • Use them sparingly in order to maintain their meaning and impact. Also everyone could learn a valuable lesson from Lifetime. If someone is kind enough to send you a wonderful (vulnerable) gift, respect that and respond with courtesy. And above all if you’ve had sexual relations of any kind with a person: be fucking nice. But with that being said, you don’t know a woman until she is mad at you. So as a precaution never include your face or identifying marks /  tattoos / etc. Relationships may fade but naked pictures on the internet last forever ever.

Quick & Dirty Cheat Sheet: Should I Send This Dick Pic?

If you answer yes to any of the following. Do not send.

  1. Are you creepy?
  2. Be honest, are you even a little bit of a sexual predator?
  3. Are you sure?
  4. Do you truly believe this person wants to receive this picture?
  5. Do you have a nice dick?
  6. Does this picture flatter your dick?
  7. Is your face or any other distinguishable trait visible in this picture?

If you passed, send away! Get your dick printed on a flag and wave it from your front porch. Yay dicks!

Can You Keep a Secret?

measuring

sleep

Lana Del Rey

Oh boy

thinking twice

Shy girl

Playing Coy

*Possible sample bias: A purposeful bias but still a bias was these women were chosen within this specific age range because of the increased likelihood of having received a dick pic. These women were also chosen based on convenience and although the sample includes a healthy variation of race, geography and relationship status, it should still be noted. And lastly this is relatively small sample size.

I May Be Partially Responsible for Inciting a Psychotic Breakdown

December 16, 2013 § 10 Comments

One summer during college I got a babysitting gig after answering an ad, “Seeking a reliable individual with childcare experience to watch a 7 year old boy, must be willing to do some light housekeeping.” The ad would have been much more accurate if it had said, “Seeking someone to clean my house who is cool with constantly being trailed by a 7 year old.” To be fair both sides padded the truth since I had also claimed to be reliable and to have had experience with children, neither of which were true.

Here are the order of events leading up to the incident:

A tiny field mouse ran across the kitchen floor. Immediately I leapt into action grabbing a large salad bowl from the countertop and placing it upside down over the small creature to contain it. The little boy, who we’ll call Ian because that was his name, screamed for me to ‘KILL IT!’

No I would not. Out of respect. For nature. And life. And because I’m not a serial killer you fucking psychopath.

I didn’t really know what to do next so I handled the situation the way I handle all my problems, I left it as it was and told myself I’d deal with it later. But Ian would not drop it. He kept following me around menacingly chanting, ‘kill it, you gotta kill it.’ It was pretty unsettling and to be honest I feared for that mouse’s safety.

As a distraction tactic I told Ian we could walk down to the corner store and I’d give him five dollars to spend on whatever he wanted. He wanted candy. His parents had mentioned he doesn’t “do well” with sugar but I’m very good at making terrible decisions so I kept my word and let him get whatever his little heart desired. It wasn’t until we got back to the house that I realized what a healthy budget five dollars is for corner store candy.

Ian ate his candy. He ate his candy like a motherfucker. Not long after, the sugar-high began to kick in and that’s when shit started to get REAL.

Before I knew it Ian was gripping a bright red lipstick and furiously painting his face. So furiously that it was borderline violent. I knew I should stop him but I was a little hesitant on how to go about disarming him. I didn’t want to shame him for playing with make-up. For once he looked happy and at the time ripping the lipstick from his young impressionable hand seemed like it could be a hate crime.  

Ian’s next move was straight up rock n’ roll. He grabbed a small vase from a nearby side table, raised it above his head and smashed it to the ground.

Holy fuck kid. What possible reason could you have had for losing your shit on that vase? I was momentarily taken back. Part of me was thinking, TOTALLY INTO IT. LET’S DO THIS!! The other part did not feel safe. 

The child had gone rogue. 

He made a break for the kitchen. I tried to grab him but it was impossible. He was moving in a feverish panic like a tiny meth-head ninja. He stormed into the pantry ripping snacks open, shoving handfuls of whatever into his mouth. It was terrifying.

He shot from the pantry leaving a trail of cereal behind. I ran after him. This chase went on for what felt like hours. I’d lose sight of him as he darted in and out of rooms, then he’d pop up right behind me laughing like a fucking lunatic.

