A Tangent About Free Plastic Surgery For Bullied Kids.

27 07 2012

We recently got cable,
which was a huge deal.
I haven’t had cable
in five years.

Accordingly, Dudefriend started watching CNN in the morning, which at first, I thought was a good idea. You know, keep up with current events, maybe catch some stupid shit Mitt Romney said, watch Bill Nye talk about global warming.

But after this morning,
I think CNN is a piece of shit.

The first reason,
is because they had a headline that read,
“Where was God in Aurora?”

I’m not even going to bother going in to that because if you think that is an appropriate question to be on what is supposed to be an objective news source (HA), then you are a part of the problem & I don’t have time to deal with you right now.

What really has me going though,
is this free plastic surgery for bullied kids bullshit.

This morning they ran a story on a perfectly normal looking preteen girl. By “perfectly normal looking”, I mean she looked like an average kinda gawky middle schooler, just like everyone else looks at that age. She wasn’t ugly, she just hadn’t grown into her ears. She was going to look just fine by the time she got through puberty.

But since the first grade, she was made fun of for her ears & subsequently, she is now a shy person & feels her ears are ruining her life & she convinced her dumb fucking parents to let her get free plastic surgery to get them pinned back.

Only once she got her ears pinned,
the surgeon savior realized,
she also would need
her nose & her chin done.

Because pinning her ears back would make her slightly angled nose & chin more prominent & then she would assumedly be made fun of for that.

So, now this girl any of us could have gone to junior high with, has a completely new face. This perfectly normal adolescent now has what she considers a perfect face.

The problem I have with this
is that I was exactly like this girl,
except instead of huge ears, I had a huge nose.

I was made fun of mercilessly for my nose from first grade until now, since most YouTube commenters are still fourteen apparently. I hated my nose & felt it was ruining my life. Kids at school called me “Rat Face”, which was eventually abbreviated to “Rat”. In junior high, boys would talk to me with their palm on their forehead, making this huge, 90 degree angle in front of their face to demonstrate what it was like talking to me. It was humiliating & I dreamed of the day I could get a nose job because when I told my parents I was being made fun of for my nose & that I wanted a nose job, they told me FUCK NO.

And I’m so glad they did
AND YES I’M GOING TO TELL YOU WHY!

Being bullied made me a stronger person. It was horrible in the thick of it, but now I am a awesome individual because of it. It built character & a thick skin, two very valuable assets outside the confines of math class that no surgeon can cut, inject or sculpt out of you. That’s the real shit right there. That’s life. That makes you who the fuck you are.

For me, I built up two defense mechanisms during those years of being bullied. I lived by the belief that if I made fun of myself before anyone else could, I could control the joke. Instead of being laughed at, I was laughing with them. The second defense mechanism was being a sarcastic little bitch. If I hadn’t had to develop those skills at an early age, I would not be the snide, self-deprecating piece of shit blogger you see here today.

And to be honest,
I really like my nose now!

I had to grow into it, and it’s not perfect, but I think it compliments me & my personality quite well.

Had my parents been like,
“OF COURSE WE’LL GET YOU A NOSE JOB
FOR 8TH GRADE GRADUATION, SWEETHEART!”
who knows what I’d look like or who I’d be today.

Being bullied isn’t new.
And yes, I realize the internet makes it worse.
BUT I TOO HAD THE INTERNET. AND DON’T THINK FOR A SECOND I DIDN’T GET HARASSED ON THE INTERNET BECAUSE I DID. AND IT WAS MEAN. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU PICK YOURSELF UP BY YOUR AIM MESSENGER NAME & YOU GO START A BLOG OR SOME SHIT & WHINE ABOUT IT & LISTEN TO EMO MUSIC JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE.

I find this plastic surgery for bullied kids deeply disconcerting as it deprives them the chance to be the person they were born to be.

But, then again,
maybe not everyone is so strong.
Maybe I just have dope-personality genes.
Maybe plastic surgery will stop the bullying
& subsequently stop some psycho from shooting up a school.

I guess there’s arguments both ways.

