The Library is Open

I don’t know about you, but it takes a pretty damn riveting book to lock me in. It’s not like I don’t like to read. After all, reading is what?

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I wrote this before the Guardian interview…don’t @ me.

And although I love to read a bitch on the reg, it’s probably more socially healthy (and mentally) to read a book on the reg.

I actually used to be a library rat back when I had a life. Mostly because I was way too poor to buy cook books and graphic novels. It also isn’t as shameless to borrow Lauren Conrad’s novel series that is totally not based on her real life, rather than shelling out $14.99 on Barnes and Nobel. It was 2010, cut me a friggin’ break.

Now that I’m not broke as a joke (just regular broke) I like to own a few gems, but a good used book store is always preferred (I consistently refuse to buy retail). The boyfriend is also not allowed in one recreationally because there are only so many non-fiction global conflict and obscure Australian cook books one man should own.

Here’s the Fabulous Weirdo Required Reading List. How did I choose these you ask? Would you stop mid description at a dinner party because you realize it’s probably not appropriate conversation? There you go.

Just kidding…kinda.

1. The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

THIS bitch.  This lucky lucky bitch.  God bless her.  THIS bitch had a dream of being a true crime writer and worked at a suicide prevention hotline to pay the bills.  Thiiiiiiiiis bitch had a station right next to muthafuckin’ Ted Bundy.  The best part is THIS bitch (and in case you’re wondering I use the term with the up most respect. SO MUCH RESPECT.)  is a really good writer and went on to write more true crime books.

This is shit will keep you up at night.  Especially if you have any prior knowledge of what Ted Bundy did.  You see the unfolding of horror from the perspective of person that only knew him as an incredible advocate for people wanting to harm themselves.  But when it came down to it, it was just another opportunity for him to take control over life and death.  The way he would lure victims is exactly why we actively fuck politeness to stay sexy and not get murdered.

2. Transmetropolitan

I first read this series about 10 years ago when my best friend’s boyfriend (now husband) got it for me as a Christmas gift.  I had mentioned I was interested in getting into graphic novels and he said it was a good starter.  Do NOT take that to mean that is a basic little comic book. Spider Jerusalem is a weirdo with the best of us and lives in this future city that isn’t quite distopian, but still seem kinda creep because you could more than likely seeing it coming to life.  It was written in the 1990s and let’s the just say the author was way ahead of his time on gender, sexuality, politics, and society norms.

Spider Jerusalem is a journalist who gives zeeeeerroooooo fucks and works for an editor that literally smokes 5 cigarettes at a time (everyone does…because you can just grow a fresh lung when you need one.  I’d have 3 livers on reserve at any given time personally).

The forward is written by Sir Patrick Stewart himself, and if they ever considered a movie option, he’s be numero uno for the main role.

3. The Etiquette Guide for Nice People Who Sometimes Say Fuck

This isn’t so much an etiquette book as it is a book that hilariously and scientifically explains why humans are increasingly suspect of other humans. Spoiler alert: you interact with too many of them. This isn’t a further excuse to avoid people. It’s a vote for quality over quantity and that means you Instagram. However, in our day to day life we gotta interact with a ton of strangers. Grocery stores, bars, soul sucking corporate offices, the gym, the office break room when the scary cool people are all having lunch and they stare at you because like who even is she? Does she work here? ALL filled with the unwashed masses that frankly our brains are not evolutionarily equipped to deal with. This book kinda helps you navigate that; and mostly helps you understand your cave person brain.

4. The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson

Not a self help book. More of a get over your self book. This book…omg I love it. I would say bottom line, the lesson at the end of the day is sit down bitch, be humble.

It sucks to take responsibility for your own life because then you have no one to blame when it all goes wrong. But learning to adapt to the shit life throws at you and not being stuck to an identity or a preconceived notion of how life is “supposed” to go, really does wonders for your sanity.

I’d say Mark’s value system is if Tyler Durden got his shit together and stopped feeling sorry for himself.  Rising above the shitty first world fuckery instead of letting it eat away at him.  Project Mayhem could have been a dope indie production company if the Narrator had a page turner like this.

5. Mind Hunter by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker

You watched the Netflix series.  You already knew about the profiled killers from My Favorite Murder, Last Podcast On the Left, and Generation Why.  You gotta read the book.  Us murderinos are coming out of the wood work and others are following suit.  For once, I ain’t mad about the fact that people who never would have been interested in something “edgy” are jumping on the trend like a 16 year old into an over sized Metallica tee.

