“If you SAY you’re a feminist, then FUCK like a feminist.”
I’d buy that t-shirt. Make it so, Sam Bee.
Hell, can I get that tattooed on my lower abdomen?
My new mantra
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#LifeGoals
“Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?”
“Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30.”
Champagne? Super, Nova!
Great news, you guys — I’m getting married!
His name is Nova, which translated loosely from the Spanish means: “You ain’t gon’ be able to go NOwhere when we’re done.”
We’re registered at Bed Bath & Beyond, but we really only need extra bedsheets and towels, so y’all best hustle to make sure no one snags the good stuff and leaves you stuck with, like, one lone pillow sham.
Oh, and if you could also send the traditional celebration pizza now, that’d be super. I’m STARVING, but I can’t move, and Nova’s not so great in the kitchen. But no matter — he’s my best friend and my soulmate, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him. ❤️
Family rally cry? Family rally cry.
I know you guys aren’t on my side with the country music, but I think we can all agree Pistol Annies have been reading my journal as we approach my family’s Christmas dinner. This is my new favorite song to sing in the car. (Shut up, I am SUPER hot when I have twang.)
“Well, Daddy’s reading propaganda
And he’s talkin’ ’bout the end of days
Well, cheers to the vodka Mama’s been sneakin’,
Let’s all gather ’round and pray.
“So I snuck out behind the red barn
And I took myself a toke
Since everybody here hates everybody here
Hell, I might as well be their joke.
“I’m gonna dance up on the table
Singing ‘This Little Light of Mine’
God gave it to me, what good’s it gonna do me
If I don’t, by God, let it shine?
“Hide your tattoo,
Put on your Sunday best,
Pretend you’re not a mess,
Be the happy family in the front pew…”
“Hush hush, don’t you dare say a word
Hush hush, don’t you know the truth hurts
Hush hush, when push comes to shove,
It’s best to keep it hush hush.”
You have your Christmas carols, I have mine.
I was looking for a different Garfunkel & Oates video for a later post, but I saw this in the YouTube sidebar so I’m sharing it first.
I’ve posted this before, but it’s been a while, and it’s always worth hearing again. But also, I HAVE in fact gotten that drunk text at 3 in the morning, and it was indeed “SO close, but not quite there.”
“I forgot how good you taste…”
I never get tired of this song.
“I’m not gonna tell you what it’s about. You have to listen to the lyrics. And don’t judge me.” 💕
Toucha toucha toucha touch me
Don’t judge me. I STILL wanna be all prim and proper and then give Mr. Schue a lap dance.
UNF.
Busta Shonda Rhimes
Worth revisiting as I wrap up my Shonda Rhimes book review:
“You don’t get to call me a whore. You chose Addison. I’m all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what YOU broke.”
This construct really evolved by the time it got to Olivia Pope: “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. If you want me, EARN me!”
Goddamn right, ladies. Testify.
(BTW, this is not a one-sided notion. I certainly hope I’ve earned the men I’ve had relationships with and have never taken them for granted. Ha ha, GRANTed… See what I did there?)
A terrible feminist and probably an awful human being
I am a terrible feminist and probably an awful human being.
Everyone on board?
OK.
I definitely have my moments where I’m like, “Man, I’d kill to be built like Kerry Washington” or whoever.
But last night I watched Chicago again (for burlesque research!), and I realized, “Goddamn, I would much rather be built like me than like Super Thin Renée Zellweger any day.”
I sincerely hope the most prominent feature of my chest is never the bones in it. (I can’t even see those bones, I forgot there WERE bones there.)
I could floss with that woman.
I know, I KNOW. I shouldn’t judge another woman. There’s room for all of us (ahem — especially her, she’s basically vapor), and we’re all snowflakes, blah blah, bliddy blah, sisterhood, traveling pants, etc. FINE. I’m an asshole. We’ve established that.
Also, while she’s tiny, I’m sure she does crazy yogalates-ninja-reformer class or something and could kill me with her pinky finger. Plus, she’s a floppity-bajillionaire mega-star who can sing AND dance AND act (I’m told), and I live in a studio apartment and have 45 Facebook followers, so who the hell am I? She gives no fucks what I think, and rightly so.
Now, don’t get it twisted — if you offered a trade of INCOME, I’d be on that shit like white on rice. (Not that she knows what rice is, but you get the idea.) But body-wise? I’m glad I’m me, is the point. Flat ass and all. I’m not a hater — this was a self-esteem epiphany. So there.
“Not that it matters, not that I care, you see, just so you know…”
Getting SUPER excited to see Anna Nalick TWICE this week.
“Not that it matters. Just so you know.”
Smug Singleton 