I’ve mentioned a few times my new found affinity for audio books. So far I’ve stayed in the genres of motivation/self-help and autobiography. I’ve discovered that I’m really not a big fan of fiction. I enjoy good storytelling, but I like it more if it’s plausible. I think that’s why I just can’t wrap my brain around all that Game of Thrones and Walking Dead nonsense. The people are so dirty and the subject matter is so violent. I like characters, but I enjoy even more if they’re actually real. What ever happened to real life heroes?

In the past few months I’ve powered through the autobiographies of Neil Patrick Harris, George Watsky, Sara Bareilles, and Amy Poehler. (Yes, I realize what an eclectic mix this is.) I was shocked at myself for not being able to get through Tina Fey‘s autobiography as easily (it’s still waiting), but these were enjoyable for a myriad of different reasons. NPH is a brilliant storyteller, but the “Choose Your Own Adventure” format proved a bit confusing for an audiobook, even though the content was entertaining. I enjoyed hearing Watsky’s winding tales of the road and everything in between. I’ve seen Watsky live twice and met him in person once. He seems like a complicated guy and a tad difficult to get to know. Reading his memoir gave me a lot of insight and a few laughs.

The Sara Bareilles memoir was a hidden gem. She sings at the beginning of each chapter and tells stories with such aplomb that you will find yourself laughing one minute and in tears the next. It’s clear that she appreciates her fans and that she’s one of those rare artists that simply doesn’t take anything for granted. ALSO if you’re patient enough to wait through all the ending credits, there are absolutely priceless bloopers and outtakes that leave you laughing… and wanting her in your circle of friends.

But my favorite was Amy Poehler. She’s humble and adorable and she makes no qualms of telling you her shortcomings in a way that will tell you she’s actually just like you. She talks about her love/hate relationship with her cell phone, her pregnancy (and its bad timing with the Jon Hamm SNL episode), the upright citizens brigade, learning to take responsibility for her actions and apologies, SNL, Tina, Seth, her divorce, Parks & Recreation, and the TSA agent who located her laptop when she thought this book might never be published (and she attached her pic in the PDF). I enjoyed every one of her stories, and the celebrity cameos (I’m looking at you Kathleen Turner). It’s obvious that she has a lot of friends in the business who would do anything for her. And that’s saying something.

The next book I had decided to read is “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert. I’d chosen the audio book because the paperback was sent to me in a subscription box I receive monthly for Female Entrepreneurs. The reviews by other group members looked promising, so I thought I’d give it a whirl.

DEAR LORD NO! THAT WOMAN IS CRAZY! I’m only on Chapter 3 and I feel like she’s attempting to indoctrinate me with some crazy hippy commune thinking. She says that one person can have a big idea and transmit that same idea to another person simply by touch. We are just conduits for ideas as if they just whiz about looking for someone to enact them. If we aren’t ready for a big idea, if it isn’t the idea’s time, it will move on and find another conduit… or possibly come back to us when we’re ready. WHAT?!?!?

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Yep, she’s nuts. I may be returning that title for some new hotness.

Can Jen Sincero write another book? I gobbled up the first two at warp speed. Maybe I’ll re-read them… because they were BADASS.

 

 

 

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Excerpts from Guyvile

I once dated a guy who told me that his mother would ask him what was wrong with me if he told her I’d never been married at my age… instead of taking into account the fact that he lived in a small, sterile apartment with walls covered in photographs or artwork of nude or partially nude women. In lieu of a sofa, he had an over-sized bean bag chair that he insisted I run in and jump on as soon as I walked in the door. I refused. This was probably another strike against me. The place was so sterile that I was almost afraid to touch or move anything. Seriously. It was “serial killer sterile.” No clutter, no stray hairs, no implements left in plan view, not even a remote control or a fruit bowl, only the most pristine of surfaces… In hindsight, I probably should have checked the freezer for severed heads on my way out.

He was a programmer of some sort and a freelance photographer. As you could guess, his preference was to separate women from their clothing before photographing them. This, among so many other things, didn’t sit well with me. Walking into an apartment with walls covered in naked bodies is as intimidating for a grownup as walking into a dorm room strewn with centerfolds is for a co-ed.

And as if that weren’t enough, he had this tendon on his jaw that attached to his eyelid. This meant that when you were sitting directly across from him at a table, he could be looking down at his food and simultaneously looking AT YOU. The tendon would pull his eye open and closed as he chewed. It was the epitome of creepy. Since our breakup, I now refer to him (not so affectionately) as “Poe.”

