You are 8 months old tomorrow, but possess the thighs of at least a 12 month old. They are impressive, to say the least. However, they smell like baby goodness and cleanliness and are so delightfully squishy, that I can’t hate on you for carrying some extra poundage.
You are getting smarter and more dexterous each time I see you. Yesterday, you showed me quite an amusing new trick. You reached down, pulled off your own sock, and then immediately stuffed it into your mouth. To top it off, you then slapped your hands on the tabletop with glee, while shaking your head from side to side, sock still clamped firmly between your gums, much in the style of an energetic puppy.
You also decided it was great fun to constantly remind me that you do, in fact, have a tongue, by having it constantly sticking out of your mouth. Again, sort of like a puppy, perhaps a pug.
I am filing these moments away in my brain to use as retaliations when you inevitably grow up and find ME strange. You think I’M weird? You were a puppy baby! You liked the way your feet tasted!
My wonderful cousin Nicole and her husband J.R. have started a blog to help raise awareness and increase advocacy for those suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Traumatic Brain Injury, specifically our nation’s veterans. Many young people are returning home from combat and suffering from this “silent epidemic.” They are even suffering from it WHILE IN COMBAT. J.R. was medicated with Prozac while in Iraq, without being officially diagnosed (which would have forced the Army to discharge him.) Find out more about PTSD, TBI, and available resources for those who suffer at ptsddiary.com
www.allisoninthecity.tumblr.com My Sparkle of an Ex-Roommate uproots herself from Los Angeles for a life in New York City. Her thoughts are very organized and humorous, just like her, but her life currently, is not. As a recent transplant to the city (just one month!), she is putting the finishing touches on her apartment and trying to find work. She loves food, high heels, and her best friend since childhood, Miss B, who is also her roommate. Includes photos of a magical blonde taking on New York. What more do you want?
www.monsterbeard.tumblr.com Monsterbeard (Chris Cantoni) is a writer who makes me want to live a good life and cross-stitch quotes from his writings that speak to me and hang them on my walls for inspiration. That’s Monsterbeard the writer, though. Monsterbeard the blogger is a little different. He’s very down to earth and easy to relate to. This is because he posts essays and narratives that move you, and then posts a joke about "uranus." He’s the perfect blend of highbrow intellectual thought and self-reflection and lowbrow observational humor. The kind of person who could win over the masses and lead a revolution, if we’re not careful. Chris also contributes to “A Bright Wall in a Dark Room” at www.brightwalldarkroom.tumblr.com. It should also be noted that he is not a monster, nor does he have a beard.
www.legrand.tumblr.com Legrand (real name: Alistair Legrand) is the reason I’m on tumblr. He brought me to this magical place. His tumblr is full of images from and posters of action and horror movies, insights on current films, wise words from his favorite film makers, and brief, but magical, musings on life and Los Angeles. If he included more photos of his cat, he would probably have the best tumblr ever. He also directs things and loves Friday Night Lights, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Tales From the Crypt, and the movie Ravenous. Legrand also contributes to www.bigfuckingexplosions.tumblr.com
One of the boys I grew up next door to has the number one ranked comic this month on zudacomics.com! Your site traffic, comments, favorite, and vote could help him win this month’s competition on Zuda (an online division of DC Comics). If he wins, his comic stays on the site as a regular fixture. My heart is bustin’ with pride right now.
I lived at home the summer between freshman year and sophomore of college and had an 8 to 5 office job as a receptionist slash administrative assistant. One day, I came home from work and there was a band set up on my front lawn, prepared to serenade me with the Jeff Buckley song “Lover, You Should Have Come Over.” And serenade me, they did.
About two weeks before my serenade, my friend Jeremy had invited me to come over watch a movie, hang out, with him and his dog at the house where he lived with his mom. I think we watched a DVD of a John Mayer concert while he told me about how much he admired Mayer and was himself going to be an amazing guitarist someday. (Are you throwing up in your mouth yet? I am!) There may have been some mild cuddling involved. (Not my proudest moment.)
Well, little did I know, all Jeremy needed was some mild cuddling to green light a full scale HeidiGarvin-I-will-devote-my-life-to-you-if-you-will-be-mine campaign. Now, I KNOW that cuddling, however mild, can be not only a green light, but also an open invitation, to pursue a dating relationship. I am not THAT stupid. (I am stupid, especially regarding boys, but not THAT stupid.) HOWEVER, cuddling is not an indicator in any way shape or form for a boy to begin talking about RELOCATING, pursuing a different career to support himself (firefighter!), and calling you allll the time everyday to tell you these things.
Since I am a little stupid about boys, but not COMPLETELY stupid, I put the kibosh on me and Jeremy STAT. It was not easy. He was really attached to the idea of “us” and becoming a firefighter in Los Angeles who played guitar and came home to me at night. Because, I mean, THAT’S THE DREAM, right? I wound up having to use the phrase, “I do not want to date you now OR EVER” in order to get the point across to him, and I’m one of those girls that does NOT like to be mean. (I know this is not healthy and a manifestation of my deep need to be liked. My therapist and I are working on it, ok?) That’s how much he resisted. He forced me to spell it out in sort of harsh terms.
