January Jones/Betty Draper Impression

January Jones/Betty Draper Impression from Almie Rose on Vimeo.

"But Alex," she asked, "How can I repay you for helping me with my website?"

"Do a January Jones impression," he said.

And it was done.

Someday.

Nadia Cassini, a very rad woman. I have once been told that I look like her. It was the highlight of my day, my week, my month, even my year.

I've got to believe that it's going to get better. I need to, like Rod Stewart, find a reason to believe.

It's not always going to be like this. There's going to be a day when we know what we're doing. There's going to be a day when we're dating someone who is not an asshole. There's going to be a day when we are paid for doing something we love and are good at and make our parents proud. This day is coming and we need to believe this.

We need to cheer up somehow. We need to tell ourselves that it's not so bad. We need to find friends and tell them that we need them. We need to go out and we need to make responsible decisions but we also need to have fun.

We need to eat well and stop gorging ourselves on rich cheeses. That is, I think we need to do this. We need to firmly and finally drop people from our lives who respond to our cries of help with, "Ask someone else." We need to let people know that our time is valuable and that we deserve your attention and respect.

When our friends tell us that that guy is not a nice guy then we need to believe them. When people show us who they really are we need to believe them. We need to believe in ourselves that it will all work out. Maybe to help us we can believe that any choice we make is the right one, as long as we're making it in a sane frame of mind.

Because we need to stop doubting ourselves. Hating ourselves. Pitying ourselves.

But if we can't then we need to be OK somehow. Someday. And if all we can do is hope and believe then that's what we'll do. Because that's something. That's the first step towards something.

I have to believe that it's going to get better.

Someday -- The Strokes

Interesting Ways To Kill Myself.

INTERESTING WAYS TO KILL MYSELF:

1.) Go to Universal Studios, get on the tram ride; once on ride wait until the tram comes to the part of the tour with the "broken bridge"; as tram crosses "breaking" bridge, wait for tour guide to give the spiel about how the bridge is out; scream, "THE BRIDGE IS OUT?? WE'LL ALL BE KILLED!" and dive out of tram into the shallow lake below.

2.) Train for my big wrestling comeback; when doctor tells me that if I wrestle my heart could go out, do it anyway, in a blaze of glory to "Sweet Child O' Mine."

3.) Drive a convertible off of Mulholland Drive, Thelma and Louise style; hope for freeze-frame before plummeting to death.

4.) Get trampled in a flashmob gone horribly wrong.

5.) Swallow one of every kind of pill in the house, along with assorted change found in the bottom of my purse.

6.) Eat brie until I explode.

7.) Die of second-hand embarrassment while watching January Jones host Saturday Night Live.

I'm On The Bleachers.

Lately I can't stop listening to pop music. I switch between KIIS FM and the new station that's on 97.1. I just go back and forth. If KIIS has a commercial I go to the other one; if the other one is playing something I don't recognize I switch to the one; and so on and so forth until we die.

"I like the lyrics about being a cheerleader and she's in the bleachers!" Kanye West gushed on his blog after Swiftgate '09. Even though he was trying (poorly) to save his own ass, I think he was being serious. Those are pretty good lyrics. The whole song is just too much fun.

I totally get what Taylor Swift is saying: "Dreamin' 'bout the day when you wake up and find/what you're looking for has been here the whole time...why can't you see you belong with me?" Taylor, I get it. Except I feel like you've never really been there. Taylor Swift you are stunning. You're like 90 feet tall, thin as a bone, with the most elegant neck I've ever seen. You look not like a girl, but not yet a woman. (Thanks Brit.)

Not that I want to look older; GOD NO. I already have lines in my forehead. What the swift?? Why do I have lines in my forehead? I'm young. I don't smoke. I put on sunscreen. What is this bullshit. I did not authorize this.

Back to Taylor Swift. Her song that I'm talking about is about a Jonas brother or something. I don't understand the Jonas Brothers and frankly I prefer ignorance. I know there's 3 of them: Nick, Joe...and Frankie? Newton? Chester? Jack? Jim? Harold? Timmy? And...I know they're a band, but I think they also have a show? Are they playing themselves on the show? What the fuck is going on? No don't tell me, I really don't want to know.

Last night I was in the car with my friend and her boyfriend and while he was being Mr. Stormcloud in the backseat we were belting it out to Swift. Then the greatest thing happened: when the aforementioned song ended, we flipped it to the other pop station, where the same song was just starting. It was like Christmas. Christmas in our face.

