I'll Never Be As Successful As 9-Year-Old YouTube Prodigies

You know when you go onto YouTube to watch one video and you suddenly fall into a fugue state and hours later you find yourself sitting there, in the dark, watching butterfly mating dances? It started off innocently enough - I searched "The Pierces cover" to see what horrible and delightful YouTube covers there were for one of my favorite bands. I guess I must've blacked out because next thing I knew, I was watching video after video of child prodigies. Incidentally, this is the same exact way I discovered Justin Bieber in 2008, way before Bieber Fever took the world by temperature (was I really just a hipster about Bieber?).

Anyway, I came across the following three videos which quite literally took my breath away (I've also been listening to a lot of "Shania Twain" recently so sorry for the drama).

I know some are kind of old so sorry if you've already seen them (but also not sorry because they're so good you should watch them every day). How worthless do you feel after watching those? I think I peed my pants in gym class and discovered pogs at the same age that the first girl is belting Adele. The second girl is not only talented and gorgeous but FRENCH. How dare she. I have trouble harmonizing with myself using Garage Band but the last two girls haven't even gotten their periods and can not only harmonize, but keep rhythm using freaking butter containers. My life is MEANINGLESS (Shania Twain-fueled drama again, sorry).

I don't know about you, but rather than feeling a "Wow! They're so cute and talented!" I instead feel a big "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT?!" It goes against science, logic, and geometry for these girls to be so talented (and rhombus-y). No matter how much monies I make for my company creating emails, whether I successfully toilet-train my cat (it's looking grim), how happy I am in my relationship or with the amazing friends I have, I will never be as successful as 9-year-old YouTube prodigies. That shit stings.

To end on a happier, unrelated note, do you think a banana, sriracha, and swiss grilled cheese sandwich would be delicious? I've been dreaming about it. Thank you for your time.


Lunchables, Lesbians, And Loo-Trained Cats

I know you guys haven't heard as much as a peep from my corner of the world for what seems like the same amount of time that it takes for "Game of Thrones" to start season three. For that I am truly not sorry at all - I have a job and a life and you can't make unpaid demands of me because you aren't my parents or a sassy talking cat. Besides, about four people total read this blog and one of those four is me so it's really three but WHO'S COUNTING?

All of the other actors have headshots on the
Facebook page for Scissr. I should submit this right?
Anyway, since our last time shooting the shit, I've gotten a new job marketing for a startup wine e-commerce website (lotta words there, I know), became an iPhone user, gained about ten pounds in cookies and Jewish guilt, and signed up to act in a lesbian web-series called Scissr. I know you only really care about the latter, so let me inform you that it will be a homosexual, racially-inclusive version of "Girls" mixed with a financially-obtainable "The L-Word." I will play the co-creator/writer/actor's best friend, Taylor, because that outrageous bitch wrote the part FOR ME. She's one my dearest friends and for some twisted reason thought I was cool enough to disregard the fact that I have absolutely no acting experience or mass-appeal and asked me to play the role of, well, me. I'm excited and terrified and I only hope that I can muster enough confidence to just be myself and not become hyper-aware of the way I act and fuck it up (like how if you pay attention too much to your own breathing you're all "I. CAN'T. BREATHE." See, it's happening now). Who knows, maybe I'll hit it out of the proverbial park and become the next famous non-actress actress like Jemima Kirke.

Sassy twat.
I also purchased a new water bottle (LIVING LARGE) and am semi-successfully trying to toilet train Shadow the cat. I say "semi-successfully" because we're only at step two and so far she hasn't fucked it up with her stupid little cat brain. They say to give them positive reinforcement when they complete the next step without any issues so that they know they're doing something right. This meant that as Shadow came out of the bathroom after the first time that I rigged up her CitiKitty (I had to carry that home without a bag just FYI), I (very gently) applauded her and gave her a thumbs up while saying in my high-voice-reserved-for-animals, "You did it! Yay! So proud!" In retrospect, the thumbs up was probably unnecessary given that Shadow doesn't have thumbs and maybe thought I was flaunting them at her, but she seemed to like my enthusiasm well enough because about two minutes later she was galloping around the apartment as if to say, "I pooped and you loved it!" I wish I received as much praise every time I successfully defecated.

At this point you're probably thinking "This post has absolutely nothing to do with Lunchables! I was seduced with false hopes of round miniature ham slices!" I respond by using the previous sentence as a terrible segue to talk about Lunchables (so there!). This topic stems from an earlier conversation with my co-workers when we all realized that we had two things in common: our strong desire to put any and all Lunchables in our mouths and having parents who refused to let us do so. I don't know about you guys, but my dad preferred to make weird artisanal sandwiches that involved bananas and curried chicken (not at the same time...well...maybe) that I had to simultaneously consume and explain while I watched my (usually rich) classmates spread tomato sauce on their ice-cold, Lunchables pizzas and feel my heart shrivel up and die of envy. I'm sure it wasn't the $7 price tag or suspect ingredients that deterred my dad, but his utter loathing of my happiness. And that's why we still aren't on speaking terms (JK I talked to my dad the other day). Was anyone else deprived of Lunchables and do you want to carthart (this is now the verb form of catharsis so deal with it) about it?

There's no way to really end this post since it's pretty much a clusterfuck of awful, so consider this sentence me slowly bowing out while tipping some sort of hat with Mariachi music playing in the background.