Monday, May 8, 2017

Hey, it's Okay...

Heyo!  Happy Monday :(

I spent the weekend riddled with anxiety in Mill Valley with my friend who recently moved there with her boyf.  We spent Sunday meandering through the town, popping in and out of boutiques and perusing overpriced tunics as moms with Bugaboo strollers sauntered by.  Even amongst the tranquility of this dreamland, I felt panicked.  This pristine, manicured town practically sparkled in the urethral ethereal sunlight.  It seemed as though all of its inhabitants were blissfully happy; their only care in the world was centered around whether they would have the kale smoothie or the one with chia seeds for lunch. It all made me feel dizzy with envy.

"You okay?" my friend asked me as I found myself lost in thought.  "Yeah," I retorted.  "This town gives me same kind of anxiety that instagram does: you know, everything looks perfect, everyone seems to have the perfect life, blah blah".

Then, I literally told myself to freeze my eggs and find a rich husband ASAP stop it. Like, out loud. I felt slightly schizo doing that in front of the people at the nail place, but what-the-fuck-ever.  I needed to snap out of it - I needed to pull myself out of the "woe is me for not having a family, a rock the size of Jersey on my left ring finger, and a successful banker husband with the perfect dick hair" hole that I'd allowed my thoughts to kick me into.

Because, the truth is - it's all not okay.  Literally.  I was a pretty lucky sperm born into a pretty okay life. Sure, I'm not where most people at my age are in life - I still have roommates, I still throw my laundry in a trash bag and haul it to my married friend's house to use their washer/dryer because my building doesn't have them... and that's mortifying okay.  I still have a meddling phenomenal family, very forgiving, accepting friends and a vibrator job that I really, really like.  Mulling over all of the things I don't have is about as productive as trying to grow a tail. This brings me to a segment I stole from Glamour mag called "Hey, it's okay..." Surprisingly, this article resonated with me more than the article entitled "12 Ways to Please Your Man with a Surprise Handjob" on page 17.

Let's get sharted:

Hey, it's okay...

...that your friends are nursing babies while you're nursing a hangover pretend to be on your phone to avoid small-talk with your doorman as you pass him in the lobby.

walking out of my lobby unscathed.  thanks, fake phone call!
...that you're trying to figure out how to score Molly while your friend Rhonda is trying to figure out if she should name her newborn daughter Molly feel like Pandora is more in touch with your life than you are not fully know what the word "legislation" means 100% zone out the very second a friend says "I had the craziest dream last night..." still want your mommy when you're sick wince when someone calls you a "woman" - you're still a girl, dammit!  A 34-year-old girl on birth control with a checkbook, heels and a 401K plan

....that most of your friends are pushing strollers while you're pushing the "place order" button on your GrubHub app.  Bring on the pizza and wangs! just smile, nod and say "totallyyyy, that's amazing" when you can't understand what the fuck someone is saying (or when you're zoned out) floss with your hair occasionally when no one is looking AND IS THIS ONE JUST ME? Shit. have no idea how taxes work.  Isn't a W-2 a gate at the airport? cringe every time a bumble match uses the acronym "LMAO"

...that you won't meet your friend's single cousin with the barb wire arm tat and flavor savor, even though "he's a great guy, promise!!!" because standards. not understand what how the stock market works and to think that Dow Jones is some dickwad who summers in Nantucket and makes this known every chance he gets. get more sad when a dog dies in a movie than when a human does secretly enjoy losing your voice because you think it makes you sound sexier slip your headphones on to signal to your uber driver that you're not available to hear his long-winded stories about his side job at IKEA and his garage band not understand how and why black chokers from the early 2000's came back with such a vengeance ask for crayons at a restaurant and proceed to play an intense game of MASH with your girlfriend

...if you'd rather gouge your eyes out than give a blowjob.  Shoving a snake-like appendage in your pie-hole for a few minutes!? know very little about politics - isn't the Fiscal Cliff some kind of energy bar? be more knowledgeable about the OJ case than Trump's new healthcare plan ACTUALLY THAT'S NOT OKAY AND I'M SORRY FOR ANYONE I'VE OFFENDED BY SAYING THAT PLEASE DON'T CRUCIFY ME AND OH MY GOD I'M PROJECTING AGAIN.  Sorry for yelling.

