“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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Well it’s Thursday and for everyone’s delight, I’ve compiled a random list of shit I absolutely should not know, but do: That you should photograph interiors with a wide-angle lens, set to 20mm instead of zoomed all the way out. (Otherwise you get distorted walls that curve in.) A ball of wool is technically called a “skein.” (And US 19 wooden knitting needles are my fav!) If there’s an elliptical fan light window on top of the front door, the
They say that a behavior stays alive because it serves you in some way. AKA, If you’re eating the entire fridge, it might be because you actually hate your work and you’re trying to escape it any way you can, because YOU ARE TIRED AND YOU NEED A BREAK BUT YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A GOOD GIRL TO GIVE YOURSELF ONE. *smooths skirt* I think about this often. Like, while I have Downton Abbey reruns playing in the background, and
There are loadssss of questions I ask myself during the day. Things like, “Where have all the cowboys gone?” and “How awkward was my hello to the neighbor just now?!” And “I’ve eaten two salads in a row—AM I SKINNY YET?” But those are just the kinds of questions you ask yourself when you’re a fucking nutcase. Those fun bags aside, there is another question I ask myself when I’m feigning “responsible person who acts with intention and actually PLANS