The rest of the night was honestly kind of a mess for reasons not worth going into here. Unrelated but earlier in the evening we hung out in a sleek bar in Venice where we got free drinks because my friend's boyfriend knows everyone who works there. The bartender looked like a young Tom Hanks circa Big/Splash. I don't know why I thought that was totally hot but I did. I guess because a young Tom Hanks looks like Tom Everett Scott and that guy is legit hot. Anyway I was totally ready to hit on him like a drunk dad at batting practice but then my friend's boyfriend said he was a douche. And that's being nice. He actually let loose a long list of adjectives that this guy was, none of them complementary. And for once, I decided, yeah it's not worth it. I know enough assholes. I am one. There's really no need to add another one to that list, even if he does look like a young Tom Hanks.

I guess Taylor Swift and I are really growing up.

Danny's Signs He's Not Worth It.

Please enjoy this piece by guest writer and friend Danny Artese:

So you're texting/ g-chatting/ on your phone with/ great-Gilbert-Gottfried's ghost!- having drinks in person with- your friend whose vulnerable little heart has once again been stepped on by a specimen of australopithecus jerkarensis. As you dab your friend's tears with your monogrammed hankie (Handkerchiefs for repeated nose-blowing = why does this still happen? Handkerchiefs for dabbing the tears of a friend in need = approved) you say, "Don't be upset. He isn't even worth the snotty cocktail napkin you're crying into (no way is your friend's nose going in your hankie, after all)!" This could be one of those things you say to make people feel better like, "Maybe losing your job, your health insurance, and your Betta fish all in one day is a blessing in disguise" or maybe you actually mean it.

Why do we really mean it when we tell our friends a guy's not worth it, but have such a hard time believing it when we hear it? Same with compliments, by the way. If only all the answers followed, but instead please enjoy whatever learnings this list of true-life examples of things boys have said and done to prove they are definitively not worth it (obvious proof in the style of only-periodical hygiene, violent tendencies, unhealthy addictions, and brown shoes with black belts need not be mentioned):

He says: I have commitment issues. This one is entirely context-dependent. If you have selected paint samples for the baby's nursery and booked your hotel room in Sochi for the 2014 Winter Games before you've learned his last name, he's probably entirely justified in telling you he has commitment issues. More likely, you have commitment issues. However, when a guy tells you he has commitment issues when you are trying to schedule a second date after an agreed-upon spectacular first date, he is not likely to be worth joining for a second date. Either he's lying- but we never want to believe they are lying when they tell us a date we enjoyed went well- and is using this as an excuse, or he's telling the truth. In the event he is an honest soul, there is no need to waste time pursuing someone who is so scared of the amazing time he had in his first outing with you that he can't stomach the idea of another. The only possible route to redemption after such a disgrace is obviously if he handwrites you a love letter in which he explains that he was startled by how quickly he fell for you and lists all his favorite quirks about you: "the way you cut your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in three instead of two, how your freckled nose crinkles just above the bridge whenever the smell of yesterday's pad thai wafts into the dark channels that are your nostrils, etc".

He says: I get it. You're (fill in the blank). Any way you slice it, this is a sign you're dealing with a guy who is clearly beneath you. If he fills in the blank with a negative (gassy/poor/ancient) he's just mean. Fill in the blank with a positive (brilliant/beautiful/hilarious) and it comes off sarcastic at best. The implication of his preface "I get it" is that you can stop trying so hard to convince him of your best attributes, even if they're just shining through naturally. What is dating but an exercise in convincing and being convinced that high levels of brilliance, beauty, and hilarity are present? On the off chance that you really are trying too hard to communicate these qualities (ok, it's an on chance), he can let you know he's picked up on them with a simple, "Wow; how did I get so lucky to meet someone who's so brilliant/beautiful/hilarious?"followed with a gentle, gentlemanly kiss on the neck, cheek, or possibly lips; I'll take corny over tactless any day. I want to be electrified, not electrocuted, thank you.

One of my personal favorites a guy has ever said to me: I already feel like I know you well enough. Well enough? You know me well enough? You would rather not learn one tiny new thing about me, ever? Note to all the gentleman callers out there: when you're with someone, whether it's romantic, entirely platonic, or an encounter of the third kind and the other party says something along the lines of wanting to get to know you better, "I already feel like I know you well enough," is never an appropriate response unless you are looking to halt production until a replacement can be found. In that case, proceed and enjoy your karma.

