Not Alicia Roy

The 5 Benefits of Getting Dumped

2012-12-04T06:25:00.000-06:00

As I typed the title of this post, I did, in fact, lol, because it sounds like complete bullshit. Hear me out, dear readers, hear me out.

With every even quasi-relationship I have been involved in, I have been the dumpee. Frankly, I have also 9/10 times been, uh, "let go" in kind of intensely bad ways. Like, a wee bit extreme, fellas. Unclear on what this says about me, have narrowed it down to a few likely options: (A) I am a truly insufferable human, destined to CATS and BAGS forever, (B) I am forever maybe too optimistic things will work out, (C) I know things won't work out, but I get lazy and think it's easier to deal with mediocre than go through the act of breaking things off. Praying to all gods and dark lords alike that it is not option (A), and chances are high that it has more to do with option (C).

Now that we have established my potentially unfortunate expertise in this dark, dark field. I proceed with my logic:

Statistically, it is less likely for you to look like/be the bad guy when you get broken up with. (I'm excluding scenarios of ~*dump that cheater*~ because I ain't no cheater and have no experience in said types of break ups.) Even if/when you see it coming, a break up is never easy, and, hell, it's really nice to be able to logically play the victim for a second. I am much less likely to deliver grilled cheeses to my friend when she decides to break up with her lovely boyfriend than when my lovely friend gets dumped and clearly needs hot cheese.

Now, I fully understand that there are types of people who are probably a lot stronger than I am and can detect when a relationship is over and end it. You are strong. I'll bring you hot cheese. You deserve it too. You probably are already aware, however, that you run the risk of looking like the emotional bully. You might deserve double hot cheese for this burden. OR, you might just actually be a bully and deserve no cheeses, heated or otherwise. I don't know your life.

Those who dump you in rude ass manners turn into anecdotes. I am able to write this in a lighthearted tone and jest about my experiences not because I am particularly evolved or beyond feeling sadness (if you have read literally anything else I have ever written, it's 98% about crying) because of just how ridiculous some of this shit was. People who have meant so much to me trickle down to anecdotes of "the guy who dumped me [insert scenario here]." While this can be sad, it can also be oddly empowering. Yes, these people meant a lot to you at one time in one place. However, if they cut you out of their life in some extreme and/or dickish manner, they totally deserve to be diluted into a story you tell you friends. Be warned, however, that the transition period between these two extremes really fucking blows. Going from feeling like you know someone inside and out to referring to them to your friends not by their name but by "the guy who dumped me on Valentines Day" (or whatever the situation might be) is a painful process, at least at first.

Ball is in your court for later friendship. I am, in general, a potentially too forgiving person. I have no problem with the idea of forgiving, forgetting, and being friends with exes. However, the control freak part of me genuinely loves the fact that when I am the one that got dumped, that ball is way more in my court than theirs. Like when another Sim starts a fight with your Sim and you can decide if you want to Appreciate-Compliment them or Fight. Like that, but with humans. I digress. Anyway, healing time is not only important, but necessary.

Let me emphasize the LATER friendship part here, because I am of the belief that you shouldn't be friends with your ex immediately. Yeah, exceptions, blah blah blah, but 99.9% of the time it is a terrible idea. I have tried this, and every time we hung out/talked as "friends" at least 1/2 of involved parties left crying. This includes after ICE CREAM. Literally no human is supposed to cry post-ice cream, I know that from science.

You're allowed a grace period of petty. When you have been broken up with, you are allowed a grace period in which you may roll your eyes, scoff, and otherwise make a big deal at the mention/sight/sound of your ex. The grace period depends entirely on the length of the relationship at hand, how bad the break up was, etc. I've been working on a precise equation, but it's a tough one. Basically, you're allowed to be a little immature if you need to, because sometimes that helps when dealing with shitty situations, and the world should understand that and roll its eyes with you. However, don't be a dick. Yeah, your ex dumped you. Yeah, he/she is seeing someone else now. Maybe you are still single, but that's not their fault. Maybe you are happy with someone else. You're allowed a single eye roll at their new Facebook-official relationship, and then you gotta let it lay, baby. You'll drive yourself crazy if you don't.

There are so many good break up songs. Like, so many. Rarely are they about healthy, mutually beneficial break ups, either. If you want to build a fort, call it "Heartbreak Hotel", and listen to an absurdly long playlist of break up songs, that is a goal you can logistically achieve. I won't even judge you [aloud] if one of your songs is Gotye's overplayed heartache gem "Somebody I Used to Know". I feel you, bro. Personal favorites include "The Bad In Each Other" by Feist and "Come Pick Me Up" by Ryan Adams.

See? It's not so bad, kiddos. Well, even if it is, it doesn't have to stay bad. Until then, eat whatever dairy products you want and believe every friend and loved one that tells you how you are "too good for them, anyway" because you probably are.

A Timely Review: The OC 01x09 "The Heights"

2012-12-02T22:45:00.001-06:00

There are spoilers, you guys!!

Episode 9, Season 1. Back to school at Harbor High!!! It's Ryan's first day at his new school with all the ~*rich kids*~ so that's like, REALLY stressful for him. Marissa is torn between her cheating ex Luke and the ever-brooding Ryan. Seth Cohen is doing something adorable. Sandy Cohen's eyebrows are there.

Sandy Cohen w/ his eyebrows

This episode, like every episode, really enlightens the view to teen dramas/struggles that every teen realistically goes through as a teen. I remember when my environmental lawyer dad had to sue my mom's wealthy construction firm and they fought about it and it was really weird.

The above portion was a comedy joke pointing out how The OC is not relatable on many levels to 98% of the population. However, whenever the Anna/Seth/Summer love triangle is taking place I find myself shouting at the TV like a Jerry Springer audience member or doing this a lot. I just... I feel Anna so hard on this one, y'all. Like, I GET that Seth and Summer are "meant for each other" and when Adam Brody and Rachel Bilson broke up in '06 I knew true love wasn't real, but Anna is my GIRL. Nerdy teen girl who gets friend-zoned by a cute nerdy guy? Been there, girl, BEEN THERE. The amount of times I have thought "DON'T CRY ANNA YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER COHEN DOESN'T GET IT!" is greater than twelve, pretty easily. Just WAIT from my review on the Christmukkah episode, coming sometime in the next year or two, or whenever I drink a bottle of wine and watch The OC as part of my observation of "Sad Sunday" again (read: next Sunday??).

Ugh, let's be real, Anna KISSES Seth at the carnival thing in this episode and he thinks she is still trying to help him get Summer. Um, no, you dumb ass. Also, Seth giving her his prize (a sock monkey aw) probably made the rest of her night terrible because she was pining. No, I'm NOT projecting my own experiences and feelings onto this show that is a really rude assumption thanks but no thanks.

What I'm saying is, fuck Seth Cohen. Anna forever. Some other things happened in this episode probably but whatever.

Holy shit this is actually a shot from the right episode. The research department did a really great job at getting this. The entire staff of this blog is so proud!!! ANNA YOU MY GIRL THO.

10 Songs To Feel Feelings To

2012-11-26T20:45:00.000-06:00

Finals time is approaching in the next couple weeks, which basically means me reading and rereading and revising to death pieces I have already written until they're acceptable for a dang portfolio. That being said, I'm starting to hate every word that has come out of my dumb brain. Here is some cool music for you to play instead of read the words that come out of my brain. xoxo, Alicia

"Welcome Home" - Radical Face

"Yo Yo Bye Bye" - Why?

"The Bad in Each Other" - Feist

"Alone, Jealous, and Stoned" - Secret Machines

"Funtimes in Babylon" - Father John Misty

"Ultimatum" - The Long Winters

"John Allyn Smith Sails" - Okkervil River

"Leonard" - Sharon Van Etten

"Cheerleader" - St. Vincent

"Werewolf" - Fiona Apple

Appropriately Filtering Your Facebook

2012-10-06T14:32:00.000-05:00

Facebook is good for a lot of things. Seeing which popular kids from high school got fat (almost all of them), mild to moderate internet stalking of your ex, sending YouTube clips of kittens to friends and acquaintances, etc. Otherwise, it's bad. It's very, very bad. There are ENDLESS opportunities in which you can make an ass of yourself to all of Internet friendship. Thus, let's all consider filtering our shit. Now, I can guarantee I will not do this, because of lazy, but I'll give y'all this unsolicited advice anyway.

Family Members

What they can see: Uh, nothing. Maybe like profile pictures where you look cute and aren't double-fisting two bottles of wine and statuses talking about how well school is going or how you love your job. In other words, nothing.
Make sure to hide: Nearly every tagged picture (or, god forbid, video) of you. Anything you post after 1 AM. Your Spotify history ("Who is ______, a rock group?" "Why do you have a playlist called 'Ladies Getting Head'? Who is Lil Wayne?"). Check-ins that are 98% bars.

Exes

What they can see: Keep in minimal. The less it looks like you're on the Internet, the cooler it makes you seem. Or it makes you seem kidnapped and murdered, which is super intriguing and will make them sad or something. Win/win!! Just kidding, but actually just emphasize how attractive you are and everyone you hang out with. Also, look worldly. What I'm saying is, learn Photoshop. Check-ins at concerts. Statuses about dates you're going on that totally aren't made up.

