I recently turned 50. I didn’t want to turn 50. I tried hard not to. It happened anyway.
50 is both a milestone and a mindfuck, and not to brag, but I made it in one piece. I also made it without any unwanted pregnancies and no arrests. I didn’t marry any idiots, get any embarrassing tattoos when I was drunk, or buy a lion on a whim. By anyone’s standards, I’m a modern-day success story.
No matter how young you feel or how good you look, 50 is a tough pill to swallow. You can’t help but reflect back…
“Mexico City?” my best friend asked when I told her my weekend plans. “Why?”
I can’t count how many people have told me not to go everywhere I’ve been.
India — WHY?
Morocco — WHAT FOR?
San Jose, Johannesburg, Rio . . . What’s wrong with you?? People get killed there!
People get killed everywhere so let’s all just calm down, say a fucking prayer and live our lives. I mean I don’t travel to war zones. At least I haven’t yet.
Back in 2014 a Craigslist ad about someone selling a Koala Bear named Gumnut went viral.
I responded to that ad. This is what that looked like.
This is so weird but I also have a koala bear that I’m looking to rehome. Maybe you want him? His name is Gumbutt. I named him that because when I rescued him I thought he had gum on his butt, but it turned out to just be Silly Putty.
I too was in the dark about what to ask for a used koala bear, and when I googled “used koala…
A year and a half ago I went to Argentina for a good time. While driving through the Andes mountains I met a specific llama who wasn’t very polite. I was following him around his village talking nonsense to him and I guess he wasn’t amused because all of a sudden he spit in my face. That’s not a very nice way to greet a foreigner. Good thing my eyes were closed.
You may be wondering, why do llamas spit?
One idea is that llamas spit as a self defense mechanism. In fact, the more annoyed they are, the more…
Once upon a time I went to Israel and met an insanely hot former IDF sex god. Besides the fact that he was unavailable, lived across the world, and smoked 400 cigarettes a day, he was perfect for me.
My obsession quickly went off the psycho meter and now it’s escalated to my learning to speak Hebrew. Yes, one man inspired me to learn an entire language. I mean, I’m not learning it just for him. I’m sure there are at least two or three (hundred thousand) other hot Israelis who can’t wait to meet me and my impure motives.
I moved to Miami Beach from New York in 2015. I moved not knowing anyone and not having a job. No one there seemed to work, or work too hard, so I fit right in.
If you’re considering moving to south Florida you should first ask yourself the following questions: Do you like sharks where you swim? Pressing 2 for English? Twerking at red lights? Do you like thirty inches of rain in a hour, and news stories about parents leaving their kids in boiling hot cars for days by “accident”? If you answered no, move somewhere else.
I’m a Capricorn and I don’t know what that means except I grew up in New York and seasonal affective disorder and hypothermia were always an integral part of my birthday. They merely added to the not-joy of getting older.
Capricorns should keep in mind that their pessimism can hinder their productivity.
Clearly. I’ve been a Capricorn for fifty years and I’m just now getting around to making fun of it. Better late than never!
But what is a Capricorn? And do I care?
I lived in New York City for twenty years. I was one of those “I love New York/greatest city on earth” die-hard psychos who believed there was nowhere else on the planet to live. After two decades the weather, endless gloom, and eight months a year of seasonal depression (that antidepressants, a psychopharmacologist, a psychologist, and a lightbox couldn’t fix) was too unbearable to counter-argue with the remaining nice four months. The place I claimed to love was slowly killing me. …
I just finished Cazzie David’s first autobiographical book, “Nobody Asked For This.” Written in essay form she describes her life struggles as a neurotic, insecure, self-deprecating, extremely self-aware privileged female. She dissects her relationship with her mother, her sister, her famous comedian/writer/actor father, and her famous ex-boyfriend Pete Davidson. She claims over and over that she’s embarrassed about everything, but I’m glad she wasn’t too embarrassed to write this book.
I love Cazzie David. I love her humor, her honesty, her discomfort, and her signature “I’m already done with this life” look. I love that she’s raw and vulnerable. I…