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October 2, 2010 at 11:04pm
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I like you a lot.



This, in response to me asking him was he eating a bowl of granola and soymilk with bananas in it, which I could see that he was.

September 15, 2010 at 12:28pm
6 notes
You know in that scene in Elizabeth when she decides to put on all that white makeup at the end and she is so regal and ironclad and Joseph Feinnes is there at court bowing looking all pathetic because Oh Man he blew it? That’s how I feel about Colin on the best days.
No, on the best days I feel nothing at all.

You know in that scene in Elizabeth when she decides to put on all that white makeup at the end and she is so regal and ironclad and Joseph Feinnes is there at court bowing looking all pathetic because Oh Man he blew it? That’s how I feel about Colin on the best days.

No, on the best days I feel nothing at all.

August 22, 2010 at 8:37pm
36 notes
Reblogged from welcometobeingpretty

And now I tell you openly/ You have my heart so don’t hurt me/ You’re what I couldn’t find



Tedious, painful, and probably not worth the time and effort you put into it. That’s also how you describe a long distance relationship, which is what Going the Distance is about.

… Sometimes true, but the effort is still so worth it in the end

Ok, maybe. But what if, this is just hypothetical, you meet the guy of your dreams and he’s everything you ever wanted,* but he’s going to be gone for 60% of the for the forseeable future. Also, he will be tired and spent for 50% of the time he is around, and apologetic and sweet about it but still, spent. What if, in addition to all of this, you can’t do math good enough to figure out what percentage of the time he will be, like, there?

Yeah, I get that they made a movie called Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind in which this question was posed: If you knew it would be difficult and eventually totally fucked, would you still be with someone you loved? And the answer was yes, that you would still be with this person. True, too, that the above math is not a crystal ball, but an educated guess of what will happen, and that anything else presumably could. Still, this is IRL, where bozo-red hair never fades so gracefully and trains to Montauk often have the bathroom broken on them and smell so potently of poo that no one would ever dream of approaching a handsome stranger all flirty-like. So what if you had the chance to cut and run, knowing what you know, which is that you love him, but it very well might be fucked?

I felt I needed to end with a question so you could visualize me closing my pink clamshell macbook and running out to hail a cab in a pair of fuzzy manolos.

*Everything you wanted, that is, as far as you can tell. Since, in this obviously not-hypothetical scenario, your relationship track record of finding the guy who is everything you wanted is 0 for like, 7.

August 20, 2010 at 11:37am
15 notes

It’s one of those shitty dreams where something unfun that could easily happen in real life happens. I’m hanging out with Colin, and we are in my bed for some reason and our faces are close enough together to warrant a sexual leap of faith, which I take, and then we are making out for realsies. I think a thought that I sometimes do think when I’m not dreaming, in the event that something long-pined-after is finally realized: “Well, now it’s happening. Is it living up to my every expectation?”

Then, suddenly, he breaks away, and becomes exasperated with me. “God. What is your problem?” I am enraged! I say, “You kissed me back! You always kiss me back! You say you don’t like me, so walk the walk!” The only rewarding part coming when I follow him around, yelling at him, calling him a coward and my roommate walks by and gives me a look that says, or maybe actually says “Now we’re talking.” I tell him that I don’t think we can work together anymore, and he says “Oh, you’re pulling that card.” And there is nothing I can say because yes, it is a ploy, and I love him even more for recognizing it.

On our second to last date, Colin acted like a surly teen at a family reunion. I asked him things and he gave one word answers or ignored me. He kept singing, to himself, and out of desperation I tried more than once to sing along. I felt all the insecurities and self-hate of being a teenager and also way too old for any of this. When we got back to my house he told me he had a big crush on Elizabeth Moss (who I am prettier than).

Later on, when we broke things off, he told me he’d known he was being a jerk but he just kept on doing it anyway, like a compulsion. This is how he said it: “I knew I was being mean to your feelings, and I’m super sorry.” I fantasize that Colin has likewise started a secrettumblr called meantoyourfeelings.tumblr.com

Anyway, good news, Elizabeth Moss is single! Also, she’s a Scientologist!

