Search results for

Writing

Lunar Park Slope Pt. 2

Pt. 1 here

John the intern is adorable. He is in his third year at journalism school and takes his job here very seriously. I’m sure he had three tasks today; stock the fridge, take out the mail, and be on the lookout for when Rob gets back from lunch so we can surprise him. And I’m sure he accomplished all three with admirable conviction.

My co-workers scramble under their desks to hide, which seems like wasted effort to me as we’re all respectively enclosed by cubicle walls as it is. There are eight of us in the bull pen: Amy, our office manager and resident struggling actress, sits at the front door, Kyle, our style editor and resident struggling musician sits in cubicle number #1 a.k.a. “The Love Den”, Bradford, our field writer and resident struggling screenwriter, sits in cubicle number #2 a.k.a. “Deathstar”, Ginger, the one who does a little bit of everything and is our resident struggling t-shirt designer, sits in cubicle #3 a.k.a. “The Gingerbread House”, and me, the advice columnist/pop (more…)

January 20, 2010 by
Writing

Fashion- But Where is the Kings of Leon Snuggie?

Word on the street is that the Followill Dynasty designed some pretty expensive clothing for the Parisian clothing line/creative agency Surface2Air which will be sold exclusively at the Copenhagen boutique Paris Texas. For $1150 you can buy this jacket:

Or you can buy this flannel for I don’t know how much, but probably a friggin’ lot for something you can buy at Goodwill:

Also part of the collection? Jeans and fedoras.

Nothing about this line says new and exciting. In fact, Austinites have been wearing this shit for years, Followill Clan (except for the fedroas…the only people who wear fedoras are Britney Spears circa 2005 and 2006).
Maybe that’s why you decided to sell your clothing in a European clothing store called Paris Texas, right? RIGHT?

What is it lately with the rock star clothing line trend?

Weezer recently designed (“designed” being used loosely) a Snuggie for the release of their not highly anticipated album “Raditude”.

Bono and his wife, Wife Bono, created an eco-friendly (more…)

January 19, 2010 by
Writing

Lunar Park Slope

Dear Lauren:


I am 26 years old. I have a good job at a talent agency, a boyfriend of three years, a rent controlled apartment in Silver Lake, supportive friends and family, and an active social life and yet I wake up every day feeling like something is missing. I feel guilty and somewhat narcissistic about being unhappy. Normally a very happy person, I’ve been feeling restless and moody all of a sudden. I know I should feel lucky for all the things I have, but yet my psychiatrist seems to think that I think I don’t deserve to be happy. I fear that I suffer from Grass Is Always Greener Syndrome. I’m afraid that I’ll never be happy and that scares the hell out of me? Can you please help?

Sad in Silver Lake

Dear Sad:

First of all, I’d like to say that I’m flattered that you came to me after your psychiatrist didn’t do the trick. Who’s to say that a 24 year-old college drop out with less credentials than a hotline psychic can’t help?

Secondly, I think you read my mind today. Have you ever stopped (more…)

January 19, 2010 by
Writing

Excuse Me, Do You Know You Look Like a Mess?

“Can I tell you something?” A voice says from behind my right shoulder as I wait in line at Baja Fresh on Sunset Boulevard.

The rule in Los Angeles is if someone voluntarily talks to you and you have yet to make eye contact, it is a-okay to 100% ignore them.

“Miss?”

Maybe I can pretend that I’m deaf?
But then I would have to produce pretty convincing sign language once I get to the counter. Which I have no idea how to do. Unless I want to tell the cashier that I love him over and over I probably won’t be able to get away with it.

“Ma’am?”

Man, this guy has something really important to say to me. Chances are it’s going to be a.) someone claiming to be a “producer from “The Valley” who would “love it if I can stop by “his office” sometime and audition for the role of the “love interest” in a “feature film” he wrote/directed/starring in or b.) something about how God is going to kill everyone in Los Angeles because The Devil created Hollywood c.) a Stepford looking woman Scientologist offering (more…)

January 18, 2010 by
Writing

To Serve Man

This is what happens when you’re in a bad mood, stressed, and have writer’s block.
_________________________
8:45PM

I declared this week “What is Love?” week on my blog, which was really a dumb ass idea. Since I obviously have no idea what love is, I can’t really talk about it then, can I? Huh? HUH?

There are only so many posts (one, really) where I can a.) talk about how I’ve never been in love and b.) realize that I have no idea what the hell love is.
This really makes me want to write a post about how I’m going to turn into “that woman”. You know, the one that you see in the supermarket with dream catcher earrings, talking really loud to herself, then directing questions to passersby, laughing hysterically before the passersby even finishe a sympathetic answer, loading up the cart with 25 cans of Chicken Corn Chowder soup which she will eat at home alone later that evening while watching a Monk marathon.

But then I realized I’ve already written that post. About four times now.

