What I’ve Been Doing for Two Months

*tap tap*

Helllloooo?

Is there anybody in there?

Just nod if you can hear me.

If you have a middle aged dad who owns a car with a functioning radio, you probably know I’m quoting a Pink Floyd song. If not, I’m sorry, you probably had a difficult childhood and/or very quiet road trips.

Anyway, I’m baaaack.

I know I said I was just going out for cigarettes and I’d be home in time for dinner, but now here we are two months later and I’m just trying to walk back into your life like nothing happened. (At least I’m home in time for A dinner)?

I’ll be honest with you. I thought about leaving this blog in my dust and taking up with a podcast, but as my father always told me and his father told him, “you make your bed, you sleep in it.” And hey, maybe I can make this an open relationship and do both? This is 2013, after all.

I was debating whether or not to start back up with the blog when a reader (not my mother. Trust me, she has a direct line to nag me about posting new stuff) sent me an e-mail saying he and his friend missed my blog. Listen, I’m not going to copy and paste his email because that’s no better than when people retweet compliments, but I will say he was throwing around words like “insightful” and “hilarious” (full disclosure, he actually said “humorous” but as a comedy writer, I had to “punch it up” for him as we say in the industry).

I just took a break from blogging because I didn’t feel like I had anything to say, so I went out there and LIVED so I would have something to write about. (Oh, reminds me, do any aspiring Youtube stars want to take this idea: a Bonnie Raitt parody song called “Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Blog About”? Please. Run with it).

So, here’s what’s been happening with me since we last spoke two months ago:

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  • I’ve started using words like “the industry” and “the biz”. I also have “projects in the pipeline” and I’m punching it up and also loglines and back end residuals and I’m just like, selling it in the room, ya know? I also work at the front desk of a life insurance firm in Beverly Hills and I’m happy to pay $2 for a thimble of wheat grass juice… So I guess I’ve just been busy making Los Angeleez my home.
  • I started doing Crossfit.
  • I quit Crossfit
  • I gained 5 pounds
  • I’m back at Crossfit!
  • Breaking Bad finale
  • Coven premiere
  • I’m in the throes of a very serious Stevie Nicks phase (see above).
  • + Turned 25
  • - Began my 25th year by losing a booty shaking contest to a 17 year-old whilst in the presence of drag queens.

There it is! 2 months chock-full of life experience and writing material. I’m ready to get back to blogging regularly! (Until I get bored again or don’t become internet famous, which ever affects me more first).

HeTexted.com: The Saddest Corner of the Internet

Recently, I’ve realized that Facebook is passing some major judgement on my lifestyle, as all the ads they post for me now involve cleaning supplies and services, rehab facilities, and general websites involving where and how to find a boyfriend. I knew that Mark Zuckerberg had a feminine face, but I didn’t know he was my mother– amiright, ladies? HA-CHA-CHA-CHA! (I’m working day and night on my Catskill/1980′s female comedian hybrid character, so I don’t even have TIME to date).

The other day Facebook suggested this little gem, and in the process, insulted my intelligence:

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HeTexted.com has 3 components: A blog, a forum where you can ask for boy advice and people can respond and vote whether he’s “into you” or not (democracy hard at work!), and “ask a bro.”

Besides invading Iraq looking for WMD’s, I literally can’t think of a more terrible idea than this website (guys, how smart did I just sound?). Women and girls don’t need a forum to over-analyze men together from across the globe.

I understand that sometimes you need advice from your friends. I ask for it a lot and I love to sit down with a gal pal and draw out a venn diagram or a pro’s and con’s list over some Sauv Blaahhhh to decide if we should break up with her boyfriend. However, as I get older I have begun to realize that just because they’re your friends, doesn’t mean they give sound advice. If I have trouble figuring out if my friends can be trusted with my romantic problems, how can I be assured that these faceless, internet dum-dums know what they’re talking about?

Just judging by their blog, it doesn’t seem like you should trust this website.

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First sentence out of the gate: “Let’s talk girl crushes.”

