Thursday, May 21, 2015

The top 6 Greatest Things About Being Single

At this point in time I am not at all fine with being a single woman with no prospects in sight.  There have been years moments in the past when I've been completely freaked out by the fact that all of my friends are abandoning me for their SOs attached/engaged/married/with child/ren.  But right now, in this moment, I am not content and even embarrassed given my advanced age proud to call myself a single lady whose eggs are likely turning grey as we speak.  Was it Tolstoy, Ghandi, Newt Gingrich, Tonya Harding, your mom or my great Aunt Edna who coined the term "the grass is always greener on the other side"?  Whoever it was nailed it.  I'd venture to guess a lot of people out there in a relaysh secretly miss being cold, lonely and starved for affection unattached sometimes.  Because being single can be fucking great.

Here's why:

1. Basking in your own company is cathartic.
A couple months back I desperately kind of wanted to go see 50 Shades Of Grey after work.  The majority of my pals were screening my calls otherwise occupied so I took it upon myself to go solo.  I snagged up a bottle of whiskey buttery chard, marched my single ass to the Embarcadero Center Cinema, threw down what was left in my bank account like 2653 bones for gummi bears, popcorn and a microwaved hot dog, ventured to the back of the theater and found a seat amongst a sea of sexed up couples.  I felt liberated as I deepthroated munched on my hot dog, despite the fact that the couple next to me was rounding third 8 minutes into the movie.  Hey, I may have been there alone but at least I had my jizz-free popcorn allll to myself and didn't have to contort my body into unnatural positions on a flimsy, dirty movie theater chair just so I could dry hump my albino punk boyfriend every time Christian Grey spanked Don Johnson's daughter. Silver linings aplenty, my friends.

2.  Online Dating is Funny.
My laugh lines have become wildly noticeable a teensy bit more pronounced ever since I discovered prank tindering. The lengths some of these tindering squirrels will go to just to get a nut is remarkably entertaining.  (I just felt really, really white writing that.)  You think if I was dating someone I'd be able to carry on 47 fake relationships on tinder?  Not unless I had a really, really tolerant boyfriend.  Here is an examp of the fun I've had on Tinder (check out the rest of my work here in case you're a worm unfamiliar) that I would never have experienced had I been in a relationshit.



3. Analyzing a text message from you crush might be more gratifying than catching a shrimp flung by a Benihana chef in your mouth.
It's beyond fun to sit around with 9 a couple bottles of Whispering Angel and a group of your nearest+dearest to assign find hidden meaning behind a text from a guy that simply reads, "hey. how was your day?"  Crafting an "effortlessly" snarky response is equally as stimulating and necessitates the same amount of focus required to successfully pop a whitehead on your upper lip line - if you don't get it just right, the end result could be painful and messy.  Bottom line: nothing captivates a single girl quite like seeking counsel from her BFFs regarding whether to end a text response to a boy with a period or an exclamation point.  (Incidentally: 7 times out of 10 it's breast to go with a single exclamation point as a period can convey overall irritation/stuffiness and you want to appear breezy and just FYI you really might want to exercise some serious caution when considering my boy advice.)

4.  A single Person doesn't have to deal with an extra family.
Let's face it boys, it's quite unsettling/creepy when you meet your girlfriend's brother only to find that he looks identical to your gf.  Also, sisters intimidate me.  So do moms.  Dads can be cool.  I don't know.  Basically, I never know how to act around adults over the age of 60 who aren't my parents.  Am I allowed to use the F-word?  Can I say "that's what she said" if they say something that warrants it? Wait, what side does the fork go on again?  Up until about 2 months ago I thought the fiscal cliff (isn't that the type of shit older parents like to talk about) was some kind of energy bar.  Jesus, it's all so confusing.

