10.30.2014

Cool Girl

Relevant:

"Men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.


"Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. For a long time Cool Girl offended me. I used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and I’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. I’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: The bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. Oh, and if you’re not a Cool Girl, I beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the Cool Girl. It may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so Cool Girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so Cool Girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not Cool Girl? Because he says things like: “I like strong women.” If he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. Because “I like strong women” is code for “I hate strong women.”)" - Gillian Fucking Flynn


10.28.2014

Halloween Hook-Up

Dipping my toe into the wonderful world of online sex stories. Guess which one is mine!

http://nymag.com/thecut/2014/10/14-weird-costumed-halloween-hookup-stories.html

10.20.2014

Confidence is Key


Me: If you ever get tired of hearing about my age-inappropriate hook-ups, you'll tell me, right?

Lindsay: I assume that's why we're still friends.

I have the best girlfriends!

5.21.2014

Adventures in Tindering

I need to get something off my chest, you guys. It's been bothering me for a few days, and since my mindgrapes are no longer preoccupied with the minutia of school, this shit is taking up residence.

Ok. So, I get a lot of matches on Tinder. I like to think it's a result of this shot taken on a backpacking trip in the Sawtooths last summer:


Goofy, silly, candid, and wholly unpretentious -- me in a nutshell, amiright?! I think my sparkling personality just shines right on through.


But in my heart of hearts, I'm quite sure dudes swipe to the right because of this pic:


"I Heart Cock." Just speakin' the truth on this one, friends. Apparently it's an open invitation to douchebags, though, and that's the part that's got my panties all in a bunch.

First it was the charming married man looking for a side piece, or as he put it, an "FWB." 



After a week of chatting, flirting, and generally getting to know one another, we decided to meet for coffee. Then shit got weird. He made mention of looking for a "very specific kind of girl." First, I'm not a girl, I'm a fucking grown ass adult WOMAN. Second, I'm also not a naive asshole. My internal alarm sounded, but I decided to give him an out, hence the "date for your sister's wedding?" line.

NOPE. This dude was looking for a side piece with whom he could, and I quote, "laugh, share a good meal, pleasant conversation, and safe, sane fun in the bedroom." UH. DIDN'T YOU MARRY THAT PERSON?! His hard sell continued when he assured me it was an excellent deal for me, as I would get to "maintain [my] autonomy." MOTHERFUCKER. In what year do you live?? What makes you think I'd give up my autonomy for anyone, let alone a middle-aged piece of ass?

Bye Felicia.

Between Side Piece and the myriad dudes chatting me up for a "sexy good time" (no screen shot for that one, but I promise that's what he said!), I decided to take a Tinderbreak. Plus, I went back to work and school got crazeballs. No time like the present for some forced celibacy.

Anyhow, the school year wrapped up last week, so I decided it was time for some more adventures in Tindering. I guess I was just #askingforit.

Last Friday morning homeboy hit me up with some witty, flirty banter. I was at work, but I'm also a sucker for a beard and a sense of humor, so I was in. A few casual questions about traveling, school, and jobs, and he asked me if I had plans for the night. "Plans for the night" is deliciously ambiguous non-commitment fratboy speak. The cynic in me knew he was looking for a hookup, but the optimist in me (however shriveled-up and crusty she may be), thought he might just be looking for a beer and some conversation. So I invited him along.

We kept up a sporadic convo throughout the day, before he finally said work was keeping him late and he wouldn't be able to join me. No worries, I told him, I might have some free time on Sunday afternoon if he'd like to grab a beer.

"Cool."

And then my fucking Sunday morning was very fucking rudely interrupted by this:



Do I want to come to your hotel for a casual hookup at 10:35 on a Sunday morning?! What am I, Julia Fucking Roberts?!

Honestly, I was really caught off-guard here, hence the very polite response. But as the day wore on and I thought about it more and more, I became incensed. What the fuck was this guy thinking? Sure, I'd love to shower, shave, moisturize, brush my teeth, put on make-up, dig out my sex panties, wriggle into some clean/sexy/presentable clothing that was most definitely *not* laying on the floor, drive in my car through Meridian Mormon Sunday traffic, all to show up at your hotel for some potentially mediocre sex that will most assuredly end in anti-climactic disappointment for me (at best), or sexual assault (at worst)??