36 notes
Tedious, painful, and probably not worth the time and effort you put  into it. That’s also how you describe a long distance relationship, which is what Going the Distance is about.
I like to judge stuff before I have a chance to find out what the fuck I am talking about. A lot of times I’m wrong, but I’m going to wait and see if David Denby has anything remotely good to say about this movie before I see it.
Also, I can’t wait till Justin Long grows into the actual old man I see whenever I look at him, mostly so he will stop making movies where he has sex.
Also, I think I’m in love with a road comic. FML guys, FML.*
*Fix My Lamp

Tedious, painful, and probably not worth the time and effort you put into it. That’s also how you describe a long distance relationship, which is what Going the Distance is about.

I like to judge stuff before I have a chance to find out what the fuck I am talking about. A lot of times I’m wrong, but I’m going to wait and see if David Denby has anything remotely good to say about this movie before I see it.

Also, I can’t wait till Justin Long grows into the actual old man I see whenever I look at him, mostly so he will stop making movies where he has sex.

Also, I think I’m in love with a road comic. FML guys, FML.*

*Fix My Lamp

August 17, 2010 at 6:47pm
9 notes

I took a morning after pill recently even though I have had unprotected sex with every long-term boyfriend I have ever had without the slightest hitch, thereby convincing me that I was infertile (which makes me feel super skinny). I did, however, by virtue condom malfunction, possibly get closer than ever before to ruining my life, so opted for the most expensive Smartie. We split the cost, which was $50. I briefly wondered if it wouldn’t be more economical to wait and see if anything cropped up, and if so, could it be sold for at least twice that on the black market, but then I remembered my super-strict policy of not bringing any more humans into the world.

There was a time when I thought it would be neat to make a little baby out of my stuff and another dude’s stuff. Specifically, when I was 26, and I was in the most in love I felt anyone could ever be and living with Chris. I thought living together, by choice, meant that we were going to continue doing so for the foreseeable future. No dice! I discovered, painfully, that his lack of testosterone, combined with a profound disinterest in doing anything to remedy it, would put my dreams of matrimonial bliss on their deathbed. I made a choice to bury them with ceremonious fervor, and for two years threw myself into comedy. I spent long stretches of time feeling fulfilled and unstoppable, punctuated by intense bouts of anxiety about having put my eggs in the ladypants-career basket (I can’t believe that I read Backlash and that bullshit still got to me). Out of convenience and I guess, loneliness, I spent a year or so of this time in an on-and-off relationship with a Kyle, a great guy that I was not in love with. In the conscious part of my brain I assumed that was all there was for me. If I could end up getting paid to be funny and getting laid every once and a while, everything else would fall into the category of icing. I was all, “I wanted to spend my life with Chris, and that was great, but I wont feel that way again, and that’s that.” Then suddenly I did, because duh.

Last night Adam told me “You feel like home.” He said it because I like to recycle everything and wear hiking boots, which indeed is very Pacific Northwest (cue song above). But I took it to mean something more, because as you may have gathered, that is my M.O. It’s not my fault, language itself being a shorthand for something else, the complex shit going on in our brains. People have always said things that mean more or other than what they are really saying. Suddenly though, at least in my relationships but also I feel like in culture in general, there is this pressure to take people at their “word.” It sounds legitimate enough, but as long as you’re sitting around listening to someone talk you might as well watch what they are doing while they say it. Chris liked to wax poetic about the two of us buying an old building together and renovating it, but it was clear from day one, had I paid any attention at all, that we were going to have to build a special wing in it for his batshit ex-girlfriend, Michelle.*

Adam said that home thing after he bought me groceries to cook dinner for him with and then, the next morning he got up early and washed all the dishes in my house. Look, compadres: I’m not looking for someone to tell me what to do with my life, or someone to renovate old buildings with, or build surprisingly shitty new ones in an 9th level dream world (re: Inception- seriously, why did it look like war-torn Beirut in there? How boring and unimaginative were those two?). I’m just looking for someone that makes me feel like that, that home thing. When I fall asleep on his shoulder and it’s actually comfortable, or when he puts my foot in his hand and I feel like tinkerbell, or when he’s out on the road and beaten down by this or that and I know how talk him out of it, to me, that’s home.

I still don’t know about babies. I feel like me not having a baby is going to be my baby shower gift to all my friends who do. Like, this way, my kid wont steal the last drop of clean drinking water from your kid, or beat her out of a job, because she won’t exist. It’s like a savings bond of negativity.

*Real name used. Fuck you, Michelle.

