1. If you’re naturally good at something, you’ll break your foot and never be able to do it again. But if you work really hard at something – you will get to take the crippled talented girl’s part.
2. Always dance like the man you love is secretly watching from the back of the theater. Because he is.
3. Anyone can learn to dance, if they are motivated enough by sexual tension.
4. If someone tells you you can’t do something, go practice in a trainyard or abandoned building until you can prove them wrong.
5. Black dudes just want to love you and show you how to fuse hip-hop and ballet.
6. Your father will never understand your need to dance.
7. Just because someone dies, gets raped, or suffers through a back-alley abortion, doesn’t mean you should give up your dream.
8. You have to fail once to make it mean something when you win in the end.
9. The move you are most afraid of will get you the most applause.
10. If anyone ever asks you to carry a watermelon – DO IT.

I saw a squirrel eating a lizard a few weeks ago.

Now, squirrels aren’t supposed to eat lizards, right? They eat nuts and tiny muffins, right? Bits of cake and tea in little acorn teacups? Adorable stuff. Not live, writhing lizards, thrashing and fighting for their evil reptilian lives. But this one did. I figured this squirrel must be in some kind of crazed, glassy-eyed state. I can’t stop thinking about the moment when it suddenly snapped out of it and realized what it’s done.

[chomp chomp chomp - freeze]

“Oh my god. What they fuck? What the FUCK, Chitters?!?  What are you DOING!?! Ohhhh Gawwwwd…OhhhmyGawwwwd. I’m eating a fucking…what the fuck is this!?! Oh jesus, it’s a lizard! No, wait, no, it’s only half a lizard..that’s not so bad…. OH GOD NO, I ATE THE REST! Did I eat the bones? What the fuck is going ON with me? I am FREAKING myself out! Ok, I was in the tree, I was really hungry, I started looking for the nuts I buried, I can never find those stupid goddamn nuts, then…I don’t remember…. Oh my GOD!!!! What if he had a family!? Is it a he? Yep, yep, that’s a he. (Non-vomitous heaving.) Ok, ok, chill out, ok, did anyone see me? Nope… no… looks good, looks like I’m in the clear…. SHIT. Was that bird there the whole time? Oh, fuck, that bird totally saw me eat that lizard. Or, ok, maybe not… is it looking at me? It’s looking at me. It’s not saying anything…just staring…why won’t it stop staring at me? WHY WON’T IT STOP? I don’t know if I can stand this…WHY WON’T IT JUST LOOK AWAY!?!? LOOK AWAY, BIRD!!! AAAUUUUGHHHH!!!!!!”

But it must be confusing when you’re a muttering street dude – what do you say? What is ok? “Beautiful” even sometimes walks the line – growled the wrong way it still sounds totally gross. I think the line is if it sounds like he’s talking about a flower it’s good,  if it sounds like he’s talking about what your asshole might look like on a plate it’s horrible. “Pretty” is always good, but when it gets specific it’s also possibly creepy. “Pretty eyes” is ok, “pretty lips” is not, and “pretty little pussy baby” really crosses the line.

Any type of sucking noise is always bad. As is referring to me as your mommy, baby, or bitch – it just assumes a familiarity that isn’t there yet. I also hate it when they demand I smile – you don’t know what happened to me today, dude! And I’m not out on the street to entertain you! I generally respond to this by baring my teeth and whispering “they’re all dead.”

Above all, don’t let us hear you say the same thing to everyone. It really cheapens things when a homeless dude throws the same “gorgeous, mmm, let me smell those titties” he just said to me to the woman behind me.

Seriously, who gives a shit? Anyone? You? Why?? Honestly, I would love to know – please leave your reasons in the comments. Because as far as I can tell, he’s a giant, boring, fat-faced, baby dum-dum, who mistakenly thinks he’s important because people keep taking pictures of him. There is nothing interesting about him at all, unless you are interested in how much air can be wasted by one set of mayonaise-coated lungs.

When I was a kid it seemed like the media and schools were breathlessly racing to stuff as much knowledge as possible into our brains. Sesame Street, Schoolhouse Rock, book mobiles, Sex Ed – the world wanted us to know, EVERYTHING. The awards we won were academic or creative, and most people didn’t even know they had beauty pageants for kids.