These guys are the literal founding fathers of what excites the true crime fandom.  They wanted to find out why the actual FUCK?!  Profiling criminals changed the way law enforcement finds killers.  This is an especially good pick if you need to unplug and take a break from endless podcasts and Law and Order binges.  DUN DUN.  

6. YOU Are A Badass by Jen Sincero

Contrary to this post, I’m not a fan of self help books.  Actually, reading so many so close together kind of gave me a mind fuck.  Unlike run of the mill “how to get people to like you by recreating your personality” this and the two others on this list will help you get to know your self, and possibly actually like your self by sifting through all the bullshit.

Jen says right off the bat (paraphrasing), it’s not your fault that you’re fucked up, but it is your fault for staying fucked up.  Then she goes into explaining how your brain works over your life development.  The thing is with this book is be ready to be a little overwhelmed.  More than a few times I was like “Staaahhhhppp!! Too real! No thanks!”.  She won’t leave you hanging though.  You’ll def feel more bad ass more than you already do by the end of it.

This Just Gets Me To Normal

WEIRDOS!! Jesus, you know what I’m really bad at?  Follow through.  Never again will I promise a two part post because I tried like 10 times to write the second part of the Chick Flick post and seriously it just wasn’t happening.  TBH it’s why I haven’t posted since early November.  So we’re moving the fuck on.  Keep it rolling.

The other day my long term boo-thang admitted he thought I was a whole year younger than I was…for like several months (If you’re under 25, trust me, it mean a lot when you’re over 25).  If he wasn’t the most forgetful human on the planet I would have chalked it up to perfecting my skin care/ personal care situation.  (PS Having acne doesn’t make you look like a blossoming youth, it makes you look like you need to add a spot treatment to your night routine.  ANYWAY.)

I’ve written before how I’m completely over the whole “OMG I’m a barely functioning adult.  I hate working out and grocery shopping and washing my face at night and…omg I’m such a mess isn’t that cute and relate-able?!”  PASS.  Also most of the people writing those posts go to refromer pilates 3x a week and can afford grocery delivery.  SO, us mere peasants have to figure out how to keep it tight and right even if we don’t think we have the time or monies.  So like, here’s what I do.  Most of this comes from my ever long winding path of figuring out how to take care of my self.

ROLL ‘EM!

Rollers are everywhere.  Ice rollers, micro needle rollers, even chakra crystal rollers.  Why do we roll?  Because everyone over the legal drinking age has woken up, looked in the mirror and thought “How even the fuck does that much water accumulate in my orbital socket (or so I assume your inner voice sounds)”, or if you’re me “I had some cutting edge cheek bones like 8 hours ago…I demand answers.”

I would leave the first time you micro needle to a professional dermatologist, BUT for puffiness the ice roller is a game changer.  You can feeeeel the demon retained water drain from your gorgeous face.  The coolness is a def plus, it wakes you up and is super fucking refreshing, even in the depths of winter.

How to:  Roll it up, roll it up! Watch it all fall out.  Roll it up, roll it up! That’s how we ball out! (spoken by the poet goddess Rhianna).  But seriously, roll that thing in a upward and outward motion.  Your first instinct might be to drag down, BUT you’re only helping gravity fuck up your shit.  Do that upward motion for 2-3 min like 2-3 times a day.  There are a bunch available on Amazon  buuut my favorite is…ice roller  Esarora Stainless Steel Ice Roller 

Broke Ass Hack: If you don’t feel like throwing down for a roller, or frankly there’s more important shit you have to spend money on, just throw a spoon in the freezer before bed. In the morning, hold it against your palm for a few seconds then do the roll up and out motion moving the spoon in circles. You just saved $10.99; you’re welcome.

Mask On, Mask Off

We all remember those creepy mask packets from the pharmacy with models with giant ass plants for eyes.  A sleep over staple.  But instead of experimenting with how much you can peel off in one try, now you actually have to figure out what they fuck they’re for, and if they even work…

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I strive for a Patrick Bateman level of self care.

I have combination skin, which means I get the joy of both super dry patches on my cheeks and oil slicks on my T zone.  This basically means a never dying colony of black heads on my nose.    Pore strips were my life for a while, until I discovered the charcoal mask.  Now, I’m not talking about the ones from those terrifying YouTube videos where they peel off the first 3 layers of skin to get it off.  I’m talking about the fun kind that drys and cracks when it’s ready to be washed off.  My favorite is this one by Origins.

