Live Like Today is Your Last Day on Earth!

"It could be worse"

How many times have we served up these delicious slices of philosophical pie? Just about as many times as we've heard them, probably.

That's beautiful. I love how you live your life like a poster in a guidance counselor's office.

You make me sick. Stop this monster before it smashes the ever-living sanity out of you!

Am I supposed to live as if my problems don't matter? As if I am being weak for caring about what happens to me?

Repeat after me: There is no shame in having reactions and feelings and needs and freakin' pity for myself!

I don't want to live every day as if it is my last. I've seen what I thought was my last day and it was grim and lonely and it made me want to eat an entire chocolate cake WITH SPRINKLES! I am all for appreciating each day and making that leap, but the fact is, as much as there is a likelihood that we'll die tomorrow, there is just as much a likelihood, and probably even more of one, that you will live. That means there are consequences. Ones we as humans don't want to deal with. Think about it- when you get drunk and do something incredibly stupid, do you wake up and say, "Wow- super glad I made out with my best friend's mom! No regrets!" Is that who you want to be?

Some cliches exist because they sum up the things we want to tell people. Some exist because we have run out of "answers" and are sick of those people who act as if they want an answer from you, but then trash all your suggestions. Some exist because we like to pretend life is simple and can be summed up in one fortune cookie. Have you read a fortune cookie lately?



Am I guilty of using these lines from time to time? Heck yes! I will cliche the pigtails off your underage girlfriend! That doesn't mean I can't be a hypocrite and shame you for doing it. More importantly, at least I know what a crime to humanity I am committing. I am doing it with full awareness of it and the horrors it brings unto us. What do these two phrases, and many like them promote? Shame. Self-hate. Disappointment. Humiliation. Masking. Repression.... The thing is, we need to recognize when things aren't how we want them to be. Awareness is how we make change. Simply accepting the unpleasant things will not lead to progress! We can no longer be the abused wife of life! Besides, how is it right or fair to compare oneself to every other downtrodden case? "Yes, your scalp was stuck in a garbage truck and you were dragged by your hair for 2 miles, but... this guy has lung cancer from smoking for 40 years, so, hey! It could be worse!"

As much as I hate other people to be unhappy or sick or sad or dead, if something is MY problem, it's MY problem. That means, "no wise words are gonna stop the bleeding". As the guy in that band says in that song. You preach it, dude in that band!

Maybe I'm just sick of coffee cups with heart shape bubbles and people jumping in front of green screens masked as a blue sky and dandelions, babies giggling inside flowers, and puppies. Wait- I went too far, sorry. There are never enough puppies. Whoever told you there was any chance that thinking positive or praying (hey- don't hate, it's truth) or repeating some dumb-butt mantra will make life improve, they need to get botox of the brain, because they are sagging. Not to say some peace of mind and inner-joy won't help, as it may, but no amount of women playing tennis and doing yoga while wearing the perfect tampon will lessen my desire to stab people during my period, honey. After all, we know what happened to Carrie when she wore white pants on that certain day of the month....

How to Be Sexy without really Trying (women's edition)

This is not a topic I talk about or think about often, but it does nonetheless come up from time to time. I can't completely ignore it, now, can I?

When I talk about sexy, I don't mean, "Oh, look, she has boobs and such and such. I like that." When I say sexy, I mean walking down the street and heads are turning. Men in desire, women in envy (some also in desire). Too intimidated to hoot and holler. Looking for any excuse to talk to you, touch you, smell you. That kind of sexy.

We've all had those days. We've also had more days when we felt anything but. How does one create this lustful look?

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• RULE NUMBER ONE: Attitude.

Act how you want to act. Ammirite? Maybe you're shamefully awkward and mumble and make inappropriate comments and walk right over 4 large steps, nearly falling down and dying when walking to the bathroom. Three times in a row.

Who hasn't done that?

If you want to be shy or weird or hyper or lethargic, you have every right to be. You see all these articles about loving yourself, but then when it comes to 'attracting love', suddenly they want you to be smooth and confident and cool as a cracker jack in February. Whatever that means. Just act like you. Unless you happen to be a psychopath on a murder rampage. In which case, find your way to the nearest- um, I'll stop myself there.

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• RULE NUMBER TWO: Clothing.

