Making Friends As An Adult

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO IT.

If you clicked on this because you were expecting me to give you some answers on how it's done... well, baby - I have no idea. I really never thought it would be this difficult! And I'm not talking about childhood friends. Or work friends. Or college friends. Or your boyfriend/girlfriend's friends. I'm talking about being a grown person and wanting friends who share tons of similar interests and live within a decent radius of your home. THOSE! I WANT SOME OF THOSE!

I realized today that the last time I made a friend like that was almost EIGHT YEARS AGO. And even that took a few weeks of getting her to call me back for the first time. Thankfully I was consistent ('cause I knew she was a good one) and we've had a long and fruitful friendship (I love you, Jenn) since that time.

I'm not saying I'm not thankful for the friends I currently have and love, but is it not human to want more? Also, a lot of my current friends live in a different country from me, so could that be a major factor here? Is it harder to meet people as an adult when you move countries? My mom moved from Trinidad as an adult and she didn't really meet a ton of new people after she moved, so maybe that's a huge factor that I've been ignoring. But even so, should it be this hard?

Where am I supposed to meet people? At parks? Walking my dog? Taking out the trash? I visit a park maybe once a year. My dog is terrified of any human being approaching us in the street. And I don't take out the trash.

I don't want to meet a possible new friend at a bar since bars seem exclusive for romantic meetings. If I had more hobbies, would it be easier then? Who the hell has hobbies? What if I don't want a friend who has hobbies? DO YOU SEE HOW HARD THIS IS? Don't even get me started on trying to make a friend of the opposite sex as an adult - IT AIN'T HAPPENING. Way too many complications and misinterpretations.

You know what I would love? A great neighbour. But even if I had one, how would I even know it? Neighbours don't have lengthy conversations anymore. Did they ever? I think they did. They did in my hometown when I was a kid. That was the prime time for making adult friends, I guess. The suburban nineties: friendships galore.

Do I have a point? I guess I don't. Or no wait, I do! Take care of the friends you have. Y'ain't getting any more.

It'd be funny if I'm the only one with this problem and you're reading this going, "Wow, this is embarrassing for her. I have no idea what she's talking about." If that is the case, you're not the type of friend I'm looking for anyway.

Birthday Deals!

I don't know why more places don't upsell the fact that they's got BIRTHDAY DEALS. We all want those deals. Give us those deals, damnit.

I just found this list of places that offers you something on your big day, it's a mostly American list so let me post a more Canadian friendly one over here. 

Obviously, I'm not telling you to take advantage of ALL the things offered since we're all trying to live some kind of healthy life. I'm just letting you know that if you want free ice cream on your birthday, you're entitled to it.

Sidenote: Happy Birthday to my insanely great brother, Robbie. He's one of the best men in my life and I'm crazy lucky to know him. Really, my brothers are easily the best in the business. You should be jealous maybe. LOVE YOU.

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Robbie!

Annoyance of the Day - Stop Signs on On-Ramps for Highways

Dear The City of New York,

CC: All other (moronic) cities who allow such practices as this.

You are a fine-ass city. Let it be known that I truly and whole-heartedly know that you're a great city. One thing, though.

THIS (below).

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WHY!?

Why the fucking fuck are you allowing stop signs to be placed at the END of on-ramps for your beautiful New York City highways? What purpose does this serve? Are you aware that in a gzillion other cities this isn't the norm? Did someone not inform you that there's a better solution? That solution being, ya know, NO stop signs at all? Even a goddam YIELD sign would be something that I could accept (albeit begrudgingly, but still). Why are you trying to fuck with the people who live here and, God, the poor tourists who visit and must be subjected to these signs of absurdity? Are you unaware that on-ramps were meant to be used as acceleration ramps so that hard working Americans could move freely and with the flow of traffic by the time they reach the end of these ramps? What sick game are you trying to play?

You're encouraging those angry New Yorker stereotypes! Is that what you want? Is that your real goal here? I must admit, that's a pretty clever way to achieve said goal. You're setting people up to fail with that stop sign. You want us to fail. You don't want us driving on your precious streets and highways, you're trying to weed us out. You're trying to make us so fed up that we leave. I see what you're doing. Oh, I'm onto you. 

Fix the fucking ramps.

Yours lovingly,

Liz

You can see more posts like this on my latest newsletter.

My Portrait by Michel Gondry

A few years ago (I'm gonna guess it was 2009, yikes) Michel Gondry had a deal where you'd pay him $20, send a photo of yourself and he'd draw you and mail you the finished portrait. I waited about two years for mine since, obviously, a lot of people signed up to have it done. He later upped the price to $100/per portrait and I'm pretty sure he stopped doing them altogether (which completely makes sense, who would want to offer something like this forever).

