Hey it was good seeing you last Friday. This is not a question. So um... Why the hell don't you ever ask me any questions? So rude!
I am, at my core, a rude girl. I am rude, and selfish and oblivious and fraught. So, let's hang out again, okay? I will be exactly the same.
10 years ago where did you see yourself today, and where do you see yourself in 10 years?
10 years ago, I was busy falling in love. That's been my business for the last decade, falling in love, sleeping with people, falling in love again, getting fucked over, falling in love. It's kind of what I do. I am a love machine. Now think about that phrase without laughing, take it seriously. All I want is to love people and be loved back. I am a machine, built to love. It is hardwired into my chemistry.
I would like to pretend this might change. I'd like to say in 10 years I'll be hard, and productive, and creative, and accomplished. But people never change. In 10 years I will still probably be falling in and out of love like it fucking pays me. Maybe it does? Maybe I do it for a reason. It's not the worst job in the world, being a love machine. I need a fucking oil change though. And a transmission flush.
What nickname do you think is fitting for you?I'm sticking with Love Machine.
Or I've always been partial to Bee.
Nicknames are supposed to be given to you though. So you tell me what fits.
My girlfriend of two years just broke up with me. How do I remember all of the annoying things she did without remembering the cute things?
You can't. Don't try. It's a given that all the annoying things will fade away and you'll be left thinking of all the cute things and sexy things while you're sitting alone. This is how relationships work. They never really end. They just turn into triggers. All you can really do is recognize the situation for what it is, instead of building a delusional fortress of bitterness that is fit only for stoned xbox addicts and girls who wear too high heels.
For god sakes, don't sleep with her again though. No matter how much you want it, and how nonchalant it seems at the time, how whorish and therefore hot, don't do it. There's nothing worse than seeing the person you just slept with making out with someone else. It's the worst thing that can happen to you. It kills something in you. It's sort of like what I imagine people are talking about when they say you can never come back from murder.
I'm really sorry. I hope it gets better for you. I'm right there with you. I was going to say dude, but I don't know, maybe you're a girl. Either way, I'm sorry you're in pain. If you want to go to Vegas with me, let me know.
Tell me some things about this season of Top Chef, please.
Padma has boobs. Angelo is annoying as shit. That Asian guy should have never been sent home. Eric Ripert is Poseidon's gay son. I'm rooting for IHOP girl. And by rooting, I mean, she's the least stupid. I like her and Ed, even though Ed is naturally hapless, as I suppose all 32 year old straight boys in NYC must be.
Remember when I used to do recaps of this shit every season? It would be hilarious and fantastical and crazy? Yeah well, I don't even have the heart to recap it now. It just seems so pointless and futile, like a gelee under a mountain of torn apart crabs, who mere minutes ago were crawling desperately across foreign surfaces, and hours ago were safe in the water.
Shit. I really like that one too.
I would be completely irresistible. There's a lot in that word. Think about it. All the really good superpowers are one word. Invincible. Indestructible. Omniscient. Unstoppable. And now, Irresistible. Able to stop global trade markets with a smile. Able to convince you to kill everyone under 20 just by batting my eyelashes. Able to make you fly across the country to be in my presence, just so you can bring me meyer lemons in season.
Are you satisfied with the new band that was chosen for credit check company?? Haha anyways, are you going Friday??
I have no idea what you are talking about, on both counts. And I'm the one up at 2:30 in the morning, with my mind and my hands racing faster than the bug my cat is currently hunting. Did you know that one reason to never stay up this late in your own place is that you notice how your cats are hunting like, a TON of things? It's really disturbing. It's like my apartment is ALIVE. Why are you using double question marks? The question mark is inherently emphatic, it doesn't need a double dip dude.
Anyway, what the fuck is Friday? And who the fuck replaced that French guy with the crooked teeth's band? I will probably be sitting at home on Friday, trying really hard to write this book that's going to make up for my decade of uselessness by turning it into something useful. By which I really mean, I will probably be watching Dr. Who reruns and trying really hard not to pick up the phone.
What would you do with a million dollars?
Travel. Forever and ever. Until I found something I liked enough to stay for. Which would probably be the moon. Or a guy. Or both.
What is your least favorite thing about Cleveland?
I hate that it's either you're a Cleveland hater or a Cleveland booster. I love this city, but it's not the only city in the country I love. And I don't have to pretend it's a culinary capital of the world, or some artistic renaissance. It's just a basic medium sized midwest city, that has some stuff I really like. But now all the cool stuff is connected in my head with this guy, and I really feel like I need to get away. So currently, I really hate the lack of new people I can actually connect to, who I don't have to make constant pleasant small talk with, or stupid snarky comments in bars to make them laugh.
My least favorite thing in Cleveland is the writers. Where are the talented people who could inspire me? How come I don't get to be inspired by someone? I don't want to go to poetry workshops or listen to some crap in a bookstore. It's the literary equivalent of going to 5 dollar shows in the hope that something cool with someday maybe turn up. It never does. It's like a perpetual jerk off bar scene. I don't want glad-handing. I want to be able to meet someone who makes me want to read their stuff all the time.
I need more rock stars in my life. Rock stars are people who believe they are extraordinary, even if it has no basis in reality, and are therefore sort of actually awesome, if obnoxious to people who don't get their value. I'm tired of ordinary. It's not really Cleveland's fault, but there's a shitload of ordinary here. Nice ordinary, pleasant well meaning ordinary. But still. Ordinary. I want to meet people who are confident that they are something special.
what should I do now?
Impress me. Please.
Do you every try to figure out who's asking you which question?
I don't try at all. I'm trying to give up the practice of futile things. How exactly would I ever figure out who you all are? There's more of you than I realize. You're all faceless blips on my site meter.
If you want me to know who you are, just tell me. I guarantee that I'm nicer to dumber people than you. I'm a nice girl. I don't bite. Except if you don't take me home when I insist on it, and I'm crying and begging and you won't let me out of the car and it's my fucking car. Then I might bite. I'm surprised, given the number of times this has happened, that I wasn't a natural biter in preschool. Maybe it manifested late, like my inability to like reggae. I take it back, I am a biter.
I actually just pretend every question comes from someone who I want to fuck. Or in some cases, someone I would never fuck who wants to fuck me.
If somebody's life had a face, whose life would you want to punch in the nuts?
Mine. I would punch mine. Make sure it never had children ever, and every time it had an orgasm, it would feel a tinge in the back of it's scrotum like it was permanently being pinched.
It would be too mean to wish that on someone else's life. Also, my life has a penis, apparently.
Ask Me Anything. But maybe not something about me in particular. I think I've been thinking about me a little too much lately.