Next Level Shit:  Use you favorite pore strip after the charcoal mask.  That’ll take care of any of those stubborn SOBs still hanging on.

I Mustache You A Question

…But I have to go fuck off for making that joke.

oooooooKAY!  Some of us have heritage from parts of world where APPARRRRENTLY it was necessary for survival or whatever-the-fuck for women to have upper lip and stray weird chin hair.  Like 100% of my heritage, lucky me.  I have the combined upper lip protection the Austrian/ Hungarians, Italians, and Russians have to offer.  Like 1000 years ago I’m sure it let a mate know our offspring would survive the winter and I could grow a mean turnip.  Great.

For 13 year old Emily, it meant getting the ever living shit burnt out of my lip by a salon girl that was “afraid of hurting” me.  WELLLL, bitch what didn’t hurt so much was the hair removal, not my first rodeo.  What SUCKED was 2 inch symmetrical burns from her over rubbing the wax/ paper, skiddish of making a 13 year old girl tear up.  Sweetie, I was already a new teen with a mustache…like…there’s not a whole more that can fuck me up.

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I just had to face I couldn’t pull off a Salvador Dali like Max.

So I swore off waxing to this day.  LITERALLY for the past 15 years I have only used one thing for my unfortunate situation.  I wash my face, brush Sally Hansen hair remover on my upper lip, kill 5 minutes, then wipe it off with a tissue.  I have pretty sensitive skin and it doesn’t bother me.  It also costs less then a lip wax and lasts like 6 months.  I get a warm pride feeling when I think about all the money I’ve saved.  Buuut….

If You Wanna Get Fancy:  As with all unwanted body hair, you can get rid of it permanently with laser hair removal.  I’ve given it a shot with my bikini line and the pain wasn’t worth it to me.  But I also know people who swear by it.  If you have the time and money (and pain tolerance)  I more than recommend it.

Nothing Days

I cannot stress enough the importance of nothing days.  When you have literally nothing planned.  No brunches, meetings, house keeping, grocery shopping, NADA! This used to be like every Friday through Sunday for most of us through college and a few years beyond, but life has a funny way of fucking you side ways.

Nobody relies on me to keep them alive, so if you have tiny humans or like a puppy or something I get that this is like…not fucking possible.  But if have a partner or a co-owner, or other semi-responsible person in sight range, hand over the obligation for 30 minutes to an hour and just do nothing.

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None, not one.

I have a horrible habit of spreading my self too thin and get so stressed out that I just take a nap instead of getting shit done.  Having 2 or 3 nothing days a month has done wonders for my sanity and gives me something to look forward to.

Get All Buddah Zen With It:  There are a few really good free apps with guided meditation.  Put on a sleep masks and your favorite head phones and let someone else help you clear your brain.  Some say if you fall asleep you’re not really meditating, but I say if what you need is for your brain to completely shut off for a few minutes, it fucking worked.

All of this isn’t even my version of pampering, it just gets me to normal.  When I don’t take the time to take care of myself it ends with desperately attempting to spray the last of a dry shampoo can onto my greasy/ fried hair 20 minutes before I’m supposed to clock in at my job; praying that the quad espresso kicks in before the sleep deprivation.  If you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take of anything else.

So, go get rid of the hair you’re confused by, de-puff what’s not supossed to be, slather on your fave mask, and just do fucking nothing for once.

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Follow the fab weirdness @emilymsisco .

Stay Fab. Stay Weird.

ZEN AF

You what a super fun place to be in your life is?  Relating to the Narrator from Fight Club.  Watching Fight Club a few times.  Listening to podcasts about Fight Club.  Reading Fight Club.  Not because you relate to having an imaginary friend that is the personification of the hot to crazy ratio, but because your sleep deprivation is getting pretty out of hand, and you’re wondering how long until you start posing at coping groups.

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Literally no idea, thank you sooooo much.

I wasn’t sleep deprived because I was losing meaning in my consumerist, corporate life style.  Far from it.  The ball got rolling when my apartment was being shown nearly every day I had a shift; which meant waking up 2 hours earlier than normal.  AND I couldn’t fall asleep because I was worried I’d miss my alarm and my landlord would show a very nice couple into the main bedroom with my passed out self poking out from under the duvet.  Add on to the stress heap, trying to keep the apartment super clean and super cute, all-the-fucking-time.