Hey Homeboy, what if I hit you up for a really expensive meal at a restaurant of my choosing on a Friday night? Sure, you have to shower, shave, brush your teeth, wriggle into some clean/presentable/ IRONED clothing that was most definitely *not* laying on the floor, drive in your car through Friday night traffic, wait an hour to be seated, engage in thoughtful conversation, AND pay for the meal, but hey, you get to eat, too! Sound familiar?

Since you're all "trying something new" why don't you try not to think about your dick for twenty minutes and engage in some interesting/meaningful/witty fucking conversation? We all want to get laid, it's not a goddamn secret. In times like these I like to remember this sage advice I received from the very KING of hookups, Jamie Kembrey: If you're not interested in having breakfast with someone, then why would you hookup with them? Apparently this fine young Tinderoni had confused the term "hookup" with "hooker," as I was not even worthy of a meal and conversation.

Ugh. Not interested. So very, very not interested.

But here's the thing. Well, three things, actually. First, I have no problem with a casual hookup. Find a guy in a bar, flirt like hell for a few hours, have a few drinks and a make-out sesh in the bathroom, and BAM! sexy time. Second, I hate that shit like this makes me feel absolutely hopeless about the opposite sex and my prospects for long-term committed relationship. Third, and most importantly I think, is that men don't seem to understand how easy it is for women to get laid. In my experience, if you are reasonably funny, soft, and good-smelling, some guy will definitely want to have sex with you. It's just not that hard. That being said, I don't really need an app to get laid, ya know? So when you ask me why I'm on Tinder and my response is: "Just looking for someone to go to shows with, maybe some hiking, patio drinking, maybe more, but still undecided on that." TAKE THAT SHIT SERIOUSLY.

**I'd also like to issue a formal apology to my FWB, as he was the unlucky recipient of my misdirected ragefest. Sorry, M. :(


2.15.2014

This One's for Casey!

"y u no blog?" she types.

"because i have zero free time. and i don't want to use my brain anymore," I answer.

But then I went tripping down memory lane and was reminded how fucking cathartic it is to blog. And also, I'm funny. In all honesty, I have, like, SIX entire blog posts sitting in draft form on Blogger, but they need some fine-tuning and apparently I'm just not up to the task. What I AM up to is this:

10 More Truths About My Mundane Adult Life!

1. I quit my job with the school district in August. I started delivering pizza in November. I still make just about the same amount of cash, sans retirement. AND THAT is why America can suck it.

2. I have an entire box of flashcards stashed in my closet. Who knows when I might need to quiz myself on muscles of the face. IT COULD HAPPEN.

3. I have 7 (SEVEN!) unpaid parking tickets. It's not that I can't pay them, I just forget about them. Sometimes I am not the most productive adult...

4. When my former partner in crime asked me to meet for a holiday beer, I was secretly excited. But then he flaked. It wasn't until I received a follow-up email that I was really able to put the final nail in the coffin. 

5. Number one on my list of big girl purchases? A BMW 325i. Whatever. I don't even care. I WILL HAVE EARNED IT.

6. Scheduling sex is more difficult than it sounds. Blow jobs and flashcards is the new multitasking.

7. Once you pop, you can't stop. I am actively avoiding Netflix this weekend because I know once I start watching House of Cards, all bets are off. I can't quit you, Kevin Spacey.

8. I have zero social life. Welp. There's a first for everything, I suppose...

9. Clinical observations start next week and I am perversely excited to nerd out.

10. Despite all the background noise of life, I am finally happy. For now. 

I miss you, Casey the Human!

11.29.2013

Thanksgiving and Katy Perry: Like Two Peas in a Pod

It's Thanksgiving y'all, and that means I've been doing some serious reflecting. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm CONSTANTLY reflecting. Ugh. The inside of my brain is insufferable most days, and damn right claustrophobic all the other days.

Anyway, it's been a weird year, to say the least. But as with any year, I've got a whole slew of thangs for which to be thankful, so let's get this bitch started, shall we?!

I was riding around in my delivery truck the other day (don't ask) and Katy Perry's Wide Awake shuffled through. I hate this song, but my laziness got the better of me, so I sat through it and listened. I mean *really* listened. And I discovered that Katy Perry gets me, you guys. She really does. So without further ado, may I present the lyrics to Wide Awake, because I love you and also because she perfectly articulates the feelings it took me six months to reconcile.

