A Glimpse Into My Google Search History

Alternate Title: A Glimpse Into What Is Wrong With Me

1. Coffin Prices

Coffins, so you know, are going for about $995.00 these days.

2. Dead Cats

I don’t know what I was expecting. There were lots of pictures of dead cats, and it was horrifying and gruesome. I literally gagged. I’m mad at myself for this one.

3. What is chik-fil-A Sauce?

Chik-fil-A sauce is mostly a yellow honey BBQ sauce. My friend accurately put it best when she guessed that it was “all the sauces mixed together.”

4. What are cats saying when they meow?

It really depends on the length and tone of the meow. I learned that my cat is primarily agitated and annoyed at me.

5. Elliptical Machines

I spent a lot of time googling this, which isn’t fascinating, but there is one that is small and goes for $100. I’m still thinking about starting to seriously exercise sometime soon.

6. Hot Men Holding Pizza

A disturbing lack of results for this yielded the follow-up search “Ewan McGregor Pizza” which did not meet the pizza requirements but satisfied other areas of interest.

7. Severed Head Hollywood

They still haven’t revealed the identity officially, but we know they did find the hands and feet and the dude was suspected to be a Mexican airline employee aged 66.

8. Why do men grow beards after being rejected?

Apparently this isn’t actually a thing, it’s just a trope in TV shows and in my life.

9. Chipotle Nutrition Calculator

My burrito bowl has 700 calories but a shit load of salt.

10. Urantia Book

I visited the set of a TV show because I’m a cool asshole who gets to do shit like that sometimes and one of the crew members spoke in great length about this book, which seems to be some variation on Scientology because it has aliens. I was buying into it when he was talking about “multiple dimensions” but then he lost me when he started talking about the alien’s governmental system.

11. Apocalypse Dreams

Had another dream about the apocalypse. “To dream of apocalypse means loss of control, destruction, especially from external circumstances. It could represent a fear of these things, or of some past, current, expected, or feared situation in your life involving chaos and loss of control.” Probably doesn’t mean anything.

12.  Kyoto Tachibana High School Band

Adorable, adorable, amazing, please watch this:

13. How to entertain a dog / am I psychologically scarring my cat by having a dog in the house

I babysat my friend’s dog a while ago and tried to entertain her. Primarily we went for walks and avoided my cat.

14. Ennui

Ugh, yeah, I fucking googled this.

15. Lindsay Lohan Playboy

; )

16. Jessica Cabot

I have accounts on twitter, wordpress, linkedin, and tumblr!

17. Would it be weird if I wore dude underwear?

Seems like, not really.

18. P.J. Budders

Just as I suspected!

19. Drag King Tips

For a hot second I wanted to be a Drag King that primarily covered Tom Jones songs. Mostly you need to strap down your boobs and have confidence.

20. Good Looking Fajitas Guacamole

Seemed to have a little trouble with this one:

Realistically, there is a lot that I am not admitting I googled. 

20 New Year’s Resolutions For 20-Somethings

Thought Catalogue recently enlightened we 20 somethings about what we’re doing wrong with our lives and how we might make these proposed changes to fix that.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/20-new-years-resolutions-for-20-somethings/

Here is my hotly anticipated sassy rebuttal to said article:

1. Before you status update, Tweet, Tumble or Instagram, pause and say to yourself, “is it entirely necessary that I share this morsel of thought with my entire social network?”and if the answer is not, “yes, I absolutely must,” then step away from the Internet.

Nothing I tweet or tumbl is worth sharing with my entire social network.

2.Know which candidate you’re going to vote for in the upcoming presidential election, and know why.

Sounds reasonable. I’ll probably vote for Obama because he’s democratic and hot.

3. Enough with the 14-day juice cleanses. If you want to lose a little weight quickly, eat less and exercise like crazy. If you want to lose a lot of weight slowly, do whatever Jennifer Hudson did.

I’m sorry, I can’t get behind this pop culture reference.

4. If you really like the person you’re hooking up with and would like them to be your boyfriend/ girlfriend, find a way to tell them, and hope for the best. If you don’t and wouldn’t, stop.

Ugh!!!

5. Find a way to save approximately 300 dollars and spend it on a flight to see a friend or family member who lives far away.