So it was half a bottle of wine to fall asleep, 2 quadruple espressos to wake up.  Always 3 steps behind on my charting.  Not being able to string together two sentences during shift change.  I felt like I was losing my damn mind.  It all came to a head with what I think was a panic attack, but like, I’ve never had a panic attack before, so I’m not sure. My stress belly was as tight as a drum, I could pass for 5 months preggers from stuffing it with margarita mix and Lean Cuisines, and my sinuses were closed off because of seasons ch-ch-ch-ch-changin’.  I finally was just like…I need to go to a doctor.  I need to GET a doctor.

I chose my doc after researching years of practice, prescribing patterns, patient reviews, and area of expertise. Kidding, I found a guy under 50, who I could schedule online, and could see me within the week.  Long story short he wanted to check my thyroid and send me for a slept study.  Because learning how to sleep with my eyes open at work was not going to happen and nearly bouncing off a guard rail driving on 2 hours of REM…I was like:  yes, probably good.

Dream skill right here

I still felt like a garbage heap.  I hate the concepts of cleanses and “detoxing”, because they’re all bullshit, but I needed to re-calibrate.  So I have reluctantly decided to have a 2 week “reset”, I “started doing yoga”, and “abstained from alcohol”.  Going from the Narrator to Namaste.

First off, making my self go outside and see the fucking sun once a day is a start.  Instead of downing my quad espresso in my kitchen hunched over Instagram, I was relaxing on my porch downing my quad espresso leisurely scrolling Instagram.  The no alcohol concept came to me after sticking to lemon and water at a happy hour because it was the first time interacting with humans that weren’t co workers and parents in a hot minute.  I was like “Meh, this isn’t too bad.  And I’m still having a lot of fun”.  Then I just didn’t get around to having a beer on Memorial Day (how v unpatriotic of me, I know).  Having a Florida trip in 2 and half weeks and a fuck ton to do in the mean time, I was just like “k, no booze ’til Florida”.

I wasn’t making it to my beloved Zumba (the Jazzercise of our generation) thanks to the fucked up sleep schedule, but needed something I could do.  Taking time on my porch turned into walking in my neighborhood.  Then yoga happened.  Thank fuck for Pinterest and YouTube (not just for make up tutorials and animals videos to my shock and awe).  I have done yoga in the past but now I could barely touch my toes and downward facing dog was a challenge.  A week went by and I’m chaturanga dandansana-ing like a mutha fucka.  Switchin’ it up between Vinyasa, bed time flows, and “Detox” (still hate that word, but good for a de-puff and gettin’ the gut to do the damn thang) I’m feelin’ better.

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I’m not about to post any mat time on the ‘Gram.  Not that thirsty, and frankly not that skilled.  But I’m not locked into an hour class, I can chose the sweat level, and can deal with the people that think that hospital means “Hilton Double Tree” with all these fucking endorphines and zen shit.

The best thing about taking a stroll in my hood or rollin’ out in my living room is that it’s fucking free.  Doing some research, I’m not about to shell out the money that’s required to have someone twice my age and twice as fit “correcting” me while I’m holding Warrior 3 in 80 degree heat.  That being said, I’m trying out my first “suggested donation” (free) class this weekend.

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Can we keep it going for the air quotes, please?

I didn’t wake up from one of those hangover that have us like “I’m never drinking again.  I’ll eat baby carrots and hummus and start doing yoga and drink pressed green juice.” No.  I tried something, it worked.  Then I tried another thing, and I liked it.  Everything else in my life was whipping me around like Willow’s hair.  I needed a little me time that also may or may not help me feel a little better in a pair of shorts.  As much as I love Fight Club and could watch Edward Norton and Brad Pitt locked in a psycho homoerotic anarchist conflict on the weekly, it was all getting a little close for comfort.  This is working for me and I’m looking forward to a glass of champs and shramps with a beach front view.  You gotta shake it up when you start relating to “I am Jill’s left nipple” more than “YAS KWEEN”.

Give me a follow on Instagram @emilymsisco.

Stay Fabulous. Stay Weird.

 

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Weird Body. Fab Body. Every Body.

I don’t care how body positive you think you are, when someone says “beach trip” or “shorts season” you’re going to wonder if can  shed a few inches before that scary day is upon you.  I’m not asking to be Kate Moss or even have an Ashley Grahm moment.  But for the love of Christ on a cracker, if you ask me to wear anything other than maxi dress I WILL have to supress a panic attack.