My final stance is that
I hope my kids grow up fucking ugly so they turn out to be fucking kick-ass adults. No one great as an adult was the cute kid in grade school. It’s always us losers with big ears or four eyes or extra long extremities that go on to kill it because if you’re a cute kid, everything goes your way & you never have to work for shit & you don’t have to develop kindness or a sense of humor or a big brain to have friends or enjoyment. You’re just cute & everyone likes you & you grow up & go to college & get fat & I get to laugh at you on Facebook because despite all the cool, admirable qualities I got out of being made fun of,
I am also a spiteful, petty asshole.





THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU #THANKYOU

24 07 2012

Well, my blog is officially four years old & it’s pretty fucking awesome & nuts that I went from blogging in an empty showroom drinking Ikea Tupperwares full of rum & writing nonsense to getting funded to create a show I wrote from fucking strangers like you. Generous, awesome, amazing, strangers that I love so fucking much.

I’m going to be honest & say that after four years, keeping up with this blog has gotten hard but today, I feel an insane resurgence of excitement. I’m really stoked on the last four episodes of the show & I genuinely hope with all my little heart that you like them as much as I do (the scripts at least, we haven’t shot them yet so there’s still time for me to flip the fuck out & go all sorts of diva on everyone’s asses & like, leave or something because I don’t look cute in them or the jokes fall flat or I’m just a bitch LOL JK I’D NEVER DO THAT JESUS CHRIST WHAT KIND OF MONSTER DO YOU THINK I AM?!).

Anyways, I’m really excited & I can’t thank you enough for being a part of all this. Even if you couldn’t scrounge up a buck to contribute to the Kickstarter, the fact you’ve read this at all is truly appreciated. None of this would be possible without people reading my nonsense, so thank you eternally for that.

I made you a GIF to exemplify my feelings.

gif maker

LOVE YOU LOVE YOU LOVE YOU #LOVEYOU
KISSES KISSES KISSES #KISSES





A Tangent About How I Have Successfully Created A Brand.

8 07 2012

I’m very happy to announce that today I got a call from a producer who wanted to remind me we are working at a new office tomorrow & to warn me about the air conditioning at the new office; that I may want to possibly wear pants for once in my life, or bring a pillow & blanket.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS?!?!?
I DID IT! I FUCKING DID IT!
EVERYONE KNOWS I ONLY WEAR SHORTS!
IT’S LIKE, MY “THING”!
I HAVE A THING!!!

Of course, part of me is stoned & is wondering
if maybe it was less about AC & more about professionalism.
But if they think me wearing shorts is unprofessional,
they have a whole other thing coming
since the only pants I own
are sweats.

That’s just who I am, ya’all.
Just one extreme or the next;
Friendliest or cuntiest.
Hilariousest or annoyingest.
SHORTS OR SWEATS.

[Currently Listening 2 Gantez Warrior]





A Tangent About 2009.

19 06 2012

Once upon a time, I lived in a magical place.
A place where everything sounded like the beach
& everything was yours at the click of a Google.
This place was called, 2009.

2009 was the best.

It marked the first season of East Bound & Down, the burgeoning independent music blog community, Harry Potter & The Half Blood Prince hit theaters and “Sun Was High” was released, and we were all so excited because no one knew Best Coast was going to turn into a glaring embarrassment yet.

But most of all, you could download anything you wanted, from obscure 1960′s EPs to the Arcade Fire’s album that was six months from its release date.

Computer programs?
TV shows?
Movies?
Whatever!
It was all ours.

It was all mine.

Unfortunately, now all that is gone.
My computer crashed & I had only backed up 60% of my shit.

In 2009, I would have been like,
“No worries! I’ll just re-download it all!”

In 2012, I’m just like,
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!
WHY CAN’T I STEAL ANYTHING?!”

It’s a completely different world out there, you guys. I can’t just Google “70′s Afrofunk: The Revolution.zip” or “Final Draft 7 serial number” anymore. It’s horrible. My life is over. I will never be able to regain everything I took out of 2009. How am I to make summer mixes?! How am I to write my scripts?! Does the world expect me– some poor ass twenty-something who still occasionally has to suck-up her pride & get her parents to bail her out of shit & then feel like an awful Lena Dunham character– to actually pay for all the shit I used to steal?!