I'm wide awake
Yeah, I was in the dark
I was falling hard
With an open heart
I'm wide awake
How did I read the stars so wrong?
I'm wide awake
And now it's clear to me
That everything you see
Ain't always what it seems
I'm wide awake
Yeah, I was dreaming for so long


I wish I knew then
What I know now
Wouldn't dive in
Wouldn't bow down
Gravity hurts
You made it so sweet
'Til I woke up on
On the concrete

Falling from cloud nine
Crashing from the high
I'm letting go tonight
Yeah, I'm falling from cloud nine

I'm wide awake
Not losing any sleep
I picked up every piece
And landed on my feet
I'm wide awake
Need nothing to complete myself, no

I'm wide awake
Yeah, I am born again
Out of the lion's den
I don't have to pretend
And it's too late
The story's over now, the end


I'm wide awake
Thunder rumbling
Castles crumbling
I'm wide awake
I am trying to hold on
I'm wide awake
God knows that I tried
Seeing the bright side
I'm wide awake
I'm not blind anymore...


During the holidays, it's difficult not to succumb to the nostalgia for holidays past, both the good and the bad. The days leading up to Thanksgiving are always weird for me, not because I loathe spending time with my family, but because my best Thanksgivings have not been spent with them. My best Thanksgivings have always included lots of food, lots of alcohol, and lots of friends, and last Thanksgiving was among the best. Looking back to that day and contrasting it with the picture of this year's Thanksgiving, I was consumed with melancholy, not because I am particularly unhappy with life today, but for the loss of all the things that could have been. Last year for the first time in a very long time I felt at peace with the holidays, with my family, with myself, and for once I felt free of the insecurities that had for so long dictated the terms of my life. There were a lot of pieces to the puzzle that fell into place for me last year, chiefly among them was perspective. Last year my personal relationships allowed me to view myself through the lens of others. Like everyone else in the goddamn free world I am always my harshest critic, and sometimes (um, ALL the time), my skewed self-perception fucks everything up. I make lame choices, I lack motivation, I am critical and judgemental. Basically I'm a grade-A asshole. But for some strange reason, my friends don't think so, and last Thanksgiving Day I got a glimpse at the person they see.

Somewhere around June, though, many of those relationships changed or disappeared, and I was back to questioning where that left me. It's weird to think that my personal relationships would dictate or drive my self-perception, but given the alternative (remember, I'm an asshole), I'd prefer to think of myself as my friends do. It's not hyperbole to say it took every ounce of my being to keep doing just that. The loss of my social circle quite literally forced me to "fake it 'til you make it" and is prolly in large part why I sit where I am today -- back in school, confidently pursuing a subject about which I am extremely passionate.

Which leads me here -- Wide Awake. Last year it was *marginally* easier to believe my own hype when I had a personal cheerleader telling me how great I was. Losing my partner in crime was one of the most emotionally jarring things I've experienced in a long time. Flip side of the coin? It was also one of the most eye-opening and empowering things I've experienced in a long time. To say I've completely altered my self-perception is a stretch, but today I sit here eternally more capable of believing in myself than I have been in a long time. And for THAT I am thankful.

I am thankful for my parents. I can't even begin to articulate how much their support means to me. I made some big life changes this year, and all four of them have been my loudest cheerleaders, seriously. I know shit has been difficult for them, especially in regards to my brother, so the fact that they are still willing to stick by me and support my choices means the world to me.

Strangely enough, I am also thankful for haircuts. It seems so cliche to say that a haircut changed my life, but goddamn, cutting off all my hair was liberating, y'all. I've never been one to equate my femininity with the length of my hair, but somehow, somewhere along the line I got caught up in that game. But you know what? With short hair, I feel like I finally look how I was always *supposed* to look. I guess it also helps that I fried my hair beyond all repair and was quite literally forced to chop that shit. It's kismet, I tell you.

(UGH. This shit got serious fast.)

Okay, I'm also thankful for a whole bunch of little things, without which I might not have made it through the year. In some random fucking order, I'm thankful for:

-Karaoke at the 'Lux (and occasionally Terry's and the 44)

-Ladies Craft Night, even if it's just Lindsay and me!

-Anatomy and Physiology, mostly because it forces me to work my ass off, which feels good. And also because all those "don't you think my mouth looks like a cat butt" jokes were confirmed when I learned about the orbicularis orbis. It's a mouth sphincter, y'all.

-Justin Stone, who makes me giggle every time we chat, and who just gets this whole "it's hard to be an adult" business better than damn near anyone.

-The Flying M Coffeehouse, for being my home away from home and my favorite venue for random study buddies.

-Facetime, which allows me to see Miss Casey Switzer's lovely mug on a somewhat regular basis (ditto, Google video).