I’m physically strong  and I love my wardrobe from September-April, but I am not what you call a “summer body”.  I UNDERSTAND why the kaftan was invented.  And I refuse to wear one…because I would never take it off. Hello, Kyle Richards.

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So to my excitement and horror four things are happening this summer that will probably shatter my body image to the point of literally wearing nothing but scrubs ( you’d be surprised how often people just assume I just left work).  But…fuck me, I’m going to suck it up and attempt fabulous.  Either way I’m going to be sweaty and self conscious, so I may as look like I give a fuck.

Florida mid- June

It was literally the only week my boyfriend was not going to be traveling for business and my cousin isn’t hosting company.  Did I mention my cousin has run the NYC Marathon and literally snapped back into a six pack after having her child?  Even if we’re not hangin’ on the beach every minute, I do not feel like walking around with my hair sticking to my neck, getting under-boob sweat, things ridingwhere they shouldn’t….UGH…I can barely handle the humidity in Ohio.  I want to enjoy the time with my cousin and her kid, not freak about whether or not I look like the Blob rolling down the board walk, consuming everything in sight.  Thank God I can sleep naked.

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4th of July  Family Reunion

Again with the beach and the good looking family.  I am the least attractive person in my family, and on my mom’s half by a landslide.  Speaking of snapping back after kids, my mom’s approaching 60 with a six pack.  This is probably the least panic inducing event of my summer because north east Ohio on the lake can be unseasonably cool.  I’m hoping to get away with a black sundress with a slouchy sheer duster for when the sun goes down.  One thing I love about my family (other than the fact that they’re fabulous) is that no one bats an eye if you wear black in the dead of summer.

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Giant Coastal Beach House

Actual in-laws, potential in-laws, a baby, a dog, and a case of rose.  I super can’t wait to be in the center of all of it; and all with the September weather in the Carolinas being fickle as fuck.  I’m not to the point with my potential in-laws where I can let my freak flag fly.  They usually see me as a littl square on Skype twice a month.  And although I would love this week to be anything but athleisure…I think that’s what’s gonna have to happen.  I’m not going to take a gamble in a bell sleeve romper with this much family time going on.  Well fit tees, leggings, chambray, low top Chucks, sports bras…no bras.  I think the biggest risk I’ll take that week is a pair of linen shorts I have for emergency cases.

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Moving to LA

This is what is making the rest of my summer super stressful.  Every bead of sweat, every fat day, every zit, is filling me with dread about the town where terms like “LA fat” and “LA 6” are dead on.  On one hand I’m stoked to explore a new city and for my boyfriend to enhance his resume, on the other I’m writing down the math of losing 50 lbs.  Technically we’re going to Pasadena, where the brainiacs of NASA and CalTech reside, so hopfully it won’t be that bad on a day-to-day.  But I don’t want to feel like jumping off Mount Hollywood after hitting a WeHo bar.  But as stated before, I don’t want to live my exsistence in an exciting place insecure to the point that I don’t have fun.  I’m going to atleast be at Mia Thermapolus level of self conscious at all times so I may as well look like Julie Andrews’ glam squad got to me.

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My brain is going to have to buckle the fuck up this summer.  Lots going on.  Luckily I have spring to ease into exposing my skin to outside air and do some shopping.  Poshmark and Marshall’s betta be ready.

Stay fabulous, stay weird.

Costume: Unforgivable

Hello hello, Weirdos.  As we approach the most spooktacular (oh, fuck me) time of the year, it’s time to round out the finer details of the costume (or three) that will be dawned on the later half of the month.  If you’re like me you have your costume for work, a drag show or other bright and gay event, and friendly boozy house party.  I love Halloween because you can be anyone or anything you want.  Which always makes me question why people choose really tacky, gross, or general “I-hope-I-never-have-to-explain-this-to-my-kids” costume (believe me, there is a difference between “Oh that’s so cute, Mom’s drunk in a Cruella DeVil costume 20 years ago” and “Why can I see Mom’s labia…she’s dressed as a Minion.”)

Here are a few general “Don’ts” when if comes to dressing up this year.  It’s 2016, you’d thinks people would have an over all sense of self awareness (I’m not talking political correctness…I’m talking GENERAL SELF AWARENESS).