My world has nearly imploded!
It’s like 2008 all over again! :(

The only solace I can take from that is that 2013 will be another 2009, but fucking better. I will have finally cracked this Final Draft I stole & will have written the best fucking script & gotten hired on a fucking show & will never have to blog again! I will only do it for the sheer fucking fun of it! So fuck yeah! 2013! 2012 you can’t bring me down with your fucking crazy government sanctions on the internet! You’ll be sucking my dick, internet! You too, the government! YEEEEOWWWW!!!

Sorry guys.
I’m just trying to be positive here
/ have drank a lot of sauvignon blanc, ya’all.





Help Us Finish Tangents & The Times: The Series!

14 06 2012

Dear Friends, Family, Fans, Stalkers with money,

Last year we started making Tangents & The Times: The Series. Unfortunately, we ran out of money & then a bunch of life shit happened & we were unable to finish our last four episodes. But we would like to finish the story and we can, with your help.

We started a Kickstarter to raise the money for our the final half of our little season. The $5300 will go partly to Kickstarter/Amazon because that is how they are a functioning business and the rest will be for our amazing DP, equipment rental, post production, small-scale craft services & a bang tamer for me, among other unexpected things that always happen during a shoot.

VISIT OUR KICKSTARTER HERE!

For the best example of what the $5300 will go to, please check out our first three episodes if you haven’t already. I’m really proud of the product we produced & am really excited to do another four.

EPISODE 1 – “MARISSA MAKES A DECISION” from S. Zissou Ross on Vimeo.

EPISODE 2 – “MARISSA ALIENATES HERSELF PER USUAL” from S. Zissou Ross on Vimeo.

EPISODE 3 – “MARISSA SQUANDERS THE LEAD” from S. Zissou Ross on Vimeo.

Thank you for watching, for reading & hopefully for helping us finish this shit.

All the best & lots of love,
Marissa





Dear Whatever Asshole Littered In My Yard,

24 05 2012

I realize that I live right by all the bars in Echo Park. I realize that you have to park your car somewhere. I realize that as some asshole, you also had to have four, barbecue laden, styrofoam vats of Wing Stop for dinner. Being as you were probably going out to said Echo Park bars, you also had to have eight 5 Hour Energy drinks for dessert.

And you know what,
I was going to say
I didn’t “get” why
you left all that shit
in my fucking yard,
but I do.

I totally get it.

It’s because you’re a fucking asshole
& I hope with every ounce of my being
that you shit your pants last night.

Quite honestly, I don’t see how you could not shit your pants after washing down fifty Atomic Wings with shots of Taurine, followed by god knows how many Bud Lights. And I really hope it happened while you were like, grinding up on some Latina. And I hope she was disgusted by you & your shitty jeans filled with your disgusting, fat American shit, you thoughtless, selfish piece of fucking shit.

And just so you know, like, I don’t know you so this is just a polite observation but anyone that eats like you are is going to die of obesity & I don’t feel bad about it at all because anyone who orders that much Wing Stop & just throws it in some health conscious, vegetable loving, kind person– such as myself–’s yard with such cavalier, deserves to die from their terrible life choices.

Asshole Who Littered In My Yard, you may be thinking,
“Gee whiz, Miss! Those were for me & four of my bros!
We’re not going to die of obesity! That was a snack!”

But I’m here to tell you that,
statistically, if there were five of you,
eating Wing Stop out of a Corolla on the side of the road,
at least three of you are going to fucking die of obesity.

That’s not even me talking!
That’s like trustworthy institutions!
THAT IS SCIENCE & DOCTORS & HBO!

This is coming off kind of harsh.
Look, I don’t want you to die of obesity.
I just want you to shit your pants
& be nearly-suicidal-embarrassed over it.
& to please, kindly, stop littering.

Sincerely,
Marissa A. Ross





A Tangent About Being A Snackaholic.

17 05 2012

Everyone I know is always
making these off-hand jokes
like, “Better watch out, Marissa!
You’re going to be an alcoholic!”

It fucking pisses me off because
sure, I drink a lot of wine but
no one is addressing the real problem!

That I may be
a Snackaholic.