August 15, 2010 at 9:11am
27 notes

It took an hour, maybe a day/ but once I really listened the noise/ just went away

I want to make a movie about someone, a lady, who falls in love with a robot and doesn’t find out that its a robot until later in the movie. And it’s so chilling when she finds out, because this robot is really human-acting and what does it mean? Are we all robots? That kind of thing. It’s a really bad movie. Also, the robot is played by Jude Law and as a director, I am going to pretend to have never seen A.I. and just be astonished over and over again with his ability to portray the droid, and has he done this before? Whoa, great. But still, tone it down. We have to think you’re a human for the first part!

I just went through Colin’s gmail. He left it open on my computer as if to say, “search through this to find out why I don’t want to be with you.” But then I looked through it and realized guys don’t sit around and email each other about their feelings. I looked first through the chat transcripts and they are all, save like four, from chats with me. It was sort of creepy, but for no reason. It implies nothing at all about his intentions or feelings about me that he only chats with me. It only implies that I don’t care at all about my dayjob, which is true. Further, I looked and looked through his emails for any reference to me and found nothing, but I did find an email from a year ago about a script he wrote for a web series he’d written along with a cast list for the parts. Both female roles are played by his two very close friends from Tennessee who also live here. I am convinced that he is in love or has slept with one or both of them, and am filled with a jealousy tantamount to that I feel for the wife of Mark Ruffalo. What a lucky bitch!

But then, I don’t really know Mark Ruffalo, so how would I know if I really liked him? I can search for clues in his interviews, and study his on-screen personae, but the only way to truly know someone is to get to know them. Like, you can think you know someone, and then you go through their gmail and find that actually they are someone who never emails, or they delete all their emails and probably not because they are so filled with torrid details about their life but because they are about new video games and concerts of bands that pretty much everyone agrees are good so who cares.

I don’t understand why Colin doesn’t want to be with me. I thought that eventually, my body or my heart or whatever part of you it is that controls the crazy would catch up to my conscious mind, which understands that I am ridiculously lucky to even be able to hang out with Adam, let alone be in the position to maybe fall in love and be with him. I think every day is going to be the last day in which I fantasize way too often about getting fucked in public by Colin, or hear a saccharine pop song that I shouldn’t even like and have it remind me of the wrong dude. Probably though, the breakthrough moment where I stop wanting to lick his face isn’t going to be when I truly understand the abject inferiority of his face. It’s going to be when I stop caring about the depth of his interest in me, or the utter lack thereof. The moment I see him for who he truly is and realize in my heart of hearts and in my pants that he’s not something I want to make secret blog posts about will be the day that I get bored with the cat and mouse game that it seems like he is playing but might not really be (that’s the essence of cat and mouse, btw). One minute he’s saying we’re just friends, then he’s staring deeply into my eyes and asking me what I’m doing later even though it’s already like 1 am. They say there is much fun and fulfillment that can be gleaned from having someone like you and knowing that at any moment you can dip into that well, but then just leaving it there, placid. I’m just not a person who can avoid jumping headfirst into that well if I like the look of it, and I guess it fascinates me that Colin is. But soon, this enigma will get stale, without ever becoming transparent. Like when everyone was loosing their mind about LOST, and I watched the first season and was like, yeah I get it, but I can also just walk away and I don’t feel like I’m missing out because seriously there is a lot of other culture out there to be absorbed and you don’t have to devote a billion hours of your life to it to appreciate it. Colin really loved LOST.

I downloaded the script, and its a noir-ish story about this guy who solves mysteries or something and it jumps around in time a bunch. It might be kinda good, but I am going to go to sleep right now and when I wake up I might not care anymore. We’ll see.

July 16, 2010 at 5:54pm
61 notes
Reblogged from foxandbunny

20 Things I Wish I’d Known at 20


Via Mighty Girl:


3. Don’t waste your time. If you have to play hard to get, move on. You’ll know when you’ve found a healthy relationship because it won’t confuse you.

Jeez! If I could add one thing it would be don’t get super mad that you didn’t know all of these things until 29, since you just read this now.

5 notes

Listen Here, Young Lady.