1. Blackface

We’re comin’ hot with this first one.  Once again, you’d think this wouldn’t be an issue in the 2010s, but then you see Julian Hough (possibly the whitest girl you know) spilling out onto the streets of L.A. as Crazy Eyes from Orange in the New Black.  You know what’s not the new black?  White people in blackface.  I don’t have a problem with non-black people going as a black character from a show or movie, but painting your face to look black is a little The Birth of Nation circa 1915.  It’s not cute…in fact it’s a little on-the-nose-racist.  If you’re about to go out into the Halloween world, do a last once over and think “Do I look like something out of white supremacist rhetoric film?” change you’re costume.  Put on a tee shirt, write “Error 404 Costume Not Found” in black Sharpie (you already have one…you were about to use it on your face) and call it a day.  It’s lame, but it will be better than your first idea.  However, that brings me to the next category.

2.  Non Costumes

Every party needs a pooper that’s why we invited you!  Party Pooper! That’s you!  Come ON.  Don’t even bother with a costume, THAT is less annoying.  If you’re going to use the aforementioned “Error 404 Costume Not Found” cop out, use duct tape over sweat pants to be a “stick figure”, or wear a snarky tee shirt that says something like “This IS My Costume”, I can probably tell a few things about you right off the bat:  You think you’re too cool for school and can’t relax about your “Anonymous” group long enough to have a good time, you think you’re original but you’re just like every other guy who was angsty at 14, you use shit like this to make up for your lack of actual personality, and/or you were about to go out in blackface and rightfully took my advice to change your costume.

3.  Slutty Insert-Already-Bad-Costume Here

I’m all for a sexy costume.  A bell out long-sleeve black romper, fishnets, killer heels, hat, and a red or black lip:  you’ve got a sexy witch.  Nude body suit, tastefully (key:TASTEFULLY) place ivy leaves, red wig, sparkly green lips:  Poison Ivy.  Black body suit, low chignon, winged eye, whiskers and heart nose:  black cat.  I could go on, it’s too easy.  Which is why it is INSANE that people feel the need to make non-sexy things slutty, and already sexy things lose their last stitch of class (probably literally).  Seriously, Raggedy Ann, Elmo, Minions, various snacks

…who is this for?

4.  Out-dated Pop Culture References

Let’s give Snooki a break ok?  It’s been at least 5 years since she was arrested on a beach ruining her “Meatball day”.  She looks fab and is enjoying motherhood to a few little meatballs of her own.  Bush still giving you a few laughs?  We’re not far enough out from Dubbya to be dawning rubber masks yelling “NUCULAR!” before doing Jager bombs (not me…I’m just assuming.  They seem like cooresponding life choices.)  There is so much ridiculous shit going on in 2016, whether it be celebrity or politics, that there’s no reason to dip into your high school data bank for costume ideas.

Although that mask is actual nightmare fuel, you can do better.  And I mean…if you can pull off going as Bobby Moynihan as Snooki, go for it.

Have fun this Halloween, Weirdos!  I know I came in hot out the gate…but I thought better to start with the actual offensive and chill out to just bad taste.  Make every Halloween count.  Creative costumes can be topical and fun with out setting back civil rights 100 years.  You do you, and wear those costumes with pride.

Stay fabulous, stay weird!

 

Haunt Your House

Happy October Weirdos!  It’s my favorite month of the year.  I’m listening to Astonishing Legends and Night Vale, drinking a New Belgium Pumpkick Ale (a beer at 9am is like a beer a 9pm for a nocturnal person getting off a night shift), and getting my house ready in preparation for the best holiday Hallmark ever stole from the Pagan tradition:  Halloween.

If you’ve been on Pinterest EVER, you will be bombarded with everything from kitschy straw spun wreaths, fake cob webs, intricate Jack-O- Lanterns, and specter projections.  Funny enough I like to keep it simple and fabulous.  While I love decor I am also lazy and cheap.  I don’t want my basement cluttered with dust collecting accouterments of the spookiest time of the year.  Here are some my favorite items that will have your stoop looking fabulous, simple, and weird.

