gay pair-eee

Gay as in happy. Pair-ee as in Paris, with a French accent.

I just returned from Paris, where I spent a week flopped on the futon in my parent's studio apartment. My parents have become quite the jet-set travellers in their old age, and have recently acquired a 1/8-th share in a "quaint" little shithole 300+ year old apartment in the 2nd Arrondissement in the City of Lights. The location couldn't be better, and the apartment couldn't be dumpier. But hey, the price was right! *free*

We tromped all over the city, shopping on the ritziest street and in flea markets, eating at urban hipster hot spots and old world historical landmarks, saw Mona at the Louvre and Barbie (the one that dates Ken) at Les Arts Decoratifs. It was a blast, despite the rain that persisted the whole week.

I forgot my razor at home and embraced my inner French girl. I ate loaves upon loaves of bread and basically an entire government cheese wheel amount of every melty rich mama-animal-teat- producing goodness I could. I drank gallons of wine. And I'm pretty sure my waist is smaller than when I left home.

French women eat. They eat carbs and fat and they drink and they are all thin. They might work out, but you would never know. In the whole city I saw one gym and one yoga studio. In a week of wandering through packed streets I saw two women wearing activewear. French women dress. And French women smoke. eww.

I'd like to be more French - eat rich delicious foods, drink rich delicious wines, dress with purpose each day, maybe even smoke a cigarette or two. Ok, maybe not the smoking (ewww).

this cigarette is so angry!

But food is different in France. There you buy your bread from the boulangerie where it has been freshly baked that day, you buy your cheese from the fromagerie where it has also been made fresh. Your wine comes from grapes raised without pesticides and is monitored by a commission yearly to be kept to a certain standard. Restaurants offer what is fresh and local and in season.

Here in the states we shop at huge conglomerate grocery stores that stock huge conglomerate bread and cheese that comes from some warehouse made by industrial machines and unskilled workers. Our produce is available year round thanks to genetic modifications, pesticides, and other unnatural growing processes.

Clothes are different here. Jeans and t-shirts and yoga pants are all anyone wears. Even the high end stores sell the same casual clothes, just at 10 times the price. Kanye will give you a plain white cotton t-shirt for $120, the Gap will give you the same thing for $12.  Lululemon gives you stretchy pants for $100, Target has them for $30.

It didn't used to be like this. My mother's generation hardly ever even wore pants, much less jeans. They set their hair on Sunday night and wore it purposefully styled every day. Even a casual outfit was styled.

Women in New York City come closest to the lost era of style in America and French women, but if you get on the subway you'll still see every assortment of clothing option possible.

As much as I yearn for the days where women dressed I can't say I didn't enjoy going to Target and the grocery store today in my active-wear, with no makeup on and my greasy hair shoved under a baseball cap. Is it possible to have both? Methinks I need another trip to Paris for "research"

offsides chick

Sometimes I google old boyfriends. Just to see. Not my proudest moments, but... whatever. Like you've never done anything embarrassing. I'm not sure what made me think of him, but the other day I decided to look up Chris (fka "Todd" on this blog, but I don't give a shit about protecting his identity anymore). He doesn't do social media except for his sportscaster personality page on FB and a work twitter. And he has a common name so even if he did, I wouldn't necessarily be able to find his personal accounts.

After we ended things back in January 2015, I saw some tweet that made me think he was dating his co-worker the traffic gal at his TV News station. The tweet just said she was pretty, which could have been nothing, but... my gut said otherwise. At the time I wondered if he started dating her after we broke up or if she was the reason for the breakup. Of course she also has a very common name, so I can't find her anywhere on social media either except for her professional page... until the other day when I decide to google their two names together. *side note - I should teach a class on google stalking* And I find their "The Knot" page. They are getting married this summer.

I quickly click over to the "about us" section and see they have been dating since approximately May 2014. Chris and I dated Sept 2014 - Jan 2015. I even double check my old calendar to make sure. Yep. There's my flights to Seattle, his flight to LA, our dates, everything. I feel sick. This is the guy that wanted to spend Christmas with me and my family. But is also the guy who also wouldn't tell his parents about me because he "didn't like his parents nosing in his relationships."

And for a little light reading...

Here is the post about when we met.

Here is the post about our "first dates".

And the one where we were over.