No. Don’t. I can’t stand this phrase. Just say what you actually mean– you think this woman is cool and pretty and you would like to be friends with her. You don’t have to add a “no-homo” stamp of clarification. Nobody thinks you plan to go Orange-is-the-New-Black on her lady bits. Unless you do, in which case it’s just a crush.

Already I don’t feel good about these people. Next post:

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NOPE! NOOOOPE! A bad Sex and the City reference (“Single and the City” is arguably redundant) coupled with a New Girl picture? These are a bunch of 22 year-old girls with brand new journalism degrees, sitting around Starbucks in their H&M blazers, blogging and taking selfies hashtagged #riseandgrind. I’m sure they could tell you how to highlight your eyes like Kim Kardashian (hint: it involves NARS blush in Albatross), but putting your love life in their young, stupid hands is not advisable.

And do women really need advice on guys? Deep down, don’t you already know what’s up? Like this girl:

20130822-102607.jpgThis is just depressing. Is asking the audience really necessary here? And they’re all like this. A lot of the questions seem to be from teenagers, but just as many are definitely from women who are at least in their 20′s. There are just so many things that your time would be better spent on than sitting at a computer obsessing over guys. If you find yourself obsessing, you can do what I do to get my mind off of it: listen to a podcast or meditate or drink a bottle of wine and sing through the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode after your apartment’s quiet hours, aka just doing me.

Milestone: My First Mean Comment

I can’t believe it took me almost two and a half years of posting on this blog, but it finally happened. I got my first insulting comment!

This little gift was left for me on an older post, The Nice Guys of OKCupid!

It was actually in reply to another comment I had replied to, in which a 22 year-old dude told me I was wrong and he was offended…

OH, WAIT! MILESTONE TWO!

My first offended reader!!!!

The comment from the offended reader was just way too long to post here, but the gist of it was, “you’re wrong about your thoughts and feelings and the thoughts and feelings of other women your age, Certified Vagina Owner. As a 22 year-old dude with a lot of life experience, you can just defer to me and my opinions since your brain is made up of a hollow, dark chocolate Easter bunny filled with Midol pills.”

I mean, in his original argument, he was saying that he’s a nice guy but girls don’t like him, and girls only like assholes, which makes me think that he didn’t even really read the post (maybe because he just couldn’t get over the shock that my dad or brother let me use his computer. It’s a miracle my cup of tea didn’t slip through my delicate lady hands and spill all over the keyboard) because I kind of addressed that myth directly. Not eloquently or intelligently, but I did address it.

In my reply to this kid, I kind of just said, “shut up, 22 year old boy,” and referred him to another article that might help clarify my point. Because I’m just trying to open hearts and minds here, people.

Okay, then came the mean comment (from a different guy):

Screen shot 2013-06-26 at 9.34.58 AMFirst of all, thank you for calling my assertions “hilarious,” but what is questionable about Tom Hanks being nice? Scientists have been studying him for years and they came up with that conclusion, not me. Secondly, why do I have to choose between being mentally deficient OR trying to get attention? And I thought that by having a blog it was just implied that I am looking for attention?

Andy, I can see where you got your last name, “Wisdom” (what is that, Greek?). Everyone does have flaws. Like for me, the proportions of my individual body parts are totally out of whack: my hands and wrists are abnormally small, so you’d think that I’d have some really tiny feet, right? Nope! A totally average size 8!

Also, what are these separate flaws that “assholes” and “nice guys” have? Because please, oh, please, remember that the whole point of the post (that I don’t think you read) is that a [QUOTE] Nice Guy [END QUOTE] is really just an asshole in sheep’s clothing, not a genuine and kind man.

And listen, I’m not saying that women don’t date assholes and then write off guys who treat them with respect. There are plenty of woman who do. If that didn’t happen then all the strip clubs across this great nation would be empty and we’d have to turn them all into libraries and soup kitchens. Saying that we ALL date people who treat us badly is just a lazy, sweeping generalization that is patronizing to women.