I was finally able to corner him as he paused standing on top of the couch. He stared at me. I stared back at him trying to read his expression. It was one I’d seen before. Was he surrendering? Nope. That wasn’t it? I knew this face…

MOTHER. FUCKER. 

We locked eyes both knowing what was coming. And for some god awful reason I ran towards him. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe somewhere deep down I thought, I deserve this. Either way it happened. The vomit. Projectile vomit. Everywhere. On me. On the couch. On the floor. Honestly I was surprised at how much sheer volume came out of such a small boy.

If you’ve never had another human being vomit on you. Including your face. It’s fucked up. It’s warm and pungent. It feels personal. It feels like a violation. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself somewhere far away. Somewhere safe. It didn’t work. The smell got the best of me and well, before I knew it I had to vomit too. And vomit I did.

At that moment I remember thinking, God help me. I need an adult. A real adult. And then his mother walked in the door. Shit. Not that adult. I scanned the room trying my best to quickly calculate a cost-analysis of the damage. ‘Everything is fine’ I assured her as I waved my vomit covered hand in her direction. But everything was not fine. In fact it was the exact of the opposite of fine.

She was, naturally, irate. After getting her up to speed on the situation. She let me know they would no longer be needing my services. Probably for the best. Then I went home and high-fived BC* pills into my face.

I’m Sure You Have a Lot Of Things Going For You But Your Child…Your Child is a Dick:

WTF kidDrew Barrymore Tantrum

kid rioting

Crazy Baby

Child drinking Champagne

crazy faced ice cream

 

Beans motherfucker

Creepy kid in front of fire

*Birth control

I Guess I Write Poems Now?

September 17, 2013 § 4 Comments

A lil’ something from yours truly about (surprise surprise) drinking…


When We Were Thirst-ay

Here’s to the nights we drank liquor out of plastic bottles
When pre-drinking was a necessity due to maxed out credit cards
When we considered drinking in the shower a savvy way to multi-task
When push-up bras and cleavage were our most fashionable accessory
When our mandatory dress codes included high heels and liquid coats

Here’s to long bathroom lines in loud dingy bars
When we hovered over wet toilet seats filled with make-believe STD’s
When we glimpsed in the mirror & thought, I’m the baddest bitch in this bar
When we tried not to catch a glimpse knowing it would prob ruin our night
When we decided fuck it, I’ll just go in the Men’s

Here’s to meeting strangers
When we had stimulating but quickly forgotten political discussions
When we defended being a feminist & keeping up with the Kardashians
When we wanted to go outside and cry about stuff
When we scanned the room to find which boy to be awkward with

Here’s to the end of the night
When we regretted wearing heels and wish’d we were home in sweatpants
When talking turned into kissing
When the 5 second rule applied to pizza dropped face down
When calls on repeat to our ex’s seemed like a good idea

Here’s to the next day
When mornings didn’t exist – only bottomless mimosa filled afternoons
When workdays called for hide-under-your-desk 3PM naps
When Gatorade and coconut water were our best friends
When “let’s meet for coffee” meant “let me try to unsay the drunken things I said”

Here’s to when this shit started to get old
When nature gave us 2 day hangovers
When we started to care about things like, keeping our dignity intact
When we learned to drink in moderation
When we looked back at how young & disgusting we were & didn’t miss it

Here’s to someday when we will miss it, the best and worst of those nights
When we’ve grown restless from carpooling children & conference calls
When we attend dinner parties where no one cries or loses their debit card
When nostalgia replaces former cringe-worthy moments
When we love our lives yet find ourselves fondly reminiscing

Here’s to the oldest story in the book
When one day it’s today, then suddenly it’s yesterday
When some of the nights were purer than the days
When some of our words were never truer
When they may not have been our proudest moments but they were exactly what they should’ve been

Because that, my friends, that is the good stuff

I’ve Been Drinking About You:

Girls night out

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Girls just want to have fun

I feel bad for people who never go crazy quote

Restroom without urnial

Photo Creds: Tequila / Fence / Vegas Twerk

THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN!