Anyway, here it is. I've always thought it was repugnant, but I was so happy to have gotten it since I'm still a big fan of his. It's actually grown on me over the years, I think. Of course I wanted to love it right away, but being 24 years old and painfully vain (at the time/still?) couldn't have helped things. I remember being way more excited at the thought of him sitting down at some desk looking at my photo and drawing me. I still think he's amazing for doing as many as he did. Man's great.

Martha Stewart Living Calendar

Few things in life give me more pleasure than sitting down with a giant mug of Coffee Crisp hot chocolate and slowly reading every detail that affects Martha Stewart's scheduled month. This page is the first page of every issue and even I don't really understand exactly why I love it so much, to be honest. The organization of her life maybe? How envious I am of her gardening skills? The fact that she uses phrases like "Gentle Reminders"? I don't know. It's a complicated kind of love. One that I hope to never quite fully understand. She's just so in control of her life. Love this woman so much. 

Gross Confession of the Day

This is a new segment where I will divulge one of my gross personal habits. I’m pretty judgemental about the things I tell you to do and like, I realize - so to balance that out, I figured this would be a welcome addition and reminder of the fact that I’m just as gross as everyone else.

Confession #2:

I don’t wear deodorant. Nor have I ever. Why? Two reasons. (Well, it's really just the first reason mainly.)

1. My mom never did - so she never taught me to, I guess.
2. A homeless person on the subway once told me that using deodorant increases your chances to get breast cancer. Okay, okay, that might-be/IS completely unfounded. But a fourteen year old girl who hears that is definitely going to remember a statement like that, and it may or may not affect the rest of her life.

I told my boyfriend this no-wearing-deodorant fact finally at four years into our relationship and even then had to add the lie of, “Well, I’ll wear it if I’m working out or something…” which is definitely not true. But I had to add on some kind of lie since the initial confession was met with the most repulsed face I've ever seen him emote. I do keep travel-sized deodorants in my room, untouched, just incase someone sleeps over and is all, “Oh, I forgot mine. Can I use yours?” You have to have all your bases covered when you’re being especially gross, I've learned. I also use them in the summertime for other things, as you already know.

I like to think that I've trained my body to not smell all the time by not having the dependence on any deodorants. But maybe that's a crazy thought and you're sitting there being all, "Finally, I know why Liz stinks!" Anyway, we all have our things.

To read Confession #1, go on over here. And if you happen to have some gross confessions of your own, I happen to love reading them so please email me.

Fury of the Day - The Academy Awards

It hards to pinpoint exactly why I hate the Academy Awards, but here are a few of the major reasons why I do and why you should, too.

• The red carpet. I get it - people look great, so let's look at them. And good for them! But that's not what this carpet is for - if you've ever actually sat through this awful "pre-show" with a group of people, you are definitely going to hear the likes of, "Fuck, she looks horrible. Look at that hair! That's disgusting," amongst the people you're watching with. Why is this? I don't know, we're all especially mean to people we don't know who have fame and money? And we think we have the RIGHT to criticize these people? That's what I assume, anyway. Which is obviously fucked up.

• The "interviewers" on the red carpet. I hate these people because they're asking questions that absolutely no one gives a fuck about. "Who are you wearing?" Is it just me or does the answer to that question affect me IN NO FUCKING WAY WHATSOEVER? The questions, the answers - I hate them all. And I know that some people watch these "interviews" to see if so-and-so is going to be likable  or a dick, so we can all talk about it later. But the thing is - WE DON'T KNOW THESE PEOPLE. STOP ACTING LIKE WE SHOULD CARE ABOUT WHO THEY ARE AS HUMANS FOR THE THIRTY SECONDS WE'RE SEEING THEM SPEAK. 

• If a certain movie wins, does that make it a better movie? No, of course not. We know this fact already. But the thing is - WE SHOULDN'T CARE WHAT WINS AND WHAT DOESN'T. I think it's pretty clear that we all have pretty differing tastes and so maybe it isn't a crazy idea to each seek out and find our own "best picture" on our own terms. And a small side note: if you only see a movie because it won some award? Go fuck yourself. You're such a huge part of this problem, I have nothing to say to you. 

• Acting doesn't deserve awards. I'm not sorry. It just doesn't. Seeing some great performance doesn't have the ability to wow me for days, maybe that's just me. Even if it did, do these actors deserve this ridiculously lofty, self-centered treatment for the rest of my goddam life? I don't get why we're supposed to pretend as if these people are changing all of our lives. It's art, I get it. But how the hell did acting get so far above any other kind of expressive art?

