Tuesday, August 30, 2016

My Top 8 Chafes of the Week

My last post featured life things that make me happy.  Now I'm going to feature life things that make me unhappy.  Before you tell me I need to quit being an ungrateful little shit and just get laid already, I implore you to cut me a break: I just found a weird hair in my ramen salad and have an adult earache (aren't toddlers the only people who get earaches?).  Ergo, I am not in the breast mood.  Here I go with the top chafes in my life at the moment:

1.  Excessive political rants on facebook.
I get it; our country is going through some shit.  Sharing an occasional thought here and there on the election is fine but I don't spend 85% of my life on social media to see my lab partner from Miss Bonfantay's second grade biology lab express his disdain for Donald Trump via perpetual status updates every 69 seconds. Wanna share a funny anecdote? A cute picture of your chubby baby with endearing fat rolls? By all means - share away.  Social media is for lightheartedness, IMO.  No one cares if you think Hillary shouldn't be rolling down the Fiscal Cliff with Ross Perot or whatever it is your political rants include.  We really, really don't.

 2.  Long work days.
The other day I was so tired from working so much that I accidentally calendared a call to speak with myself AND OH MY GOD, MY MOTHER WAS RIGHT, I NEED TO JUST FIND A RICH HUSBAND TO TAKE CARE OF ME.

3.  Couples, couples everywhere!
This couple pictured is actually the cutest, but these days it seems everywhere I turn people are necking and dry-humping and canoodling and whispering sweet nothings to each other.  Meanwhile a homeless man dressed like a bear just asked me if I'd like to "get involved."  I even had to unfollow JoJo the Bachelorette on SnapChat because she and her new boyfriend prompted me to buy Pepto Bismol in an effort to combat the nausea I picked up on account of witnessing their giggly, couple-y snaps every 5 minutes AND SHIT MAYBE YOU GUYS ARE RIGHT ABOUT WHAT I MENTIONED IN THE INTRO TO THIS POST.  Sorry for yelling.

4.  Dating apps.
I am giving them an honest try but the banter that transpires once I connect with someone makes my face contort into the face I'd make if I ate 10 warheads, funky tasting spunk and a lemon all at once. Cringe worthy I tell you.  And yes I just referenced Samantha Jones.  


Also, here's a text my mom sent when I was home recently.  It's relevant to this segment.

5.  Bad timing.
This happened to me last week.  Timing's a bitch, but she's a bitch that can sometimes give me funny toe pick material.

6. Random numbers calling my phone.
To be fair, I'm notoriously bad at saving numbers (all the important ones like my ex boyfriends' numbers I have memorized), so every time I get a call from a random San Mateo or Winchester County number my entire being becomes riddled with anxiety as my mind darts between worst case scenarios: OMG it's the cop from my Ole Miss days who caught me peeing behind a fraternity house and wants to press belated charges and finally bring me to justice OR it's the IRS OR it's the SF fire department calling to tell me I left my straightener on and burned down my entire apartment building. Don't even get me started on incoming blocked numbers...Anxiety City, Population: me.

7. UberPool
I take UberPool to and from work, and for the most part, I love it. Lately though, it's been chafing me.  I can never see which side my fellow pool passenger is sitting on on account of the tinted windows so there have been a few times I've almost crawled into someone's lap accidentally.  I may be desperate for a human's touch but I'm not that desperate.  Also, when did Uber decide to turn into a school bus?  8 times out of 10 I'm riding with TWO or THREE passengers, and then I'm late.

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8. Chicken and eggs in the same meal
Not to get too George Costanza on this, but a mother and her desecrated unborn child should not be eaten at the same time, out of respect.  #BoycottCobbSaladz

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I just learned how to make memes!  still got some work to do, obvi.
Okay, I will stop with the negativity and leave you with 3 things that make me happy:

1. Bolognese 
...or whatever the shit you call the flowers that grow on houses.  I'm obsessed.


2.  This dog in my hood channeling his inner Richard Simmons


3.  Finally, at the end of a bad day, I'm reminded that nothing's so bad it can't be fixed by a pink starburst.

Happy hump day, y'all!


Tuesday, August 23, 2016


Achieving orgasm happiness is the ultimate goal in life, amiright?  The other day I got to thinking about the little things in life that make me happy.  Here's what I came up with:

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Sorry for yelling.

...seeing that San Francisco is still San Francisco in spite of the chafe-y changes taking place here. 
I'm always reading articles bashing SF in some way: whether people are complaining about the astronomical rent prices, the onslaught of tech douches pervading the city or homeless people relieving themselves in Bart stations - SF seems to be the sand in a lot of people's underwear these days.  Can't we all quit complaining about this otherworldly slice of earth and take a moment to appreciate the wonderful freaks who still inhabit it?  Seeing them around town makes me feel happy and considerably less fucked in the head.