Make sure to hide: The status you posted about how you were listening to the "Ladies Getting Head" Spotify playlist while you were getting ready and eating cold pizza and you stabbed your eye with mascara so your eyes started watering so it looked like you were sitting on the floor, crying and eating cold pizza, crying to Lil Kim's "Suck My Dick". Don't tell them that.

Employers

What they can see: DON'T DO IT. NO. BAD.

Make sure to hide: EVERYTHING, THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA.

Friends

What they can see: Everything, man. They already like you. I mean, real friends, not just Internet friends. The ones who, if they see too much Taylor Swift on Spotify, know you're probably crying in the shower with a glass or six of wine and that they should come over and help. The people who will not judge you for your drunk statuses saying "HEY ANYONE WANNA CUDDLE" that you delete as soon as you're sober. The ones who understand that the Internet is hard, and life is hard, and feelings are feelings.

Make sure to hide: Apparently, some assholes think it's funny to 'like' every time a certain person (read: it's me, I'm the person) listens to her "Booty Bumpin Beats" playlist when this person is just trying to jam out.

Crushes

What they can see: Cute profile pictures, cute photos of you having an appropriate non-alcoholic amount of fun with attractive friends, but no one who is way more attractive than you. Witty Facebook statuses, nothing after 1 AM. Links you post to trendy~* music. Spotify listening that isn't Taylor Swift.
Make sure to hide: Most of what you say, because it's not as funny as you think to most people. Maybe text your friends your hilarious anecdotes until you have tricked crush into liking you back, then it's fair game. Hide pictures of you double-fisting drinks and cupcakes.

Acceptable:

Serious. Posed. Showered. Homeboys wanna date the hell outta that (in theory).

Unacceptable:

Why is there more than one photo in which I have a drink in one hand and a cupcake in the other. WHY. Like, I get why it happened, but photos do not need to document this.

Serious Boyfriend Potential: Pt. 3

2012-09-26T16:22:00.001-05:00

RECAP: Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Laaaaadieeees

Candidate #11:

Name: Penn Badgley

Profession: Actor, apparently singer

Top skills: Gossip Girl has made him maybe the acting game's top brooder. Good hair. GG keeps him pretty covered in ~*emotional writer*~ layers like sweaters and tears, but Easy A revealed that homeboy has a torso to be applauded and valued by all humans. ALL. HUMANS. Also, he plays Jeff Buckley in a movie coming out soon, and he sings in it. Like, pretty well. Also, aforementioned brooding comes into play big time.

Favorite couple-tivities: Since I assume he basically just is Lonely Boy from Gossip Girl (seasons 1-3 until my hormones calmed down and I realized that show was real bad, y'all), I'm guessing a lot of coffee shops and writing about feelings.

Why it doesn't work out: Too many feelings. At first the constant caressing was really cute, and he's got that "great torso" going for him, but shit got real weird real fast. You have to break eye contact sometime. Also, he dated Blake Lively, so, like, you KNOW you'll never be hot enough. Unless you are her.

Candidate #12:

Name: Aaron Paul

Profession: Jesse Pinkman, he is Jesse Pinkman forever

Top skills: I don't know if it's a "skill", but he has eyes so pretty, the chances they'll ruin your life is 100%. To be honest, if he just looked at me hard enough, I would do meth. I would get addicted to meth. I'm assuming that's how he got the role on Breaking Bad. All of the sudden, I would be doing meth, my underwear would be gone, I'd be blind, probably because of meth (I don't know what drugs are), and I would REGRET NOTHING WOULD YOU LOOK AT HIM.

Favorite couple-tivities: He keeps talking on his Twitter about his "fiance" or something, so I guess that number one thing would be hiding from his fiance. After that, fashion shows and yelling about science.

Why it doesn't work out: Meth makes you ugly. :( :( (Or aforementioned fiance thing works out.)

Candidate #13:

Name: Jack Huston

Profession: Ol' Half-face from Boardwalk Empire

Top skills: Dude, I still thought this guy was attractive before I even saw his whole face. I don't know what that says about me, but this isn't about me, it's about this hot guy who even comes with a whole face. His character has one of the best memes on the whole internet. His aunt or some shit is Angelica Huston, aka Mrs. Zissou/Mrs. Tenebaum/everything cool. Marry into that family.

Favorite couple-tivities: You can do SO MANY activities when people have whole faces. I refuse to limit them here.

Why it doesn't work out: He uses his Richard voice in bed, which you'd think you'd be into, but it is actually just terrifying and you are terrified.

Candidate #14:

Name: Colin Firth

Profession: Mr. Darcy, Oscar winner, professional sweater-wearer

Top skills: He literally only ever plays different versions of Mr. Darcy. Kings Speech? Probably Mr. Darcy. Love Actually? Mr. Darcy, in sweaters. He can really wear a sweater, y'all. The only time he wasn't Mr. Darcy was in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy which is when he was a TOTAL BADASS so that works out. But, seriously, next time you're drunk just google "Colin Firth in a sweater" and nod solemnly at your phone/computer and tell me that you feel me, because I know you will.

Favorite couple-tivities: He just did an audiobook, so probably sit and listen to audiobooks. I feel like he'd like chess. And fireplaces. Sweater shopping.

Why it doesn't work out: "Age ain't nothin' but a number" can't last forever. One day you're just playing chess and the next day you're doing math and realizing the first time he did Mr. Darcy via BBC miniseries, you were like a toddler or something. Math ruins everything, just like it always does.

!!!BONUS ROUND!!!

The first time I saw this commercial, I literally went mute for a week. This kind of shit should be illegal. I still have no concept as to what this ad is for, but if it's claiming that whatever it's selling will make other humans even half as attractive as these humans, I implore everyone to buy it. But, like I said, way too distracted to figure out what the hell they are selling. Just look at 'em. Well, goodbye.

a Fictional Thing

2012-09-26T02:05:00.001-05:00

For my creative writing class, our first assignment was a fiction short story. I never write fiction, but after infinite critiques/editing help from my angel friend Jenny, I am pretty happy with how it turned out. Sorry if you were hoping for more about fake ~*celebrity boyfriends*~ (that's probably the next post, don't worry). In the meantime, here is a fictional thing I wrote:

My mother’s room always smelled like her. This seems like an obvious statement, but I’ve never met anyone else with such a distinct scent. She smelled like lavender and lemongrass and laundry and tobacco and peroxide and brandy and she smelled like this all the time, not just sometimes. I spoke about this at her funeral, but it turns out I was the only one who noticed, which I suppose isn’t very surprising, since I was the only one who noticed a lot of things about my mother.

I thought she was perfect my entire childhood: the smartest, most beautiful woman in the entire world. Maybe most kids think that about their moms, I don’t know. I don’t know most things about what a regular childhood is like, it turns out. Relating to other people’s memories of youth is often a difficult thing for me. So what I guess I’m saying is, let me tell you about my mother.

I didn’t know anything about how she grew up until well after she died, which was fifteen or so years ago now. I realized that I knew countless details about her, what hair color she used and how she took her coffee (Platinum Blonde #105, black with a shot of brandy), her favorite Beatle and the TV weatherman she had a crush on (George and Wayne Baker from Channel 5). From all these countless details, I figured I knew her better than anyone, when it turns out I knew all the trivia of a mother and none of the facts of a woman. She never had a lot of friends or ran in the same circles for very long, so it took a while for me to learn more about her. I had to find old boyfriends and coworkers and I’ve had more comfortable and easier pastimes, but I had to know about her.

My mother was born Christina Jacobs at her parents’ home just outside of Omaha. She was named after some aunt she had never met, I could never really get a clear answer on that. I do know that she hated the name and went by Chrissy by the time she was three. She was stubborn and strong-willed and had a personality far too big for the farm town her family lived in. I wanted to be like her. I still do, I think, even after I know everything I know.

She was the popular girl in school, if you can say that about a school of maybe a hundred. She was bright and quick-witted, and had every cliché dream of leaving for the big city. She actually did it, though, as soon as she turned 18. Didn’t even wait to graduate high school. She never did get that diploma, at least as far as I could find.

When she left home, she went to Las Vegas. I think she was looking for the brightest place she could find, and boy, did she find it. I spent my first few years with my mother in Vegas. We lived in a tiny apartment way too close to the strip that I thought was endearing at the time, but looking back it was probably just unsafe for the two of us, always walking alone at night. My mother decorated it in such a way, though, that there was no question of who lived there. Cramped at kitschy, with walls too dark and somehow too bright all at the same time. She never was a trendy woman, my mother.

Before I was old enough to be in school, it was just me and her all day long before she went to work. She never kept the same job for very long, but she always worked at night, waitressing at one place or another. During the day it was just the two of us. She made me cereal and turned on cartoons so she could sleep longer; I was always an early riser, still am. When she got up for the day a few hours later, I would sit and watch her get ready for however long it took.

I say that last part because my mother viewed everything as a performance, so sometimes her getting ready took a very long time. I was a captive audience. She would waltz around the apartment singing with her curlers in her hair. Her favorites were Billie Holiday and Patsy Cline. I think she genuinely thought she sounded like them when she sang, and I never corrected her. I sat on her bed and watched and listened. When she was done with her hairbrush, I would pick it up and try to mimic her motions. Her hair was smooth and blonde and short like a 50s movie star, and mine was mousy and frizzy, so the effect was never even close. I wasn’t the star, though, she was.