Here’s the thing:
I don’t binge drink.
But I binge snack ALL THE TIME.
AND I DEFINITELY DO IT WHEN I’M SAD.
AND YET EVERYONE’S SOOOOO CONCERNED
WITH MY TOTALLY NORMAL WINE CONSUMPTION
WHEN THAT IS JUST LIKE, ME HAVING SO MUCH FUN.

Am I calling out for help? No. Fuck no. I love snacking. You can fuck yourself if you think you can tell me anything about these leftovers or this block of cheese or this trail mix that I don’t know how it ended up in my house. But whatever, fuck that guy. It’s open, it’s in my house, it’s salty. I’m going to eat it.

And that, by the way, is a very serious rule of being my friend. If you are my friend, you are basically agreeing to 87 pages of an Apple agreement you’ll never read that states that I am by law allowed to eat any of your snacks, in either of our respective homes, per the following:

1. I am allowed to eat any snack in your home that is open.
2. I am allowed to open & eat any snack in your home only if I am stoned, drunk or starving because I am not logical enough in those conditions to be polite & as my friend you have to accept that I only make terrible, selfish decisions when I am drunk/stoned/starving. I can’t help it & you love me anyway.
3. I am allowed to open & eat any snack you leave in my home cause you know I love snacks & you shouldn’t leave your snacks in my home if you don’t want them eaten!

The above rules also apply to wine, whiskey, tequila & all colored rums.
Even vermouth or brandy from Christmas on a bad day.
And vodka, any day.

UMMMMM WE’RE FRIENDS, AREN’T WE?!
OKAY THEN, STOP CALLING YOURSELF”AN ENABLER”.
THAT’S A REALLY UGLY WORD FOR “SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME A LOT”.
JUST PLEASE PASS ME THE SPICY CHEEZ-ITZ
& POUR ME A GLASS OF WHATEVER.
Love you too. ♥ ♥ ♥

[Currently Listening 2 Terri O'Mason, "Cupcakes"]






A Tangent About Selling My Soul.

10 05 2012

I’m starting to get a little frustrated.
It really should not be this difficult
to sell my fucking soul.

I bet you thought I wasn’t the type, but I am. My soul is most definitely for sale. It has been for awhile but I guess when the economy crashed, so did the market for souls. I mean, I can barely give this shit away, which is ridiculous considering what good shape my soul is in. My soul is definitely you know, “used”, but still in great condition. I’ve spent a lot of my life working on myself; trying to be calm, caring & conscientious person. I have an OK work ethic & a pretty damn good attitude. I haven’t been worn down by the weight of the world or rubbed raw by being slammed by the dick of life. AND I’ve never broken the law in any ways that would hurt anyone! I’m not trying to scam anyone here! It’s a perfectly good fucking soul, man!

And I’d give it up for a fair price.
Hell, catch me this week or drunk anytime,
& I may even give it to you at a low, low introductory rate.

I’m also willing to talk financing.
Just no layaway cause this shit ain’t K-Mart at Christmas.
If I had to compare my soul selling to anything,
it’d be more like, Nordstrom Rack.
Reasonable prices for high quality goods
that are probably like, two seasons out of fashion.

I’m also cool with bartering.

Things I will accept in exchange for my (1) soul:
• Fame
• Fortune
• Huge fake tits so I can just go get my own fame & fortune since I won’t have a soul anymore to give a fucking shit about being a fucking piece of shit
• That billboard outside my bungalow to just fucking explode so I never have to look at Dwayne Johnson or Owen Wilson or those suckers who drink Bushmills while trying to enjoy a sunny afternoon or get in my fucking shower EVER AGAIN

Anyway, if you know of anyone who’s in the soul business,
make sure to give them the good word
on this super hot, exclusive soul tip I just gave you!





A Tangent About My Interview With KSPC’s Ari Saperstein (alternatively, “A Tangent About How My Dad Was Right”).

3 05 2012

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to do an interview with KSPC & I was super stoked. KSPC is the radio station for the Claremont Colleges, a bundle of prestigious private establishments in the town directly next to the one I grew up in, so despite definitely NOT attending them as a student, I definitely felt like, this was my shit. Mostly because I spent a good amount of time in Downtown Claremont at Rhino Records, giving eyes to boys over the stacks of vinyl & unsuccessfully trying to get a job.