So, thank you, Andy Wisdom, you made my day because you haven’t really made it until people start insulting you. Hopefully, one day soon I’ll hit it big and have thousands and thousands of followers, and then I can finally start tweeting things like “Good Morning, Haterz! xox #soblessed”

OR

“Can’t see haterz! #raybans #michelobultra #BFFs #livelaughlove #sorrynotsorry #sweetsummer”

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What I’ve Done Today: Part II

Screen shot 2013-05-23 at 11.08.36 AMAt the end of every day, my roommate and I usually give each other a run down of how our day went. Yesterday, my roommate came home and found me at about 5 o’clock, sitting on the couch with the shades drawn and the TV on mute. I had a lot to fill her in on:

At noon I made a really strong and impassioned statement on defying racial stereotypes by spending $13 on a breakfast sandwich and coffee, proving once and for all that not every Jew is good with their money.

The day only got more productive from there:

At 2pm I came home, sat on the couch and thought about blogging. But just thinking about blogging wasn’t enough, so I put some of my resume skills to good use by being a self-starter and doing some expert multi-tasking.

So I….

Thought about blogging…

….and picked off my gel manicure.

Thought about blogging…

….and thought about exercising.

Thought about blogging…

….and picked at a scab on my chin.

Thought about blogging…

….and read my own blog.

This went on for about 4 hours until I finally got up to go to the bathroom and toyed with the idea of parting my hair in the center because #YOLO

Spoiler Alert!!! Decided against it.

Then I sat back on the couch and looked at the Facebook’s of people I went to high school with and got really smug about how they’re still stuck in our hometown, married with stupid children who ruin their lives and love them unconditionally, and they have their dumb, steady jobs, with no hope of EVER being famous. And it’s just so sad, ‘cuz like LOOK AT ME, I’m in LA. I saw Sean and Eric from Boy Meets World at a cafe once, I have an air mattress, my roommate and I are thinking about auditioning for The Amazing Race, like, it’s all happening.

………..

So after going through that one-woman show/suicide note with my roommate, she decided it was time to go see a burger about some feelings before I started thinking about getting bangs. 968784_4938956914874_1217821939_nIt worked! Look at those happy faces! We love LA, we love a burger, but most of all, we love each other. 

But seriously, how does everyone feel about me and bangs?

What I’ve Done Today

Well, after waking up, making coffee and breakfast, and taking a quick 2 hour nap, I did something I’m not proud of:

RE: Anti-feminism blog written by a woman who asserts that Jodi Arias killed her ex-boyfriend because…feminism

jodiariasfemCan I please have a job now? Things are dark here.

(Luckily, I’m not so far gone or bored that I feel the need to reply back to this).

This exchange brings up something scary (besides my feminist self running around town slitting the throats of young, virile men because I voted for Hillary in the primary election), I realized I was following this woman’s blog. I think I just hit the “feminism” tag on WordPress and just clicked on everything that came up. Who else could I be following? Am I on a list somewhere because I accidentally followed an Al Qaeda sympathizer blog after I clicked on a bunch of blogs with “Jessica Chastain” tags when Zero Dark Thirty came out? Is that how Al Qaeda gets you?!

HELPPPP MEEEEE!!!!!!

48 Hours: OKCupid

I have begun to realize that if I’m left alone long enough with a bottle of Rite Aid’s finest $3 cabernet, I get an overwhelming urge to join OKCupid. I don’t think that’s a sign of any kind of alcohol problem, but when I finally joined, it definitely felt like I was subletting a finished basement in rock bottom.

OkCupid-LogoI had thought about joining since I moved to LA, but then a few weeks ago on a whim, (wine/whim. Synonyms, really) I actually did it. While I sat on the couch with my roommate, I devised an OKCupid profile:

Profile Question: “What are you most likely to be doing on Friday night?”
My Answer: “Drinking wine while I watch a Golden Girls marathon by myself.”

Profile Question: “You should contact me if….”
My Answer: “….you enjoy feminist rants because it’s kind of my thing.”

That last one is actually just a direct quote from New Girl. You might think I wasn’t taking the questions seriously, but if you know anything about me, you know that if I said literally anything else it would have been a lie.

After finishing my profile, I sat back as the predatory messages from uninhibited men hiding behind computers started rolling in!

The messages ran the gamut from either ignorant, creepy, or very creepy, but nearly every message I got included some sort of comment about the two questions above. Like:

“You’re a feminist? So, you want to castrate me?”

Yes. But just you, specifically.