May 9, 2013 § 5 Comments

Rules, Thoughts & Questions I Have When Playing With Children:

  • How much glitter is too much glitter?
  • Will there be alcoholic beverages in your fort? If not, can I BYOB? And if the answer to that is no, then my answer is also no. No, I would not like to play in your fort.
  • I’ll do my best to censor myself but if I accidentally let something slip then I reserve the right to apply the 5 second rule for take-backs. If I forget or am unable to call the 5 second rule, then and only then is your tattle tale-ing acceptable.
  • I’m good with children because yeah, I totally get where they are coming from. Why DOES Allie get all the cool toys while we are stuck over here with this stupid play-dough??
  • Do you have any gummy bears?
  • I agree the dark is super spooky! And yeah absolutely its possible there’s a monster under the bed or in the closet but most likely BOTH!!
  • Cherish these moments cause when you cry on the floor in public places as an adult they don’t call it a tantrum, they call the cops.
  • I know for a fact I know more than you cause you’re a virgin. So there.
  • Can I borrow that headband?
  • Do you think they make your dress in my size?
  • I’d rather not see the world through a child’s eyes cause that means I’m stuck staring at crotches all day.
  • You must tell me your skin care regimen. Your skin is amazing. I must have your face. Give it to me.
  • I also eat baby food. It’s technically normal food but since I’m crying the entire time I think it still counts.

P.S. You little ones are the future. So I would like to respectfully ask that you do your best to un-fuck everything in the world we’ve fucked so far. I know that’s a lot to ask but I have full faith in all of you.

Suri, When Are We Hanging Out? Text Me:

Suri Cruz

Child with sassy face

Kids Old Man Costume / Halloween

Colorlicious Kids

Kids at Play

Kid Fishing

Happy little girl

Where The Wild Things Are / Kids Costume

My Little Pony Meme

I Need More Hugs Than Normal People

January 25, 2013 § 7 Comments

Do you want to hear the wonderful way in which my father tricked me into holding the dead frozen carcass of my most beloved pet? Of course you do.

I’ll start from the beginning. When I was nine I had a beautiful pure-breed mini rex bunny named Velvet. I loved Velvet. Velvet was awesome.

This particular Summer my mom convinced my sister and I to take a road trip with her from Northern Cali down to Southern Cali to spend a few days in Disneyland. (At least that is the story we were told. What we weren’t told was, we’d be taking several planned ‘pit-stops’ at ALL of the California Missions.)

My dad, being much smarter than us, said he would be staying home.

We were gone about two weeks and in that time I had missed Velvet dearly. So naturally, the first thing I did upon returning home was cheerfully run to his cage, bend down and pick him up. “Wake up little baby Velvet.” I said. Only Velvet didn’t wake up.

I realized something was wrong. Very wrong. I thought to myself while petting his smooth, damp, hard as ice, freezing cold body. ‘Strange? I don’t remember Velvet being so…so… FROZEN?!’

Turns out, my dad had apparently “forgotten to mention” that Velvet had indeed died while we were away. So with the very best intentions, he made what he thought was the most logical choice at the time. He had placed Velvet in a storage size Ziploc bag, put that bag into the freezer and then returned the rock hard frozen bunny body back into the cage moments before we arrived. As if none of it had happened.

Upon hearing this – my nine year old self screamed, “You murderer! How could you let Velvet die??!” With years of insight between myself and this incident as a full grown woman I would now yell – “You murderer! How could you let Velvet fucking die??!”

To patch up this situation my parents quickly replaced Velvet with Cookie. Only Cookie was an asshole. Cookie scratched the shit out of you every time you attempted to hold him. And just like the asshole he was, Cookie took his sweet time dying of natural causes.

If I went to therapy, my therapist would probably say that replacing dead pets immediately with new un-dead* pets, without proper time for mourning, has formulated how I deal with loss of any kind in adulthood. But therapy is for people with solid health coverage.

To my family:

Dad – This is an official, ‘No offense’, which means you can not have Mom call me to tell me that I’m shaming the family name by putting everything up on the “world wide web”.  You’ve taught me a lot of really valuable shit. One of those lessons being, how not to handle the death of a beloved childhood pet. Thank you.

Mom – I’m really glad I’ve seen ALL of the California Missions. Thank you.

This post is dedicated to Velvet. I’ll see you in bunny heaven and I’ll never ever let anything bad happen to you again.

What The F*ck Did I Do In A Past Life To Deserve That Level Of Childhood Pranking:

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on

bunny

bunny kisses

Don-t-look-at-me-298501873

Bunny Hugs

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faves-onecreativegirl

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*By un-dead, I do not mean zombie animals.

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