“Ya know, Patsy Cline would’ve been much prettier if she were blonde. It’s just a fact, Sadie,” she would remind me every time “I Fall to Pieces” came on her Greatest Hits record. It was our favorite song, and it was getting worn out and would skip.

“Would I be prettier if my hair was like yours?”

“No, honey, we’ll have to figure something else out for you.” She would laugh and kiss me on the forehead and put on her lipstick, a shade called “True Red” we got at the drugstore, a new tube every month. My mother was the star of the show, and I was there to be the audience. I did a really good job at being her audience.

It wasn’t until I started school that I realized that I was living a life anything less than ordinary. Mother would go to work at night and I would fix myself a TV dinner and read until I went to sleep. I only took a shower or two a week, maybe, and wore mostly hand-me-down clothes she got from other girls at work. I went to my first week of school looking dirty and dressed in mostly boy’s clothes.

Teachers would ask me questions about my mother, my home. The first time she came to my school, she won them over, though. She always won people over. My mother was the most magnetic person most people had ever met. No one could fault her for anything, no matter how much they wanted to before she walked in the room and sucked all the energy right out of it. The world was her stage and she relished in every moment of people trying to be upset with her. Having an audience made her stronger.

Even after I saw how other kids dressed and what other kids were allowed to do, I too never faulted my mother. How could you be mad at someone so beautiful? Our daily routine changed slightly with me being in school, but I was still home before she left for work, and I was still her audience, and I did a really good job at being her audience.

When I was a junior in high school, I was going to school and working at a diner. I wasn’t home as much, and it really bothered my mother. I think that’s when she started drinking more, or maybe that’s just when I figured out what brandy smelled like. I’d get home from work, and she still hadn’t left for her job yet. She’d ask me where I’d been, get upset, and I’d put her to bed by nine. Our daily routine had changed, but we still had one.

I loved school. I was a good student, always enthusiastic, had my work done on time and done well. I really excelled at math, and was seriously looking into some good colleges. I had saved up some money from my job, and was applying for scholarships. I could never understand why my mother wasn’t excited about these prospects for me. My friends’ parents were all happy for them, and even showed real enthusiasm for my future. My mother just appeared cold and bitter. She still looked beautiful, but just harder.

When I started receiving acceptance letters, my mother would throw them away before I got home. I didn’t find out about that until the admissions department of one of the schools called for me. That was the first time I was ever truly angry with my mother. After years of what was clearly questionable parenting, she had gone too far, and was losing her precious audience. I was eighteen when I finally figured out that my mother loved herself far more than she would ever love me.

Everyone reacts to profound realizations differently. I reacted by making my first act of defiance against my mother: I left her. I left her alone, without an audience, to perform her act. I lived with friends until school started, which was only a few months, and then I was out of state, far from her. I think she stopped trying to call after a month or so, which I wish I could say was surprising. But it was never about me, it was about her, and she must have figured something else out. Maybe she got a boyfriend or a new job or something. I never asked, and hardly could even make myself care.

When I found out that my mother died some ten years later, I wasn’t surprised. You can’t live a life like she did without paying the price at some point. From what her doctor told me, she just wore herself out. That was maybe the only surprising part. She always seemed like someone who would die in a much more theatrical way than “get sick”, but I guess everyone has to die somehow.

I wasn’t surprised either that I was the only one around to take care of things. I planned the funeral hastily. My husband told me that I should speak at the service, and I did, reluctantly. I talked about how my mother smelled, and how she took her coffee, and how she was beautiful. After all those years, even dead, she was still beautiful. Apparently it was a good speech. People got choked up. I didn’t feel too much of anything at the time, honestly. I didn’t know, and I still don’t know, how you’re supposed to feel when this kind of thing happens.

Sometimes loving someone isn’t a choice, I think. My mother may not have loved me like she should have, but I do think she still did. Even in my anger, my years of bitterness, I know I loved her too.

It’s been years, now. After a while, I realized that I could learn everything about my mother and ask everyone she had ever known any question, and I still would never truly know her. That’s the thing about being a performer all the time, no one ever really knows you. I think that’s what she wanted, though. She was a great performer and I, for a very long time, was a really good audience.

Serious Girlfriend Potential

2012-08-21T15:55:00.000-05:00

In an effort to be an equal opportunity blog, I offer this: ladies I would like to date, thank you. I'm equally shallow toward both genders, do not fear.

Candidate #1:

Name: Aubrey Plaza

Profession: Actress/Dark Angel/Gothic Princess

Babest quality: Girl makes people so uncomfortable that they feel compelled to write a character for her. Her deadpan delivery and the fact that she is clearly the weirdest human makes her the babest babe. Also, her face.

Research Material: Parks and Rec, forever. Safety Not Guaranteed, where you will be forced to feel feelings forever. Music video for "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" by Father John Misty. Any late night interview she participates in.

Candidate #2:

Name: Jenny Lewis

Profession: Singer/Ginger

Babest Quality: THAT VOICE, ugh. Her songwriting ability is amazing, no matter what project she is working on, though I prefer the country twang Lewis. Also, whatever voodoo she does as a petite woman to make it look like she has legs for miles.

Research Material: I personally recommend "More Adventurous" from Rilo Kiley, and her first solo album (with the Watson Twins) "Rabbit Fur Coat".

Candidate #3:

Name: Amy Poehler

Profession: Comedian/Actress/Writer/Director/Literally Everything Cool

Babest Quality: Smart Girls at the Party. Amy and two of her best friends made this internet show that interviews girls who are passionate about everything from hip hop to yoga to basically everything. It encourages girls to be themselves, and that being unique is actually awesome and doesn't make you lame. I may or may not have teared up at an episode or four. Amy also does advice videos, and they are equally precious. There's all that, and I would argue that she's the funniest woman of ever. There, I said it.

Research Material: ABOVE LINK. All her SNL characters (esp. Kaitlin). Any interview she does with husband Will Arnett. Just everything.

Candidate #4:

Name: Carey Mulligan

Profession: Actress

Babest Quality: When she's on screen, it's impossible to take your eyes off her. Basically, she's a suspiciously good actress and suspiciously able to pull off any hair style really, really well. THUS, her babest quality is clearly whatever witchcraft she practices, because it is WORKING.

Research Material: An Education, which may or may not still be on Netflix. Never Let Me Go. Like... any picture of her face.

Candidate #5:

Name: Lizzy Caplan

Profession: Actress/JANIS IAN FROM MEAN GIRLS

Babest Quality: Soso funny, soso versatile. I would argue some of the best comedic timing in film/TV. She was in Mean Girls, which I didn't even realize until well after I had established myself as a straight up fan. Also, her drugged-up sex scenes in True Blood included swimming in the air through a mystical forest, so that was... a thing. Then all of Party Down.

Research Material: All of Party Down. Her couple of episodes on New Girl. Mean Girls, three times in a row. Season one of True Blood (then just stop watching).

Who Will Narrate Your Life

2012-08-07T14:42:00.000-05:00

EDIT: I FORGOT CATE BLANCHETT
Holy shit, if you want Cate Blanchett you narrate your life, that means you are AWESOME and like ADVENTURE and the ELVISH LANGUAGE and if you cry, your cry ELEGANTLY. I am so pissed I forgot this. You are also vaguely terrifying!!! Well, bye.

Morgan Freeman
What it says about you: You cocky piece of shit. You think your life is awesome enough that [someone that played] GOD should narrate it?! No. I used to think I was good enough for ol' Morgy Boy, but then I looked down and saw the pizza sauce on my shirt and realized that Morgan Freeman is too good to narrate me trolling Reddit for four hours. Two hours, maybe, and if I washed my shirt, but there's a line, and I am usually way over it. Frankly, you probably are too. Lower your bar, friend. Lower your bar.

Alec Baldwin
What it says about you: Understated, but still has a certain level of gravitas. Likely chosen because he narrated The Royal Tenenbaums, but acceptable just because the voice of a 1950s newscaster who has been smoking since he was a toddler. The Wes Anderson connection makes me think you may be a wee bit pretentious, but I get it. Live your life.

Martin Sheen
What it says about you: If you see "Martin Sheen" and go straight to The West Wing, stop reading now. For who's left: God bless you forever for wanting the narrator of Ken Burns' The Civil War series to narrate your life. You are the coolest. Don't let anyone or any empirical evidence let you believe otherwise.

Tyra Banks
What it says about you: You are a flamboyant gay man.

Bill Nye
What it says about you: SCIENCE. This choice is only appropriate if you are a super enthusiastic person, because I imagine Bill Nye says everything like it's written in CAPS lock with an exclamation point at the end. This is based purely on his show made for youths, the fake Bill Nye Twitter account, and a dream I maintain in my heart.

Lindsay Lohan (circa Mean Girls)
What it says about you: Dramatic, breathy, yet sarcastic. You probably view things slightly more over-the-top than need be, but you're pretty and aren't drug-addled yet, so good job! 2004 was a good year.

Sarah McLachlan
What it says about you: If you think this is an acceptable choice, you clearly think I am referring to her lovely singing voice and not her evil, evil PAWS commercials showing abused dogs. Lady, I'm just trying to watch Swamp People, and now I'm sobbing. I assume if you want this bitch narrating your life, you like making yourself and other people cry. You are a bully. Feelings are hard.