The Ceramic Pumpkin

We all have memories of going to the pumpkin patch as kids.  I personally have a few gems in a color block wind breaker, standing next to a gourd or two that are almost as big as my 4 year old self.  You take the pumpkin home, take out the guts, roast the seeds, and mom and dad carve out the lopsided face you draw on with a Sharpie (unless your family lived on the edge and gave children knives…which sounds like the start of a horror movie).  Ain’t no body got time for that.  I’m not crafty, I don’t want the clean up, I don’t want to have to deal with a gross rotting sunken face come mid-November (too much Botox required, and then I have to deal with an old mushy pumpkin), and I ESPECIALLY don’t want to run the risk of inviting asshole teenagers on their 3rd Smirnoff Ice onto my porch fucking up my stuff.  The ceramic pumpkin doesn’t rock, there’s plenty of variety depending on your taste, and available at most grocery stores and T.J. Maxx.  I like to stack them on my steps, and light them with candles at night.

String Lights

Why should Christmas get all the fun?  Halloween string lights create a nice little ambiance for a night on the porch, having a beer, telling kids you’re out of candy.  I’m not a fan of little skeletons or eyeballs or whatever.  Keep it simple.  Red lights are a great seasonal touch, and clear lights are cool if you like to get away with keeping your house a little creep year-round.

Wreaths

Okay, I am always a little on the fence about wreaths in general.  I think they can go really tacky really quick.  You won’t see a monogrammed, chevron, glittery ornament on my door any time soon, or anything with tulle for that matter.  However, when done right, I think they can be a very chic addition to the outdoor decor.  There are plenty of DIY options if you’ve got that kind of time on your hands, but you can shell out for one if your so inclined too. Etsy is chalk full of these fuckers and the last one is from Crate and Barrel.A black freathered wreath is very Black Swan (one of my favorite movies, I love a manic Natalie Portman), and the black branches give a very witchy woods vibe.  Like this bitch might know some spells or is doing ballet in her living room in front of an ornate Victorian mirror.

There you have it.  Only three decor tips, but like I said, I like to keep things simple. Just enough for people to wonder about my sanity.  I strive to trick people into thinking I have it together and have impeccable taste.  Halloween is my favorite and want to give it the love it deserves.  I always respect an out done front yard that looks like a haunted grave yard or an entrance to an insane asylum.  Go nuts!  Have fun with it.  You do you.

Have a creepy and wonderful October.  Enjoy a cocktail, dress up as much as possible, and rack up that candy.  Stay fabulous, stay weird!

Not-so-Fabulous Travel Woes

I love to travel, but by body does not.  Everything in my gut turns to concrete, all the water I drink hangs out in my face, hands, and feet, and my alcohol tolerance disappears.  I look like a teenager half-assing an eating disorder at Kroger the week before I go anywhere with all the Diurex, biscodyl, and coconut water in my cart.  AND they have to ID you for the Diurex.  I’ve had more comfortable eye contact with the 15 year old guy who works the register at the CVS when I have to emergently buy a box of super absorbent tampons.  But so help me God, if there is a photo to had, an occasion for a bathing suit, a night on the town, general walking, attempting to sleep comfortably…I will endure that eye contact.

This time around I’m taking more of a rustic/ domestic get-a-way.  I’m busting out two night shifts, flying my ass to Brooklyn (probably sleep deprived and therefore cranky), taking a beat with my gorgeous cousin, then sleeping through an hour and a half drive to the Pocono Lake Preserve.

I am by no means call this a “camping trip” or even “glamping” (which honestly sounds worse.  Who wants the added pressure of pretending to be comfortable and glamorous while camping).  But we are staying in a lake house cabin thingy on a man made lake preserve, that rich people from New York made into a private summer retreat 100 years ago.  This is some kind of bougie version of something I don’t even do the regular version of.

There will be heat, cold, mosquitos, physical activities, causes for me to be in a bathing suit.  All nightmarish situations.  Don’t start with the feminist a beach body is a body at the beach.  I get it.  Girl power.  Whatever.  My issue is not the way I look in a bathing suit, it’s the fact that I enjoying things like moving when in the water, and my butt can barely be contained in anything other than board shorts.  I’m not saying I’m fat, just weirdly well endowed.  So I’m trying to shop for a cute two piece come to find that something called the “itsy bitsy hipster” is the new kewl bikini bottom cut.  WHO IS WEARING THIS?  I’m trying to get my swim on, not hang out on a yacht in Miami with my meal ticket.  It was literally all I could find this late in the summer beside swim skirts, and those things drag me down.

So with all the bloating, concrete gut, booty spilling bottoms, mosquito bites, and stuffy sinus from flying, this should be a pretty interesting weekend trip.  I always have travel anxiety, and party anxiety, and seeing people after a long while anxiety. But I’ll take a take a deep breath and go with the weirdo flow.