5. Walks of Shame are Kind of the Best.
When I was little I wanted to be a detective.  Piecing together different parts of a story in an effort to solve a crime intrigued me and it still does.  A single girl is forced into detective mode whenever she wakes up at a random guy's house.  When did I last feel my missing earring on my ear? Where is my virginity shoe?  How did I get this weird, white sticky substance lip gloss on my eye brow? Who is this warm body next to me?  Fucking Christ, please tell me it's not the guy with the twitch I played Duck hunter with at Mauna loa.  It's like Hansel and Gretal but instead of bread crumbs a single girl has to to follow a trail of earrings, condom-wrappers, empty Plan B boxes bras and shoes.  FUN!  So call yourself Sherlocka Holmes and get right on top of that, Rose!


6.  You can do whatever the F you want, when you want, where you want, how you want. 
Wake up at 3am (rocking a giant Jheri curl), feel like heating up a frozen waffle, dousing it in Nutella, whip cream, Dorito crumbs, raw cookie dough and shoving it in your face faster than R. Kelley orgasms at a urinal?  Do it, sister (or brother)!  No one's judging you.  You could be in a sauna playing pick-up stix with your butt cheeks whilst blaring Kenny G. if you so desired, YOU'RE A SINGLE OLIVE FEMALE/MALE, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT.  Sorry for yelling.

Of course, there are many wonderful things about being married/in a relationship like joint checking accounts, terrifically douchey awkward tandem bike rides and having someone to Lady and the Tramp a single strand of spaghetti with.

In closing, I would like to assert (and this applies to each one of us, single or attached) that the older I get the more I realize that my most important relationship is the one I have with my vibrator Number 1.  :)

happy Tuesday, y'all.

xo,
Nige

PS. My new coworker sounds exactly like Topher Grace and OH MY FUCKING GOD he is talking right now and I am sitting at my desk in complete and utter disbelief.  Will try and record.

PMS. I got this in my inbox this morning.  F.  What the.



PTSD. Still on notice: slow walkers:





Wednesday, May 20, 2015

True Life: I'm Scared of Coffee, featuring SF's hottest Celebrity Lookalikes


"Yeah, I can't imagine your system responds to coffee very well," my condescending friend speculated as we neared Philz Coffee, a popular new coffee truck parked near Crissy Field. Lululemon-clad Marina babes rocking Just Been Fucked hair and disheveled, hungover frat bros circled the truck like great white sharks in heat. Piranhas People barked complicated orders at baristas as I stumbled stood back and watched in awe.  

"Yes, I'll have a tall half-skinny half 1-percent extra hot split latte with two shots of decaf and one shot of jizz skim, coddled albino whipped cream!  Extra varsity foam with 16 grains of cinnamon and a spot of Egyptian oregano. Over and out." 

I felt overwhelmed.  Scared, even.  But more than anything, I was jealous.  I didn't understand why, when God created me he decided to make my system one that could not and would not withstand the effects of coffee.  My friend nudged my arm as one of the impatient baristas glared at me.

"Did you want anything, Alexandra?  Maybe some decaf?" my friend asked hurriedly as the line behind us lengthened. 

"What?  Who is it?"  Lost in thought, I struggled to presentify (the act of making oneself present) myself.  "Water.  I'll have water," I declared, much like a caveman.  It was in that moment I resolved to try out this coffee thing once and for all, because everybody's doing it if I didn't I'd never forgive myself.  

So it was on that following Monday morning I entered Starbucks and stood amongst the masses of suited Corporates - I felt like a baby fawn, struggling to gain footing in a sea Ann Taylor/Hugo Boss-clad wolves.  I am proud to say I am on day 3 of being a bonafide coffee-drinker and I'm flying off the walls, trembling, stuttering and about to completely lose my shit coping better than I thought I would.  You can't imagine my excitement when one of the deaf, incompetent lovely baristas fucked up my name on my "short cup" (Starbuck's equivalent to the "short bus") this morning.  I felt so cool as I walked into work and showed my coworkers, "look - they totally screwed up my name on my coffee cup, hahaha." They all looked on silently, expressionless.  

 I felt as though this had solidified my place in the coffee-drinking world and oh my fucking god I need to get a life and find some new material.  Moving on. 