Then somehow the country slid into worship of the idiot. Television is filled with stupid people being rewarded and praised for acting as dumb as possible. If you knocked an angry monkey in the head and gave it a job tending bar in South Beach, VH1 would devote hours of programming to watching it shreik and bone skanks. Even nerds aren’t nerds anymore. “Nerds” now are just hipsters that kept their Star Wars action figures. Worst of all, knowledge is withheld from children – learning about evolution, or sex, is seen as a threat by an embarrassingly large segment of the population.

In fact, intelligence itself is now seen as threatening, so people end up supporting dummies like Sarah Palin. They justify their support by twisting reality to see her – let’s be honest – stupidity, as “independent thinking”. Like, she’s not going to be held down by the LIBERAL MEDIA’s accepted geography or definition of what is considered a “newspaper”. She’s thinking for herself! Poorly!

Our standards are getting lower as our fear gets greater – we trade away our freedom little by little in favor of security. We’re putting mush into our brains and then letting them sit on the couch all day instead of taking them out for a jog.

And this, people, THIS is why I am begging you to stop paying attention to Jon Gosselin. Just like any evil spirit, he’s only there as long as you believe in him. Stop believing in Jon Gosselin. Stop clapping for the Stallionaires and Tila Tequila to come back to life. Stop it before it’s too late and you find yourself hoping for a chance to give a blow job to a drunk monkey.

1. Want to hear a secret? The Mummy was CGI. Oh, you knew that? Ok. How about this? I smell like cedar and honey.
2. John Cena and I found an injured baby fawn, can your hold our shirts while we lift it out of my pick-up truck?
3. You’re Eliza Skinner? From Elizaskinner.net?! Holy Shit!
4. Yeah, I do all my stunts, except kissing. My kisses are too dangerous.
5. Can you hold this giant bag of money for me? I need to find someone hilarious and largely unknown to buy a movie from.
6. Ugh, some times I get so tired of shooting action movies every day - I really just want to read young-adult sci-fi novels, listen to hip hop, and bone.
7. One time I got so drunk I totally made out with Robert Downey Jr.  Just kidding, I wasn’t drunk.
8. I’d like you to meet my friend, J.J. Abrams.
9. “Why aren’t you dancing? You come to a club and you’re supposed to dance!” haha, just kidding. That’s you, right? I love Amy at the Club!
10. What’s up? I’m Brendan Fraser.

But wow, is it bad. This month’s issue included a feature called Grab His Butt Like This. I am not even lying you guys. Someone went to college and got a journalism degree and now instructs androids, autistics, and Cosmo readers on how to properly touch their human boyfriend’s ass. There is also an article entitled How To Get Him To Tell The Truth, which I expected to be about waterboarding. Actually, it is all about how to manipulate your liar boyfriend into lying to you less often.

And worst of all, WORST OF ALL (I swear to god, go to a newsstand and check for yourself) there is an article actually listed as: When Your Hoo-ha’s Burning: Don’t Use This Common Cure! HOO. HA. Come on, ladies and gays of Cosmo – cut to the chase and entitle it “Nasty Pussy - Cranberry Juice Won’t Fix A Broken Snatch, Dummy!”

I just wish it was written by witches. Then all the advice might actually be effective, instead of impotent and manipulative.  Plus it would be more fun. Articles like 5 Risks That’ll Make You More In Love will be full of cool things like “Kill a virgin at midnight! Bleed into his cereal! Never wear panties/always wear a rat’s skull!” Gut Feelings You Should Never Ignore would have some entertaining “Your spell has been thwarted by a more powerful warlok”, “Your monkey is turning evil”, or “The undead have a score to settle with you” material. And Must Have Items would definitely not be a leather jacket, oversize tote and a tiered miniskirt. It would be a spooky hooded robe, extra eyeball, and a tiered miniskirt. Just because you’re a witch doesn’t mean you can’t slut it up some too.

Originally posted 8/12/09

Hm, now where did that pie go…? Oh Ann!

