You ain’t “Greased Lightnin’,” asshole.

Text from a friend: “Just saw a guy in a truck with the window decal that said ‘4 doors for more whores.’ I’m sure a classy guy like that couldn’t possibly be single.”

Me: “I will add that to the list of vehicular decor that disqualifies a man from getting his dick anywhere near me. See also: truck nuts; Confederate flags; bumper sticker reading ‘louder than your girl’ next to a giant, clearly compensatory tailpipe. (All things I’ve seen this year.)”

Pfft. I’m not decorating this hellhole.

I won’t paste her whole post, but it’s worth reading. It’s like Elizabeth Gilbert​ can see right into my wheelhouse. All of this, exactly, and this is why I never bothered putting a lot of furniture or decor in my Sad Singleton apartment. (By the way, I’m not an idiot —  I’m sure writing, like, a bajillion-dollar Oprah-endorsed didn’t suck as far as helping Gilbert get right with life, but I enjoy the general idea.)

 

“I almost went furniture shopping, in other words, to decorate my rut.

 

“I almost made that rut my permanent address.

 

“But some other, more stubborn, part of me, was like: ‘NO. We’re getting the hell out of here.’

 

“If you keep doing the things that take care of you, the general direction will be upward. It may be slow and twisted, but it will be mostly upward. You will rise. No matter how long it takes.

 

“In my case, the things that took care of me were: therapy, prayer, meditation, exercise, antidepressants, the solace of good friends, the comfort of reading good books, the practice of forgiveness and atonement, exposure to nature, looooooong walks, heart-opening acts of generosity, sometimes awkward attempts at self-compassion, listening to non-sad beautiful music, trying to get perspective on the human condition through philosophical study, trying to distract myself by learning Italian, getting rid of objects that held bad memories, setting boundaries with people who hurt or shamed me, moving to a new place…etc, etc.”

 

And lo, Jesus spake unto me, and He said, “The Onion rules.”

So…a “Nailed it!” joke here is probably in poor taste, right?

Right.

Apartment Full Of Jesus Stuff Brings Date To Screeching Halt

Supporting the Arts. With Nudity!

So I went to a sex shop last night. Like ya do.

And I think I figured out what I want for my next birthday. And how I want to decorate my apartment.

This is amazing. It’s like a Color Run. But instead of running, you get to roll around naked, which is just SO MUCH BETTER than running! You’re naked, and you throw paint on each other, and you tussle around on this blank canvas, and then it’s ART.

Fuck you, Degas — your silly little dancers totally should have done this.

Da Vinci, you bush-league bastard! Why didn’t YOU think of this?! Mona Lisa would have had a WAY bigger smile!

If you guys get this for me, and then also bring me a playmate (Wait! Make that an “artistic collaborator!”), I’ll SHOW you “Expressionism.” My birthday is in a couple of months. Make it so!