Tag: Living

What’s Your Little Ball? (Not to Be Confused With: “Your Little Balls.”)

I’LL SHOW YOU! …is definitely not what I was thinking when I sliced left with the knife. Alas, I applied as much pressure as I could: I wanted a nice, clean line. No mess. No more worrying about this particular…problem. I was determined to put an end to it now. But, Christ with a fungal groin infection, wallpaper is harder to cut than a human cadaver. I KNOW THAT’S WHERE YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING WITH THIS. But I’ve personally

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I Tattooed My Eyelids! Or: On Just Showing the Friggy Frig Up

It feels like a teeny, tiny vibrator on your eyelid. And THAT, friends, is my description of what, precisely, it feels like to get your eyelids tattooed. Your eyelids! Ya fucking EYELIDS! [Said exactly like an Italian American woman in disbelief.] Because, surely, someone who has never gotten a tattoo in her life should start with her eyelids. ~Whistles and looks up at ceiling~ I KNOW. Why do I make these decisions? But to be honest, I didn’t even think

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Oh, Get a F*cking Grip, Already

“QUIT WAITING ON being told stuff is OK. What are you, six? That said, you had more balls when you were six, didn’t you?” This is the way my smart AF British friend, Matthew Kimberley, opens a chapter in his newly released book, out just YESTERDAY: Get a F*cking Grip. (As an aside, I hate sentences like that one I just wrote. Everybody’s everybody’s “friend” on the internet, which usually just means “they tweeted me once and now I’m an

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The Commitment-Phobe’s Guide to Making a Decision When The Grass is Always Greener and YOU CAN’T STICK TO ANYTHING.

You ever do that thing where you’re fidgety and restless and the grass is always greener and you’re never really content with what you’ve got so you’re constantly searching for some legendary “BETTER” that will make you rich! and skinny! and HAPPY! and one of those people who never craves pizza and always irons their shirts and arrives everywhere on time and even knows what their budget is? (People who have budgets dazzle me.) I used to be one of

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I’m The Least Spiritual Fuck On the Planet

Not that you didn’t know that already. Which is why if you come at me with chakras or crystals or dildos scented with patchouli oil, I will make a face that looks pretty much like I have just swallowed a baby rhinoceros hoof. Which might be possible, if you could see the kind of soup I ate last night. I’ll tell you why I bring this up momentarily, but first… I’m still here in my hometown! The one you’ll read

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THE BIG BOOK COVER REVEAL! See Also: The Time I Tried to Convince You to Become a Serial Killer.

So guys, I’ve finally discovered “the secret to success”—and no, it does not require Himalayan bath salts*.   *Also does not require Ben Gay, thank god.   The real secret to success is in learning how to be both a lawyer and a serial killer, and I say that with all sincerity. [Insert image of me knifing my book here.] Who wants a serial killer in their inbox? I know! But alas, you’ve got one: it’s the only way to

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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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Disobedient Book of the Week: Don’t Keep Your Day Job, by Cathy Heller

Omg, do you guys love how I just totally pretended I was a book critic and made it seem like I review one book a week? Who needs The New York Times when you’ve got The Middle Finger Project? Neck to neck, y’all. Neck to NECK. Here’s why I’m two-stepping into your inbox on this fine Monday afternoon: I really, really like scrappy, resourceful motherfuckers like C. Money Heller (new nickname), author of the new book, Don’t Keep Your Day

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The Tired Excuse That Women Need to Stop Making (Have You Ever Used It?)

Last week I almost made a very big mistake. You see, I had THIS GRAND IDEA that led me to performing the following slightly delirious activities: Scouting jungle wallpaper for my dressing room; Buying a T-Rex head to hang on the wall of said dressing room; and Calling a notoriously well-known closet design company to come custom fit the rest. Now, mind you: I grew up in a Pennsylvania trailer park. The closest we got to “custom fit” was the

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How to Get Back to Feeling Like Your Old Self Again

I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but turns out, renting a room above an Irish pub that’s rather “could be great, could be a fungal groin infection” is an excellent idea. I do not say this because of the corner table you’ll get next to the fireplace downstairs, where you will proceed to order a traditional cottage pie (code for “scalding hot gallon of cheesy mashed potatoes”), watch a senior citizen play the piccolo with more gusto

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