So, I go to do this interview.
And I go do interviews like I do everything else:
with a bottle of red wine in my purse.

Look, life is like an earthquake.
You should always be prepared.

Anyway, drinking & talking is what I do best.
When I’m not being recorded.

Because apparently, when I’m recorded
I sound like a babbling bitch with a poor vocabulary.

So, here’s to you, Dad.
You were right.
You’ve always been right.

For all those times I was telling you something that really meant a lot to me
& instead of listening & responding with something constructive you’d say,
“You said ‘like’ sixteen times” & I got super pissed,
I’m just going to say I’m sorry, you were right.

If you still want to listen to me ramble about music, writing & my general shit,
you can listen to right here! ON THIS VERY BLOG!


AND you can download it on iTunes,
which you should do so people think I’m fucking important.

On that note, I am publicly announcing
my new campaign to be a better person & speak like an adult.

I’m not promising anything, but I will say I’m going to make a genuine effort to not talk like such an idiot all the time. That shit is embarrassing. Of the key adjectives I would like my name to be associated with, “smart” is the second or third one & this whole “like” every other word business does not bode well for my ideal word associations.

I also want to take this time to give a huge big thanks & virtual hug to the man himself, Ari Saperstein. I’m still so honored that he even wanted to interview me in the first place. I was– and still am!– genuinely impressed with his mad, mad radio skills. I had so much fun & he did such an excellent job making me sound like a coherent & occasionally charming person that he deserves an award from an association with credibility in the matter. LOVE YOU DUDE!





GPOYW: LANA DEL ROSS

30 04 2012





My Hypothetical Speed Dating Situation (Or, Why I Should Avoid Being Single Ever Again).

25 04 2012

“So, where are you from?”

“So, do you like burritos?”

“So, do you like pizza?”

“So, do you like sweatpants?”

“Do you like Law & Order: SVU? Do you like watching nine hours of it in a row on a perfectly sunny Saturday afternoon?”

“How do you feel about hanging out mostly naked on the couch with me while I image search ‘thermal water’, ‘glacier runoff’ & ‘vintage pool pornography’ for a couple hours?… God no, the porn is not for us, it’s for my personal time. [mumbles] Weirdo…”

“What kind of work do you do? Any editing? I like my sexual partners to proof read my Tweets before I send them.”

“Do you have any pets?… Oh, good, because my dog needs to be the center of your universe. Well, I mean, I’LL need to be the center of your universe– and that still won’t be enough but whatever– anyway, my dog needs to be like, your moon… No, I promise, he makes it really easy because he is so cute & sleeps so much. You just have to walk him for me like eight times a week, no biggie.”

“How traditional are you? I really like my men to open doors & pay for all eight of my rounds. But then like, be cool with me listening to Destiny’s Child’s ‘Independent Women Part One’ every morning before work.”

“Do you have any substance abuse problems? Because I can’t date someone who is too much like me, you know?”

“How do you feel about like, medium to possibly, POSSIBLY, Sambal Oelek hot erotic asphyxiation? I just really need someone who will choke me out & lovingly tell me I’m a dumb whore if I do something like, scratch off one of your moles… I know, I’m being really specific here but hey, we only have five minutes to find true love, guy.”

“Do you like what I’m wearing?… No, I’m not going to the fucking beach after this, ugh, I can’t date anyone who won’t let me spend 95% of my time with my ass hanging out of my shorts. Sorry. Like, that’s just a life decision I made a long time ago & I refuse to change for anyone… Anyone meaning everyone except like heterosexual George Clooney, or perhaps James Franco’s little brother. Maybe Drake. IDK I feel like his suits would make me want to class it up… Whatever, you’re not Drake so those circumstances don’t apply to you, now do they? As far as you’re concerned, I’m going to be wearing this crop top & these bright red coochie cutters until I die.”

“I’M NOT A SLUT! I HAVE CUT-OFFS & OPINIONS!”

“UH YEAH, BEING CALLED A DUMB WHORE IN BED IS DIFFERENT THAN BEING CALLED A SLUT AT SPEED DATING, IT’S ALL ABOUT INFLECTION!”