Now that I've shared with you this wildly anticlimactic story I'd like to to present my Celebrity Look-alike Hall of Fame.  Below are some of my most treasured findings: 


1. THE COSMO KRAMER lookalike was spotted at Balboa:




2. I seem to have spotted the infamous Mary Kay Lotourneau's student of yesteryear husband on the Muni a few months back (he's aged since he was twelve):
Left: muni lookalike, top: MKL, right: MKL's student husband 

3. Freddy Mercury, bitchez       
We are the Championz 
                            
         4.  T'was an honor to ride the Muni with Silent Bob.  Love your work, Silent!             


5. It's ADELE rollin' on the Muniii in the deeeep 



 6. BARBRA STREISAND. Now you've really gotta dissect this one for a minute.  At first glance you may not see an obvious resemblance.  But look closely and you'll notice that they've got the exact same nose shape, chiseled chin, and pronounced cheekbones. 


 7.  Hagar and Philip Seymour Hoffman (RESPECT)
   RIP PSH.   xo  
 8. Casey Anthony:  I'll admit this one is a fucking amazing find a stretch.  But take into consideration the yellow shirt, pouty lips and face shape.  


 9.  Shoshanna from Girls


 10.  Jim Halpert.  I know these pictures are blurrified - don't judge, I'm working with a JV phone.  


11.  Oh haaaay MJ!  

12. It's Mitch Hedberg:


"Dogs are always in the push-up position"
MITCH h-berg


Happy dry hump day, freaks! 

xo, Nige








  

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

True Life: I'm giving up Instagram and Booze for 1 Month

The other day I was at dinner with a friend.  She had been having a particularly bad day and was venting to me about her recent break-up with a guy she was planning on someday marrying.  Half-listening, I intermittently refreshed my instagram feed throughout her diatribe.  At some point in between my contrived yet sympathetic "uh huh's," and "oh my gosh, what an ass hole's," my friend paused.

"Are you even listening?" she asked.

My heart sank as I shoved my phone in my purse and began apologizing profusely.  When I got home that night I started instagramming until I fell asleep analyzing the situation, and the more I scrolled through Instagram thought about it, the more I felt like an asshole. Here was my friend, confiding in me about what has likely been one of the most traumatic experiences of her life and I was more worried about checking my phone to see what my exes neighbor's dog walker's boyfriend's gynecologist had for dinner.  She trusted me to really listen to her, to attempt to offer sound advice, to simply be there.

But I wasn't there.

I was on my phone.  

Tolstoy or your mom or someone once said that too much of something is never a good thing.  So for one month I am giving up partying and instagramming.  Why?  Because I've been doing way too much of both lately. In order to feel healthier and more present, it is necessary for me to take a breather from both indulgences.  I was thinking about how nice it would feel to wake up on a Monday morning clear-headed and dread-lock anxiety-free. Instead of pulling twigs out of my hair fishing for my phone in my duvet cover to rabidly check instagram I would simply lie in bed and think about my day ahead.  I would think about what I wanted to accomplish instead of who I drunk texted.  I wouldn't be stressed about faceplanting in a bowl of peanuts at the bar, I would know the whereabouts of both my shoes and my neck wouldn't be sore from headbanging.  The thing that instagram and drinking have in common is that they're both distractions.  I'd like to, for a month, see what it would be like to not have any distractions and to simply be anti-social for a month.

To commemorate my hiatus from instagram I've decided to feature a compilation of my latest posts (a pictorial road map of my life, if you will). In the last few months I have... 

Captured shots of phallic buildings laden with filtered fluorescent clouds, basking in the beautiful San Francisco twilight...



a Canadian tux-clad Jay Leno preparing to suck face with an unassuming cameraman...



I've been able to document yours truly on a quiet Saturday morning walk-of-shaming in the Presidio whilst attempting to give my Russian uber driver concise directions and failing miserably...



My friend attempting to participate in the coveted Kylie Jenner lip challenge...



...that time I almost burned my office down...


I've snapped a photo of a hazy San Francisco engulfed in marijuana smoke on 4/20...



..a clearly clueless tree that didn't get the memo about ombre being soooo 2012...


that time I lost a shoe at a charity event...


...an unfortunate game of MASH that gave me a look into my decidedly abysmal future...