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture –a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees –very gradually –I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
– Edgar Allan Poe “The Tell-Tale Heart”


Flash-forward to just last week.

Drag-Makeup Guy was a problematic over-texter. I probably set an unfair precedent by responding fairly quickly, so when I turned my attention to anything other than him, he started to ask what was wrong when I didn’t respond immediately. This only increased my lag time.

He also liked to use really big words. Usually I very much appreciate this in a counterpart, HOWEVER, he did it CONSTANTLY. This, coupled with his I-know-more-big-words-than-you-nyah-nyah attitude ended up sabotaging him more often than not since he lacked the skill of properly using most of his large vocabulary in a sentence.

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The weekend of our ONE DATE, I had stayed out late on a Sunday (which I very seldom do) to catch a concert. I was dead on my feet the next day and couldn’t wait to get home to rest. He couldn’t stop texting. But in the subtext of the texts he seemed to be scolding me for being out on a school night in the first place. I’d only known him a few days at best, so I found this odd and decided to mention my discomfort. He didn’t take this well. We exchanged a few text pleasantries in the days that followed and then the texts stopped altogether… for about 2 weeks. I turned my attention to all the things that needed doing and did them, not giving him a second thought.

That Monday was the beginning of a very busy week. Out of the blue he texted “You still alive?” I didn’t respond. I was fighting a cold, cooking dinner for my parents 3 nights that week, squeezing in an exercise class and attending the citizen’s police academy. He could wait.

Evidently he couldn’t.

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And evidently my auto-correct likes to change TIME to THE ME when I fat-finger something similar in a text message. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Besides, he deleted me anyway. What a relief!


My friend Lisa attempted to set me up with a guy she knows. It appears that she thought highly of him because he passed himself off as a big time music promoter and all-around hot shot. In real life, he lives with his mom, works in a furniture store, and thinks so highly of himself that he throws himself a birthday party each year and hires mildly successful bands just so he can charge admission and call it the “Social Event of the Year.” It isn’t. In fact, I’d never even heard of it… or him for that matter. The crowd he runs in is rife with leathery, weather-beaten ex-rocker types determined to recapture whatever glory they can siphon from their hard-rockin youth. He’s right at home at the center of this, still living out his big hair 80’s dream complete with bedazzled jeans and Ed Hardy shirts.

I’m not exactly sure why Lisa thought this would work out.

He was very tall, long legs and a short torso that carried a large beer belly. If you asked me his body shape, I’d say “Lollipop?” He made a point of telling me that he had Diabetes right up front, which is no laughing matter, but he seemed to not take it seriously. Then he made a point of telling me that he could control it if he wanted to, but for now he’s just taking daily insulin shots because he doesn’t have time to deal with it. When he told me he drank sweet tea and ate donuts for breakfast and mostly only had time for fast food, I tried to educate him about the importance of protein & how easy it would be to substitute a protein bar or shake. He turned up his nose like a small child at the idea.

We went on one good date, on Valentine’s Day, to which he wore an old sweater that reeked of body odor and bad cologne with really worn-out jeans. (Did I mention that he took me to a really nice restaurant which was only serving prix fixe? He said he’d brought a suit with him, but he arrived too late to change into it. *Insert audible groan here*) The date was brief and pleasant, which most first dates are.

Then we went on one bad date, but because since he was Lisa’s friend I was really trying to see some redeeming qualities in him. However, in the meantime, he would text me so furiously that I hardly had time for anything else. (Now you see why I’m not fond of over-texters.)

We were NOT a match. The way he saw the world and the way I saw the world were such opposite perspectives. But it was difficult to get rid of someone who kept driving 2 hours to see you. When our last date ended rather abruptly, I was just relieved it was over. A few hours later the barrage of texts began again and I blocked him. No point in beating a dead horse. Move on Buddy.

A few weeks later, Lisa told me to unblock him on my phone and social media because he wanted to apologize. I figured I’d never hear the end of it until I did, so…

He texted, apologized, then went around and around baiting me for an apology. I responded, “Sincere apologies expect nothing in return.” What followed was the absolute meanest text vomit I have ever received in my life.

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I save those for days when I’m feeling just a little too big for my britches and need to be knocked down a few pegs.

I think it’s time to just delete all of it now.

chill-homie