Find me a job. 

6. Please stop liking the Kardashians, all of them. It’s not helping anyone, least of all the Kardashians.

How is not liking the Kardashians helping the Kardashians? This article is a series of bold faced lies.

7. Spend less than or equal to the money you earn each month.

Find me a job.

8. Wear clothes that fit you, especially to work.

Who is the fatty wearing clothes to work that don’t fit them at Thought Catalogue? 

9. Call someone on the phone at least once a week, and speak to him or her for at least ten minutes.

I assume phone sex counts.

10. Start preparing now to get over the fact that Facebook is probably going to change again in six months. You’re not going to deactivate your account. You don’t know how.

How stupid do you think I am, Thought Catalogue? Honestly. 

11. Wait 30 seconds before you look up a fact you can’t remember on your phone, and try to remember it using your brain. This is what the olden days were like.

Waiting 30 seconds is so pretentious. 

12. Replace one terrible reality show you’re currently watching with one wonderful scripted show currently available on television.  Swap suggestion: Real Housewives of Anywhere for HBO’s Enlightened.

At least you’re not asking me to read a book.

13. Try that food you think you don’t like but have never actually tried, unless it’s brussels sprouts. They really don’t need any more attention.

And then I’ll finally be an interesting, worthwhile human being.

14. Cut one person out of your life who you truly do not like and add one person who you truly do. Note: not on Facebook, on Earth.

I’m really good at the first part. 

15. If you’re still blacking out regularly, you should stop.

Going to assume that stems from a deeper psychological issue than one an online hipster mag New Years Resolution post can fix. 

16. Volunteer once over the next 90 days.  You’ll feel really good about it, and probably end up volunteering again over the next 275.

I highly doubt it. 

17. Tell someone who you love that you love them on a more regular basis. To their face, not in a text.

K.

18. Back up your entire online life onto an external hard drive, especially your photos.

I already deleted them.

19. Crap or get off the pot. This applies to whatever thing you’re not doing that you should just sack up and do already.

Jesus fucking Christ.

20. And in the eternal words of Tom Haverford, “TREAT YO SELF!”

Is the person who wrote this hip and in their 20s also? I’m getting those vibes. 

What Men Want

A lot of women’s magazines will have a section entitled “What Men Want.” They go on to hypothesize in length next to pictures of young guys in sweaters with hair gel about “What to Wear on a First Date” if the magazine is Glamour, and if it’s Cosmopolitan then it’s pictures of beefcake next to advice on giving blowjobs that can best be put, “pay attention to the tip.” It’s 2012 now, so typically these suggestions are contextualized as being empowering. Men like confident women. Men like women who will say what they want in bed. Men like women who are outgoing.

Being confident, a good communicator, and outgoing are certainly great qualities. However, they are qualities acquired by self-reflection and self-love, and are not forced or conjured because men happen to appreciate them. Ultimately all of the advice is still framed in such a way that women could be fretting and concerning themselves over how to please this dude. There are no columns, as far as I know, entitled “What Do YOU Want?” Possibly because it’s a rhetorical question, but it’s also still worth addressing what women should feel they deserve from their relationships.

I don’t really care what men want anymore; because as far as I am concerned the only thing they should want is me. I don’t care if men find it sexy when women “wear smudgy eye makeup” or “can hang with the guys.” I don’t care. Maybe I do wear smudgy makeup sometimes or maybe I can deal with hanging out with a bunch of bros, but if I can’t or I don’t then I don’t care. I don’t care to read these articles that fill my brain with all these preconceived notions about what “all men want” written by some woman who is only four years older than me and went to Brown and “is focusing on her career” and “dating around” because “dating is fun” and “she wants to spend her 20s having fun” which ends up being an excuse for her lack of success in finding a man with whom she genuinely connects with because she is so concerned with her physical appearance and flirting techniques that she forgets the most important part of dating someone is being with someone you just get along with because you are yourself and that’s enough. Not to knock people who genuinely do want to have fun and be commitment free, as it’s not for everyone. It only becomes an issue when the focus is so intent on pleasing men that the women become detached from their own desires, and these magazines can emphasize that mindset.