Serious Boyfriend Potential: Pt. 2

2012-07-25T15:09:00.001-05:00

If you need a recap on Pt. 1. Pt. 2 is short and sweet, you're welcome.

Candidate #7:

Name: Patrick Fugit (preferably circa 2002-06, if time travel is an option)

Profession: Actor/teen crush of this blogger

First date: Since I assume he is 17 forever, he will likely pick you in his mom's minivan. You'll get milkshakes and drive to a parking lot so you can watch him do cool skateboard tricks. It will be boring, but since you just recently got your braces off and boys just started talking to you, you'll be into it. Plus, he has long hair, so he's alternative.

Length of relationship: 3 weeks. He says it was getting too serious, but you are fairly certain his mom just wouldn't let him borrow the van so much.

What you learned: Names of cool skateboard tricks, that starring in Almost Famous so young likely left Mr. Fugit with a very skewed interpretation of dating.

Candidate #8:

Name: DRACO MALFOY (Er, Tom Felton)

Profession: Evil, actor, peroxide addict

First date: Since I assume he just is Draco in real life (movies are real, right?), there's probably a lot of hexing involved. Dark wizard-tivities, silent curses, audible curses. Romance, mostly curses.

Length of relationship: 2 months. You realize that he has been using your toning shampoo and replacing it with water.

What you learned: So, so many spells. There can only be one blonde in a relationship.

Candidate #9:

Name: Peter Dinklage

Profession: Actor, wearer-of-armor

First date: Fine wine, discussion of literature, trying to slip Game of Thrones quotes into conversation without him noticing.

Length of relationship: 4 dates. You get too drunk and start chanting "HALF MAN HALF MAN HALF MAN" which is apparently offensive, though it's just a reference to his Emmy-winning role. Whatever, bro.

What you learned: You're apparently an incredibly offensive person.

Candidate #10:

Name: Justin Townes Earle

Profession: Musician, country stud

First date: Dinner, too many drinks, likely some light heroin.

Length of relationship: No way of actually telling. Tumultuous, on-and-off for a while. So much heroin. You want to "fix him", realize that's stupid, and the cycle continues.

What you learned: You can't actually "fix" a human, heroin is bad, tall people are tall.

Serious Boyfriend Potential

2012-07-19T20:37:00.001-05:00

Candidate #1:

Name: Father John Misty (Josh Tillman)

Profession: Musician, former Fleet Fox

What he offers: Good face parts and vocal chords, the dance moves of your drunk dad at a family wedding, the ability to look good with long hair and beard and the smarts to know when to cut that shit off and look better.

Why your parents won't approve: His Twitter is mostly about the procurement and usage of drugs. If your parents figure out the internet enough to see this, they will likely not be pleased.

Why it doesn't work out: Following the age-old playground tradition of "dibs", he's mine, ladies.

Candidate #2:

Name: James Franco

Profession: Actor, writer, painter, all this shit

What he offers: Free mediocre-to-average paintings, infinite taxidermy, you can finally wear that "I BANGED JAMES FRANCO" shirt you've had for years and it will even make sense.

Why your parents won't approve: It's awkward to tell your daughter that her boyfriend is like, WAY prettier than she is. Also, there's no way this dude isn't a total douchebag. Doesn't he go to like eight Ivy League schools at once? Are there even eight? Is the Ivy League like a lame Justice League? Too many questions.

Why it doesn't work out: He finds the "I BANGED JAMES FRANCO" shirt.

Candidate #3:

Name: Jack White

Profession: Musician, likely a vampire

What he offers: The voice of a creepy, twangy, dark angel, endless Catholic trivia, will never get melanoma, connections to the country goddess Loretta Lynn, the speed and strength of vampire lore.

Why your parents won't approve: Unless your folks are the Goth family of the Sims or keep bottles of blood on hand, they will likely be frightened by Mr. White's visage.

Why it doesn't work out: He used too much of your hair product. Also the pet crows.

Candidate #4:

Name: Michael Cera

Profession: Actor, prime candidate for friend-zoning

What he offers: Finally, someone as into Scott Pilgrim fantasies as you are! He may be on the verge of being too into it, since that was clearly the only time he has ever been or will ever be even a little bad ass, poor kid.

Why your parents won't approve: He won't stop cowering in the corner when he meets them. Never actually makes eye contact. Won't stop crying.

Why it doesn't work out: You accidentally call him George Michael too many times. In your guilt, you friend zone him, though there's no way of knowing if her actually understands, since he only communicates in whispers.

Candidate #5:

Name: Christian Bale

Profession: Actor, loud person

What he offers: HE IS BATMAN, rides in Batmobile, is cracky enough to agree to let you punch Anne Hathaway just to see what it would feel like (answer: great), has some sort of accent (type irrelevant), will talk in ridiculous Batman voice in exchange for snacks and sexual favors.

Why your parents won't like him: They've seen American Psycho.

Why it doesn't work out: You see American Psycho.

Candidate #6:

Name: Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Profession: Actor, Musician

What he offers: THOSE DIMPLES, will sign your Third Rock From the Sun DVDs, can do that thing where you run up to a wall and do a back flip, explains Inception to you, good winkface, can pull off a shaved head.

Why your parents won't like him: He hypnotizes them with his borderline creepy charm and goddamn dimples. They choose him over you when you break up.

Why it doesn't work out: Charm is almost too much. You suspect he is a Craigslist Killer.

2012-07-18T09:48:00.000-05:00

"Writers' block" is potentially my least favorite combination of two words in the English language. Mostly because it sucks and is totally a real thing, and secondly because it sounds like the most pretentious problem that does not actually exist. However, I have watched Whip It roughly (read: precisely) four times in the last three days and I know I just need to live my dreams and put on skates and punch someone or something. THANK YOU, DREW BARRYMORE.

That being said, it appears that the dreams I'm looking to live are blogging in a coffee shop at 9 AM after talking to a homeless guy about pavement quality (his opinion: Milwaukee's is low) and waking up involuntarily at 5:30 in a pool of sweat. These dreams are apparently the most easily attainable.

Since I know everyone has been checking the internet every day to see if I contributed more to it, here is a brief list of updates in bulleted list form.

-Turned another year older
-Went back to New Orleans, where I potentially ruined my organs BUT also went to more than one goth bar so I think that healed me
-Listened to a Gotye song that's not "Somebody I Used To Know" and it went pretty well
-Hexed way too many people, usually on accident (sorry)
-Scowled at cameras to varying degrees, usually wearing sunglasses

-Scowled a lot off camera, smiled sometimes as well

-Lived without air conditioning or internet, like a real plebeian

-Got bullied by a 10-year-old :(

-Abused the phrase/word/whatever-the-shit "YOLO" is

-Reluctantly watched every new True Blood episode even though I genuinely have no concept of what is going on. If anyone gets it and wants to help a girl out, let me know. I'm serious.

-Googled "where is rack city" more than once; results still inconclusive

-Made an evil Sim; it's going really well

-Probably hung out with friends or something

-Ate a shameful amount of Cheetos Puffs (pronounced "poofs" as we all know)

-Watched the three Harry Potter movies I have on my computer way more times than I'd like to discuss. Not having internet at home is bleak for those of us who rely on downloading everything/Netflix

I think that covers the highlights. Did you miss me? But for real, I'm working on a more substantial post. Until then, get super pumped that your life is likely more eventful than mine, minus my new hobo friend, and LIVE YOUR DREAMS, KIDDOS. xoxo, Drew Barrymore

The Importance of the Occasional Pity Party

2012-06-12T01:21:00.000-05:00

To Whom It May Concern:

While the phrase “pity party” is generally attached to a rather negative connotation, I would like to take this time to state my case for why the occasional pity party is both healthy and beneficial. I have compiled a list of reasons, and I will share them with you now.

1. Just get it the fuck other with. If something shitty happens, or you get drunk and your feelings come out, or frankly anything occurs that prompts the slightest bit of self-pity, I highly recommend dealing with it immediately rather than letting it linger. If you feel badly about anything, the chances are self-pity will follow at some point, unless you are a robot. You can wallow forever a little bit, or lock yourself in a room with a pizza and bottle of wine and a friend to make bracelets with now.

2. Your friends are required to attend, so you’re not alone. If your friends are even halfway decent humans, they are required by laws of friendship to stand by you with black balloons and Kleenex while you throw your pity party. My personal recommendation is to keep this list of people small, because self-pity ain’t cute. For sure to not invite anyone you might be romantically interested in ever.

Even if you’re someone who would prefer to wallow alone, I really must emphasize not… doing that. If you’re already feeling shitty and you don’t allow anyone to help you, you’re just going to increase the ratio of rubbish to not rubbish feelings and end up being lonely and spiraling. This is not ideal.

3. It is important to not downplay whatever it is that is making you upset. As previously stated, I am sort of awesome at doing the opposite of this. Even as a champion of the pity party cause, I frequently catch myself apologizing for being bummed about something or denying things are issues. It is okay to cry about shit, even if it is stupid. It can be the dumbest thing ever, but it is legitimate if it is making you upset. It is imperative that you do not downplay that.

