I hurt myself yesterday putting on on chapstick. I was mashing my lips together the way that you do to to get it all spread evenly and my jaw made a popping sound and I couldn’t open my mouth wide for the rest of the day.

Beeswax Lip Balm

Don’t let their hippy all-natural crap fool you; shit is DANGEROUS

Which got me thinking, why do I hurt myself on inanimate objects so much? Case in point:

  • The Immovable Door

In high school I played Ophelia (to much acclaim… thank you… thank you…) and had to run all crazy-like through a door offstage. Being a dedicated thespian, I took off at a full-on sprint, wind whistling through my hair as I made my dramatic exit. The door, on the other hand, was not into Method Acting and remained solidly, immovably closed. I somehow wound up with a black eye and had to explain to people for a week that I got in a fist fight with a door. 

visual approximation of Evil Door in question

visual approximation of door in question

  • Mood Lighting

It had been a long day, and I had the apartment to myself. So, like anyone would, I put on some jazz, poured myself a glass of wine, and put lit candles everywhere. I noticed that one on the dresser was kind of precarious looking, and being responsible about fire safety I walked over to put it out… ignoring the candle on the bookshelf next to it. Perched precisely at head level. I managed to put out the head-fire without hurting myself, but I smelled like burned hair every time I took a shower for a month. 

How a model looks when you set her hair on fire

How a model looks when you set her hair on fire


How I look when you set my hair on fire

How I look when you set my hair on fire

  • Bedridden

I was entertaining my boyfriend on my bed (not like that weirdo, we were just talking) and I tried to strike a pose that was both nonchalant and sexy, in that not-trying-too-hard manner I’ve worked so hard to perfect over the years. Which is how I learned that if you put your entire body weight on your shoulder at juuuuuuuuuuust the right angle you can mildly dislocate it. I had to wear scarves refashioned as slings for a week, and to this day have a certain terror of nonchalant sexiness. 

I couldn't think of anything for this one, so this is the first result if you Google "nonchalant"

I couldn’t think of anything for this one, so this is the first result if you Google “nonchalant”

I’m honestly not sure what all these anecdotes say about me, but it does go to show that even if my husband successfully covers all the pointy things in the apartment with bubble wrap I will find a way to hurt myself.


His Popiness

A friend of mine just sent me the link to all the names that Popes have had over the years. It’s awesome. Here’s a sampling of some of my favorites:

Pope Felix

Felix I, III, and IV
(II and V were both antipopes)

Pope Dionysius

Pope Dionysius
(I love me a good ancient Greek reference)

pope sylvester

Sylvester I, II, and III

Pope Stephen

Popes Stephen I through IX
(I didn’t even have to photoshop this one)

Pope Hilarius

Pope Hilarius

And I saved the best for last…

Pope Lando

Pope Lando. That’s right. POPE LANDO.

You’re welcome, Internet.

On Androids and Homosexuality

A Gizmodo article just popped up in my RSS feed:

Breaking: Andy Rubin Is Out at Android

And at first I was all, “Aw, that’s nice, Gizmodo’s supporting someone who just came out!” Then I realized that makes no sense, so I was all, “Oooooh, he’s probably coming out as an android. Huh. I didn’t know we had that technology yet.”

Next Generation is the best generation

Then I wasted a lot of time Googling old Star Trek episodes

Then the other shoe dropped and I was like, “Of COURSE! He’s a closeted Android user who’s finally accepting that he isn’t one of the brainwashed Apple millions. Good for him!”

And I laughed at myself for being so silly.

Which is why, boys and girls, you should always pay attention to your prepositions.

ooooh... out AT android...

They do know that “monumental” is generally used in reference to the Pyramids, Parthenon, and other Ancient Wonders, right?


So Embarrassing

I have to admit it. It’s deeply embarrassing, but here goes nothing. **deep breath** I’m completely addicted to Smash.

