Things I Learned In The Summer of 2k14
Scalp sunburn really hurts. Moisturize your neck. Give your nails a break sometimes and keep them bare. Be bare. Invest in a million different bras, including racerback and sport and ones with small straps and strapless one, too. Go braless. Take more napkins. Even more napkins than that. More. Recycle the napkins. The ice cream will melt right away. It’s melting now.
Bring a book on the long trip because your phone will die. Take more pictures. Day drink. Trade a whiskey drink for a cold lemonade sometimes. Go out with your friends. Talk to them about your problems and fears. Eat more things on sticks. Wear the clothing that makes you feel comfortable. Reveal the amount of skin you want. The sweat on the back of your knees won’t show on the seat.
Get all of your eye makeup off. Rub it again. Come on, there’s still more. Wear dark lipstick even in the summer. Give your skin a break by putting nothing on it but light moisturizer for three days straight. Buy a headband that pulls your hair back when you wash your face. Moisturize your legs. Shave them only if you feel like it.
Love your beach body. Part of loving YOUR beach body is not judging anyone else’s. Also: a little ass sweat never hurt anybody.
Ignore catcallers. Dream about ripping their vocal chords out their necks. Stay off Facebook. State your opinions. Call people out respectfully. Call people out gently. Don’t call people out on Facebook. STAY off Facebook.
Women are not a commodity. Women are not a commodity. Fight this. Fight this. Fight it. Fucking fight it. You knew it before this summer. Fight it more.
Ask people for new music. Buy vegetables and eat them all for dinner. And ice cream. Take care of yourself. You know what this means. Do it. Take care of yourself. Spend some time outside. Spend some time inside, with the fan on your face, thinking about absolutely nothing.
Watch the sun set often. Wake up, make your bed, drink lots of water, and try not to complain. Don’t wait till next year to go for it this time.
this chapter has graduated to being called “Hey, Dude” and it is OUTRAGEOUS. MORE WINE.
"I get it, you’ve been this way your whole life. Ever since you started wearing Superman underwear, and then graduated to Superman boxers, and then graduated to old and ratty Superman boxers, you’ve been told stupid shit about girls that you started to believe. Between eating large amounts of cereal out of bowls that weren’t truly made for eating cereal or even harboring any kind of food at all, between high-fiving other dudes over things like “short skirts” and “people doing skateboard tricks and falling,” you’ve become somewhat of a caveman. Baby, it’s not your fault. Baby, smile for me! Why don’t you smile for me? Baby, you’re looking goooooood today!"
Rewatching the first season Orange is the New Black for some Alex Vause inspiration, drinking copious amounts of red wine, and finally writing the chapter in my book called “Dear Men.” I am holding no punches.
If anybody has, you know, any ideas of what I should say to men, you can always hit my askbox. Don’t be nice.
It’s my 26th Birthday!
It’s my mothafuckin 26th birthday today, and I’ll be spending it like I did when I was 13 (wearing a choker), when I was 21 (drinking whiskey), like I do erryday (eating pizza) AND like an adult that has to sign up for shitty healthcare. I’m a little hungover because I watched Adam Sandler’s BLENDED last night, which was as horribly drunk as I suspected it would be. So it’s going okay so far.
Iffffff you wanna give me a bday gift, do me a solid and ..follow me on Instagram which is the only social media I have time for lately. Plus I love it.
All right. Off to mess up my lipstick, which is Kat Von D’s Studded Kiss in Homegirl. Celebrate with me by wearing dark lipstick tonight and convincing somebody you’re a witch.
The #1 Lesson I Learned While Writing A Book
Every time, I get down on myself. Every time I minimize the word document at 1am and think about all the things I have left to write. I toy with the music playlist, go to the bathroom, get another drink of water, distract myself. I get upset. I get frustrated. I think I couldn’t possibly do it, I think I need more time, I think I need tomorrow, I think I need to watch Broad City instead.
And then, after hours of this bullshit, I start to type. The second I start to type, I feel better. It’s the medicine I need. I feel like I can handle it. I feel as invincible as I can when I’m sober. And always, once I start typing, I start to get it done. Always.
Don’t think too much, man. Just fucking do.
The #2 lesson is that you are hardest on yourself, and the #3 lesson is that you don’t have to be as perfect as you think you should be.