Everyone has something that they are particularly sensitive to. Apparently my weakness is when a ~*boy*~ hurts my feelings, I revert back to being an irrational 13-year-old girl. I say phrases like, “I just really wanted him to like me!” and “friend zone” and I’m not joking and my friends listen and nod politely until it is over. In the far too recent past, my tactic was to drunkenly call three of my closest friends crying, eat an unacceptable portion of Toppers, and watch only the first half of Bridget Jones’s Diary, like right before things start turning around and right after Hugh Grant cheats on her with the skinny American. (“I GET IT, BRIDGET. SKINNY BITCHES!!”) During the last activity I tend to also narrate the movie as if it is my future, except my version is even bleaker due to the lack of post-BBC babe but pre-silver fox Colin Firth. I end on the conclusion that no life that dark is worth living if you don’t even get to look at 2001 Colin Firth. Or any Colin Firth. Then I shut my computer and walk away and now that is a thing you know about me and can never un-know.

I share these uncomfortably personal tales of self-pity because I really do feel like it’s important to realize that everyone does it to some extent. While I do not condone wallowing indefinitely, and even encourage friends to tell friends to “get over it” at some point, I must reiterate that if you feel like you need a pity party, you probably do.

I will close with a few requests/demands for those who may be invited to someone else’s pity party:

1. Never ever make someone feel stupid for what they are upset about. It may seem irrelevant to you, but it clearly is not to them.

2. Do gently tell your friend if they are being irrational. Emphasis on gently. It’s important to know that, even though being upset is totally acceptable, your crazy might be spilling out and it’s good to keep that inside (usually).

3. Bring whoever is sad food. This is a cliché that holds true. If nothing else, cakes soak up tears well.

Thank you for reading, and I hope this has served you well.

Sincerely,

Alicia Roy

How I Make New Friends

2012-04-12T13:29:00.000-05:00

I will open with the following disclaimer: I almost never make new friends. Most of the people in my life have been around for at least a few years, and my friendship process was different back then. ("You will make eye contact with me despite my braces?! WE ARE FRIENDS.") That being said, the reason behind the lack of new friends in my life likely has to do with the process I will lay out for you. Cons: It's a process, and I'm kind of neurotic. Pros: The ones who make it through are keepers.


if you survive, we can take adorable photos like THIS

How's ya handshake? If answer is "appropriately firm", proceed in road to friendship! While this isn't a total dealbreaker, it is still important, because my grandpa once told me to suspect that those with weak handshakes are COMMUNISTS. And we all know I cannot be friends with a commie.

Do you think I'm funny? Nice to meet you, I am narcissistic and if you laugh at my hilarious jokes, we are more likely to be friends. Thank you for your time, I'll be here all week.

Are you funny? All of my friends are the funniest people. I mean, no pressure, but they are. I maintain a Twitter 98% so I can document easily and quickly the shit that they say on a daily basis.
Examples: "Boys have better everything in football, but better just butts in baseball"
"Your voice is like a million sparrows. Is that too many? Ok, your voice is like... eight sparrows"
"You look and smell like a sexy virgin. I like it."
"SAD SUNDAY. Our specials are rail gin and tears, blood and whiskey, and godless wine"
(To be fair, these are all from two people and one of these quotes is legally some sort of sexual harassment, but my argument still stands.)

will you Facebook chat me Toto lyrics that are wrong, but somehow better?

"It’s hard to make friends with someone when he or she is always hiding behind stuff, like sarcasm or furniture." This is from one of my favorite Thought Catalog articles, but I feel like it applies here.

Do we have common interests? While not a requirement, it certainly helps. If the answer is no and I still want to befriend you (or vice versa), I will certainly try and convert you to enjoying my interests. Let the compulsory Game of Thrones viewings begin!!

Are you a nerd? Everyone that I like is nerdy about something. I am a television/kind of just regular brand of nerd, complete with social anxiety and all the extended edition DVDs of The Lord of the Rings. Also a Harry Potter tattoo. I don't fuck around. However, I have friends who are nerdy about art, bikes, working out, music, etc. As long as you have something you are unabashedly just really, really into, we can probably get along. However, if you replace the word "nerdy" with "passionate", I probably hate you SORRY.

How nice are you? This probably ties in with the sense of humor bits, but if the answer is "really, really nice", we will likely only have a surface friendship. I am kind of an asshole, and quiet mockery is one of my favorite hobbies. If you also enjoy this, infinite blessings! Also, see you in hell. I'll bring popcorn.

Do you bail on plans? Do you hate plans? Fuck you, I am still Type A enough that I like planning things. I don't get mad very easily, but one of the things that always gets me is flaky people. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Other litmus tests. After preliminary determinations of friendship have been crossed off the list, I'll probably gauge your reaction to hilarious YouTube clips and pictures of corgis. While this may make me sound terrifying, it's actually to make sure that you aren't terrifying. You think Teen Girl Squad isn't funny? Heathen! Pictures of corgis have offended you? You are a serial killer, goodbye forever.

How much of a cheeseball are you? I am super cheesy with people I really care about. I will make you mix CDs and write you letters and put pictures of us on my wall. You can either appreciate it, or flee. If you choose appreciate, I am really good at making mix CDs.

Do you require alcohol or structured activities for fun times? It is unlikely we will ever be very close, even if you're awesome. My favorite things are Netflix and silence but I also like human presence and usually food. I hope you can deal with that. I don't have "fun party friends" that I only text when I am going out. I have friends I like all the time, whether we are laying in my bed reading our separate books or going out with every intention to get drunk. I am bad at halfway friendships, oops.

THAT'S ALL I GOT. Now, obviously, your litmus tests and determining factors will be different than mine, but if you follow some sort of equally OCD process for friendship, I can essentially guarantee that you will be pleased with the results.

P.S. How do you feel about weird MacBook photoshoots? Because, frankly, I'm into it.

5 Life Lessons from The Walking Dead

2012-04-09T19:32:00.000-05:00

I am almost always late to the party, because I like to watch shows in marathon form. Thus, I just finished season 1 of The Walking Dead. Working on season 2 this moment. I feel like I have already learned so much from this show, and I must share it with the world, or the three people that read this.

1. RACISTS DIE FIRST. Or at least get abandoned first. Don't be a racist, you'll get left the fuck on a rooftop. Reformed racist, you're cool. Also if you are sexist, you'll get eaten by zombies first. Or, if you like mermaids.

2. Women are stupid and incompetent and just the worst. Here's my theory: all the writers of walking dead are recently-divorced men whose wives cheated on them and hate women now. Every female character on this show starts out annoying and ends up absolutely insufferable. Coming from someone who cries literally at the drop of a hat, these bitches cry way too much. It's apocalypse times, not feelings times. How do your tear ducts even have any juice in them? Haven't you been out of water for days?

My favorite thing is also cracky wife (Laurie? I hate everyone) being so bipolar with all men. "Leave me and my son alone!" and "Why are you giving me the cold shoulder?!" BECAUSE YOU ARE CRAZY. YOU ARE ACTUALLY CRAZY. Your hair has remained a nice texture despite the lack of showering and probable humidity. "You can't leave me again! But go save that kid! But don't leave me. YOUR SON." This woman says every thought process she has ever had, and none of them are rational. She's a hormonal teenage girl with a dash of bipolar and a whole lot of cheating ho.

Even when the ladies are supposed to be having a ~*light fun moment*~ and joking about missing their vibrators (OMG ZOMBIE SEX AND THE CITY LOL), they're the worst. Maybe it's also in the casting? Does anyone know? I want to keep watching this show, but it's actually driving me crazy.

Then blond daddy-issues sisters make me want to dye my hair for sheer shame's sake. This is all I will say on the matter. You should know what it means.

3. Your libido will be fine despite the end of the world. My major issue with season 1 is the whole love triangle. Okay, it's the end of the world, you assume your husband has just died and you think he's a zombie. What do you do? Oh, start banging his best friend? WHAT?! Call me crazy, but I feel like nothing kills the mood quite like "zombie apocalypse". Everyone is dirty, hungry, thirsty, and perma-camping, and these fuckers are worried about getting in a quicky? Also, the high risk of zombie attack.

4. You honorable? You bein' nice? You about to get yelled at. Once again, it'll be by the ladies. I really can't emphasize how much I hate how the female characters on this show are written. The obnoxiously honorable main dude (who, yes, is the guy from Love Actually that is in love with Keira Knightley) gets yelled at basically every episode for the crackiest of reasons. Same goes for Hawaiian shirt guy.

5. Science is hard. Alright, here's my real issue. I want to know the origin of this zombie virus. I Am Legend provides a solid back story that Walking Dead apparently thinks we can't handle. I CAN HANDLE IT, AMC. There was a golden opportunity when they made it to the CDC, and we got to see cool pictures of brains goin' undead, but that's it. And even that scene was ruined by immediate feelings talk. I want zombies, straight science, and the tiniest bit of character drama. Walking dead, not talking living.

All that being said, I'll let you know how season 2 goes. I am a fickle creature, but I love television.

an Instagram Appeal

2012-04-03T13:56:00.000-05:00

For my friends with Android phones, today marks a fateful day in phone app history--Instagram now available for Android. As an iPhone asshole, I have had Instagram for a while (I am saying that in a dickish tone, by the way), and I still barely know how to use it/why I'm using it. How do you do those pictures with multiple frames? Do people actually care what I'm wearing today? I feel like they don't.

