My new show opens tonight, so I thought I’d get a little personal.
Guess what? I am.
Guess what else? Surprise! I don’t look for a parent in my boyfriend. Sometimes this site is cathartic for me, too.
Never let somebody else tell you who or what to be. Especially not in the name of love. That’s not love.
Now, fun fact: I happen to agree with him. Actually spending every waking moment with this guy sounds like some kind of terrible. But he loses points for delivery. Because, quite frankly, nobody wants to date the literal doctor. Well, okay, Linsday does. But let’s face it, she sets the bar pretty low.
Happy Memorial Day! I hope everybody enjoyed Arrested Development Day yesterday! I want you all to appreciate that it’s taking every ounce of my self control right now not to turn this entire website into pure Arrested Development fan fiction.
And now, without further ado, here’s some jerk one of you dated:
At least she knows what she wants! Oh wait . . .
And the ever classic, ever clueless:
It sort of has a timeless ring to it, doesn’t it? Almost poetic in its simplicity.
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Yeah. Maybe it’s arbitrary and snobbish, but for people who live in New York City, that’s a deal-breaker.
I’m sure the first question you asked when you got up this morning was, how does social media affect the men who want to tell us what to do?
No, my dear. You’re missing the point. You don’t get to tell your girlfriend what to wear. Although, maybe we could make a new song, “If you like it then you should have put some pants on it…” But then, of course, she’d be wearing the pants.
Let’s face it: Long distance is hard. But don’t you love it when you and your significant other take that first step toward planning your life together?
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Ah yes. The obvious conclusion!
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Yes. Yes she did. Absolutely. And please note: if you find yourself backed into this kind of corner, use of the word “empirically” isn’t going to help you, it will only make you sound even douchier.
Ever have that ex who seemed to wish he was in Anonymous? Or at least seemed to suffer under the delusion that he was kind of a big deal?
Yeah. That’s sticking it to ’em.
Okay, so you know the old archetype of the artist and his muse? Well, who doesn’t secretly want to be a muse, really? I mean, when it comes down to it, wouldn’t it be pretty cool to inspire some hot, passionate person to create a work of art that reflects the awesomeness that is you? And all you have to do is sit there and be your fabulous self? Sign me up, right?
Or have you ever had that moment when you’re dating a musician and he plays you the new beautiful love song he’s written, and you think “Oh my gawd, this song is about me!” (a la the drunk girl from family guy)–until you get to the end of the song and it is, in fact, about a whiskey bottle?
Do you ever have that ex who thinks that just by the virtue that he made something, you would care? I mean, he’s feeling all these really deep feelings and expressing them and stuff, so it must be something that would interest you. And then this happens:
Congratulations, you wrote a story about yourself. Now here’s a hint: you’re not that interesting.
I know, I know, perhaps I’m not giving this one the benefit of the doubt. I mean, he tried and all. And clearly I’m all about that expressing yourself achieving catharsis garbage. But seriously? Seriously? You thought this would work?
Seems like when the moment comes and that song really is about you, 9 times out of 10 you would have been better off writing it yourself. Then at least it would be your crappy song.
thingsmyexsaid 