Two days later, I get home from work and Jeremy and three of his friends have set up a complete rock band on the adjoining front lawn of my parents’ house and my neighbors’ house. One of the boys next door, close to me in age, had let them plug in at his house. I prayed they were just having band practice, waved an awkward hello, and went inside.
OF COURSE they were not having band practice, and the poor boy had to knock on my front door and ask my mother if I could come outside. I went outside, sat on the hood of my car, and proceeded to have them serenade me with Jeff Buckley’s song, “Lover, You Should Have Come Over,” which they had selected because I had raved about it on my xanga a mere days prior. No joke.
Afterward, they packed up their gear, we all made small talk, Jeremy made NO MENTION of dating or feelings or what have you, and they all drove off. And we never spoke of the concert for one that they gave on my behalf.
Life has taught me many things, but the one thing it consistently shows me is this: always wear comfortable, clean, and presentable underwear. Always.
Reasons: you never know when you may need to accept the help of others, or when you might need to show your skivvies.
My freshman year of college, this happened and I had my first experience wearing a hospital gown for any length of time. When you’ve just pulled an all-nighter and are severely concussed and nineteen and alone, it’s comforting to at least not have some itchy fabric riding up your butt.
Also a part of the linked story above, was waking up in an ambulance, alone, and confused and landing in the hospital for quite a bit of time because my boyfriend found me unconscious on his bathroom floor and called 911. We still don’t know why it happened. One theory: I was pushing my body too hard and it revolted and lapsed into a restful state of blissful unconsciousness. This incident is why I try to avoid wearing thongs. You try gracefully getting out of bed, pulling your IV stand along, and holding your robe shut while you have subsequent vertigo and hobbling to the bathroom. It’s really really hard to do and I bet your male nurse will have to help you do one of these things, too. My roommate was kind enough to bring me a more comfortable pair of underwear after that unfortunate free show.
Sometimes you wind up in places that have pools/hot tubs/lakes and you have no swimsuit. You could wear in your tshirt and underroos instead, if only you’d remembered to wear some.
This didn’t happen to me, but if you jump off a pier into the ocean and get caught in the undertow while swimming to shore and suddenly don’t know if you can make it, you might think about taking off your water logged jeans. Then you might remember that you are going commando and have no other clothing/fabric to cover yourself with when you get out. And then you might know what it’s like to fear for your life.
You never know when a spontaneous change of clothing will be required. Or where that change will have to take place.
You might show up to dress rehearsal for a play and find out you’ve been assigned to a co-ed dressing room.
Two words: date rape. You never know when you’re underwear might become a piece of evidence. This is a sad, sad truth. (Now I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?? Too bad!)
Unforeseen circumstances - hit by a meteor, struck by a car, seduced by a European, stranded somewhere without a change of clothes, forced to run, forced to hide, pantsed by a friend or enemy - the list is endless.
In conclusion: clean, presentable, comfortable underwear will make your life better. So stock up on plenty of underthings you like and do laundry often. You can thank me later.
One of my favorite people on twitter is Pete Carroll. I kid you not. If you’re not in love with one of my favorite silver foxes, then read this article from the los angeles magazine, circa 2007. Someone tell this man there’s more money in starting a religion than coaching football, because I think he could really make a killing.
“When I was a boy, I would read those postcards and know exactly why my father was doing what he was doing: he was taking a stab at greatness, that is, if greatness is simply another word for doing something different from what you were already doing—or maybe greatness is the thing we want to have so that other people will want to have us, or maybe greatness is merely the grail for our unhappy, striving selves, the thing we think we need but don’t and can’t get anyway.”—Brock Clarke, An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England
Someone just needs to marry me so I can register for stuff like this already. You guys, I bake a lot. In an apron. I’m currently working on the perfect sugar cookie icing. What’s not to love? And I swear, I’M A LOVELY PERSON. Just ask my therapist!
ambien walrus was my myspace profile pic forever ago because i swear to christ, that's what happens to me when i take it. (and i cannot wait to be back on it again...i miss walrusface)
We should meet up sometime when I am delirious with a fever and you are on ambien. We’ll need trusted individuals to provide supervision for our well-being and safety. And to videotape the results. It will be phenomenal.
Fevers give me behavior akin to that of a drunk alcoholic. You know, the kind that give drunken man on the street interviews for Tarzan on Ice. So what I’m saying is this: Disregard most things I say in the next day or two. In less it’s a cry for help. In that case: HELP! Because I AM DYING OVER HERE. My retinas are burning and I can’t find socks. Obama healthcare needs to guarantee every sick person a temporary boyfriend/girlfriend or mom to come take care of them and never leave their side when they are sick. I would so make sure THAT bill got passed. Where is a free, attractive in-home male nurse when you need one??
“I don’t know all that Art is, or what it should be, or most importantly who it belongs to, but Salinger didn’t even give us the choice, and I can’t help being angry about that.”—Monsterbeard, from his post on J.D. Salinger: What If Salinger Didn’t “Get It”?