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.

Who I Want to Be When I Grow Up

This was going to be the title of my next post, but I have crippling writer's block, people. I mean, all I had in the body of that post was this:

"A man or Buffy Summers."

What I do when I'm not writing. Don't cross me.

Unacceptable. Some of my other notable and unsuccessful post ideas include "Looking Up Your Middle School Crush On Facebook: A Lesson in Abstinence" and "More About How I Don't Ever Wash My Hair." Now here I am trying to think of an amusing anecdote or anything at all to tell you guys so that I don't become the next Hyperbole and a Half and disappear off of the face of the internet for months at a time. So far this month I've been busy mediating fights between my boyfriend and my mom (to Sam's credit, she said she didn't believe in sexism like it was some sort of whimsical fairy from a children's story), shooting guns, trying to figure out whether Lana Del Rey is incredibly sexy or hideously ugly, getting new eyeglasses, making endless sodas with my new Sodastream, not doing my taxes, and occasionally slut-shaming my cat in a seemingly-friendly voice because she doesn't know the difference and it is HILARIOUS. I guess that explains why I've been so busy (not really though at all).

Watch out, Selleck.

I can't even think of a cool story. That's how useless I am right now. Or maybe I just got distracted because my coworker gave me some squishy foam stuff and I can't stop playing with it/wearing it like a mustache. Remember jamming Gak into its plastic container in order to make farting noises? Oh, the finer things in life. I'm also listening to Edith Piaf on Rdio which makes playing with the foam stuff very dramatic and retro.

Anyway, I don't really have much more to say but I didn't want you guys to think I had forgotten that I have a blog so here's this half-assed, uninspired post. I'm going to end it by posting pictures of the dresses I decided to buy from ASOS and Forever 21. In my defense, they were having a sale and so all 11 of these dresses were under $200. I'm not sure why I needed a dress in every color of the rainbow, BUT I DID (except orange, please help me find a cute orange dress). I guess this is how you can look like a Zooey Deschanel/Charlotte Charles/The Wiggles hybrid on a budget? Also, have I ever told you guys my aspirations of becoming the 5th Wiggle? It's about time they had a lady Wiggle, if you ask me. Consider this my audition, you colorful Aussie magicians.