...receiving texts like these from Uber right after I stub my toe and think my week is going to shit:

...relishing in life's little milestones.
I lose things.  It's what I do.  It's who I am.  If this irritates you we will probably never be close. On Sunday I celebrated my 6 month anniversary with my keys.  It makes me happy to have had so much time with them and I hope we don't part for at least another couple months or so.  Thank you so much for all your well wishes, by the way; my heart is bursting and we are thrilled!  We celebrated by cracking open a couple Keystone lights. Commitment is always key. Belated apologies for the dad jokes.


...celebrating life's big milestones.  
Speaking of anniversaries, my parents celebrated their 51st wedding anniversary over the weekend. Pretty insane.  

...realizing that just because my parents have been basking in martial bliss for over half a century doesn't make me inferior or any less of a human being for being a 33 year old single girl who gets text messages like this BECAUSE ROMANCE IS STILL ALIVE, DAMMIT.

...checking things off my Monday list and gloating about it on instagram.  

...walking through the door after not having been home for 8 months and being greeted by the loves of my life:  Flossie and Coco.

flossie and coco coming at me at 47585 MPH

...finding old childhood photos like this one from 1988, a time when my brother and I went through 8 nannies in 2 years and my parents slowly began to realize that having me solely to keep him company was something of a grave mistake.

...receiving texts like these from your friend and being reminded of why you're friends

...waking up and feeling accomplished for having self control.  My best friend decided to get a serious boyfriend without consulting with me about it first (<3 ya, Gym) so I don't spend 24/7 with her anymore.  So yeah, sometimes I get lonely and crave attention - mainly after a couple cocktails. It's not uncommon for me to reach into my arsenal of ex boyfriends/crushes/whatevers and text them. When I don't do this it makes me very very happy.  No judgments please, this is a safe space.

...a song I've been wanting to hear comes on Pandora.  Incidentally if anyone ever got ahold of my Pandora account I'd move to Bangladesh and change my name to Rhonda.  It's that embarrassing.

...not licking envelopes for a living.  I love my new job and praise Ghandi I don't have to worry about OD'ing on envelope sealing chemicals on the reg.

...finding random stains on the earth, pointing at them and exclaiming "doesn't that look like a dick?!!!!"

...digging up my old cell phones, charging them and noticing how much I haven't changed since 2008, the year of the Crackberry.

...these two handsome corgis spotted on Crissy field.

In all seriousness though:

True contentment is reached when one's desire to be validated or accepted by anyone other than oneself ceases to take up space in one's consciousness.

I may have regressed back into a 12 year old pervert child in a lot of ways (please see majority of this post) but I my above statement becomes truer and truer every day.

Hope you find some happiness today, friendos!

xo, Nige

PMS.  You can follow me on snapchat if you like toe pick and want to see it in video form: owlbunting 

Monday, August 8, 2016

The Beauty of Oversharing

mouthing off, probably, definitely.

My legs life has been an open book since I was a kid.  I've been accused of a lot of things, like playing with my hair too much and being overtly obsessed with the OJ Simpson trial, but no one's ever told me I need to open up more.  I often overshare, and I'm sure there's some Freudian explanation behind this, maybe my mom didn't breast feed me enough or something.  Who the fuck knows.  Who cares.

One summer when I was 12 I gave my childhood crush my virginity a letter I'd written professing my love  explaining how I felt about him.  Said letter was 4 pages long (FRONT AND BACK! - Ross Gellar).  He still has it, or so he says.  I don't regret giving it to him as he is one of my closest friends and probably will be until I expire, and when I'm 85 I'll sigh, grimace smile and be glad I was transparent with my feelings. Because I believe that when you feel something, you  tell the whole world via your blog say it, goddamnit.

That's not to say my big mouth hasn't gotten me into some sticky situations and caused things to blow up in my face without warning.
(That's what she said?)

When I was in Newport last week I ran into a girl I'd forgotten I knew.  "We've met." she said as she greeted me. "You told me my boobs looked great when we ran into each other in a bathroom at Kate's* wedding, then you asked if you could touch them."  We both laughed as I looked down, red-faced.  "Th-th-they are nice, ha..hahaha," I stuttered as I quickly changed the subject to the weather and some offensively off kilter topic like ISIS.

When I was at Ole Miss all the people who worked at the Chevron near my house knew who I was hooking up with, where my siblings lived and what kind of pizza I liked.  Shit, they probably even knew my blood type.  In fact, my dear friend Sarah tried to add my knack for opening up to randoms to my LinkedIn profile along with other stuff that I shall not reveal.  Thanks for the recommendation, Sarah!