It isn’t always shitty advice, some of it’s relevant, and it has an entertainment value. It’s intended as helpful advice, but hidden beneath the sentiment posing as empowerment “men like easy going women,” is the hidden anxiety, “shit, I need to be easy going so he’ll like me. Is it okay for me to speak up about this issue? Maybe I shouldn’t say anything so I don’t seem not easy going.”

I don’t care what men want anymore though because I don’t want to have to be with anyone who likes me any less because sometimes I’m really loud when I talk (a first date don’t) and I didn’t “brush up” on “the baseball season” so I could “share in his interests” because frankly I am not interested in someone for whom I have to “brush up on his interests” because I sort of hope we already share the same interests or even if we don’t I hope that our relationship is based on something more important than “our interests” in the first place and so it doesn’t matter if I don’t engage in that particular topic because our relationship goes deeper than that. It’s not like I really expect him to brush up on my cat and talk to me about my interests if they don’t come naturally to him.

The columns should read “What Men Want: YOU.” And then the next column should say, “How to Become the You You’ve Always Wanted to Be” and then that one should say, “you’re great and you have these great qualities and you need to believe in those great qualities and immerse yourself in the art of being ‘you’.” Go do you things. Go do things you find inspiring like taking a hike or taking a shower. Go cut out the people who drain your energy and who are toxic and don’t believe in you because they don’t matter and have their own issues they need to work on and need to stop projecting onto you. Go surround yourself with people who make you laugh and see the wonderful things you have to offer others. Go take care of yourself and that doesn’t necessarily mean going to the gym if you are not a gym person, but maybe it means you need to take a nap because you’re fucking tired and you just want to fucking take a nap. Go take care of yourself mentally and identify the things you no longer care to struggle with in your life and find the means and people who will encourage and support you in your journey towards recovering from those old wounds. Go be weird and stay indoors and don’t go out to bars because maybe you fucking hate that shit. Go take an improv class not because you might meet dudes in it because the magazine says the ratio in those classes favors more men to women, but because you like making people laugh. Go cry because you’re fucking tired of this shit and you’re at the end of your rope and then call your best friend because she knows you and she cares about you unconditionally. Go climb a rock wall because you never have and you thought you should and you still haven’t gotten around to it. Go to Disneyland because it’s fun and you haven’t been since you were a kid. Go hang out with your little sister and make fun of her because she’s an idiot. Go write that e-mail to that woman who works at that company you’ve had your eye on because you have nothing to lose. Go tweet because you’re probably in your twenties and that’s what people in their twenties do. Go to an Irish Tea Leaf Lady because you’re crazy and you want to know when you’re going to meet your soulmate and she told you in June and so now you have something you think you’re looking forward to, and even if it’s not true it’s a nice sentiment and it makes it easier to believe that good things will happen for yourself one day and you’ll be okay and in the meantime it is okay to be alone and to be you and to not be with a man even though you want a man but you know that the right man is going to be so fucking into you not because you tricked him or made prolonged eye contact with him at the bar because a magazine told you to hold your gaze, but because you met him and made him laugh and he made you laugh and you talked and you wanted the same things and you felt the same way about life and you were attracted to each other and you were in the same place emotionally and ready for the same kind of relationship and so it was easy and fun and great not because you changed yourself to be “what men want” but because in learning to be yourself and in learning to immerse yourself in being “you” you attracted the right person and it didn’t matter that you didn’t wear “red” because “men instinctively respond to the color red.”

Conversations With My Cat

I’ve been spending a lot of time with my new kitty lately and getting to know her. I think her name is Freida but I’ve been calling her Frida. Here are excerpts from some of our most recent discussions:

Me: Awww you’re a BABY!!!!
Frida: *purrs*

Me: Awww who’s a baby!??!?!
Frida: *purrs*

Me: Hey baby!
Frida: *sleeps adorably*

Me: WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!?
Frida: *climbs a chair*

Me: Jesus Christ, what has gotten into you??!
Frida: *acts like a kitten*

Me: Awww, I love you baby kitty!
Frida: *sleeps in the crook of my arm*

Me: Awww, are you a baby??
Frida: *sleeps on her back*

Me: Seriously, I am going to fucking kill you in your fucking sleep.
Frida: *chases things that look like strings*

Me: I love you so much! Are you my baby?
Frida: *sleeps while I hold her like a baby*

Fuck You, Coke!