“I don’t mind feminism as long as it’s not about bringing down men and isn’t in poor taste.”

Awwww. From the mouths’ of bros.

Of the 60 or so messages I got in the 48 hours before I deleted my profile, only two were from people I would consider dating. When I replied to one of those guys, I asked him his experience on OKC. He said the thing that bothered him the most was how many women wore some sort of fake mustache in their pictures. I was all, “uggh, totes, I feel you. My least favorite thing about guys on OKC is kinda like that, except instead of fake mustaches it’s the sexually suggestive comments about your looks that make you feel like an object to be used instead of an actual person, LOL!!”

I started to consider deleting my profile about 12 hours into creating it, but figured I’d keep an open mind and see if anyone good popped up. By hour 48, there was still no person of interest, BUT there was one guy who messaged me that would definitely be a person of interest to the police if I was murdered!

His message was simple and to the point.

“How many shoes do you own and do you like to cuddle?”

And with that, I deleted my profile.

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I would not recommend OKCupid to single women unless you’re interested in the caliber of men that can’t afford Match.com.

If that is your thing, my advice would be to create a profile then discuss with your roommate or next of kin what photo you would like shown on the evening news after your inevitable disappearance. Tell them that anything from your Facebook profile picture album is pre-approved. If you’re just missing have them choose a photo that looks like you, yet still flattering. Something that really makes people want to find you. Now, if they’ve already discovered your charred remains and can only identify you by your dental records– go nuts!! Use the picture from the week after that lucky bout of food poisoning. Remember? Your hair was blonde and you still went tanning. It looks nothing like you now, but let that be the way the world remembers you. You deserve it.

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Vote for me for “Best Lifestyle Blog” and “Funniest Blog”

Vote for Me!!!!

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Thanks to all of your help, I was nominated for Best LifeStyle Blog and Funniest Blog on the Indie Chicks website! So if you want to go over (click on the picture to to be take to the site) and vote for me in both categories that would be fantastic and much appreciated. I don’t think I get anything but validation if I win, but that’s like cash in the bank to a needy comedian.

Could You Do Me a Favsies?

badassblogawards2Hey, friends! I feel like in the last two years that we’ve known each other I haven’t asked for much from you, but I was hoping I could cash in a little favor… I humbly ask that you consider nominating me for “Funniest Blogger” on this website. It takes two seconds, and if I were to win, it would give me just enough validation to keep me going in Los Angeles for another two weeks. Speaking of giving up, I did my first stand up open mic last night, and a male comic asked me if I was going to quit, move back to NH, and marry my college boyfriend. And I said “HEY, SIRRRR, jokes on you because I never HAD a boyfriend in college!”

Finding a Job

Hey, you know that kinda recent episode of Girls where Hannah goes middle-class-white-girl crazy and shoves a Q-Tip in her ear due to the stress of having a book deal? If that’s normal and soooo “relatable,” how would a normal person’s stress manifest itself if that person just moved 3,000 miles from home and had to find a job and pay rent? If the stress of getting paid to write a book at age 24 is a Q-Tip, and let’s say single mother making minimum wage and raising two kids is a hot steak knife…then I’d say I’m holding steady at a toddler’s tooth brush stuck firmly into my ear canal. In the grand scheme, it’s just champagne problems, but shut up, I’m Beyonce in my tiny universe, and having no job is stressful!!!

Now that I’m on my own, Girls makes even less sense to me. Why isn’t Hannah constantly talking about rent? If they wanted this show to reflect the feelings of a generation, then their scripts should have just kept alternating the words “rent” and “wine” for 30 pages. That would speak to me!

As of press time, so like, right now, I’m working on a bottle of wine after a long day of job lookin’. A day that was meant to be full of some completely undeserved relaxation, turned into a day of running back in forth through sand trying to get to an interview. That only kind of happened, but feel free to picture me doing that in a neon, wide brimmed sun hat.

b219f9e8a95011e2a22022000a1fc78f_7{This was me just prior to hell breaking loose}

My gal pals and I drove about an hour to Santa Monica for a beach day. Goddammit! I should have known I didn’t deserve a relaxing beach day!!!

