I bookmarked this article a while back. As with most things, I didn’t have time for it but knew I wanted to check it out. Finally, I paused Shameless so I could feel productive and I am so, so glad I did. It slaps a whiney turd like me across the cheek. Sometimes I need that.
Kevin Smith’s Secrets to a Successful
-CJ
ps, it is worth noting that if you aren’t listening to the Hollywood Babble-On podcast, you’re so missing out.
Here, I’ll probably never own property because a decent sized and conditioned house is upwards of a quarter million dollars. I’ll never have a star-lit backdrop. I’ll never avoid traffic clogged freeways for my regular commutes. I’ll always pay an assload for rent and my neighbors will always be close enough to eavesdrop. My kid will never talk about how the city she grew up in was full of such friendly people. I’ll only ever see domestic animals outside, not deer or bunnies or a stray moose.
But I tell you, the year round, gorgeous weather is unfuckingbeatable.
I think of all the space I could have somewhere else for the same amount of money I pay every month currently… but for now, I’m not sure you can take California out of this girl.
-CJ
I trust you know what to do with this information: http://www.japanla.com/detail.php?design=2265
Also, eat it Captcha. There needs to be less steps between my URLs and me, not more.
-CJ
My friend Ashley supplies an almost constant flow of entertainment from her post in Wyoming. Example: World’s Best Relationship Tips
If you were ever going to learn a thing or two about yourself and your sig-o, let it be from an instructional featuring such images as:
(Note tiny caption: Kee-f*cking-yai, motherf*cker)
Probably the best way to combat jealousy is with macaroni art. Everyone loves macaroni art. It is a symbol for good intentions, thoughtfulness and love. And if you use enough glitter, she’ll forget she ever felt anything less than unadulterated adoration for you.
YES.
“I DIED, and then laughed myself into a second death.” –Ashley
Thank you, love.
-CJ
muliebrity \myoo-lee-EB-ri-tee\, noun:
The state of being a woman.
gorgeous, wide hips, bleeding, cramping, lotion on freshly shaved skin – or not, combat boots or heels and the option of wearing both in the same day, making sixty-three cents to his one dollar, debating on your means to control your reproductive system and fighting teeth and nails for the right to do so, glorifying hot ass androgyny, lipstick, applauding the matriachy where you can find it, reaching out to your sister(s), owning the innate mama bear inside you, contricting your chest with elastic and wires and sighing heavily at the end of the day when the bra hits the floor, slow moving grace, clumsy tomboys, deliciously scented powders and oils from top to bottom…
From an article in the Washington Post, What It Takes To Be a Woman:
Jenny Ouellet, a 24-year-old who has seen her share of hard times, recognizes [the difference between being a girl & being a woman]. She wrote to me a month ago from her home in northern Massachusetts, fed up with a lack of confidence she was seeing in some of the young women she knew.
It’s not that she didn’t know how they felt. When she graduated from high school, she traveled with rock bands, lost the man of her dreams and ended up with 32 tattoos and a baby. She went to work in a music store, started paying off debts, learned how to cook and is raising her little boy, now 3, by herself, with some financial support from the boy’s father.
Making a life for herself and her son, virtually alone, forced her to realize who she was and what she was capable of as a female.
“It’s not what I wear or how I do my hair,” she wrote me. “I’m convinced it’s that I carry myself with confidence. I don’t feel like I’m the all-around perfect catch, but I’ve been through enough to know I’m a great mother, a loving daughter, an honest friend, a great lover and someday, I’ll make a great wife. You grow into the title of woman.”
And then you wear your title forever, with pride.
-CJ
My adamant refusal to allow this week to suck was aided so much by the eighteen second video at the end of this post: http://dooce.com/2010/05/06/baby-bird
Sound is unnecessary. The expression around 16 seconds has guaranteed me a happy thirty-six hours, solid.
If you don’t squeal or wiggle or express your joy with some immature bodily sound or movement, clearly you’re insensitive. My being easily pleased almost every day of the week has absolutely nothing to do with this.
-CJ
My newly pregnant friend (!!) seems to be experiencing all of the textbook symptoms and occurances as her body changes. She started a Twitter account for her newly acquired, highly sensitive sense of smell and she is cracking my shit up.
From I Can Smell That:
- I’m pretty sure that the woman who was sitting three rows in front of me at church used Suave coconut shampoo.
- MULCH. :keels over:
- Forget beds; it’s separate rooms from now on. I woke up six times last night due to the combination of garlic, beer, and toothpaste breath.
- It’s like… Chef Boyardee and wet dog.
Send soothing, happy thoughts to her senses.
-CJ
Filed under: love/loathe
plastic applicators, glitter on anything but my hands, gourmet cupcakes, bangs, bobbypins, cheap jewelry, Japanese beer & liquor, Russell Martin, push-up bras, slippers, mutt-bitches with nothin’ but love, chunky as all hell ice cream, hips, boobs, other peoples’ babies, travel mugs, garlic, knee socks, park picnics, sand in my feet or in my shoes - who cares, Belgian waffles, aaaall my frenz, peacoats with big buttons, indoor plumbing, fruit punch, bendy straws, fried rice, camera phones, giggles, bamboo plants, Modern Family, heart shapes in my food, mashed potatoes, a good spatula, Rheanna Ryan, fried egg sandwiches, hoodies, vibrators, good books & booklights, Nag Champa, rainbows, my baby girl, robots, low brow art, your mom, my body pillow, boy soap, cheap wine, lavendar baby oil, hedgehogs, zebra blankets, sleepovers, road trips, koala bars, mimosas, all nighters, iced coffee, the moon, hotel rooms and orgasms.
Happy Thanksgiving. I’m off to Lake Havasu.
-CJ
Again, this girl gets the win for awesome.
http://kittenhiccups.tumblr.com/post/240724768/fuck-i-am-so-fucking-sick-of-the-obsession-with
Ditto and amen and high five.
-CJ
In homage to Cunt: A Declaration of Independence by Inga Muscio, I lit my tricep on fire… or so it feels fourty-eight hours later:
-CJ