Coca-Cola is the fucking worst. Why? Should I be mad at them because they have successfully created some sort of poisonous yet delicious beverage that I am helplessly addicted to? Probably. Indeed, their secret combination of rat poison chemicals is one I am loathe to ever give up, despite my full awareness that it could lead to my very demise.

And yet, I am not upset at all at Coke for these transgressions.

Today though, they crossed the line.

Look at this fucking bullshit. What the fuck is this? LOOK AT THESE CANS. Particularly, look at these cans, SIDE BY SIDE. Imagine these cans INSIDE A VENDING MACHINE. It is easy to see, I’d like to think, how one could at first, not-paying-that-much-attention glance CONFUSE these cans as being one in the same.

And yet, they are not.

If you observe closely, when you make a side by side comparison and REALLY check out the details, you will note several differences between these two cans of coke.

1. One has polar bears.

2. One is a slightly different shade of silver than the other.

3. ONE HAS FUCKING 140 CALORIES!!!

So you’ll imagine my surprise when I went to purchase “diet coke” and received instead fat coke. What am I supposed to do with fat coke? Drink it? You want me to drink 140 calories of what is ultimately corn syrup which is probably only a little bit better than the rat poison I was initially planning on consuming? What if I gained weight? Let’s not talk about the entire Domino’s pizza I ate by myself last night. But no. I won’t. I won’t stoop to drinking regular fucking coke.

So what am I expected to do then? Well, I did it. I sprung for another fucking 85 cents just so I could have the diet that was RIGHT NEXT TO THE VERY SIMILAR LOOKING REGULAR COKE BUT ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME SERIOUSLY COCA-COLA YOU ARE A MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR CORPORATION DIDN’T YOU THINK THIS MIGHT CONFUSE SOME OF YOUR CUSTOMERS WHO HAVE INSOMNIA AND DON’T GET A LOT OF SLEEP SO THEY RELY ON YOUR CAFFEINATED PRODUCTS TO GET THEM THROUGH THE DAYS?

I am a little disgusted with what I am now perceiving as an obvious ploy on the part of the coca-cola corporation to get me to waste even MORE of what is already my bad habit of wasting money on their products. I am a slave to their will, as evidenced by the fact that I have been driven to this kind of madness where I must justifiably make choices like buying two cans of coke at once from a vending machine because one was disguised as a Diet can of coke in some sort of bullshit holiday bullshit.

I now am in possession of a can of regular holiday Coca-Cola which I will not myself consume. Perhaps I will pay it forward to someone in need, someone who can’t regularly afford cans of Coca-Cola. Yes, perhaps then I will teach the Coca-Cola corporation a lesson. I will show them that I am above their con artistry, and that despite their deceiving ways I am charitable. That’s what they say you know. Treat others as you wish to be treated. So there Coca-Cola. Maybe you think you got the best of me, but little did you know I happen to be a very generous person, and so I can only hope that you learned a thing or two about the good will of humanity. Yes, I can only hope.

How I Pick Up Dudes

I’m Neurotic and Have Access to a Keyboard

Some days you think, ah! Saturday. That’s good. I have a lot of stuff I should do like clean up my kitchen because my cunty roommate is moving out and, that reminds me, I need to go to the bank and deposit these checks because I never actually got around to signing up for direct deposit at work so I’m going to need money in my account to pay for my rent.

You devise a plan. You will go to the bank, and after that you will go to the market where you will buy carpet cleaner and GROCERIES because you have NOT GONE TO THE MARKET IN LITERALLY A MONTH AND A HALF. You have been surviving on leftovers and miscellaneous free snacks from work that you acquire here and there. However, at this moment there is literally nothing in your house except spaghetti sauce and pine nuts from that time you were eating salad three months ago.

It is 9am. How did you wake up so early? Whatever. It’s Saturday and you’re tired. You have no food in the house for breakfast anyway, and you realize that eating is going to be a problem later, so to put it off you go back to sleep.

Now it is 11am. You are HUNGRY. No food. Fuck. You debate ordering a Domino’s pizza. You’re not sure you want to order Domino’s because last time you did you ate the whole pizza in one sitting and it was somehow fucking $20 and you aren’t made of money, you know, and you should be careful about how you are spending it.