Ever wonder about how people get cast as “incredibly ugly girl who accidentally makes out with a cat” or “giant fat person who farts at the party”? How is that presented in the character breakdown? How does the agent call the actor and tell them they are up for it? And how does the actor feel about it? Well, I’ll tell you what I know.

First of all, they don’t call, they email. As though it’s not that big a deal, your agent sends you an email listing all the parts, and then writes at the end “oh by the way, you’re being seen for ‘Fat Girl Who Sits in a Pie and Cries’, at 2pm.”

Now, all the other parts listed are things like “smart, quirky, devastatingly beautiful librarian” and “batshit insane SUPER SUPER HOT lady golf pro”. These part are ALWAYS listed like this – reading breakdowns is like shopping for Halloween costumes – they just take a job and put “sexy” and “gorgeous” around it. Well, almost every part for a girl is, except of course the funny ugly falling-down-in-your-own-poop parts. These parts – YOUR parts – start at the top of the ugly hill and careen down getting worse and worse until the last sentence is “hopefully the actor has experience with oozing sores and self-hatred. Racism a plus.” TV has only ones and zeros.

Does it sting? Yes. You, the actor, are initially stunned. Are you really that nasty? TV nasty? When did that happen? You consider crying a little, but instead you make a cup of tea and start trying to think of all the bright sides. First of all, obviously, it’s a chance for a job. That’s great! You need to buy Christmas presents and new lightbulbs, so that’d be fab. Plus if you actually got this part you’d get to go to LA, which has great hamburgers. (Shit! This is what they are talking about, fatty!) Through your cake-filled sobs, your friends remind you that any time any casting people are thinking of you, that’s good. Even if they are thinking of you as being “homely” “common as dirt” and “truly disgusting”.

Then as you scrape frosting and tears off your pants, and eat both, you realize that this ugly part is actually the funny part! You’re not only ok with the audition, you’re suddenly pretty amped for it.
I’d rather be funny than pretty, professionally. Sure, socially I want to be pretty, but not for work. Pretty comes and goes, and doesn’t eat lunch. Funny is real, and wears whatever she stepped on first getting out of bed. Pretty knows how to blow out her hair and pose for pictures. Funny will happily tell you the weirdest place she’s put her hand, and if necessary – will sit on a pie and cry. So I’m not pretty, I’m funny.

Originally posted 12/15/2006

1. Flowers. Yes, it is that easy, and no it’s not cheesey or needy or whatever stupid thing you’re thinking. Buy a woman flowers, or better yet SEND them, and you are make her feel like something very special. Special enough to give lots of blow jobs. Cost – $10 and up.
2. To be told we are pretty. Or gorgeous. Luminous. Get creative! If the woman in question is single, she is looking for someone who thinks she’s amazing and is so attracted to her he (or she) will ravage her skillfully. Get the ball rolling by telling her you are so attracted to her (and then read up on skillful ravaging). If the woman in question is your girlfriend or wife, she has traded the compliments and possibility of ravaging from the rest of the world for you and your stained t-shirts. You better at LEAST tell her she’s beautiful, because unless she’s cheating on you, no one else is. Cost – Free.
3. Fancy/Thoughtful dates. You know what we do with friends? Grab drinks and go to movies. You know what we don’t do? Have sex with them in the bathroom during a party. Ok, well, sometimes. But for the most part if you want her to think of you as more than a friend, act like it. Man up – ask her on a real date, one you have planned, somewhere you think she might like. Nothing kills a ladyboner like the phrase “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” Like the flowers, a real date makes her feel special and what good are you if you’re not making her feel special? Cost – $0 and up.
4. Ass Grabbing. Not ALL the time. But enough to know that the ass in question is approved of and lusted after. I mean, we’ve got a lot to worry about back there – is it too big? Too small? Too flat or lumpy or wide? We don’t know! We can’t even see it! You grab it, passionately yet discreetly, and we are reassured. This is especially important if you are in any sort of long term relationship. If you’re in an LTR and you’re not already grabbing her ass regularly, you should go find your balls and figure out which of your friends she’s boning. Cost – Free.
5. To be heard & seen. Everyone wants to be understood, but that’s a tall order. Plus, sometimes the people who really understand you would be totally boring to date. You need a little difference & mystery – people don’t masturbate thinking of themselves. (Except James Woods. Don’t you think? I’m pretty sure.) Instead of worrying about total soul understanding, just let her know you see her & hear her, and notice things about her. Seriously, this can be as simple as “you wear a lot of blue” or as complex as “It sounds like people dump a lot on you because they think you’re strong. Must be tough.” Try to keep it positive, “your head is too small for your body” and “boy you talk about your cat a lot, is that because your relationships with humans are generally unsuccessful?” will not get you far. Cost – Free.
6. Surprises. Who doesn’t like surprises? Not like “birthday roast” or “cancer” surprises, obviously, but smaller benign surprises are magical. I have a friend who wistfully told me about how his mother used to surprise him with a new action figure left on his bed from time to time, for no reason other than to make him happy. He told me this 15 years after it happened. Surprises leave a special indelible imprint. Cost – $0 and up
7. Be on her side. Even if it means taking a punch. You only live once, don’t play it safe and don’t stand in the middle of the road. She’d be on your side, right? Otherwise, dump her. Cost – Free
8. A white camaro t-top with a big red bow on it. Hey man, I didn’t say “engagement ring” right? One or the other, dude, one or the other. Cost – check craigslist.