...if your idea of marinading food is dousing it in ketchup and shoving it in your mouth faster than Mike Tyson runs to a speech pathologist be secretly ecstatic that your ex-boyfriend and his beautiful new girlfriend  Brad and Angelica broke up, now's your chance - right!? go to sleep knowing that you're going to wake up the next morning cold, alone and unfulfilled, as corny as it may sound, everything in life is...

just as it should be.

Have a lovely day, friendos!


Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Come Waste Your Time With Me

Hey!  It has been really uneventful which is why I haven't written a minute.

First and foremost I'd like to get rid of my adult acne thank everyone who read my last post.  I was blown away by the anxiety I felt from oversharing positive responses I got and you all made me feel like my decision to share my story was a safe one. Most importantly, thank you to those who shared your stories with me - as corny as it may sound, I felt honored that people who reached out felt comfortable enough to do so AND OH MY GOD THIS IS TURNING INTO AN OSCAR AWARD ACCEPTANCE SPEECH, MY APOLOGIES.  But seriously, the struggle with alcohol/partying/being hungover/not being able to get control is so real.  I'm still feeling really anxious about my overshare happy to have played a part in making it OK to openly discuss.

I have been exponentially better at not drunk texting staying away from the party circuit since my last post, aside from last weekend when I was reminded of why I hate hangovers more than I hate Michael Vick and non-recreational mushrooms. Again, the struggle: it's fucking real. BABY STEPS.

Anyway.  I've been experiencing major writer's block lately so today I've decided to share a compilation of random events that've occurred in the last few months:

April Fool's Day fell on a Saturday this year which kind of sucked as there's nothing better than pulling pranks in the office.  I managed to carry on my tradition of duping an unsuspecting coworker via text which was oddly satisfying - I also duped a close friend who sadly, I'm not sure really knows me at all.  Have a look:

I spotted a woman walk of shaming barefoot in FiDi which was next level savage.  I didn't judge, I've been there - just not in the most densely populated part of a metropolis.  Get yourself checked for Hep C, my friend! Again, no judgments, this comes from a place of relief that things could be way worse for me love.

I got my first period when I was eleventeen migraine which really sucked.  I have a high threshold for pain - one time I got a 4 inch shard of glass stuck in my foot and I didn't even wince as the doctor pulled it out (that's what she said?).  So when I woke up cold and alone last Thursday morning with a 22 year old bumble guy who wore boot leg jeans and had braces a debilitating headache I thought I could pop some advil and move on with my day.  But no, said headache continued on throughout the day and I felt like I was continually being slugged in the face by Tanya Harding. Fast forward to 2 hours and 50 bucks later in UrgentCare to a hot doctor (who I've likely crossed paths with on Bumble) probing my lymph nodes and sticking a needle in my ass after concluding I was likely experiencing a migraine or tension headache.  Thanks for the insightful prognosis, doc!  V helpful. AND JESUS THIS IS A BORING STORY, I THINK I JUST GAVE MYSELF ANOTHER MIGRAINE.

WHY DID RICHARD SIMMONS BECOME A RECLUSE.  I'm completely transfixed by this after staying up until 3am on a school night listening to the Missing Richard Simmons podcast.  You gotta listen.

I went home to Virginia to see my parents which was awesome - I got to see my dogs too, and dig through old family photos only to come across this gem - ahhh family is responsible for all of my deep-rooted emotional issues stemming from childhood everything.

nothing - truly, nothing has changed. my favorite is my mom yelling at my brother for flipping the bird.
I got my hair chopped off, which feels weird since I've had the same haircut since I was 13.

After some back and forth I decided last weekend I wanted to be on a Bravo reality show that I'd tried out for a few months back.  I was ready to put my John Hand-cock on a contract only to be informed by the producer that show was being filmed in NYC, not SF. Talk about blue balls - I even sent the below screenshot to all of my friends and family.  It was probably for the breast AND THIS WHOLE BULLET POINT FEELS LIKE A HUMBLEBRAG, BUT YOU WOULD TELL EVERYONE TOO!! Sorry for yelling and for projecting... :(

My nephew got to hang with his idol, RuPaul on Saturday which reignited my adoration for him and his resolve to be exactly who he is.  I'm referring to RuPaul, fyi. Just kidding.


My temporary lapse in color judgment at the nail place recently left me with nails that looked like dead teeth.

I started a podcast!  You can listen here!  It'll make you feel better about your life, promise.

Hmmm... that's all I have.  Happy dry hump day, friendos!  Get dim sum.

xo, Nige