Here is my appeal to you, all Instagram users. Old and new! Annoying and more annoying! Please, help me by following these simple guidelines.

1. You should one take a 'selfy' if there's something REALLY COOL about how you look that day. If you're just hot every day, fuck off and die, the internet already hates you. Here is how I judge when it is the appropriate self-portrait time:
--I spent way more time on my hair than is deemed okay by society and I just want to document it for posterity.
--HAIRCUT~*~*
--Whatever, there are some days where you just feel like being that asshole that knows they look good. (If this is more than a few days, you are just a regular asshole, soso sorry.)
--There never really is an okay time to take a selfy, but we're all narcissists anyway, so just do it.

narcissist in action

2. Don't take a picture of every meal. Food isn't there for looking at, it's there for consumption. The fact that photographing food is a thing that happens is so first world-y it makes my brain explode a little. That being said, I've done it once or twice.

this isn't even a good meal to take a picture of I SUCK AT INSTAGRAM

3. If you're a lady, I'm really into Instagram photos of nail polish. I'm not being sarcastic, this is very genuine. All the guys that follow you will probably hate it, though.

4. No one cares about your outfit every goddamn day. I know we should, and as a member of the world that doesn't give a shit, I am soso sorry.

5. THE MORE PUPPY PICS, THE BETTER!!

6. You don't need a picture of everything. Like, your desk? You see that every day. It's not a very cool desk. I mean, it's an okay desk, I've just seen better.

This is all I've got, because I know no one (including myself) is going to listen to this anyway. Welcome to the club, my little Androids. We're all narcissistic, "artistic" assholes here. Instagram for flip phone coming soon, I am sure.

Valid and slightly less valid reasons for skipping class

2012-02-02T16:45:00.000-06:00

For most of us collegiate types, it's week two or three of class. Thus, it's no longer "if-you-don't-show-up-to-class-you're-out" first week. Thus, almost everyone I know has already skipped at least one class, and yes, this does include me. My Catholic guilt complex can make skipping class difficult, so I have compiled a list of excuses with varying levels of validity that you may use for when you will not be attending class and want to feel less bad about it.

You're sick. Don't be that dick that goes to class when they are so clearly contagious and loud and annoying and coughing on everyone. Stay in bed.
You will fall asleep. You're running on three hours of sleep, forgot to get coffee, and you can feel your eyes getting heavy. Trust me, you will feel worse if you go to class and are head-bobbing. Sleepy kids in class get judged by others, and those others are normally me.
Your professor is kind of cracky. When I say "cracky", I am referring to those instructors that will talk and talk, and about 1/5 of their words have anything to do with what's on the syllabus. Yeah, dude, your grandkids' antics are cute as shit, but unless you're testing me on how good they are at coloring, these past 20 minutes are sort of wasteful. I feel like an ass thinking in this manner, but then I look at my tuition bill and just feel a combination of poor and irrationally entitled.
The lectures are online. Fuck ya'll, I'll take notes on this at a more reasonable hour.
Your bed is so comfy. I know mine is.
You took your pants off after you got home and now you have night class but it's socially unacceptable to leave the house without putting pants back on. This may only apply to me, but it is a really, really legitimate reason to bail on literally anything. I just hate pants.
You're overwhelmed with how much stuff you have to get done, so instead of doing it, you curl into a ball and go to sleep. I'm not proud of this, but it's my panic mode reaction. When my to-do list gets too long, it's perma-nap time until I feel rested enough to deal with all the thoughts and feelings.
You're too smart for this class. You're probably not, sorry, but every once in a while you're allowed to be irrational.
You went out last night and now it is morning and why is the sun so bright? I'm a big fan of going out on weeknights, because I hate "crowds" and "people" and the like. So when you wake up and the outside world is bright and under your covers is dark, I get it.
It's morning. I have come to a point where I realized I only have a couple years to live in this dream where not being a morning person is okay, and I can schedule my life accordingly. However, I hate morning so much that even an 11 AM class can seem too early. Sue me.
FOR THA LADIES: You have cramps. Eat ice cream and just don't get out of bed for like 24 hours and it'll be fine.
FOR THA LADIES PT. 2: Makeup is hard and hair is everywhere. It is, and it can be. If you can't manage your bare minimum routine (that we all have, don't even pretend you don't) and find an acceptable hat in enough time to get to class, I get it. We all get it.
It's cold. I have gone to school in Minnesota and Wisconsin, so I am not talking about some sort of relative "it's cold FOR FLORIDA" bullshit, I mean like real cold. You're telling me I have to go outside in this to go to school? Uh, no. You can find me in the fetal position in front of my space heater, weighing the risk/reward of bringing it into bed with me. (Yeah, the house will be on fire, but fire is SO WARM.)

We'll end it on lucky number thirteen before this gets out of hand, but you see my point. Less than half of these are actual valid excuses for not going to school that you/your parents/the government (you dicks) are paying good money for, but in the moment they seem like the most valid thing in the world. Other notable options include: avoiding terrible class auditors, some guy kept taking pictures of the back of your head on his phone during lecture and you think he may kill you (a thing that has happened), you're hungry, etc.

NOTE: I am actually a fairly good student, thanks. Read: This note is mostly directed at my mom.

What television has taught me about dating

2012-01-30T11:44:00.000-06:00

Instead of talking about how I'm sorry I haven't posted and blah blah blah, I... just won't. However, I AM sorry that I haven't been lazy for cool reasons like "I was being social" or "I found my Sims 3 disk" (I think it's at my parents'), but most of my time in front of a computer screen has been spent watching TV shows. Thus, I will tell you what I have gathered from these shows as a single female, on the off chance that you are a real person that does not have time to sit and watch hours on end of programming for your dating tips. You're welcome, because I'm assuming these will all help me in the real world, if they haven't already.

NOTE: I'll try and keep anything spoiler-y super vague, but don't get mad at me, guys.

GAME OF THRONES
-If your brother bargains you off in an arranged marriage war deal and your marital relationship begins with rape, it's okay, you'll fall in love later
-...After a slave girl teaches you sex (???)
-Incest is cool
-The children that result from incest only have the genetic disorder of being complete assholes
-The two most attractive men on the show have either taken a vow of celibacy or are promised to Mr. Filch's uggo daughter, so lower your standards or die alone
-Trust no bitch
-Don't be a prostitute, unless you're into guys I have nicknamed Lizardface McCrazyeyes

BOARDWALK EMPIRE
-Hot Irish guys are hot
-Don't date anyone too important, because either you or he will almost certainly end up dead
-Be beautiful and complain to Steve Buscemi and he will love you and solve all your problems (I believe this has the most real-world application)
-Mad at your husband? Cut your hair off and have a lesbian affair!
-It's not weird to have a loving relationship with a considerably older man who also molested you when you were twelve
-Accidentally sleep with your mom? JOIN THE ARMY
-Don't be a prostitute, unless you're into severe face wounds

DOWNTON ABBEY
-Oh, you like that guy? He's gay
-If you sleep with a man, he will literally die immediately afterward, and you'll have to deal with a body
-Making too much eye contact is slutty
-When taking your third cousin on a date (rich people do weird shit), apparently touring old churches is not the sexiest of activities
-Never actually act on feelings, because life is built on cool accents and SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION (this applies to all UK television as well)

30 ROCK
-You can be really into food (but not like in an adventurous way, just in a cheese way) and not into wearing clothes that aren't a sweatshirt, but you still hook up with James Marsden, James Franco, and JON HAMM. Like Don Draper Jon Hamm. Like Jon Hamm of Jon Hamm's John Ham. Liz Lemon gives hope to all!!

WHAT I HAVE GATHERED IN GENERAL:
I think I need an at least vaguely Irish accent, access to dragons, and direct access to Jon Hamm to have a successful love life. Otherwise, cats.

Alter Egos

2011-12-01T01:41:00.000-06:00

I am really, really thankful for Nicki Minaj. Not only is her OPI nail polish line mostly glitter, but she has made it less crazy and more okay to admit that you have alter egos. Guys, I think we're at this point in our relationship. I feel safe with you, ya know?! Please don't break up with me right after you read this, but I'd like you to meet my alter egos. Top three get explanations.

DJ Disappointment: DJ DISAPPOINTMENT IN THE HOOOOUUUSE!!! Santa isn't real. Yeah, you got a request? I can definitely play that shit... NOT.
Most frequently seen at: parties, sporting events, whenever I have control of the music
Speciality: Classic 90s humor of saying "...NOT" after things (never gets old!!!)

DJ Only-Plays-Bossy-by-Kelis: Exactly what it sounds like. No, they're not all DJs, asshole.
Most frequently seen at: Similar to above, whenever I get to pick the song. Usually whiskey brings DJ OPBbK out faster.
Speciality: Disarming enemies through the power of dance and overall BOSSINESS. Also, can wear heels without injury to self or others.

Alicia Malfoy/Fake Aubrey Plaza: For the dark, evil, witchy times. Mostly involves a lot of glaring and dry sarcasm. New additional trait!!: Glancing at my dark mark tattoo as if a threat to summon Voldemort to destroy my enemies. (Alter egos that have enemies count: up to 2)
Most frequently seen at: Any social situation, secretly at work often
Speciality: The opposite of making new friends, instilling fear in the weak of spirit.

