Dear Joe...

July 4th, 2011. Independence Day. So America was all “fuck the British, we wanna do our own shit.” And they had wars and slavery and diseases and corruption and a pretty fucked up 200 or so years. So Christina was all “fuck men get money, I wanna do my own shit.” And she had evictions and restraining orders and illnesses and a pretty fucked up 30 years. When you’re young, everyone tells you, you can do whatever you want. That you don’t need anybody. You feel like you can take over the world. Or, if the world is already occupied, you can just steal it, and claim it as yours. (Word to the colonists) Because YOU ARE THE SHIT. You go through your life like this. This whole “the world is mine” attitude. Take no prisoners. You never need to actually “work out” relationship problems, because behind every Ciroc bottle being served in a dark club at 3am, there’s 50 new dudes waiting in line. You never actually need to “over-achieve” at work, because, shit, life is SHORT! Work hard, but player...

"I think you're perfect. I love everything about you." - C.S., June 21, 2011 I guess thats what every woman wants to hear right? And, I guess everyone's gonna go ahead and say the following things: A. How can you say you want love, and this guy is willing to love you,and you push it away, or B. He's such a nice guy, why can't you just give him a shot and try it out or C. You're getting too old to be picky. If this guy likes you then go for it. To which I reply to everyone, "lalalalala I can't hear you" while covering my ears and running away lol. See, thats the thing about attraction. Its like, 864% chemistry, and maybe 5% actual conscience decision. Do you know how many super nice guys I'm friends with? That would be the BEST fathers, BEST husbands,BEST partners in life? - 86. Do you know how many of them I could actually have sex with? -0 And it has nothing to do with physical appearance. Lord knows that's never been high on my list...

In my newly found "free time", I've begun going to the gym. Like regularly. And I must say, with my whole entire soul, I hate it. You walk in, with your little exercise gear on. iPod all ready to go with some fantastic playlist. Sneakers laced. Boobs being suffocated by the most inhumane contraption on Earth known as a "sports bra" (which, always, ALWAYS gives you uni-boob) and you just look around and shake your head. At any given minute, on any given day, you can find the following people at your local gym. I. Annie Anorexia: She weighs in as soon as she arrives. All 86 lbs of her. She goes super crazy Sonic the Hedgehodge speeds on the elliptical. To the point where you want to give her a hug, and tell her to slow down. Life will be ok. The machine didn't kill your mother. You don't have to punish it so. And then she jumps off and weighs herself again. And works out. And weighs herself again. And on and on ad nauseum. Until her, and her bony ass final...

dis⋅so⋅lu⋅tion [dis-uh-loo-shuhn] –noun 1. the act or process of resolving or dissolving into parts or elements. 2. the resulting state. 3. the undoing or breaking of a bond, tie, union, partnership, etc. There has been a lot of dissolution this year. A lot of loose ends being tied up. A lot of things ending,and the resulting states it leaves behind. You tend to reflect a lot when something tragic happens...In this case losing my job right after my 30th birthday. A double whammy. Ive been reflecting about the past year. Which of course, leads to the past few years, which in turn,becomes basically a rundown of your whole life. if you are like i am (which you're probably not, you're probably fucking normal) you overthink everything. You think about it so much that you have it figured out. Down to its very core matter. Until it looses all meaning. Like a scientist. Who can look at a flower and tell you its exact genus and species. Tell you why its red. ...

Sometimes you find yourself at work, and you're having a particularly bad day. Your boss may be taking out some personal issue on you. You might be having some back-stabbing co-worker trying to come after your position. Maybe some slanderous office gossip. Or maybe just that all too familiar feeling of your life and soul wasting away as you stare blankly at an Excel spreadsheet on your screen. Whatever it is,we all have that "when I leave this place" fantasy in our head. You know,that day when you finally walk around the office,tell your boss EXACTLY what's been on your mind the past few years. Perhaps give a few co-workers the finger. Or a few notes on personal hygenie or whatever you've been DYING to say. My "last day" fantasy went a little bit like this: Me walking around the office. Two Middle Fingers in the air. Doing the whole "you're cool, you're cool,you're cool, fuck you I'm out." from Half Baked. Then I would pack up m...

•More than once this week Ive heard (from men) the following: “Man, you need somebody to get him off your mind.” Or any other variation of that. I.E. -- “you just need some dick” Or, -- “ma, come hang out tonight. I’ll make you forget all about that dude.” I’m not sure why men think their penis is magical. Or somehow has healing powers that Native American Shaman would be envious of. Like my girl Tori Amos puts it, “So you can make me cum. That doesn’t make you Jesus.” Even my female friends have become extreme activists of the “Best way to get over someone, is to get under someone new” campaign. I just can’t possibly do it. Oh. I mean. I’ve done it. And done it well might I add. You dump me, and I can not ONLY rebound with someone richer, smarter, better looking, better sex, better life. BUT because I’m all angsty and bitter and anti-men, I’m usually at my BEST during these rebound relationships….if THE REBOUND was the second act of a play, I’d steal the spotlight. All in an e...

There I stood. Lost in a sea of button down shirts, with bedazzled crosses on the back, and dresses that I swear my 6 year old couldn’t even smuggle her goodies into. I was in the heart of Jersey. The deep down dirty beat thumping dance floor at Mur Mur in Atlantic City. My vision was blurry from the fog machine and the blinking “hey lets fuck with the high people” strobe lights. My nose irritated from the smell of Axe body spray and that unmistakable stench of attention whoreness. To the left of me was a very inebriated man, with an iphone, and a screen shot of him with The Situation. Apparently he was on one of the episodes of the Jersey Shore. This was his pick up line by the way. There was no “can I buy you a drink.” No, “my name is John. Or Mikey. Or whatever.” No. His line was “Hey do you watch the Jersey Shore?” (thrusts screen shot in my face) “Boom!! That’s me and The Situation.” This is your greatest achievement in life? This is what you’re leading with? Sir. Sir. Sir. Sit do...