My last boyfriend moved to LA a couple months ago. We dated for about a year and though my mom usually reserves judgement on guys I date so that she can talk shit about them when they inevitably peace, she really unabashedly adored Kyle. I did not, at least not unabashedly. There was actually quite a lot of bashed happening. Still, when we broke up I was worried that I might encounter the dreaded “how could you let him get away” reaction that fucks people up so bad. When she had no reaction at all, I prodded and whined at her until she cut me off and said “Honey! It’s me. Come on. Chew ‘em up and spit ‘em out.” It was with this exchange in mind that I told my mom last night all about the Colin/ Adam situation. Guys, having your mom tell you that a dude is JNTIY might sound like the worst thing in the world, but it’s really not that bad. In her words: “He said he just wants to be friends, how could he have been more clear? Also, you didn’t really like him, you just wanted him to like you. This feeling is universal.”

Why is it that when you hear your mom say something that makes it truer than when it’s proven true by science, testimony and also experience? Things with Colin have been fine since we “broke up,” albeit sexually tense. But lets be real, I have sexual tension with my sock monkey (he’s got amazing eyes). So me sitting around waiting for him to start regretting his decision to not want me is basically something I am doing to entertain myself and (hopefully) the readers of this post. Adam is like Mr. Darcy, and focusing my energy all on that would mean I’d have to stop wandering in the moors with my sisters feeling forlorn and poetic and worthy of a tumblr. It would mean I couldn’t stay until closing in Barnes and Noble reading the newest issue of New York Weddings and feeling very excellently unwed. It would mean I’d have to try to actually be happy, instead sneering at the happiness around me like I know better.

July 14, 2010 at 12:22pm
4 notes

I have a confession to make (besides the one that this entire blog endlessly is), because thus far I feel like I’ve projected the image of a youthful if not young, self-possessed girl-woman of the quick wit who listens to good music even. I’m talking about someone cool, who in HS listened to Liz Phair and loves Nirvana to this day. Well, look. I am that person, but that ain’t the whole story. There was a time in my life when I listened exclusively to Ani Difranco. I can’t blame the shitty boyfriend or magnet arts highschool cohorts for this development, even though they certainly encouraged me. It was just something I had to go through, like when I smoked pot every day for a week in college and took to wearing a white baseball cap and saying “sup” a lot.

I’ve been thinking that Colin might be just that, something I have to go through like a growing pain or a shitty haircut. In the week since my last post about him, I ended things over a drink at a bar near his home. I told him I liked him, but that it often seemed like he didn’t really care whether I was around or not. Instead of waiting patiently while he fumbled about for an answer to a giant question mark floating above our table, I looked underneath it and saw that he was wearing flip-flops. Obviously enraged, I looked into his sapphire my-little-pony eyes and said “Because we don’t have to do this. Not if you don’t want to.” He paused, gave me a very long and very blank stare, and said, “I think we work better as friends.”

And that was kind of that. It briefly became a race to see who was less interested in continuing things, and then a backlash to see who was more genuinely invested in the first place (I won by a landslide, obvs.). Suffice to say, a mess. I abandoned ship, cried a little bit and then swam off.

And that brings us up to date, except not at all. Since Adam left he’s called me almost every day, and sent like a billion text messages. For lack of a better term, or maybe actually for the existence of no better term, he is really throwing down. I have not felt this way since 2006, guys. ‘06. That’s when my Ex started courting me in his brown Volvo 240. I honestly could not believe that someone that cool and handsome and interesting wanted anything to do with me. That’s what it’s like. Every time my phone rings I am like “Really?” and so far, yeah. Really.

Not wanting to jinx anything, I’ll say that want that happiness that seems to be offering itself to me. Who wouldn’t? I can rattle off the things about Colin that I dislike, and bad breath and flip flops are not even in the top 5. But when my roommate, Charlie, asked me what I did like about him, no joke, the first thing that came to my brain was “I like that he doesn’t want to be with me.” WTF?? If you ask me now what I like about Adam, the list reads like a wistful soliloquy taken from Diane Lane’s dialogue in Under the Tuscan Sun: He’s smart, hilarious, kind, creative, handsome, ambitious and shy at the same time, not allergic to cats. So why do I not want to be part of a club that wants me as a member, when it is clearly a much better club?

One thing that makes sense: I am attracted to flaws, because I myself am very flawed and I don’t want someone flawless coming around and being all “Hey. What are those flaws.” To…(sigh)…quote Ani:

Just give up/ And admit you’re an asshole
You would be/ In some good company