All I Want for Christmas is a New President

On Wednesday, November ninth, I woke up at six a.m. and in the dim light, swiped through my phone to Facebook. News from the night before had not changed. I thought it would have changed.

I walked the few feet from my bed to my bathroom and peed while the fog of my dreams lifted. I stood up to brush my teeth and wondered what I’ll do if I ever need an abortion. Instead of reaching for my toothbrush, I gripped the counter and crumpled to a squat, crushed by the force of my sobs.

Eventually, I brushed my teeth. The sight of my puffy eyes and red face in the mirror threatened to propel me to further ugly crying. I didn’t look at myself again.

Continue reading “All I Want for Christmas is a New President”


Hi, Remember Me?

It’s been a while.

Last week, one of my friends said I was like “a real adult.” I told her that I’m just good at pretending. Would a real adult get an email notification from her bank that her account balance fell below $25? Twice? In one day? If the answer is yes, then you could say that yes, I am very much a real adult.

Continue reading “Hi, Remember Me?”

That Time I Acted Like Even More Of An Awkward Moron Than Usual

This is the story of the time my friend Jake came to visit me and I was awkward. The two aren’t directly correlated, but he was visiting while I was awkward, which gives the awkwardness more of a time frame, since it is a regular occurrence in my life.

It was the third and final night of Jake’s visit. Some of my friends were doing a sketch comedy show that night, and I’d already decided like a month before that I’d be attending. Friendly support and all, ya know? So I told this to Jake and after a day of beach bumming and trying to find the Daredevil premiere, we headed on over.

Since I had no food in my house that I was willing to share because I 1) am poor and 2) eat strange foods that no one would want to share anyway, we first stopped at a bar so Jake could eat and we could drink. There was a painting night going on. Many single ladies and unwilling boyfriends were there. We sat at the bar. The guy next to Jake was drunk and hitting on a girl. The bartenders were very attractive. I’ve been meaning to go back and see if either of them will marry me, come to think of it. They’re both probably actors though, so :/

We got to the theater and I introduced Jake to a bunch of people while we waited in line. Finally we took our seats and the show started. It was funny and we laughed. Then it was over and we all went outside to congratulate our friends on being funny and to bask in the glow of their coolness. I was so overwhelmed by all the coolness that I forgot that I am not one actually possessing the cool and then I asked a very attractive guy if I could touch his hair.

Luckily I knew this guy and even remembered his name. This is not a normal thing for me, remembering names, and I only happened to remember his because it was like the third time we’d met and he pretended to be offended that I didn’t remember it last time. For the sake of this post, he will henceforth be known as Attractive Guy. So this was like the third or even fourth time we met face to face and actually made a point to say hi and exchange actual words, which is major progress, believe it or not. Before we’d met, I’d seen him a few times, in my super awkward stalker (stalkward?) way. Like imagine me at a barbecue, hiding behind a potted plant as I scout out the scene. Because even though I’ve never actually done that, that is what I do in my mind every time I’m in a social setting. Every. Time.

We met at a friend’s party a few months ago. I was doing my stalkward thing and I noticed his presence. As I’d done before, I took a moment mourn what would never be and then moved on. Imagine my horror when, just an hour or so later, we actually spoke. To each other. Even if I’d anticipated such a scenario would ever happen (and let’s be real, my imagination creates some pretty detailed scenarios), I would not have been prepared. He told me his name was Attractive Guy. Our conversation was brief, as most of my conversations tend to go. We spoke again later. I told him I’d forgotten his name.

Thus began our torrid love affair. Just kidding. Come on. The next time I saw Attractive Guy was at the comedy show. I was like “Hey Attractive Guy, like how I remembered your name?” and we talked about things that I don’t remember because they were probably stupid.

“Your hair looks different,” I pointed out.

“Probably because you can see it,” he said.

I feel like I laughed too much at this comment, even though I’m sure I didn’t, but I might just be trying to erase the entire encounter from my memory. Anyway. Normally he wore hats. That night he wasn’t. And because his hair looked like a gravity defying cloud, I asked to touch it. Because that is who I am and that is the sort of thing I do.

Then I touched his hair and it did not feel like a cloud because it was hair, not a cloud.

Then we left because Jake was tired and I needed to die of embarrassment.

A Witch With A B

After many years, I’ve come to the undeniable conclusion that I’m a bit of a sassy gal.  Sarcastic, feisty, bitchy, rude, whatever, I’ve heard it all.  While I actually like this quality about myself quite a lot, I grew up learning that I should refrain from such comments.  I wasn’t witty or endearing; I had a bad attitude.  I suppose that was true to a certain extent; after all, I only said such things when I thought someone was being painfully stupid.  Or just a bit oblivious to an obvious situation.  It’s a judgmental habit I inherited from my parents, so you’d think they would have appreciated it more, but whatever.

So I spent a long time holding back.  Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, right?  It’s mean.  It’s poor form.  It’s also my main form of communication.  As a result, instead of voicing all of my bitchy comments, I held my tongue and spent a lot of my life keeping quiet.

Yeah, that really does not work for me.

awkward jenna sorry not sorry gif

When I realized that one of my friends here, arguably the nicest person I’ve ever met, is even sassier than I, I was yet again faced with a harsh reality that I’ve been coming to terms with for years now.

Screw what everyone else thinks.

I mean really.  There’s a time and place, of course, but I can’t continue stifling an aspect of myself that is so vital to who I am.  Basically, if you can’t handle it or don’t get it, I don’t care.  I’ve put in a great deal of effort cultivating a useful filter for all the ridiculous things that come to mind.  Usually I’m able to realize I shouldn’t say something before I say it, but as demonstrated in the case with Quantum Physics, it doesn’t always work.

