I am very excited for the party tonight. So excited, I’m actually listening to Pitbull right now. It’s VERY humbling (after all, you can see him in Times Square with a Kodak).

Here’s the Facebook invite again. 

And if you can’t make that but still want to hang, OR if you’re coming and want to continue to hang out:

AFTERPARTY IS AT TEN AT WHISKEY WARD (121 Essex Street) IN THE LOWER EAST SIDE. 

It’s a whiskey bar. I saw Millie from Freaks and Geeks there. SO excited about tonight—I want to meet you and also I want to drink. 

Sometimes, a girl just needs to slather shit all over her face.

I bought this Avocado/Oatmeal/Olive Oil/Condiment Facial Mask (masque) and put a thick layer all over my mug last night. Now, a true evolution of my character happened when I stopped thinking facial masks were a way to make stepmothers seem scary in children’s movies. Now I treasure them. I love clay ones, too. Dirt. I would put dirt on my face if it would make my skin glow. Alida: 0 Commercial Magazines: Infinity!

So I left it on through most of the movie GHOST with Patrick Swayze, and I should point out I almost always thought his best friend Mr. Murdery Guy who is now on that show Scandal was cuter than Patrick.

But that’s not the point. I put that stuff on my face and my face felt like a baby’s ass, a very accurate description that makes me uncomfortable almost every time I use it. I’ve used it maybe twice. I haven’t had the opportunity to change a baby’s diaper, thus be exposed to its ass, in years.

My face felt great and I even put this expensive Aveeno moisturizer on it that smells like peaches and costs more than 6 drugstore nail polishes. A vertiable fortune.

AND I woke up with a huge pimple on my jawline. It’s throbbing. It’s alive. It speaks to me like Audrey II the plant. I tried to deflect my face by wearing a cute floral outfit, but nobody’s buying the snake oil I’m sellin’. So it goes, I say. So. It. Goes.

I’m never putting anything on my face and I will continue to dry it out and destroy it with booze. Lesson learned, Universe!

Instead of posting less because I have a book (the annoying curse of blog-to book), I have decided to post more. It usually takes me a couple of days to form the cohesive thoughts of a big ole post, which I won’t stop doing about [feminism! Body image! Lists about summer!] Now, I want you guys to kind of peek into my life a bit. If you think this is a shitty idea, let me know via compliments and praise.

Today, I’ve been thinking a lot about my desire for a real adultfridge. I went on a mini-vacay last weekend, to my BFF’s hometown, and I was quite impressed with her mom’s fridge. Now—my fridge has evolved in the past few years, but is nowhere close to being perfect. In college it was beer and mustard and three-week old leftovers. Now it’s ginger ale and three-week old leftovers and cheese of questionable age. To create a vision-board post of sorts, in the hopes I can one day obtain perfection. here is my perfect dream fridge. One must start from somewhere, and for me, that somewhere cannot be grocery shopping.

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So today is the day my first book comes out. “Don’t Worry, It Gets Worse” can be purchased at all the book stores I used to go to and wish in.

I am wearing an uncharacteristically colorful dress and I am getting cheese fries for lunch because I don’t truly know how to celebrate this. It is a dream. I do not know how to celebrate when dreams come true, when dreams are made of late nights and nerves and a hill you can’t see over yet.

But I do know this—we are all made of potential and possibilities. Things do not just happen to those lying in wait of those things. We must be more than those dusty blankets we wrap ourselves in: pain, fear, history. Your life is ready to start when you emerge. Your life is ready to hear you speak out loud.

But now! All the words I can form are thank you, thank you, thank you, onward!

Congratulations to coercedintoobsession for winning a bunch of crap from MEEEEE. Thanks to everybody on Fbook and Tumblr for preordering  and entering.

Lady, all you gotta do is email me at IAmTheFrenemy@gmail.com with proof of preorder and your address, and I will FIND YOU. Or mail you stuff. Doooo it by tomorrow by 3pm or I’ll choose again.

For everybody who didn’t win, I’m sorry. I’ve never won anything, but I also haven’t entered a lot of contests.