• The "speeches". I put that in quotations because these are not speeches anymore. I don't know if they ever were, to be honest. These are now thank you acknowledgments. If you look up what the fucking word 'speech' means - it's a goddam "spoken expression of ideas and opinions." If you manage to win an award and go up to that podium, granted, other people helped you get there. But the other fucking billion percent of people who are watching you up there don't really give a fuck about those thanked people. It would make so much more sense to say something that would maybe, I don't know, inspire the tons of people giving you their attention at that moment in time? Or say something that shows how happy you are! Share something insightful to help express your gratitude! Say SOMETHING that makes you human for a minute and that can be shared amongst your "fans" and audience. And what I really don't get? These people who love watching the Oscars - aren't they pissed with all the thanking they have to hear? Do they ENJOY this part?! What the fuck are they getting out of this?! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING THIS SO INTENTLY?! 

• The length of the whole thing. I've said this before,and I'll say it again. This entire awards ceremony feels like thousands of rich, entitled, (dominantly) white people jacking each other off continuously for about four hours intercut with commercial breaks for us to casually bask in their supreme greatness - and we, the viewers, are all supposed to lovingly froth at the mouth and collectively watch every fucking second of it, and then talk about it endlessly the next day to one another. WHAT IS HAPPENING?! HOW IS THIS THE WORLD?!

• The fact that these shit shows are televised is the part that makes me over-the-top mad. If they weren't broadcasted to us at all? Who knows how I might feel in that case. 

And I'm only singling out the Academy Awards because they're happening this weekend - ALL awards shows for television/movies/music are equally terrible. I only wish that they would stop airing them for us to see. All of these shows are wasting our time and their time so equally. Please stop watching, you're better than that.

You can see more posts like this on my latest newsletter.

Gross Confession of the Day

This will be a new segment where I will divulge one of my gross personal habits. I’m pretty judgemental about the things I tell you to do and like, I realize - so to balance that out, I figured this would be a welcome addition and reminder of the fact that I’m just as gross as everyone else.

Confession #1:
I don’t wash my bras. I think I’ve washed maybe four bras in my entire life. And each time I did it - it took FOREVER ‘cause I did it in the sink, so that’s pretty much why I refuse to do it again. Too time consuming, can’t be bothered. (This does not include sports bras, I’m not a mutant.)

(I was about to lie to you and go, “Oh, but it’s no big deal ‘cause I buy a billion bras and throw them away so often, so it doesn’t make a difference!” but I stopped myself. Because I value you and you deserve to hear an honest account of my repugnant behaviour.)

(Confession #2 can be found over here.)

Fury of the Day - Mannequin Lies

One of most irritating things about living in this society? Constantly being lied to. Now that's kind of a broad statement, but if I may narrow in just a bit on what I mean, let me proceed.

So what's my problem?

THIS.

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What do I mean? That bunched-up material that gets pinned up at the back of a shirt or dress on a mannequin? Yeah, that. That's fucking fraud. That shirt or dress does NOT look the way that you're trying to tell me it does. Therefore, I hate you, store. And I always will. Why does this act have to be done? Why can't you just be real with me? Does the dress look that bad if you DON'T do this maneuver? Can I merely request that you PUT THE FUCKING SHIRT ON THE GODDAM LIFELESS BODY AND MOVE ON TO YOUR NEXT TASK, sales employee? Don't try and fucking trick me into thinking this is how it's gonna look on my body. I'm a human woman. And I don't bunch up my shirt at the back like that, you know this about me and yet you don't seem to care.

And also, if the material of any given dress or shirt doesn't hug a body in the way that you're FORCING it to, have you considered that maybe some people are actually looking for something that doesn't accentuate every part of a body? Maybe some women WANT a dress that just rests on their frame and doesn't showcase every curve and nuance of the female form. Is that a shocking want? Do you not understand why someone might LIKE a dress that maybe doesn't fucking force you to showcase how tiny your waist is?

Honestly, I don't see this a lot anymore, but it definitely occurs more than it should. It happens to be rampant at The Gap and most department stores. And when I do see it, I lose my mind for a minute. Makes me so fucking mad.

If you're thinking I'm too angry about this... ugh. Stop reading my blog! This is not meant to be angry, it is merely said with passion. I could go on to say how small things like this are part of a larger problem, but I will leave it at that.

You can see more posts like this on my latest newsletter.

Recipes From My Kindergarten Class

This was just found in my parent's basement - they're a collection of recipes that myself and other classmates wrote in 1989. (Please note: I still like to speak in brackets.)

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Stacey is killing it.

So either I was a full blown liar by age four or my dad really put up with a lot from me and ate this garbage at least once because I made it. Definitely one of those two things. Click through the ones below to see other great ones from the book.