Category: Redefining Success

Writing, Houses & Hot Dogs: A Love Story

There were greasy hot dogs on the counter. Four of them. Naked and un-bunned, flopping around inside a glass Tupperware dish for all the world to see. I had many questions, including “are these for sale” and also “where are the onions,” but perhaps the biggest question I had was: WHO PUTS HOT DOGS IN THE FRAME WHEN TAKING A PHOTO FOR ZILLOW? Zillow, as in, the real estate website where other people look at photos and decide if they

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I Was On BBC Radio London—ARE YOU DYING???

Yoooooo! Ho ho hooooooo! Maybe a little too soon for the Santa greetings, but whatever, IT’S THANKSGIVING HERE IN THE U.S., which means that I’ve officially pulled out my clear bin full of balls and plan on hanging at least one fake garland before the day is out. (Then again, I live across the street from the world’s cutest Parisian floral designer, so I should probably go over there with a beret on and a cigarette and pretend to be

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Decide What Really Fucking Matters to You

Good ideas require a courageous host. Oh god, did I just introduce a virus analogy? Please forgive me, but it’s true. There are so many ideas floating around out there, half of which are definitely in your shower at 7 o’clock in the morning (they’re always in the fucking shower, aren’t they?), and the other half happen just as you’re falling asleep at night—but you don’t want to wake yourself up, because you know if you grab your phone you’re

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A Virus Can Keep You Inside, But It Can’t Keep Your Ideas There

You ever see people that look like your dead relatives and then you CAN’T STOP STARING? I do that a lot. Like this fall, in Dublin, when I creepily tried to take a photograph of a total stranger in a pub without his knowledge by casually waving my phone around in the air—#PROTIP: do not drop mid-operation—because I was convinced he looked like the spitting image of the one photograph I have ever seen of my father.     This

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How I Went From Fifteen-Year-Old Trailer Park Trash to Rich Bitch—And The Surprising Secret to My Success

When I was fifteen, I learned not to put Ben Gay on a penis. I know, there are so many words that don’t belong together in that sentence: fifteen and penis, for one, and then of course, penis and any substance designed to ice down your privates before lighting them promptly on fire. But I had read an article in Cosmo, as you do, and the article said it would be sure to “give your partner an unexpected treat”—which surely

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You Have This GREAT IDEA, But You’re Hesitant to Take the Leap. Could This Be Why?

How hard would it really be? To launch that crazy-fun new business idea. To start something you’ve been dreaming of for months. To get up and get started and go for it. To be able to say, this time tomorrow, that you have begun. We all radically overestimate how hard it’ll be, and radically underestimate the fact that we are made of fucking stars. (No, I haven’t gone over to the dark side of believing in chakras, but I DID

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Biggggg Announcements! Four of Them! (Featuring the Word, “JizzlePants,” In Case You Weren’t Already Tempted)

First of all, holy shit, it’s Friday, and holy shit, I have at least four exciting things to tell you about, because YOU ARE MY CREW. (Swear to vodka, I haven’t even had a chance to tell some of my dearest friends about the apartment I bought last week, or the book manuscript being done. Does this make me a weird internet cat lady who only shares secrets with her online friends before her actual ones?! Is this what ten

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The Secret to Success Has Nothing to Do With Happy Horseshit Like “Manifestation”

Things are really simple, once you agree to show up. Do 30 push-ups a day, get stronger. (Hello, Sweat App!) Write for 1,119 hours, get a book deal. (No, fucking really. See my current time report here.) Paint enough watercolors, become an artist. Raise your hand enough times, become a linchpin. So much of success is mere cause + effect. We like to glorify it with romantic notions of THE UNIVERSE AND FATE AND I WAS MEANT FOR THIS, DOROTHY!,

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You Are Stronger Than You Were Yesterday

Hear ye, hear ye, let it be known that I, Ash Ambirge, am officially in love with the SWEAT app. (If you also spend too much time at the computer like a hunchback homie, listen up!) For the longest time I was like: how in the HOPPING JALAPEÑO does someone exercise with an app? I pictured myself watching this tiny, horrible video on my phone, from across the room, hating life, and wanting to punch some peppy person who said

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I Used to Believe That Unless It Was Painful to Achieve, I Didn’t Deserve the Money.

We go to all sorts of lengths to prove ourselves, don’t we? I have jumped through countless hoops, over the years, trying to prove that I am a good friend, despite moving to a foreign country. I also used to kill myself working, subconsciously believing that unless it was painful to achieve, I didn’t deserve the money. Ditto with weight loss—unless I was parading up and down the highest of mountains, breaking my back for hours, I wasn’t trying hard

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