ALTERNATES: Beyonce, Ke$ha, studious actual good student, borderline insomniac, awkward internet personality, future cat lady of the year, professional nap-taker, and, once every three-four months, I turn into a hot girl (when I spend time on hair/makeup/wardrobe ALL AT ONCE).

I am a multi-faceted, interesting being. So, I hope we can maintain our beautiful relationship together. Because, hey, three-four times a year, I can bust out that hot girl alter ego. Until then, yeah, you'll get the crazy in the flannel pants. You're welcome.

Lesser known "statue" alter ego, nice to meet you

What I did when I wasn't blogging (or, alternatively: I'm back, bitches)

2011-11-30T03:05:00.000-06:00

Here is a list of things I did while I wasn't blogging:

-was an asshole, sorry guys :(
-saw the Avett Brothers twice!
-met David Mayfield:
-applied to college Pt. 2
-went to Minneapolis once!
-got another tattoo, oops~*
-listened to "Countdown" by Beyonce an unnatural and unacceptable amount of times
-worked out a lot
-^^THAT WAS A JOKE
-actually, I ate a lot of Toppers
-watched the first two seasons of "The League" and, as of tonight, three seasons of "How I Met Your Mother" finally settling the debate: you guys, I am really, really white.
-made best friends with peroxide and now my hair is Viking queen/Malfoy blond, AS IT SHOULD BE.

BUT OKAY. Here's the truth. I didn't mean to take a hiatus. I have been in sort of a funk lately, and my humor gets really dark really fast in these times. (Ask anyone who has met me/been around me in a past month. I'm your strange combo blonde goth friend, nice to meet you.) My strategy has sort of been to just go to work and come home and exit those two places enough so people remember that I'm a person, which I think has been an overall successful mission. Anyway, I sort of figured no one would really notice that I wasn't blogging. And since I was a crazy/lonely enough child to develop having a narrative constantly running in my head, I didn't miss writing it down enough to make a huge effort. Is that a rude thing to say in the presence of my blog? Sidebar: sorry, bud.

SO now it's 3 AM and I am rambling on the internet again! Here's what's cute: a couple people did notice that I wasn't writing publicly and to you sweet, beautiful angels, I must say thank you. If it weren't for others telling me that they missed my writing and effectively inflating my ego juuust enough, this sparkling gem of a late night entry may not exist and you might have had to rely on my Twitter. (Never rely on my Twitter. If you look at Monday evening's tweets, you know more about that night than I do. Twitter will be how they find my body.)

Anyway, I love you all, thanks for reading. Yes, I am completely sober, just running on crazy and the fear that my dog might have learned to stab and might kill me at any moment. She has this crazy look in her eye and is bordering on senile. Trust is low. Here is a picture I took at the Avett show:

5 songs to prepare for everything terrible

2011-10-22T23:21:00.000-05:00

Every day, we do things we don't want to do. For example, tomorrow I work at from 6 AM until around 9 PM. No human likes being awake before 6 AM. If you meet anyone who enjoys waking up before 6 AM, you should kill them on the spot. They're fucking robots, and they want to kill you first. Don't let them. Do it for humanity. But, I digress.

To prepare for doing unspeakable things, I have created a musically-based method that is essentially scientific. Combine any of these following songs to make the unbearable activities such as "work" and "school" and "going to a shitty party" considerably more bearable.

1. "Bossy" - Kelis
First of all, I want to live in this video. Now that's on the table, we can proceed. If listening to "Bossy" a couple of times doesn't make you feel like a "boss bitch", you're doing something wrong. Also, for the ladies, I recommend you put on some liquid eyeliner and gold eyeshadow. If you listen to this enough times, the makeup won't become an option, and you'll just do it by default in an effort to morph into Kelis. Not that I know what that is like.

2. "Ego" - Beyonce
If you ever feel bad about yourself, listen to this three times in a row. If you are anything like me, you will go from feeling like shit to being a confidence monster. At this point, my tolerance level is to the point where :30 seconds in I am ready to fight anyone who looks at me the wrong way, because I am Beyonce. So, just watch out.

3. "Fancy" - Drake

This is my ultimate song for getting ready, because Drake encourages me to make myself look cute. It's especially important for these dire times, when all I want to do is go back to bed, probably forever. Maybe I would also watch The League. Point is, I don't want to get ready, and Drake tells me, "Hey, Alicia. You should. BRB time to rap."

4. "Jumper" - Third Eye Blind

So you don't kill yourself because you don't want to go to work.

5. "Green and Yellow" - Lil Wayne

This isn't even the best version of "Green and Yellow", but it's the only one that includes poetic lyrics like, "we shittin' on these fools, no bathroom." BOOM, yeah, Weezy. That is gross, but I am pumped about it. You should be too.

Now with this mini-playlist, you are prepared to take on almost anything. Work, trying to wake up before you want to, going to class, going to an event where you will inevitably be awkward, etc. Go for it. Live your dreams. Listen to mostly rap and one 90s song. It's your time to shine.

Why I will never be popular

2011-10-17T23:27:00.000-05:00

Up until about 10 minutes ago, I was very concerned with my public perception. Actually, that is a hilarious joke. I have had a rough time giving a shit about what people think for... a while now. (In general. I still value some opinions very, very much.) This is why I present: Things I Realized Kind of Recently Vol. 1: I Will Never Be Popular, Even If I Become Famous, Which I Will. Is That Delusional?

1. I don't do cool things. I hang out with the same [wonderful] people every weekend. I go to work a lot. This blog is probably the coolest thing I do regularly, and it's not even cool. If I were a cool writer, I would probably chain smoke and drink straight whiskey or something. I would also not do anything actually useful, and I wouldn't care that I'm poor, and I wouldn't like television. I wouldn't be into showering. I'd look like a lady James Franco in Howl. But don't worry, I haven't thought about this before, ever.

I would also have a typewriter, which would send my blog entries to the internet through magic. Damn it, that's probably not cool either.

2. I'm bad at meeting people. Oops. Maybe it's my 13-year-old insecurity coming out in full force, but I am more likely to be known as "______'s weird friend" than anything else after first meeting people. Here's my theory. Middle school days, I was the weird smart girl. I got to high school, and my friends were also smart, so I became insecure even about my own intelligence. Also, still weird. Result: I am a less hot, less confident, less funny Aubrey Plaza. Instead of being hilariously awkward and Puerto Rican, I am white and holding a bottle of DaVinci white wine (2009 was a bad year for everything) accidentally glaring at everyone at a party. Weird girl drinking an entire bottle of wine? She's popular!!

Or I'm making this face, like a smug asshole.

If new people are lucky enough to hear me speak (a rare honor) in the vicinity of people who already like me, they are likely to hear words/conversations that sound like word salad. Example topics/quotes:

"If you were an animal, you'd be a horse." "Yeah, a Clydesdale. You'd bring the beer. The Bud. The fuckin' King of Beer."
"Yeah, Jafar was based on Prince. Probably "Purple Rain". You KNOW he was into kinky shit." -Discussing the sex lives of Disney villains
"Who's Wilson Phillips?" "Just two dudes named Phillip and their buddy Wilson."
Day of All the Blood
Usher
Aaron Rodger's facial hair
Teen Girl Squad
Harry Potter: "Accio cute boy! Bedroom of requirement!"
Toddlers and Tiaras
++++MORE++++

3. My friends are too goddamn attractive for my own good. It's no use having a wingman who looks like modeling is their fucking day job. Even the most sparkling~* personalities cannot compete with super attractive friends. When I am out in social scenarios with any of my friends and accomplices, I regress to feeling like "kind of smart, mostly weird" friend (see #2). It's like the Lion King "Circle of Life", but "Circle of Awkward", as sung by me. In the shower.

4. Here are things I do in public (or semi-public):

It is important to note that yes, the degree of odd varies in this upside-down pyramid of photos. However, it is also important to note that these are all staged photographed moments. Thank goodness candids are rare in my life.

Now, I need to be clear that I am not sitting here feeling sorry for myself. I don't feel pouty or especially lonely, and I'm not asking for sympathy from anyone, even though being unpopular is basically a disease. A chronic disease, that will eventually take my life. Like the series finale of Gossip Girl. I will always have my friends who appreciate/contribute to my word salad and still like me. I have Beyonce, who sings "Ego" to me three times in a row, so I feel like a boss. I have Kelis, who sings "Bossy" to me another three times, so I am reminded to kick some social ass before I leave the house. Every. Single. Day.

Fashion Werewolf: a very personal plague

2011-09-29T22:22:00.000-05:00

I am almost constantly (read: never) approached by people for the plethora of fabricated mythology I know about two things: werewolves and vortexes. Today, after my years of research, I finally experienced something that was clearly one or the other.

Here's how this shit when down (you might need some eery music in the background): I went to the mall, on the seemingly innocent mission of buying some black pants, because my life sucks and all I ever get to wear is black. One job with a Bar Mitzvah uniform, one job with a funeral uniform. Eternal sadness and pre-pubescent masculinity all up in my wardrobe.