Of course I've thought about being less revealing when it comes to sharing personal things about myself.  When Prince died I did some research on him and learned that he was an exceptionally private person.  "Sometimes I wish I was more like Prince," I told my unfazed, flippant friend one day.  Not because he was a fucking enigma/prodigy/tiny little genius but because he was able to keep his fucking mouth shut and live his life under wraps.

"There's no way you could ever be on reality TV, Alex-haaan-dra!" my mom exclaimed the other day. "Your mouth is too big.  You have no inner monologue.  We would all be mortified."

This got me thinking about the pros and cons of not having a filter.  Let's get sharted.

1. PRO: My willingness to be transparent has enabled me to share life experiences that people can to relate to.  Like the time I was trying to stalk my ex boyfriend's girlfriend on facebook and accidentally typed her name into my status, only to be made aware of my blunder the next morning when I woke up to an onslaught of texts + calls from friends urging me to "REMOVE YOUR STATUS IMMEDIATELY, ARE YOU NUTS?!"  We've all done stupid shit like this, and when I shared this horrifically mortifying experience I felt like I opened up a dialogue amongst equally idiotic people and created a safe space for us all to share our fuckups.

<names have been changed>
2. CON:  I've destroyed romantic relationships as a result of my propensity to overshare.
I dated a guy I met on Muni a few years ago and decided to share this absurd story on Toe Pick because I FELT LIKE GOD WAS FUCKING HANDING ME MATERIAL ON A SILVER PLATTER.  IF I DIDN'T SHARE IT I'D BE DOING A DISSERVICE TO THE MAN UPSTAIRS.  Muni boy was not pleased and our relationship swiftly disintegrated after I published our story.

3. PRO: I've been given opportunities to further my nonexistent writing career by letting it all hang out on this blog.  Granted, one of the opportunities that arose was an invitation to write for a website centered around sex toys but GOOD GOD WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE HAPPY FOR ME.  Sorry for yelling again, it's Monday and I'm feeling vulnerable and defensive.

4. CON: My parents and their friends are appalled by read my blog.
The implications of this are just as you'd suspect.  It was wildly mildly embarrassing when Topsy, my mother's wildly conservative friend asked me why I write about my vibrator so much at a formal dinner last week and I nearly choked on my lobster bisque.

5. PRO: It's cathartic to put it all out there.
Of course, sometimes I get anxious when I post something highly personal, but I've learned to suppress those feelings because well, if someone doesn't like what I have to say they can go fuck themselves read my Great Aunt Edna's knitting blog or whatever.  Moreover, sometimes I get lonely, like last night as I lay in bed in the fetal watching the Hills reunion.  I looked over at my computer and decided to start writing this entry and immediately felt less alone.  My computer has become my friend and OH MY GOD I can't believe I just revealed my friendship with an electronic, inanimate object aside from the aforementioned vibrator on toe pick.
Judge not, lest you be judged.

6. CON:  Oversharing has cost me money.
 I can no longer use the elaborate excuses I've worked so hard to come up with to get out of workout classes I've signed up for because I exposed my Rolodex of excuses on toe pick for all the world to see.  So, now when I miss a class I get charged because everyone at BodyRok knows all my excuses are horseshit.  Reaaaal smooth.

7. CON:  Oversharing has bitten me in the ass.
A few months ago I had been thinking about moving back east, mainly to be closer to family.  One morning I woke up and made up my mind: I am going to do it, I thought: pack my shit up and move right along.  My job was driving me nuts, I was (well, am) single so I decided to say fuckit.  Next step: share my momentous news on social media.  Big mistake.  HUGE.  (I have to go shopping now!)  Making rash decisions during a moment of panic and then sharing said decisions on social media is just dumb.  As I result of my hastiness I had to retract my statement and dodge questions about my going away party in addition to a barrage of questions concerning my "move" for several months.



I'll end with this: growing up I wasn't good at many things.  I did poorly in school, tried to get into riding but got kicked in the face by my pony, ran to third base during a t-ball game instead of first and tried to use a razor as lipstick when I was 5 resulting in an impromptu trip to the ER.  So when I started this blog (piss on that word) I finally felt like I had found my purpose: to expose my imperfections, laugh about them and be honest about life; the good, the bad and the downright fugly.

On a completely unrelated note, the day I've been dreaming of is here: tonight I'm heading to see GNR and am more excited than PeeWee Herman in an adult movie theatre.  Simply ECSTATIC.

Happy Tuesday, friendos!


PS. Oversharing can be great, but watch yourself in the work environment.  Don't make the same mistake I did yesterday when I told my coworker I was investing in a blow-up boyfriend.

PMS. Oversharing isn't a word I found out.  So I've got that going for me...which is nice.