You sit in front of the computer staring at the Domino’s page for 20 minutes, getting hungrier. You ponder cooking the five strands of spaghetti you do have left, but it is 11am and you do not feel like spaghetti, nor Domino’s if you’re really honest. A thorough search of Seamlessweb.com and yelp.com reveals that no one else fucking delivers by your house. FINE.

Without showering you put on pants and a t-shirt, the same pants and t-shirt you’ve been wearing all week, but you wear a uniform at work so it’s fine, no one really knows this about you since no one sees you. What would you want if you could have anything right now? HOLY SHIT. CHIPOTLE.

You drive to Chipotle, even though it is literally walking distance from your house, like, just a mile. You park in front of a Halloween store and you go in. They do not make adult Cinderella costumes. You ponder how one of the best things about your last relationship was going to Halloween stores together. You do not know what that says about you or the state of that relationship. Whatever, we are both better off now.

You go to Chipotle. You think, HM. Because I am unlikely to go to the market anytime soon, let’s be real, this would be a great place to get LEFTOVERS. You intentionally order way too much food, and you get steak in your burrito bowl, AND you get chips and guacamole, because these things will serve as TWO MEALS at separate points in the day. You order a diet coke because you have long since given up on giving up your addiction to it.

You come back home and eat the Chipotle. You realize that you have already eaten half and you could probably keep going, but in the posterity of not being a fat ass and of having leftovers, you put the rest to the side. You do some Internet browsing in your room and think about all the things you have to do today, like go to the bank and probably the market. You decide you will go soon, but probably after you take a shower.

After nearly an hour of mindless Internet browsing, you realize you are HUNGRY again! Whatever, a few more chips couldn’t hurt. You eat most of the rest of your chipotle. There is not a lot left. Disgusted with yourself, you throw the burrito bowl and chips and guacamole haphazardly into the paper bag from whence they came and then you put that paper bag next to the trash. This Chipotle is now TRASH. You are NOT TO EAT ANYMORE. Fuck you, you fat fuck. What are you doing eating most of your Chipotle?! These were supposed to be LEFTOVERS! You didn’t order more food than you normally would so you could EAT IT ALL IN ONE SITTING!!!

You take a shower. You feel fat in the shower.

While drying off wearing nothing but your towels, you start talking to your good friend from Ohio on gchat.

This leads to an extensive conversation about your CURRENT CRUSH. He is so cute. You tell your friend a detailed account of the last interaction you had with your current crush, and you think that perhaps you are 13 years old and not 23 years old. You are 23 years old.

You also tell your friend you feel fat for eating so much Chipotle.

HOLY SHIT. It’s 3pm! Where has the day gone? You start to freak out. You do have a lot of shit you need to get done today. Besides the obvious things like cleaning, shopping for basic necessities, and paying bills, there are a lot of other things YOU ARE NOT DOING WITH YOUR LIFE. You have technically been working on some scripts, because that’s what you want to be right, is a writer? You want to fucking write? WELL THEN WHY AREN’T YOU FUCKING WRITING YOU PIECE OF SHIT?

To stave off some brewing anxiety, you briefly turn to your obsession with Anna Faris. You read a lot of interviews with her and you also watch her in interviews, and then you watch clips of her from movies where she is fucking adorable and hilarious. You are in love with Anna Faris. She is so wonderful. She’s your ideal female comedian at the moment, the girl YOU want to be like. You think she’s done a great job of depicting what it means to be a woman without getting overly pretentious about it, or without turning to what you consider to be bullshit cliches like being “adorkable” and pathetically single. She represents a kind of woman like you, one who is kind of a fucking weirdo, but still hopefully cute without TRYING SO FUCKING HARD to be cute, and who is ultimately just being herself and trying to find love by figuring out WHO SHE IS AS A PERSON. WHATEVER.

Anna Faris in an interview mentions that she wants to be the female Judd Apatow, and mentions how difficult it is for female comedians to find a voice given the way movies are currently structured, and you think, holy shit I love her even more, those are certainly goals I feel in tune with and I also want to be part of a group of hilarious females who give a voice to what it means to be a woman in an authentic, hilarious way. You want to be a part of this Anna Faris clique, that would be awesome. Too bad you haven’t been writing bullshit. You’ll probably never be anything since you hate improv, you’re not interested in doing stand up, don’t want to act, but also don’t write which is the one thing you technically don’t hate.