Now the thing is, I was good with the whole situation. I had long ago made peace with the fact that we were not supposed to be together, that long distance was a much too difficult way to begin a relationship, that I deserved someone who made me a priority. I still feel that way. But now it is thrust upon me that I was inadvertently and unknowingly a side-chick.

did NOT know. *facepalm*

Mostly I feel badly for her. I don't know if she knows about me. I don't know anything about their relationship, but in general by the 5 month mark things are fairly serious and perhaps the "L" word has even been bandied about. They would have been dating about 5 months when he started things with me and seemingly juggled two "schmoopies" for a while. If it were me, I would want to know.

where is all started, and the happy couple

For their sake I hope I was a one-time-couldn't-resist-my-charms-fell-momentarily-in-love-but-then-realized-the-error-of-his-ways fluke and he is true to her now. As for me, I'm going to review my intuition see if it needs an overhaul.

how to be a hipster

If you are a dude, wear a boyfriend sweater, a slouchy zip up hoodie, a floppy beanie, don't ever shave or cut your hair or shower. OR, dress like a girl; skinny jeans, shorts with tights underneath, tank top, and Blossom hat.

If you are a girl, pretty much anything that gives you cankles, midriff shirts, overalls with one side unhooked (ala Will Smith circa Fresh Prince and this top model) and anything your mother wore to work in the 90s.

The current trends of hideous fashion - mom jeans, doc martins, large floral prints, overalls - makes me think that millenials are even dumber than we give them credit for. Learn from our mistakes young'uns. We wore hideous fashions so you don't have to. That's the way fashion is supposed to work. You need to find your own hideous fashion choices so your children can know what not to wear.

I think this makes me old... I just want to wear what I want to wear, fashion be damned. Give me my comfy jeans and t-shirts and classic black pants and heels that will never be out of style (or really in style either I guess) and I'll look down my nose at you young people who look ridiculous.

Galentines Day

One of my close girlfriends Nikki* started harassing me a few weeks ago about Valentine's Day. We're both single, and she thought we should celebrate Gal-entine's Day with a couple of other awesome, funny, talented, gorgeous single ladies. I was interested, but not super gung-ho. She was adamant that we fine females stick together on this day of romance and do something together and spent some quality energy recruiting us women to hang out with her. What exactly we were going to do was was up in the air, but something. 

Now I'm thinking wine and a rom-com on Netflix, or cheesecake and a comedy at the local movie theater that allows adult beverages. Chill with a side of booze.

Dear, sweet, lovely Nikki group texts the gals that there are some bands playing and wouldn't we all like to go see the bands? Only $25! And wouldn't that be the perfect Galentine's day event???

First, there's no cheesecake or movie in the equation. Second, I've never heard of these bands. BUT. Maybe it would be fun. I've done concerts for NYE, so why not other over-hyped holidays? I search for these bands' songs online.

...

It is the most horrendous, whiny, awful Emo crap I've ever heard. One of the songs I actually have heard before, way back in the 90s, and I remember thinking it was a stupidly horrible song back then!

I text her as politely as possible that I would rather stab myself in the ear with an ice pick than spend my hard earned money to listen to these horrible bands, and maybe we could do something else (anything else). I hoped the other gals would back me up... they were deferentially quiet.

Nikki said she understood it was totally Emo and not really very good, but had nostalgia for her from her youth.

And that she was going to go anyway.

So. After weeks of campaigning for a Galentine's day with me and the other girls, she is bailing. For a shitty concert with men who whine like 4 year olds who didn't get their way. Instead of hanging with the girls she asked to hang out with. uhm-huh. Ditched on Galentine's Day! Well at least I can spend it how I was going to - a bottle of wine and comedic actresses making me laugh.

*name changed to protect the truly sweet friend I'm hanging out to dry for the sake of a blog post

Take me BACK!

You might remember that I thought one of the tinderdudes was going to be boyfriend material. I was going to write the whole saga, but then I realized it was long and drawn-out and I didn't want to give any more effort to a guy not worth my time.

Borrring

Let's just say he couldn't handle life and a relationship at the same time and leave it at that.

As I return to the tinders however, I am rethinking things and considering begging him to take me back...

the little tyke just won't stay down...

His "about me" is incomplete. It should be "...camping, fishing, reading, football, ... drowning small children."

At first I thought he was attempting a funny face (and failing) but after looking at the rest of his pictures I realized his face got frozen this way. His mother should have warned him.

He's 34... right. And I'm 17. I mean, there's someone for everyone, right? Even vegan satanists. I'm pretty sure the southern Baptists I grew up with think everyone in California is like this dude.

And this guy I'm fairly certain is homeless and lives near the freeway underpass by my house.

Dear Tinderdude that was almost my BF,
PLEASE for the love of all things Tinder, take me BACK!!!
Maybe you'll grow up one of these days and be a man. I'll take my chances! Thank you.
Sincerely,
Willing to Settle (but not totally)

swindle-bots

The Tinderland adventures continue....