ANYWAY. I parked by non-threatening Boston Store. Non-threatening MY ASS. I walked in to a slew of Betsey Johnson purses and immediately forgot my identity, what I was looking for, and where I was. I walked out with a Boston Store credit card (what the shit?) and the following items:

Alright, there are some things we need to note about these purchases. First of all, none of them are pants. Three of them are kind of pants, but not to be worn out of the house without other pants. NOT EVEN A SKIRT. I did SO BAD. Next, THREE pairs of Packer underwear?! And they have vaguely slutty phrases on them? Who am I? "Let's huddle"?! That doesn't even mean anything. Unless you are actually talking about football (which I know you aren't, Victoria), that doesn't mean anything.

My main issue with all of this is the feeling I had when I walked out of the mall. Holding bags of shit, completely dazed as to how it got there. "You mean... I exchanged money... for this?" I asked myself, probably aloud on accident in the parking lot. When I got home and examined my purchases, I was not necessarily so much disappointed as surprised. I have only three rational explanations for this occurrence.

I was drugged. Somewhere between work and home and the bank and the mall, I was drugged and forced to spend my hard-earned money. It was probably Boston Store!! They have so much perfume and whatnot everywhere and it was drugged and now I have a credit card I have to cancel (but, guys, I got 20% off).
VORTEX. I don't know much about vortexes, but I am 98% sure that, based on everything I just made up about them, the mall is one. You walk in, walk around in a daze, and aliens sell you things. Everyone who works at the mall is an alien. You can quote me on that.
I am a fashion werewolf. What is a fashion werewolf? Perhaps one of the most specific kinds of werewolves, it occurs when a vulnerable (read: bitter and bloodthirsty) individual enters a shopping mall. It's like a full moon all the time in there, bitches, and you best watch out. You lose control of your body and your wallet and buy as much as you can carry until your inner willpower finally gets you the hell out of there roughly two hours later. It's like a battleground in there, I say based on nothing.

I'm guessing that it was explanation #3, since I came out dazed and covered in the blood of the innocent. But, like a lady Remus Lupin, I feel at least kind of bad about it.

...And, BAM! Still worked in a Harry Potter reference.

How You Can Tell We're Best Friends

2011-09-28T00:56:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, my best girl, Kaitlin, departed for her year of studying abroad in England. (Click her name for her blog!) While I am so, so happy and excited for her, obviously her departure prompted me to pout for a solid 24ish hours. However, during my poutfest, I was also prompted to consider what has made my friendships, not only with Kaitlin, so great. I feel like I am constantly talking about one of my "best friends", but I'm not even a very popular person. Thus, I have compiled this list of things that have actually happened that have helped me to determine what it means to me to be my best friend. Enjoy the list, kiddos.

WE ARE PROBABLY BEST FRIENDS IF:
-I have ever texted you saying I was stressed and you ask if you can order me cinnastix
-we have had marathons of stupid YouTube videos/weird TV shows until nearly sunrise
-we have ever agreed on topics to never discuss due to embarrassment and followed through
-you know that when the rule of secrets applies to not telling your significant other without asking
-my parents have your picture on the fridge (or vice versa)
-you have driven my sorry ass to the impound lot (more than once, shit)
-we have made picnics out of limited rations, meaning we mostly just took some bread and meat and ate it outside
-you have seen me cry, which I almost forgot because you know not to mention it ever
-we have had creepy telepathic moments
-we have listened to the same Usher song on repeat until we move on to the next Usher song we desire
-you have traveled cross-country to see me (or vice versa)
-we have spent days in the car together and don't hate each other and actually might love each other more because of it
-you play music with me
-I have sat in your bathroom for over an hour whilst drunky, and you have left your own party to sit on the floor and talk to me
-you have called me in the middle of the night upset about something, and my spidey senses allowed me to wake up (I normally sleep through any/everything)
-you have my Facebook password so no one sends creepy shit at me if I die
-you call me on my shit, but in a delicate enough manner so I don't freak out
-I have called you when I walk somewhere by myself after dark, for safety
-probably other weird, embarrassing things

While most of these things are probably too embarrassing for the internet, BUT I can and will take solace in the fact that at least one other person was involved in all these encounters.

PHOTOGRAPHIC PROOF OF FRIENDSHIPS:

I'm a cynical asshole most of the time, but I am somehow still blessed with some of the most wonderful people in my life ever. Which is cool, because based on the thunder outside, I am probably going to die tonight. RIP.

Fall, Falling, Fell

2011-09-15T00:26:00.000-05:00

Today was the first legitimately chilly day of autumn, a topic of mixed feelings in my life. They're mostly positive, what with the reintroduction of sweaters and knee socks and my leather jacket into my wardrobe. However, I forgot how... cold... it is. My classic "no pants after 9" rule has been replaced by "it's really cold, put some extra pants on and maybe some socks". I am fairly certain that my feelings on pants have already been expressed in this forum, so you know that this is my personal hell.

Fall also brings back one of my main loves into my life, television. The series premiere of Up All Night with Will Arnett and people who matter less was tonight, and I am surprised at myself that I liked it as much as I did. Arnett is a no-brainer, but I am naturally averse to shows/movies/lifestyles where a baby is the center of the plot. I also Hulu'd the series premiere of New Girl with Zooey Deschanel, which I am 99% sure is a reverse-nerd version of The Big Bang Theory. If that's the case, I will find it endearing, but inevitably give up after 1.5 seasons. PROPHECY'd! Until then, sure, whatever. Next week is much more important, since Parks and Recreation returns and I can continue my lessons on how to be Amy Poehler when I grow up. So far, my notes say: Be really funny and nice and charming, try really hard. I am unsure I can accomplish this, but lo, I will try.

Anyway. All this being said, I hope those of you friends and creepy anonymous readers~* that are in school are having a good first couple of weeks. Do good at school. I will keep you updated on all the television programming you don't have time to watch because you're doing homework.

In the next few weeks, look out of a blog makeover. Potentially a new name and other cool features (not really about cool features). Have a lovely day/evening/mid-afternoon!

Goodbye, Summer. Hello, doing-the-same-thing-as-summer

2011-09-06T16:59:00.001-05:00

I don't even want to look when the last time I posted was, because I know it is pitiful. Shameful, even. My idea notebook is bumpin' (new cool adjective for notebooks), but I haven't had the time/energy to write anything longer than a sentence. Why? Because I suck. Why? Because being triple employed is a bitch.

Yeah, yeah, I know I signed up for it. I know it will be worth it when I am rolling in piles of money (or crying into piles of money OR BOTH), but at the moment it is just super draining and makes my back hurt. Today was the first day of school for most of my friends, so it was a pouting day on my end x2. I do and I don't miss school. Bipolar attitudes toward education. Good thing I have 7836r723 semesters left when you include law school and round down.

I now bring you the pros and cons of working at my places of work. Keepin' it nice and vague to, you know, not get fired for being an asshole on the internet.

Hardware store:

(+) can/will go to work looking like shit

(+) most of the customers who come in are working guys who don't want to ask for help...

(+)...subsequently, I get to read a shit ton of Harry Potter guilt-free. Male pride FTW!!

(-) trapped in the cash register cube where happiness goes to die

(+) being trapped in said cube has improved my use of hyperbole

(-) I have no idea what the fuck I am ever selling/talking about

(+) I AM A MASTER OF WINGIN' IT

Restaurant:

(+) free food

(+) another step in my transformation into Sookie Stackhouse

(-) with my white shirt, black pants, and tie, I look like I just celebrated my Bar Mitzvah

(+) if that were true, I would finally be a man in the eyes of my people

(-) PEOPLE ARE ASSHOLES

(+) those assholes have to tip me

(-) I have to wear some mad Sketchers Shape-Ups

(+) thanxx to those horrifying shoes, my butt is looking really great

(-) seriously, though: people are total assholes

Beauty store:

(----) it's like being a crack addict in a crack store. But it's not just crack, it's the good stuff. Nice crack that makes you look like a beautiful angel sent from heaven covered in glitter.

(+) what's up, big ol' discount

(+) I'm new, so I can still play the new girl pity card (though I don't like to, it's nice to have the option)

(+) the ladies that work there seem lovely thus far

(-) it's a store full of ladies shopping. Unlike the hardware store men, they are needy as fuck.

(-) I'm pretty sure 98% of the stuff we sell is made up. Beauty products are weird. Rub bamboo on your eyeballs and your nails grow faster or something? I call bullshit. Maybe it's eyelashes growing and eucalyptus, not bamboo. My call of bullshit still stands.

Overall:

(-) workin' mad doubles

(+) excuses for mad nap times

(-) apparently I've started using the word "mad" a lot in this specific context, I blame work

(+) I can blame everything on work!!

(+) cash money/Young Money/Lil Wayne-->based on this train of thought, I am now Nicki Minaj. I DID IT

(+) I never have to socialize with people I don't like because I can say that I have to work and they'll never know it was a lie! Off the social grid!

you guys, it's my hit song!!

So, now you know what my life has been like is short form. Now that all three jobs are started and I have as regular of a schedule as I'm going to get, I will definitely be able to blog more. I know you were worried.

I am going to take my post work pre-work out nap, which I just made up and am very excited about. The only major thing you, the reader(s), have missed in the past month is how cute me and Kelsey look in this picture:

Okay, now that is remedied. I can rest easy. Thanks for being patient with me if you have been. If not, umm.. you're probably not reading this.