“WHATEVER! I DIDN’T LIKE YOU ANYWAY, SHIA LABARF!”





A Tangent About Being A Writer.

10 04 2012

Last night over a seven course meal at the Beverly Wilshire with Hello Giggles & Angelino magazine, we got on the subject of writing as a career. Molly “Queen” McAleer & I started talking about how many people email us asking about whether or not they should be a writer. I said probably one of the most important things I’ve ever said, so I’m going to share it with you here.

If you have to ask someone
if you should be a writer,
you shouldn’t be a writer.

If sheer passion isn’t propelling you to be a writer on your own, don’t do it. Just don’t. I’m sorry but save yourself. Everyone is going to shit on you & you’re going to be broke for the rest of your life. Everyone you are close to will want to kill you at some point & you’ll be lucky if you ever see your family again. Writing is not something that you just “be”, it’s something that you are, something you have to do, that you cannot stop. You can’t stop when no one reads it, when people maliciously criticize you, when your ex tells you you’re taking women’s rights back three generations, when you are turned down for three straight years. You just can’t stop. It doesn’t matter that no one believes in you & you have $45 to last you ten days. You just keep going because you have no other choice.

And maybe, just maybe, one day,
you’re lucky enough to have someone
want to rub diamonds on your arms.

Yes, I had diamonds rubbed on my arms last night.

But today, I’m back to having $81,
slaving away on shit no one pays me for,
crossing my fingers that one day it goes somewhere,
hoping that I’m doing something worthwhile
& that people realize I’m actually quite smart
& not just a dumb girl with a superficial blog.

And that’s it.
That is my existence.
And there is no question
that this is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.





A Tangent About Dudefriend’s Unemployment Messing Up My Routine.

26 03 2012

To start the last year of the world off right,
Dudefriend left his job.

This is fine. I totally supported this. Being a marketing executive was not only stressful, but boring. Just totally time consuming with stressful, boring responsibilities. It’s one thing to be stressed about creative things you enjoy, but an entirely other thing to be stifling yourself in a nine to five when you could be doing so much more because you’re a super talented & handsome bro like Dudefriend.

But Dudefriend really needs to get a freaking job.
This is not because he’s broke or can’t pay bills,
and it’s not because I don’t love seeing him when I get home,
but because he is totally fucking with my daily routine.

See, every morning he would go to work all early
& I would start in on my routine:
Caffeine.
Work out.
Shower.
Blow dry.
Dance in my underwear.
Masturbate.
Get dressed.
Do my makeup.
Leave.

Most of my routine has not been disrupted by Dudefriend being home all the time, except the two most important parts! Dancing & masturbating!

Now, I know what you’re thinking, that the masturbating shouldn’t be an issue since now Dudefriend is around to sex me up all the time but that’s not it. The masturbating has nothing to do with sex. See, if I could get what I get from jerking off from a dude, I would. I would get it from Dudefriend. But it’s not the same because I don’t like, fantasize about me & Jon Hamm (OK, fine, sometimes). I fantasize about me & my imaginary career. I fantasize about me on the red carpet, about me in black & white topless photos in French Vogue and I fantasize about me on yachts & shit. That is what gets me off. I would think that I’m an INSANE person but I know a lot of other people who do this shit too (although, they’re all actresses, so maybe I am insane).

And the dancing in my underwear, well I don’t think I have to explain why I don’t do that in front of Dudefriend… because it would be fucking embarrassing.
And I would never live it down for the rest of my life.

He sees me practicing to pop my ass & he laughs his face off & I play it off like I’m just kidding around BUT I’M NOT. I REALLY WANT TO BE ABLE TO POP MY ASS & I’M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO POP MY ASS IF HE DOESN’T GET HIS ASS BACK TO WORK.

I know, I know.
Ass popping & banging myself.
Seems silly, right?
WELL, IT’S FUCKING NOT.

Because it’s part of my routine! The routine that makes me feel good! Kinda like how I shave my legs every day no matter what, not for a dude, but because shaving my legs every day makes me feel good about me! (And of course, because you never know when you’re going to be in a bikini.)