Fuuuucckkk….
Am (more…)
January 15, 2010 by
Writing

I Want to be the Future Ex-Mrs. Malcolm

Dr. Emmett Brown
Dr. Egon Spengler
Dr. Ian Malcolm

What do these men all have in common?
I wanted to marry all of them between the ages of 4-10.
I had completely forgotten that at one point in my young life, I heartbreakingly loved all these men. I was only reminded of it recently while sitting at the doctors office, maybe or maybe not reading one of those articles in Cosmopolitan, titled, “What your type of man says about you.” I never read such nonsense, but I was feeling particularly nonplussed about my relationship status that day (I’d even settle for a “It’s Complicated”) and thought maybe it would shed some light on why I pick men that may or may not have the same personality traits as my free spirit father (free spirit= flew the coop when I was six).

I realized that I wasn’t exactly sure what my type was. The men I seemed to go after typically fail me (f*ck YOU, artsy bearded musicians!) and though I thought I liked men who look like Lindsey Buckingham circa 1977, the past four guys I (more…)
January 14, 2010 by
Writing

Guest Blog: Blackberries to Apples


What first attracted me to the blog Blackberries to Apples, was the witty title. The name provoked images of a sassy big city gal who career’d it by day and blogged by night. I peeked into the blog to find exactly that- a smart, funny, confident writer living and working in NYC. Her tales of being a twenty-something in one of the greatest cities in the world always keeps me wanting to hear more. That is why I was delighted when she suggested we do a blog swap.

We exchanged emails and immediately knew what we were going to talk about: relationships and the weird shit that comes with them. When I read her post, I could instantly relate to it, and I think you will too.

I’m honored to present the true tales of Ms. M….

(P.S. check out my post over at her blog)

___________________

We hold this truth to be self-evident: Relationships are fucking bizarre

I’ve been on this planet for like 24 years now, and I feel like I haven’t learned very much. I mean, I’ve definitely learned some things. Don’t (more…)

January 12, 2010 by
Writing

Come on Baby in Our Dreams, We Can Live Our Misbehavior


I love the way my Mother always makes me feel like a champion. I love Austin. I love having a conversation with my friend that feels like I just finished a 10k race. I love beets (One time I thought I fell in love with one…it’s a long story. No drugs or alcohol were involved). I love our Dad/Daughter adventures. I love my Pee-Wee Herman doll even though his voice box is broken and he talks like he’s on huffers. I love sourdough bread with butter and strawberry jam. I love my Grandmother’s face. I love the way that juice boxes make me feel like a child again. I love L.A. for everything it’s not. I love watching people interact with each other. I love desolate urban landscapes. I love lamp.

However, the one thing I’ve never felt is 100% honest to goodness, heart-wrenching, soul-twisting, poem-inducing, pant-peeing love.
So in honor of having had more of an emotional connection to a beet than a man, I’m declaring this week, “What is Love?” week on my blog. And yes, you have to do the head (more…)
January 11, 2010 by
Writing

Snapshots of Fictional Wanting

——————————–

As I watch the sights that I’ve seen a million times before grow smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror, I think about all my failures in this city. And a boy. My failures in Los Angeles and failure with the boy are insignificant to the greater picture of this move, yet they’re all I can think about.

We sat down on his couch and he picked up his guitar. I couldn’t look at him anymore. He was winning me over, so I tried to keep my focus on a used piece of floss lying on the coffee table. There was only one sign that a man who once had money, fame, a family, and legions of people who looked up to him lived there. All over the apartment were pictures of the former Mr. W. Young Mr. W. Smiling Mr. W. Handsome Mr. W. All before the switch was flipped. I was drawn into the photos. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Who is this strapping, vivacious young man in the picture and who is that frail, sad, old man sitting on the couch? The apartment was covered in drawing (more…)
January 8, 2010 by
Writing

WWPD?-What Would Prince Do?


WWPD? (What Would Prince Do?)

On those particular days when I’m feeling weary, feeling small, when tears are in my eyes, Art Garfunkel comes and dries them all.
But on the particular days that Art doesn’t stop by to say “heeeyyy!”, and my self-esteem and confidence are at an all-time low, I think of another man.

A purple man.
A woman-man.
A 5’2″ larger than life man.
A sexy, sexy man.

When I feel like shit about myself, I ponder, “What would Prince do?”

Would Prince sit there curled up on his bed, with a bottle of red wine that he opened with a pen because he doesn’t have a cork screw because he likes to think he doesn’t drink, and feel sorry for himself?
NO!
He’d get out of that bed, go find a stage somewhere, hold the bottle up against his crotch, pop that cork, spray the crowd with the wine, and sing “Purple Rain”.

Would Prince cry purple tears when one of his respective under-aged girlfriends would leave him in a fit of jealousy?
NO!
He would write a power ballad about her, then go play the song (more…)

January 7, 2010 by