There are still plenty of things I shouldn’t and won’t say, but my feisty ‘tude shall not continue to be included.  I’ve spent so much time with my head up my ass trying to do and say things that will make other people happy.  I’ve been working hard to change that over the past couple of years, but it’s a long process.  I wouldn’t say it’s difficult, not exactly, because all I have to do is think about how unhappy I am when I ascribe to other people’s standards.

mindy kaling my own role model gif

It’s not instant though, and it’s an unreliable process.  I guess it would be easy to get discouraged and give up, but luckily I haven’t done that yet.  I’ve just stuck with some bad habits longer than I’d like.

I guess that right now, my big area of improvement focuses on dating and relationships.  Mainly romantic ones, but I’ve also been thinking a lot about how important friendship is.  A romantic relationship built between people who don’t have friends can become co-dependent.  Been there, done that, no thanks.  Friends are important.  Even just one or two.  But I’m talking about real friends.  Good ones.  People with whom you can be yourself and talk about important things.  They’re the people who will support you unconditionally (as long as you’re reciprocating that effort) so that you don’t feel like you need to be in a relationship.

And well, in order to have friends like that, you’ve gotta be comfortable being yourself.  And in order to do that, you have to know who you are.

emma watson lead a country gif

I actually have a pretty good idea of who I am at this point, so kudos to me.  Well, at the very least I know that I’m highly dramatic, a quality that in my case, only works when paired with irony.  I know that I’m dramatic and have a high opinion of myself.  I know that to many, this comes off as self-absorbed.  And I know those things are true.  I’m an arrogant know-it-all with a high opinion of myself.  What else can I do but use it to my advantage?

I say this is important in order to find true friends, but it’s also vital to a good romantic relationship, too.  I mean Bill Nye the Quantum Physics Guy didn’t seem to mind when the first thing I said to him was that he looked different that I expected.  He seemed to find it amusing, come to think of it.  He also laughed at every outrageous thing that I said.  I’ve only seen him once, canceling our second date in favor of Six Flags, but he sure does seem to like me.  I’m finally seeing him again tonight, actually.

He likes me because I’m being exactly who I am.  And who knows, maybe it won’t work out.  If it doesn’t, I’d rather know that I was honest.  I’d rather we both be exactly who we are and know it doesn’t work because of that.  I’d hate to pretend that I’m someone I’m not just because I think someone else will like it.  I’d hate to pretend and for it to not work – or even worse, actually work –  as a result.  I don’t want to be with someone who I have to pretend around.

Along those same lines, I know what I want.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I’m not going to compromise what I want in a relationship in favor of just having one.  There’s no shortage of decent available guys, as I’ve experienced firsthand.  They’re definitely not hard to come by if you compromise your standards.  But just because a guy seems to be nice, decently attractive, and interesting doesn’t mean I have to date him.  I’m not so obsessed with finding someone to call my boyfriend that I’ll settle for the first acceptable guy who comes along.

I’m not going to start off a relationship by making exceptions.   Those little things turn into big things.  If I have to lower my standards on the first date, I can only imagine what will happen as things progress.  I don’t want to date someone because I like the idea of who they could be or because they have potential.  I want to like them as they are, right in front of me.  If I’m already noticing qualities I want to change about someone that early on, it’s clearly not meant to be.

I would rather have impossibly high standards than be desperate.  I would rather be satisfied with my life as it is, on my own, than feel like I need someone to make me whole.  I’d rather kiss a thousand frogs than assume that the first creep I see is a prince.  I want to be so happy that it takes an incredibly special person for me to change my situation than so incredibly unhappy that I’ll take the first guy who will have me.

gretchen karen new queen bee gif

Do You Wanna Do Something Fun? Wanna Go To Taco Bell?

“It makes me look fat.”

Those are the words that I just heard an 8 year old utter.

I actually can’t process much more than that at the moment.  She was there with her 6 year old sister and her mom.  We’d just gone through the arduous task of trying to find her an outfit to buy (for no reason other than “because,” mind you).  There was a black lace skirt that she loved but she couldn’t agree with her mom on a top to match it.

I told her that one day, when she was the one paying, she could buy whatever she wanted.  I mean I really think that she should be able to wear whatever she wants, within reason.  So the black top wasn’t the same black as the skirt (they were totally the same though).  Like really?  She’s 8.

An 8 year old is already concerned about being fat.  I absolutely cannot with this city right now.  I can’t.

For the record, this child had absolutely no logical reason to feel this way and I promise you, her mother was just as horrified as I was when she said that.

I don’t remember much about my life at 8 years old except I liked horses and Harry Potter wasn’t a big deal yet.  What I can tell you though is that I definitely didn’t have any concept of fat or skinny and I definitely didn’t already have body issues.  I guess that’s one of the perks of growing up in the middle of nowhere?

It makes me think about where this girl got this sort of idea in her head, that fat is even a thing.  I mean she’s only 8!  It’s possible that she learned from her mother, but for some reason, I doubt it.  That leaves media, but again, she’s 8.  What could she possibly have access to that would give her the idea that she needs to be concerned with her weight?

The only somewhat logical conclusion that I can come up with is that she learned from her peers, who learned it from their own mothers.  Maybe their mothers are terrible, vain hags who genuinely believe appearance is the only thing that matters.  Maybe they’ve already started ingraining that into their daughters’ minds.

Or maybe they don’t have a clue.  Maybe they innocently enough perpetuate this false notion that your weight determines your value.  It’s completely possible.  I’m not even sure which is worse; doing it on purpose or being completely unaware.

Either way, it sucks, and it needs to stop.

regina george cheese fries gif