Just about the time we got to the promenade, I got an email about a job opportunity that was very time sensitive. So in the ensemble you see above, my roommate and I went to the Apple store to tweak my resume and cover letter. After an hour of me hovered over a Mac laptop in my Coachella reject outfit, I finally sent off my stuff, and strutted to the beach, ready to relax after the stressful hour I had. What an hour.

15 minutes later, my shorts are OFF and my Trader Joe’s organic sunscreen is ON, and I am ready for some professional TLC from the California sun. Until! I get a phone call saying I have an interview and can I be there at 4:30, and of course I can ’cause all I have to do is put my mind to something.

So, my poor friends and I.. my poor, poor friends- May God bless and keep you, Jillian and Caitlin (my friends go by their full names, they are cosmopolitain ladies, THANK YEH). They were such great sports. SO, we run… picture me running through sand in that hat to the car. We finally make it to the other side of town, only so I can spend 15 minutes throwing on my interview outfit and showering in a bath of dry shampoo mist, until I was right back out the door.

For my 45 minute drive back, I meditated on the mantra that greasy hair would not be the determining factor of whether or not I got this job.

And hopefully that is actually true.

My interview happened and it was nearly the most majestic 15 minutes of my life, second only to my experience at Disney World’s Main Street Electrical Parade. Just kidding, it was okay, and I hope I get the job, but I release it into the universe like Deepak Chopra tells me to.

It was a stressful day, but it gave me an excuse to have a burger which I’ve been craving. That burger might end up being a celebratory burger or a depressed burger, but either way I enjoyed the burger. Breathe in, breathe out; rent money is just a man-made construct.

******If you’re in the Los Angeles area, please give me a job.

My Advice to LiLo After Moving Back With Her Mom

Lindsay, let me first preface this post by saying that as I write this, I am sitting in my childhood bedroom.

photoThis is what I’m working with right now.

I know this looks bad. And sure, I’m making myself low-calorie margaritas at my desk for dinner, and I don’t know if that qualifies me for an eating disorder or a drinking problem. And yes, I’m spending my Thursday night in New Hampshire writing in a blog that I don’t get paid for. The “I” on my keyboard is so worn out that I have to warm it up before I start  writing (I’m serous… seriiious), and I’m starting to think that when your “I” key is over-used it points to a Real Housewives level of narcism. And yet, I continue to write in this blog that nobody pays me for because there isn’t much left to do.

So, with that kind of full discloser, it may not seem like I’ve got it together enough to give you advice, but I’ve never done meth before, and like, no offense, I kinda think you have, so maybe I have some wisdom to impart. Besides the meth, I’ve also been living with my parents for about a year and a half after college, so maybe you can learn something now that you’ve moved back into your Long Island pre-Parent Trap home. 

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Okay, so first, you probably feel really bad about yourself. You should. I’m not trying to be mean, but I think you need to take some responsibility for screwing up your life. You were a child star, and that definitely sets you up for some problems. Your mother was a failed show girl or something and your dad was a money-hungry coke fiend, and that’s just the perfect storm to create a… well, a you… Basically, you are the new industry standard for a screwed-up child star. No one remembers Dana Plato, anymore. It’s all you.

You’ve kind of hit rock bottom, so let this be a time of reflection. Reflect on what you’ve done wrong, and what you can do in the future to be better. Make a game plan. Take an acting class. We all saw Liz and Dick, and I’ll grant you, you had your moments, but you could use a brush-up. Take this opportunity to chill and get back to basics. Don’t worry too much about what your peers are doing. I know you must hate Jennifer Lawrence so, so much right now, but just worry about yourself and what you can do to come back swinging. There’s no shame in moving home, we’ve all been doing it. Lena Dunham did it. It’s the thing, it’s chic! This is a bad economy, and snorting your entire fortune up your nose happens to everyone. I say “everyone” with the assumption that everyone is Stevie Nicks. And look how well she turned out!!

Just remember, if Robert Downey Jr. can make a come back, so can you. He professed his friendship for Mel Gibson with a weird kiss during the Golden Globes in a room full of Jews. He cannot possibly be smarter than you.

Just know that I believe in you, Lindsay.