OH GOD YOU HAVEN’T BEEN WRITING AS MUCH AS YOU SHOULD YOU FUCKING IDIOT. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO FIND THE TIME TO WRITE?

Instead of finding the time to write, you explain to your friend from Ohio why things would never work out with this guy you have a crush on anyway. He probably likes the outdoors, something you fucking hate, and you are a fucking weirdo and you can’t imagine he’d be into a fucking weirdo like you. Additionally, he could be gay, I mean he’s not, but he could be, and whatever he probably doesn’t like you anyway. It’s fine, you’re “working on yourself” even though you have no idea what that actually could mean.

It is 3:30pm. This gchat conversation is happening on your bed. You are falling asleep. After your friend from Ohio offers to mail you her percoset from her boob reduction surgery, you announce this inevitable nap. You close your computer and fall asleep until 4:45pm.

You wake up and are a little disgusted with yourself, but you are also hungry again! Fuck it, this day has gone to hell, and so you see the paper brown bag with the Chipotle that you previously put next to the trash can to indicate that it too is trash. You take it out and put it on your desk and you eat the leftovers that have been sitting there all afternoon. They are fine. You finish the last of the chips, guacamole, and steak bowl.

You decide you need to go to the bank, still, but before you do maybe you’ll just wait anyway because you are going out at 7:30pm to meet your friends so perhaps at this point it is better to wait to go to the bank until you are already out of the house… before you go there. You start to freak out about your life some more. You are not writing, but you want to write, but you don’t write. You want to be in comedy in the same way Anna Faris is a brilliant comedic actress but you do not act. You are not in comedy, really. You kind of are, and sometimes you name drop, because you can, but you aren’t really in comedy. What have you accomplished? You’re not sure. You’ve done some stuff, but what are you even trying to do anyway? You want to be an executive producer/writer kind of person anyway, don’t you? Isn’t that it? Whatever, you don’t have to figure it all out right now. Don’t worry about getting too old to act though, you’re never going to act so you can’t get too old for that. These are stupid white people problems. This guy who is a security guard at work does not own a car and so he has to take the bus and it takes him two hours to get to work. You drive a Prius, so fuck you, you stupid piece of shit. You can’t have anxiety about these bullshit problems, like what fucking dream career do I want oh my god I don’t know!

You think you are annoying, and you think about how there are much bigger problems in the world than being a single white female. What’s the point of life? You are not sure, maybe figure it out later. Fuck. You still have to clean the house, whatever, it can be done later, right? I mean it’s not like that big of a deal. I mean, life goes on, you know? Sometimes you waste an entire fucking day doing fucking nothing and still, life goes on, and things happen, and nothing stays the same, and things change, and whatever. Your life is going to be okay. One day you want a family of your own and a job you feel successful in where you feel like you make some sort of difference in the way the world perceives women in comedy, or something, but whatever. It’s fine. These things take time, right? And the bank stuff will get itself done and you’ll probably clean the apartment tomorrow, and even if you don’t who fucking cares your roommate is a fucking cunt.

You start writing this blog post.

Girl from the South Who Loves the TV Program “Whitney”

This is an improvised recording of my newest attempt at a character, Girl from the South who loves the TV Program “Whitney”. As always, please enjoy my snaggle tooth.

That Cute Barista Guy

The following is an unaddressed, open letter to that cute barista guy at Starbucks:

Dear Cute Barista Guy,

First, I must apologize if you find it emasculating that I’m referring to you as “that cute barista guy.” I’m sorry, I get it, but it’s just that you’re so fucking cuteeeeee! Also let’s be real, I’m sure I’d give you a blowjob if you asked.