Basically, there are two rules of thumb here: be a hero, make her feel like a princess. When in doubt, do whatever will fufill either of these requirements.

Originally posted 1/5/2008

When she said that I laughed at her. I felt bad, because Firedove is my friend and is sad about this, but come on. “You punched him in the arm? You called him dumb! Why would he think you like him?” I asked.
“Well, but I was flirting.”
“If I threw this plate at you and told you I was being friendly, would you want to eat with me again? Don’t be a douchebag.”

“Fuck you, cumsack.”

(We are friends.)

A few days later, I realized I was just as bad as her when I walked into a bar with a guy I was dating and hilariously asked him – in front of a bunch of his friends – if he had picked the bar we were at because it was “totally gay, like you.” (Moments later he was singing “It’s Raining Men” on a stage, surrounded by actual gay men loudly suggesting he take off his shirt – SO I HAD A POINT, but still.) Har har, you are GAY, guy who likes me! Also, fuck you!

Snip. Snip. Plop, plop. Balls on the floor.

Ladies like me & Firedove walk around like pretty Godzillas – crushing cities and nutsacks in our attempts to attract boys and avoid intimacy. We’re used to being aggressive and guarded in our professional lives, so by default we do the same thing in social settings. Ass-grabbing and jokes, I can roll with, but scoobley-doobley emotional stuff? Not so much. I might wear ribbons and polka dots, but I also google search “visible farts” and avoid commitment.

But I don’t mean to, I don’t WANT to feel like a monster – maybe a pretty magical pony or an awesome kick-ass tiger, but not a monster. I suppose I could try being nicer, and maybe stop suggesting arm-wrestling matches or bloody-knuckles contests quite so much. But who would I be if I wasn’t hilarious? It’s hilarious to call someone a “retard” when they ask you to dance, right? That’s funny? Or is it just…mean?

Really, I blame this woman:

*name changed to a cooler one

Originally posted 9/17/2008

Most people my age are married or at least divorced or diseased. I have no good reason for my marital non-status other than my terrible, terrible criteria for selecting a mate. Below, please find my actual reasons for dating the men I have dated:

• Good mustache.
• Always had cookies at his house.
• Lived in a foreign country; was black.
• Had metal plate in his hand.
• Owned a car and a fry daddy.
• Good at rhyming.
• Once gave me a bag of candy.
• No one else was asking.

Here are reasons I have refused to date other men:

• Weird laugh.
• Too nice.
• Favorite movie was “Cars”.
• Looked like a baby.
• Smelled faintly of hotdogs and vagina.
• Made a strange whining noise while kissing.
• Didn’t know there was a difference between X-Men and Uncanny X-Men.
• I am dead inside.

Photo by Anya Garrett 

Originally posted 2/7/08