You think I just wake up being able to delude myself into believing I’m going to be a fucking baller who valets her Mercedes at the mall?! You think I can just naturally do that, sober?! I CAN’T, OKAY? I CAN’T! IT’S A PROCESS!
IT’S A MINDSET! A MINDSET THAT TAKES SO MUCH
UNDERWEAR DANCING & JERKING OFF!

Success is an attitude, guys.

And if you can’t get into the ‘tude,
what do you have?

Whiskey.
That’s what you have.

[Currently Listening 2 new Beach House]





A Tangent About Pretty Penny Stock.

19 03 2012

Remember that time
I was my friend Megan’s Show & Tell for POP Breakfast?
And I wanted to make out with everyone there
& everything they make & their office structure?
BECAUSE IT WAS ALL SO WELL DESIGNED & MAGICAL?!

Well, I remember that.
And the only thing more awesome than that
was last Thursday’s launch for Pretty Penny Stock,
which I attended via a gracious invite from POP Studio.

Pretty Penny Stock is the new lady line from the incredible brand Penny Stock. All the collections (men, women & kids!) are absolutely irresistible with nautical influence, featuring breezy yet silhouetted shapes & light-weight textiles that totally scream for summer. Honestly, with all the Sofia Rosé I was clobbering, POP was lucky I didn’t abscond off with the whole lot of it. I thought about. I think I thought about it maybe even two or twenty times but instead, I preoccupied myself with more Rosé, bugging John Moore & hogging the photobooth.

Not only was I lucky enough to talk Slim Aarons with Moore & the POP gang, but I also ran into my pals Grasie Mercedes & Mr. Kate and of course, flipped a lot of shit off with my BFF Meredith. It was one of the best events I’ve ever gone to.

I can’t wait for POP to host another party or a gallery opening
or maybe just an office meeting I can crash or something.

That last photo booth picture reminds me of what should be a movie poster for like, some American Pie movie or something. I picked the photo that best showcased me as what would be like the Jennifer Love-Hewitt character although we all know that IRL, I was the “crazy blogger girl”.

No, really, that’s how I was greeted at this party.
“Hey, you’re the crazy blogger girl!” – John Moore

I’ll take it.

[Currently Listening 2 TOPS]





A Tangent About Old White Dudes Fucking With Vaginas.

17 03 2012

I don’t like to get political on the internet.
But all the recent “developments” in women’s health are infuriating.

This week I read about this new law in Virginia where women who want to get an abortion have to have an ultrasound, but it’s not a normal “Oh, let’s rub some jelly on you & move this wand on your belly” sort of ultrasound. It’s an invasive probe they are going to stick inside you because the fetus is too small for a regular ultrasound. This isn’t verbatim but basically the bro in charge of this law said this is to make women understand exactly what they’re doing. And if you don’t look at the ultrasound or listen, they put that in your medical file, probably to use against you at some unknown point in the future when some asshole decides women’s health needs to be a part of the Patriot Act or something.

I read all about this on Gawker,
but I just Googled it & can’t find the link
so just go on your own Google spree
& don’t waste my time doing research for you.

Anyway, the point is, this got me thinking.
And I have a very serious question to ask:
Don’t old white dudes have enough shit
to pretend they know everything about
without fucking with vaginas?

I feel that old white dudes making decisions about vaginas
is akin to taking me to NASA & letting me decide
how to run maintenance on a fucking space ship.
I know nothing about space ships, fuck, I barely know math.

Old white dudes know nothing about vaginas, fuck,
they barely know how to properly stick their dicks in them half the time.

Aren’t they busy pretending to know how to fix the economy & shit? Where do they even find the time to fuck with our health & bodies when there’s an unemployment rate to deal with? I’m just like, hey, you know, you have so much shit to be arrogant about. Can’t you leave the vaginas to people who actually have them & have to deal with them? Can’t you just admit you have no comprehension of the responsibilities of a vagina & let someone who does get it make important decisions? I just feel you’re getting stingy here. You get to act like you know everything about every country in the world & that you know what’s best for everyone, despite your small, sheltered, upper-middle class life.

Well, you know what?
You don’t, old white dude.
You don’t know what’s best for my vagina.
You don’t know what’s best for gay people.
You don’t know what’s best for ANYONE,
BUT YOU.








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