Second, I must apologize if it’s super creepy that I’m writing this to you. Who am I, you might be wondering? Well, chances are you aren’t reading this because if you could read this blog that would mean I had already gotten the balls to ask you out on a date, and we both know I’ll never do that. Well we don’t both know that, because you have no idea who the fuck I am. I’m sorry, where was I? I’m in love with you? You’re right, I can’t be in love with you because the only thing I’ve ever said to you was, “um, yeah, um, I’ll, um, I’ll have a um, I’ll have a tall black iced tea. No. Yeah. Unsweetened. Okay. Thanks.” Alright, so I’m in love with the idea of you. That’s kind of even better. We can have a perfect relationship in my head, and my head has a lot of good ideas about it too. Like that time when we’ll have stayed up all night watching Family Guy and then you’ll snuggle with me so much that it’ll turn into fucking.

Cute Starbucks Guy, let me first introduce myself to you by rehashing our history. And yes, we do have a history. You see, we first didn’t meet back in 2009, when I first lay eyes on you at that particular Starbucks on the really busy street behind the Costco and across the street from the only Qdoba in town. I was so smitten with you back then that I, in fact, wrote a blog post about it! See? I hope we can both agree that my writing has improved since then, don’t you think!?!

Ah yes, 2009. How young we were. In fact, I remember eavesdropping on a particular conversation in which you revealed you were 24. At the time I remember lamenting about the fact that I didn’t even know your name, but that I did know you were 24! Haha, I still don’t know your name! At the time I thought 24 was a pretty cute age because I was 21 so I thought, “24, perfect. Old enough that he knows a little more about what he’s doing than I do but not so old that he is in his 30s, which is basically just an external manifestation of my daddy issues!”

Now you are 26, I bet! You sure do seem older. More grizzled. I think 26 is an even cuter age, especially matched up against my more mature 23!!! It’s still because you are presumably old enough that you know more about what you are doing in relationships, but not so old that you are in your 30s and representing what remain my obvious father issues.

I remember shortly after we didn’t meet back in 2009 you stopped working at that Starbucks. I was sad, and even told a monologue about my crush on you in an improv class. That monologue about how I stalked you turned into a real relationship with a boy in that improv class. I kind of stopped thinking about you, because I thought maybe being with real people was a better idea. Boy was I wrong! We since broke up, who knows, he says it’s because I’m crazy (I’m not!) but I think he was just another jerk! You know!? Anyway, I think it’s fate that you are working at this Starbucks again. It’s like the universe wants us to be together, right?!

I wish I knew more things about you, but I don’t because I am afraid to talk to you, so instead I just stare at you while I make my best friend listen to me hypothesize qualities you might possibly have that are both things that would and wouldn’t make me attracted to you.

Here are the lists of qualities I imagine you might have that make me love the idea of you even more:

1. I remember one time there was a little kid in the Starbucks (back in 2009) and you were so sweet to that little kid! You said something endearing like, “hey little guy.” So I imagine you’d be a pretty great father! : )

2. Your smile is so endearing. It makes my icy cold heart melt. Trust me, people say I’m a bitch all the time, but for you I just feel like a puddle of warm, gooey, chocolate that wants to just drip all over your back and make you feel so dirty.

3. Sorry what? I like your smile a lot. You have those creases at the edge of eyes when you smile that make you seem like you are biologically inclined to be adorable and loyal at all times, like you’d love me and ONLY me, right?

4. You seem kind hearted because even though you are working at an obviously shitty job at Starbucks, you still smile to all the customers and genuinely wish them a nice day. In fact, I don’t know what you were doing for the past two years, but whatever it was you obviously failed at those dreams. And so the fact that you could return to Starbucks and still have a smile on your face shows you are an optimist, and that’s a pretty good quality that I’m looking for in a man.

5. Yeah, I don’t know, you are like the cutest guy I have ever seen in my entire fucking life. I said it before when I first saw you, but you look like Topher Grace. What are you doing working at Starbucks anyway??? Since I last saw you, I can pretty proudly say that I have met the real Topher Grace because, not to brag, but I actually get coffee for famous people. Topher and I shook hands, and he gave a really shitty handshake. The worst, in fact. I bet if we shook hands you’d give me a much better one, Starbucks dude. But I’m so serious, you are a cuter version of Topher Grace. And you are so much more attainable, in theory, because you’re not famous! Seriously, I swear to god, you are cuter, because Topher seemed like he had a receding hairline and you do not. Also Topher Grace does not have those cute eye creases so I think he’d probably cheat, also because he’s famous. You have creases and work at Starbucks so I basically am saying you seem loyal and loving.