Every tiny fiber of my Recovering Actress body loves it, from the audition process, to the songs, to Anjelica Huston’s everything. I can gush on and on about it ad nauseum (and I do mean nauseum) but there are plenty of 14 year old girls to do that for me.

Anjelica Huston

Pictured here: supreme foxiness

What I wanted to say about it is something weirdly adult and fundamentally grounded that I’ve discovered about myself watching it: this is a story about living with passion. It sucks. It’s painful. It involves a huge amount of rejection and loss and heartbreak. Every day feels like the world is crashing down on your head and oh god why do I do this to myself?


But. You get to feel all those things. There’s that cliche Jack Kerouac quote, about how the “only people for me are the mad ones” who “burn, burn, burn,” and he’s probably not a great source of advice, being an alcoholic with an overdeveloped sense of ennui and all, but he’s got a point dammit.

Your ennui is showing

Your ennui is showing

Here’s the thing: just like a lot of other good children of my generation I did good in school, did what I loved, graduated, and realized that in order to move out of my parents’ house I would need a job. A good-paying job, not just part time at the local Starbucks, but something fo’ realz. So that’s exactly what I did, I went out and found me a good-paying career, moved into a nice apartment, and lived like a responsible adult. I even liked it. It was like playing a new game called AdultVille, and I was winning at it.

Eight years later, though, and it doesn’t feel like a fun game anymore, it feels like a trap. And money doesn’t seem like freedom now, it feels like responsibility.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a lot of things about my life that these choices have given me. I got to go to Africa and Greece, I got to live in San Francisco and Brooklyn, I got to get married to an amazing man. I own a fainting couch and a laptop and a smartphone and I take all of those things for granted on the regular, and they all cost money. I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities I’ve gotten, so that I get to sit here and complain like a goddamned princess, and I would probably just curl up into the fetal position and let wild dogs eat me if I had to live in a third world country. Boo-fucking-hoo.

Lycaon Pictus

Awwww… you can eat my face any time!

At the end of the day, though, it seems like if I have the gift of time and money and a first world lifestyle I should be doing something with it. Every day I do my work and get paid, but I never feel like the universe might tear apart at its seams or that I’m walking a tightrope to disaster, mostly because if disaster struck I wouldn’t care. Not even a little bit.

Because that’s the upside of all that rejection and sacrifice and world-ending: you get those sublime moments of joy. You get to feel goosebumps of excitement, and when you’re exhausted it’s because you’ve given your whole self over to something.

Look, I’m not saying pursuing your passion doesn’t have its boring moments. Its spectacularly, mind-numbingly disappointing moments. And Smash manages to show a bunch of part-time Broadway chorus dancers who live in fabulous apartments and don’t have any problem dancing perpetually in the background. Occasionally there’s a nod to Katherine McPhee working as a waitress, but it’s the kind of job where if she makes it big and leaves for three months there’s still a job waiting for her when she gets back. Hey. No problem. (It’s also the kind of waitressing job that somehow allows her to live comfortably in New York City with a large wardrobe and plenty of time for hanging out with her friends) So TV is far from realistic or perfect.

Now where have I seen unrealistic depictions of life in NYC before...

Now where have I seen unrealistic depictions of life in NYC before…

It’s still got me thinking though. Thinking about how good that felt, to be throwing yourself into something and letting yourself free-fall. To be risking your heart every day.

…Which brings me to this awful, terrible, deeply unfortunate conclusion: I need to live my life more according to Smash. God help me.

Mario WAS A Plumber

Conversations with my husband…

me: If I figured out a way to make our toilet look like a pipe from Super Mario sticking up out of the floor you’d probably divorce me right? I ask only in the name of science.

Justin: Um, no.

Justin: I mean, we’re so not doing that.

me: Backstory: I read a headline that was all “Super Mario Toilet” and I was imagining it was going to be a pipe, maybe with some sort of rigged up flower popping up for the seat, and then it turned out to be this, and I was deeply disappointed…