Recently I have noticed some guys "about me" sections are filled with bitterness about why bother writing this section when this app is all about looks, and how they keep matching with "bots" and are there any real profiles on here, etc. One guy in particular apparently matched more than once with a girl whose phone mysteriously stopped working and wouldn't you mind going to my website?

insert credit card number here...

I feel only slightly lucky that there don't seem to be such "bots" luring the women.

First of all, who do these men expect to attract with their bitter-betty attitudes? And second, these guys are usually not very good looking. No looks and a shitty attitude? No wonder they only match with people trying to sell them something!! And clearly they have no brains either because they fall for it...

well.


Dear these men,

On a scale of 1 - 10, you are clearly a 4. Maybe even a 6 on a really really good day. If you match with a woman who is a 10+++, you are mistaken if you think she really likes you. Capitalists are everywhere, and as one can tell by the absolute infinite amount of porn on the internet, every advertising campaign ever, and the website www.sugardaddyforme.com, they especially prey on men who are thinking with their dicks.

Maybe next time work on your attitude, take a trip to the gym (or 20), and post something about yourself someone might want to know, not just how you have been swindled. Oh, and maybe just maybe, if she looks like she's out of your league, she is.

Sincerely,
Every woman in your Tinder feed

Soul Sister

You know those people that you have to love because you are genetically connected to them? Most call them family. And then there are those people you actually choose to love because they are who you wish you were genetically connected to? Your chosen family.

When I was 16, I decided my family should host a foreign exchange student. Maybe I'd seen the movie Better Off Dead a few too many times, but I had this very romanticized idea of falling in love with some gorgeous guy with a terrible accent. Well, my parents somehow agreed to the zany idea, and the following year we were driving to the airport to pick up the woman who would soon become my sister and another member of our family.

Sure, maybe I was a teensy bit disappointed we didn't get Hans, some imaginary strapping hunk from Hunkland, but I quickly got over it when I met Chantal. She was sweet, fun, pretty, generous, and brought me chocolate from Belgium. *nomnomchocolate*

That year we loved and fought as true sisters. We had each other's backs. We giggled in the wee hours of the night. We got on each other's nerves. We had adventures. At the end of the year, I didn't want her to leave! We hugged and cried and made promises to write.

Because I am ancient this was before email was prevalent (email was new and seemed a cold way to communicate and I could go days without receiving any... so I rarely checked it), and so we actually hand-wrote letters, and called when our college-student budgets allowed. I visited when I studied abroad in the Netherlands. We sent little gifts, and when she fell in love and got married, I flew out for the wedding.

A few years later I flew out again and was able to meet her two young children, who were absolutely adorable and sweet, and got to see her be an amazing mother. Her light showed even brighter through her kids.

Then we both got busy. She had kids, I was working in Los Angeles trying to break into the entertainment industry.  We emailed, we Facebooked, but despite the additional modes of communication, we talked even less. But we always knew the other's love was there. When we did chat, it was as if no time had passed. Like sisters, with a common bond, we could still know each other with just a tone in the other's voice.

A couple of years ago, Chantal got sick. Colon cancer. She fought and took risks and lived her life to the fullest even with pain and disease. She took experimental treatments. Things looked good for a time, until they didn't. A few months ago, she was told there was no more treatment to be done. Still, she remained positive, sure that some new treatment would become available, some new trial, some new possibility.

About a month ago, she went into the hospital because of some pains. She still was so positive, planning to get the pain under control. In my heart I knew then if she didn't come out quickly, she never would. A couple of days ago, she passed from this world. She was with her cousin, and he said that although she could not speak, she nodded that she was not afraid to go.

I am comforted by the fact that she is no longer in pain, that she was not afraid at the end, and that she was surrounded by love. But I am still brokenhearted that my sister is not there for me at the other end of the phone, or a facebook message or email, or a "like" on a picture. My heart breaks for her two teenage children, that they should have to live the majority of their lives without her. My heart crumbles for her mother, who should never have to feel the pain of losing a husband and her only child. My heart hurts for all who loved her, including me.

I can't help but feel lucky to have known her, to have been loved by her. Everyone who knew her felt the same way. Perhaps those whose lights shine the brightest also burn out quickest. Or perhaps life just isn't fair and some only get to be here a short while. Either way, cancer fucking sucks and it can go fuck itself.

Give those you love a little extra tonight. Reach out to that person you've been meaning to catch up with. Open your heart.

I miss you, Cha... my sis.