He's ugly. If you're embarrassed to be seen with him, it doesn't matter how wonderful he is behind closed doors. If you must be with an ugly guy, keep things under wraps. Literally. Wrap that sucker's face in gauze and tell him you have a mummy fetish if you need to. You'll earn far more brownie points for dating a burn victim than you'll lose for breaking up with a guy just because he's not attractive. I fully support dating slightly beneath your own hotness to ensure you're the better looking one, however.

Danny currently lives in New York where he spends his free time building tiny houses for goldfish crackers. He used to like Martha Stewart but doesn't anymore. Danny knows a lot about fine cheeses and is a great person to watch American Idol with. When asked if Danny would write a piece for my blog, he laughed then paused and said, "Oh, you're serious."

Yikes.

Yikes. from Almie Rose on Vimeo.

True story.

What Don't You Fucking Understand?

Yes, friends, it's another Facebook post. WAIT, DO NOT LEAVE, PLEASE. DO NOT CLICK THE LITTLE "X." DO NOT GO INTO KARLA'S CLOSET OR INTO THE VAST DESERT OF ONTD. STAY WITH ME A LITTLE LONGER. DO NOT GO GENTLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT.

OK now that it's just us, let's get really intimate. Let's talk about stuff. Let's throw it out there, like a deer carcass on a table.

Remember when you first got Facebook and you thought it would change your life? Wait, maybe that was just me. But remember when you first got it and you thought, "Oh this is cool and better than Friendster"? Yeah you have to remember that. Remember Friendster? Remember how there were "testimonials" and how when you wrote testimonials for each other you wrote them sincerely, because it was all so new? I had a friend who wrote things like, "Help, I am Rosie the Robot and I am trapped by George Jetson and forced to write things on Friendster!" Trust me, it was funny at the time. When the teacher pops a test, I know I'm in a mess, and the dog ate all my homework last night.

I think what upsets me most about Facebook is the jarring way it straddles the line between privacy and public life. By which I mean a lot of things, so let's break it down (remember that deer carcass? We're gonna take of its limbs and stuff. I'm sorry, I saw "The Queen" a few nights ago and I'm still thinking about that scene where Helen Mirren stares at the dead deer. God Helen Mirren was so fucking hot in her youth. She still is, in her own way, but that Mirren was like a girl from a David Bowie song or something, man. Wait, what? Oh right, let's break it down):

-- When someone posts news on Facebook or interacts with you in some way, do you then bring it up in public? Or is it like you have two separate lives? How many times have we been at a party and someone you know starts telling you something about their lives and you think, "Fuck I remember reading that on my feed, do I let them keep talking? Are we now both pretending like this is new information?" It's the new "Uh oh this person has something in their teeth, do I tell them?"

-- "It's complicated" is your relationship status. Then why the hell are you hitting on me? Are you trying to make merde more complicated? Sweet sassy molassy, what does "It's complicated" even mean, really? I take it to mean, "I'm currently fucking someone" but I could be way off.

-- Between this blog, Facebook, and my twitter, it seems like I have no new banter left to present in "real life." Do you have any idea how many times I've tried to use that Jurassic Park joke in person only to be told, "I read that on your blog" and have me feel dumb? Do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with new material? Yabba Dabba Doo!

-- This one annoys me to no end: I send you a message on Facebook, you haven't responded, but you've updated your profile/status/done something to prove that you in fact have been on Facebook and are, for whatever aggravating reason, not responding to my message. Don't you see how rude that is? To be honest, I've done that before, but only because I've totally forgotten that I had a message to respond to. So I like to give people the benefit of the doubt that think that they have also forgotten, but it gets harder to believe when they update their Facebook every day. Like, what the hell? Answer my goddamn message! I can tell you're online, I know you got it, because Facebook you know, works, so what the hell?? What don't you fucking understand??

However, I still can't bring myself to delete my Facebook. I KNOW, I KNOW! I just can't. I would feel way too disconnected from the world. For one thing, people use Facebook over email or telephone to send out invitations to parties/events. And you all know how much I love going to parties. I'm like Andy Warhol; I'd go to the opening of a cereal box. I just can't risk that disconnect. I need to know what's going on. Except for when I see something potentially upsetting, like when a love interest has moved/gotten a girlfriend/cut his hair. That's damaging. But, like an abusive lover, I keep coming back. I let Facebook pummel me and then I just bleed all over it.

These songs describe in every way possible, from lyric to melody, how I feel about Facebook:

Total Eclipse Of The Heart -- Bonnie Tyler
This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) -- Talking Heads
Laura -- Girls
Hate -- Cat Power
This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us -- Sparks
and finally
What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love And Understanding -- Elvis Costello & The Attractions