Instagram has allowed me to feature TBT's including:
A letter I'd written to my brother approx 20 years ago in a desperate attempt to leave camp...


I've used it to promote my Toe Pick VS Tinder pranks.


See you in a month, instagram.

Here's to being present and hopefully not getting hit with a mean case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome as I withdraw from scrolling.

xo, nige


Monday, May 4, 2015

A Letter to my 16-year-old self

This morning as I was pretending to work sifting through my split ends old photos I started to think about the past and how my life now has really not changed from when I was a teenager.  Then I thought about how I shouldn’t have drunk texted my ex last night what advice I would give my 16-year-old self knowing what I don’t know now. Here goes:

Dear Alexandra,

1.  Remember that time you convinced yourself that the best way to french kiss was to spell out your name in cursive with your tongue (please take note: this is extremely tricky, especially given the X in your name, you dumbshit)? Well, it's not.  And guys don't like it. They really, really don’t. 

2.  Whippits do in fact kill brain cells, this is not an urban legend like your friend nicknamed "Doobie" says.  

3. Start thinking about colleges now.  Be practical - go to an all women's college in upstate New York, learn about Virginia Woolf and have pillow fights with your dormmates. 

4.  Actually, fuck that - go to Ole Miss and headbang for 7 4 years.

5. Put the tweezers down.  Walking around looking surprised all the time is not your best look. 

barely-there-brows

6.  Beg your mother to get you braces now - tell her not to wait until your senior year of high school.  And I know getting the clear ones seems like a good idea in theory, but they are the chameleons of the orthodontic world and will change color based on what you drink.  This would not be good given that your favorite drink is orange soda.  Just get the metal ones and never open mouth smile the entire time you have them on embrace it!
                               
yellow clear braces. hi winston! 

7.  Also, don't be ashamed of your braces; do not try and cover them up in pictures - it is extremely obvious what you're doing and you look like a donkey.  Show 'em off.  Everyone has been there. 

braces lips. (aka brips?)

8. Rethink that black choker you wear all the time.  The illusion of having a neck tattoo is not as cool as you think it is and oh my fucking god, take that thing off right now.

9.  A messy room is disorienting, and can wreak havoc on your brain.  Pick up your shit. 

boarding school dorm room.  oh dear.  

10.  I am so sorry, but riding horses isn't for you, and if you don't stop you'll get bucked off and face plant into a pile of mud.  Never trust an animal that trots and shits at the same time.



11.  Some people won't like you, and that's not acceptable okay.  They're not entitled to their opinions and can go fuck themselves

12.  Not everything is about you. That rude girl in the grocery store whose cart is filled to the brim with cranberry juice?  She wasn't mean to you because she thinks you're the worst, she just has a UTI from banging her douchey ex-boyfriend with a rat tail too much and is extremely dissatisfied with her life.  

13.  Smoking pole cigarettes will make a hangover exponentially worse. 

14. You'll get your heart broken.  A few times.  You'll survive.  Instead of drowning your sorrows in a box of Chinese food, go out and meet someone else.  Take your creepy uncle's friend's advice: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

15. You're going to have a really tough time keeping track of debit cards, keys and shoes - accept it.  It's who you are.  God obviously did not intend for you to have these things and it's all out of your control.


16.  Don't blame God for your carelessness.  

17.  These 3 extremely important words are applicable in almost ALL cases:  DON'T TEXT HIM.   

18.  Anxiety is going to be a big part of your life.  It's okay.  You'll learn to accept this and use it to do something constructive like write a blog called Toe Pick. Writing will be your number 1 companion.  It will always be there to help you cope when life things get hard.

19.  The friend who is always there to hold your hair back when you puke in the bushes will likely be your maid of honor one day.



20. Be nice to your parents.  You'll need them to spot you when you get fired from 4 consecutive receptionist jobs on account of not knowing how to properly place a Costco order.

21. Every time you feel consumed by fear, take a deep breath and try to remember at least you're not a pigeon - it's all funny

xo,
Nige

ps.  You might want to rethink those bangs.