I don't know what you like to wear and I don't care what you wear! You're a big girl, you can dress yourself. If you're trying to look sexy, I probably don't recommend blood stained windbreaker blouses and flab trappers (as I will now call leggings), but if you're into that, maybe there's a guy out there into it too. Do you really want to attract a guy who will expect you to dress up each time you see him? God, that sounds like a lot of work. All the power to those of you who put effort into existence, but for those of us who get distracted easily and end up with only half lipsticked lips because there was something glimmering in your reflection, we don't got time for that!

Wear less to catch our eye...



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Wear more to make men sigh...



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Wear a bathing suit and eat vagina pie!



Wear the things that hit the right spots, miss the wrong spots, give you space to dance or frolic or just take a seat without finding yourself in the predicament of a habitual butt-crack wedge.

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• RULE NUMBER THREE: Gestures.

You know that part in the movie when the girl does the thing and the guy does the other thing and next thing you know, they're madly in love and practicing coitus on the rocking horse they just built during the montage, from wood, her grandfather's ashes, and gorilla glue? Do that. Whatever it is they did right there, do that. Because if you're anything like me, your attempt to wink is as tragic as seeing someone with a clubhand trying to get their wallet out of their back pocket. "Don't worry, I got this. I got it." or as painful as a new Adam Sandler movie? Anyone?



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•  RULE NUMBER FOUR: Words.

"Secretion"

"Abscess"

"Wenis"

"Gelatinous"

"Republican National Convention"

All words which will not win you the 'sexy award' of the year. They will, however, guide you towards the man of your dreams. Maybe. Maybe less so if he is saying, "So, I was attending the RNC, my favourite event EVER, when suddenly I noticed an abscess on my wenis. It was secreting some sort of gelatinous fluid..."

In this case, proceed with caution.

However, aside from a few exceptions, as long as you're not a complete idiot, and he's not a complete idiot, you two will enjoy each other's conversation if it's real, interesting, and not creepy. Some people think if your style matches or your level of attractiveness matches, you'll be a good match. I think the importance lies in the conversation. Even if you have opposite interests or she can't stop talking about death (another 'Me' issue), if both parties find the other fascinating, you'll end up getting along well and he'll want more than a one night stand, as the kids are calling it. Don't be afraid of "awkward silences", those tell a lot about a relationship, I think. I happen to love them and embrace them when they come along. Just means you have control of the next topic of discussion, if you like. If you've been dying to bring up the topic of hand sanitizer: foe or friend? Now is your chance. Of course, if you just were awaiting a moment of quiet so you can drink more drink, that works, too.

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• RULE NUMBER FIVE: Kissing

Apparently, some people have issues with sealing the deal, or they have issues with the deal. The way I see it is, if it doesn't happen, it isn't supposed to happen yet or ever. Feminism aside, because forget that bo bidnezz, I can only deal with guys who are willing to take control of the situation and go in for the kiss without being like, "Um, miss? Pardon my forwardness, but I would honoured if you would allow the presence of my lipial (ha- that sounds dirty) area to grace your lipial (it still sounds dirty!!) area. May I?" Yeah, it's potentially charming, but 90% of the time, this is the guy who thinks he is the "nice guy", don't even get me started with the "nice guy". Although, maybe I will address that at another time. I am sick of this friendzone, nice guy junk. Point being, he is the weaker species in denial and he needs to be stopped before you "lead him on" by being nice to him. Ideally, he'll just dive in, but know well enough how to not kiss your eyeball socket or some random part of your chin.

Now, from my experience, it's usually the men who don't know how to kiss, but I am sure there are also clueless females out there. This isn't a science class, though, I'm just saying, do your research and be sure you know what you're doing before you go out, because a bad kiss can and probably will ruin everything.

Relationships. With food.

I love food.

I love the feeling of something activating your mind, your taste buds, your body, your everything. Every food item gives you different thoughts and memories and feelings. It might be a gross texture and make you gag, or it might be delightfully crunchy (my favourite), or so smooth, you can just slurp it up like Heaven. Some foods make you sleepy, some make you feel light and beautiful, and some leave you feeling silly and childish.

Filling up your tummy's desperate beckon for sustenance is a relief and an absolute joy! When you eat with someone you trust and care about, your mutual self-care and care for each other is a unique bonding experience. When your significant other takes you out for food and pays without question, he/she becomes your hero. Even more so if (s)he knows what you wanted or is craving the same item(s).

A dessert item is like that secret or very loud shared experience. It can be something you shamefully do alone, but feel so good about!

An appetizer- oh, boy. So disgustingly gluttonous , but if you have a tasty little treat to tide you over, you feel good, you feel excited, you feel relieved when it comes. Even a bowl of soup or a simple salad can make your eyes roll back, your eyebrows float, and your mouth salivate.