-Netflix. Screw productivity, BINGE WATCHING FOREVER!

-The heathen nephew. I know I bitch about him ALL. THE. TIME, but living with my parents has afforded my the opportunity to get to know him so much better. And you all know how much I love me some five-year-old quality time.

-And speaking of living with my parents -- so eternally grateful for the opportunity, not just financially, but emotionally. Living with them has allowed me to see their marriage in a new light, which has most definitely repaired my relationship with my stepdad. Wins all around.

This year, though, I'm most thankful for me. I am thankful for my triumphs and failures, my achievements and missteps. I am smart and strong and resilient. I fuck up and I move on. I try hard to evaluate where I've been and where I'm going. I still struggle to fully understand those around me, but that's mostly because I'm still learning how to be me.

If 2013 was The Great Leap Forward, then 2014 will surely be the Year of Self Improvement. (Hopefully that means a shit ton of massages and manicures, but it prolly means more gym time and a diet rich in leafy greens. LAME.)


*Just consider this an early Christmas present. Seriously, though, this video is lameballs. 

Parenthetically, I never suspected I'd keep up this annual Thanksgiving post tradition for six years. Guess time flies when you're thankful.

10.10.2013

Dropping Truth BOMBS

A few thoughts on tonight's episode of Glee. I know, I know, PLEASE. But my morbid curiosity got the better of me and now I've been sucked into watching [live] television, and that's not the least of my rant. (So many commercials, y'all!)

I know Cory Monteith was a real person. I know the show had to address his passing in some way. And I commend them for not capitalizing on his addiction. As I watched it, though, all I could do was make jokes. I just could *not* bring myself to take any of it seriously, from Coach Beast's heart-to-heart with Puck, to Kurt's refusal to give up Finn's beloved letterman's jacket. It all seemed so fucking contrived.

And then I realized why.

For the better part of a decade my own brother has suffered from an addiction so all-consuming that more than once I wished him dead. It's taken me a long time to be able to admit that to myself, let alone to anyone else, but there it is. His addiction has ravaged our family. It has allowed him to neglect himself, his children, his wife, and anyone else who happens to come between him and his current drug of choice. (Today it's meth and bath salts.)

As an innocent bystander (or uninvolved third party), I suppose it would be easier for me to sympathize (empathize?) with the plight of addiction and how powerless it can make an individual. It might be easier for me to lend a supportive ear, attend NA meetings, or be a productive member of some support system. Maybe if this addict were my child I'd feel more compelled to, I don't know, continue to give a shit about them or their choices.

Unfortunately, that's not my position. He's not my child. He's not even my brother. He's just some seriously fucked up stranger who continues to wreak havoc on my family. He's a selfish, self-serving, immature asshole who's all-too-aware of his actions. When he's sober, he makes empty promises to "meet up for dinner", or "take the kids camping". When he's high as FUCK, he attacks his family members and blames them for the poor choices he's made over the past fifteen years. And the thing is, we've *never* been close. As a child, he would lock himself in the bathroom with a pair of scissors and threaten suicide. Once, he killed a neighbor's cat. He traded his crushed up Ritalin for stereo parts. His behavior was erratic, unpredictable, and frustratingly difficult to manage. Hell, THAT'S STILL TRUE. Millions of times I've questioned how we could have come from the same womb, been raised in the same household. I'm far beyond the point of blaming my parents for my troubled relationships and inability to trust, but dammit if my fucked up brother isn't the reason I'm so painfully afraid of disappointing my parents. Can't have TWO non-contributing members of society to your credit, amiright, Mom and Dad?! (Also, he's prolly the reason I've never so much as even smoked a joint -- not in high school, not in college, not even when I dated James the Drug Dealer. I guess that's a good thang, right?)

The icing on the cake to all this is the last time my brother got clean, sometime last month, after my parents bailed him out of jail AGAIN, he promised the judge, his wife, and all four of our parents that he'd check himself into a 28 day program and get clean. For really reals. And then he turned to me and said:
 "You know Mindy, you're one of the people I want to get clean for. To show you I can do it."
I couldn't even look him in the eye. I just wanted to scream at his face, "GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

So yeah, tonight's episode of Glee. It's unfortunate that Cory Monteith died from a drug overdose. I feel immense sadness for his friends, family, loved ones, and his fans. But speaking as the loved one of an addicted asshole, I gotta say, maybe it was for the best. Don't hate me, internet.