I also am aware of the fact that, because I don’t know you at all, you could be crazy and weird. That reminds me, just because I kind of stalk you doesn’t mean I’m crazy and weird. I can see where you would get that impression, but I can promise you I’m very normal. Anyway, here are the list of flaws I imagine you could have:

1. Okay. Well, things I do know about you: You are in your mid-20s and you work at Starbucks, a Starbucks that you in fact, returned to after not having worked at that Starbucks for a significant period of time. Whatever it is that you want to do with your life, I can’t imagine it’s much. Look, I’ve been with plenty of unemployed dudes in my time, but that’s just because they were aspiring to be more! Like, you know, something practical like what I’m trying to do with my life, like a writer or actor or comedian. What I am saying is, if you are still working at a Starbucks now at this point in your life in the South Bay which is really far from Hollywood then it’s pretty likely that you don’t give a shit about anything in life. And I don’t know, I like to think I have standards.

2. You could be a furry. I don’t know why, but something about you makes me think you could be a furry.

3. You sweep a lot. It’s kind of weird. Like, what are you doing sweeping so much? Every time I see you you’re fucking sweeping. What’s your deal man!? Why are you sweeping so much? Do you like, care about your job? Honestly, you shouldn’t, you work at Starbucks. Unless you are sweeping to make eye contact with me, in which case, that’s pretty cute, but it still makes me feel weird because I am staring at you and it’s hard to stare at you if you keep catching me staring.

4. On that note, I saw you take out the trash, and it was kind of gross. Your work uniform is super baggy on you too, and I don’t like those ratty tennis shoes you are wearing. You could do better.

5. You could be boring or even worse, nice. In fact, you probably are amazingly nice, so fuck you.

Wait, well, I’m sorry to end on such a negative note, Cute Starbucks Guy. I guess I’m just a little disappointed knowing that we’ll never be. It’s not really plausible, right? Because I thought about it a lot. What could I possibly say to you? I tested all the theories. “Hey, do you know a good restaurant around here that isn’t this Starbucks or that Chipotle?,” “Can you direct me to Aaron Brothers? Oh. It’s right next door? Okay,” “Hey, you look like that guy, Scott. Oh. You aren’t Scott? Okay. My bad.”

Ultimately, there is no good pick up line, is there Cute Starbucks Guy? I kind of think I understand how dudes must feel now when they see hot chicks in random circumstances, so, constantly. Regrettably, it seems perhaps we are not meant to be together. If we were wouldn’t this be fucking easier!? Couldn’t I do something other than stare awkwardly and flip through Glamour magazine to read about some dumb preconceived notion of “all men” that is totally useless anyway? I also used my crush on you to write  a somewhat snarky and ironic blog post about how dumb crushes are (this one! so meta), and so chances are I should let you go. I mean, isn’t that what they say? That if you love the idea of something you should let it go and if it loves you back it’ll go about it’s business and sweep the floors and be charming to small children while it works at Starbucks? You are probably an unassuming and simple guy, Cute Starbucks Guy. I wish you the best in life, even a girlfriend, although, fuck that bitch. I wish we could have met in different circumstances. Circumstances in which I probably would have gotten to know you a little better, and in doing so I probably would have realized that you are obsessed with video games and don’t get me at all because I’m weird and over-think things. Also I totally can’t go back because your co-worker caught me staring and he said, “Hellooooo!” in a way where I know he caught me staring, and so I ran out, probably to never see you again.

Goodbye Cute Barista Guy. I won’t be posting a missing connections ad for you on Craigslist this time, but mostly because I could do without the pictures of dicks. If you do want to get married though, please feel free to find me on twitter, @jessicacabot, because most of my existence does take place there.

Best… What the hell, Love,

Jessica

Conversational Highlights 8/26/11

Context: I am at work, giving a tour.

Dude: So, do you want to be an actress or something?

Me: Actually, I want to be a comedian.

Woman: Are you serious?

Me: I think that’s the only serious thing I’ve ever said.

——

Context: I am on Facebook, procrastinating.

Me: Hey!

Friend: hey! what’s up?

Me: not much. um. yeah. haha. just chillin’.  how are you?

Friend: I’m freaking out because I’m too high. Has anything I’ve said to you made any sense lately?