I love it for the faces someone makes after biting something truly horrific. They could get mad, but usually they just go wild and make all the faces and sounds you want to see and they truly feel. Somewhere inside themselves. There is no shyness when it comes to gross food; when you trust the people you're with. You might be more polite in mixed company... or not!

Every food you have ever eaten, you had at one point eaten for the first time. You may not remember it, but even your favourite food in the world, was once something new and strange, and maybe you didn't even like it.

My favourite food is peanut butter. Since I was a child, I would eat ridiculous, unhealthy amounts of peanut butter. Not on bread, not with crackers or jelly or celery or "fluff". Just peanut butter. Every time I taste a hint of it, I fall in love with it all over again. It is such a simple food, most people take it for granted. Not I. I savour every lick of my finger, every nibble of the knife, every last piece of peanut in thai peanut sauce. Crunchy peanut butter used to gross me out, however. As did pulp in orange juice. Now I just find it to be more peanut in my peanut butter. Nutty and messy and gooey and simply uncouth! Precisely how I would hope someone would describe me.

Not to mention french fries. My arch nemesis, my weak-point, my ab-killer. Who has the strength to only eat one french fry? Each fry, a new flavour, a new texture, a new chomp into oblivion. Children don't understand how lucky they are to have the right to say, "French fries. Just french fries." and this could be considered a picky child's improvement. Or a fair and "good enough" meal. For me? I'm just the carb guzzling, grease bather. Does this phase me? Not in the least. Just be aware of what I must endure in order to enjoy a french fry meal.

Although... I hate food.

I hate feeling like my food choices aren't good enough. That stupid 5, 10, 20 minutes of sitting and throwing mushed, mashed, crushed, cracked nutrition (or sometimes lacking) down my throat. It gets gross and boring and unpleasant. The stomachache and bloating and unpleasantness that seems to come all too fast and easily and unwanted. The inability to move or feel good about yourself for hours, days, weeks (if you experience IBS, you know what I mean.)

Not wanting to get fat so you can please the people you have no desire to please, yet feel the compulsion to satisfy. It's disgusting and ironic and not fun. To the point of contemplating anorexia or bulimia or just cutting of a limb. Say, the nose? As, I am not too content with mine. Water weight and muscle weight and hoping that my organs way 100+ lbs. It could be.

Watching how other women eat. Some eat so much and remain thin, we are bred to hate them, maybe devour them. The ones who eat too much and get fat and we ask, "Why do they keep eating?" but in the end, we wish we were comfortable enough in ourselves to eat like that and look like that without shame. Because there is no shame in looking like that! Unless, of course, you ask the models and actors and the rest of the list- all of which are known for their drug problems. Ah, where we find our heroes... genius. Or maybe we wonder how women eat so little and look the way they do. That one person who never seems to eat and yet, she weighs the weight of two of the skinny ladies combined. How frustrated she must be. Who does she blame at night when she looks in the mirror? I hope she is content, but what are the chances of that? It is people like me and you and us all, whether we know it or admit it or see or not. We are all part of it.

Of course, I happen to love a little something extra on a person. Or a lot extra. Or nothing extra! How do such beautiful creatures think such horrible things? Who or what gave us that idea? Of course, the media, the government, everything we see in the world. The things we cannot erase, the reason this way of thinking will never end, never cease, never be defeated. Self-love will only exist in the mind of the man or woman in denial.

Food which disappears so quickly after you buy it. Maybe it is just me, but I a so excited to eat the broccoli once I buy it. Every type of fruit I bought. I binge. I suffocate. I sit and sit and sit and struggle to move or breathe or think anything but, "Oy." Then it is gone and I wait several weeks before buying more. I starve meanwhile. That starvation! That ache! That nausea that accompanies it! I get it, stomach! Why not be like an alarm clock? Ache for a bit, then rest. Remind me again in 20 minutes or so. I assure you I will find food, stomach. Don't panic unless it's been more than a few days. Relax, stomach, you worry wart. I am going to take care of you and refuel. With what, though?!

Meat and dairy are bad. But I need the vitamins. I want the vegetables, but they upset my stomach. I need the vegetables, but they make me hurt. Meat and dairy make others hurt, they may animals suffer, they disgust me. I need the vitamins, but they are big and smell bad and make me gag. I need the vitamins but I don't want to suffer, so I seem to be okay without them. One day this will catch up with me.

Food is not simple. It's not simple.