Almost Sunday

I was so ready to do my PostSecret posting on this actual Sunday instead of the following Friday or something, but my internet was down yesterday. F that. Here's my breakdown:



Because it IS hilarious. Except how freaked out are you to the be the bystander that walks down the aisle of tiny frankensteins after the guilty has run away?



Nervous #twos: Most Unfortunate human reaction. Why couldn't it just stop at clammy hands or obnoxious chattiness?




There's something about Bollywood movies that reinforce the dream of a "5,6,7,8-production number" world.

At least you have the decency to ring it up at all. Not that I'm judging if you don't...

My Secret for the week:

Octopi and squid freak me out. Except I eat calamari...

Can I get an amen?

The bass in my walk...

So Monday was NOT a good self-esteem day. I went to an open call, no callback. That's fine, it's the biz, whatever. So I found myself at the mall, perhaps for a little retail therapy, and decided to try on some bathing suits. NOT a confidence booster. So I found solace in Betsey Johnson. (I live.) But alas, the dresses I loved wouldn't zip over my boobs. (Yes, I'm allowed to compain about the boobs when they keep me from enjoying Betsey Johnson fashion.) Strike three. I ended up just buying some lip gloss and retreating to Bry's place. And this is where I got my groove back. All thanks to:

I learn more about being a fabulous woman watching men tip down the runway then watching beautiful women fail at it on ANTM. These drag queens are beautiful even when they're bitches. They have more poise and confidence being a women than a lot of the women I know. The next time I'm feeling frumpy, I'm just gonna lip sync for my life and let my diva out! And imagine RuPaul herself saying "Erin...Shante, you stay."

PoooooostSecret

I've been lazy and neglectful. (Is that a word? whatever.) I'm still as big a fan of PostSecret as ever, but I just haven't expressed it so on my blog. Soooooo here's a small collection of my faves from the past few weeks:


I fell in love with a boy at MoMA for approx. 23 seconds when we were looking at the same picture. It was so much fun.

Completely justified! I ask my graphic designer to photoshop them.

This is dangerous. And all for a good cause.

There's nothing like a few cocktails and a botched rendition of "American Pie" with the Andersons. I also like getting drunk with other people's parents.

I've always wanted to burn an entire Chekov play.

I think we always make art. Everytime we create something. A sandwich can be just as inspiring as a Monet. Except you can eat a sandwich.

This is true. They probably have the most secrets and their secrets will gnaw themselves out eventually, but with PostSecret, at least they'd know they're not alone.

My secret for the week:

I freak out a little bit when I notice I'm "slowly turning into my mother." But then I remember my mom is awesome and then I'm okay.

Can I get an Amen?

Gratitude

Woo, it's been a while since I've posted a gratitude post, but that doesn't mean I've been ungrateful. This gratitude post is all about New York, in lieu of my pilgrimage. These are my most recent favorite things about New York.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for the aesthetically pleasing and A.D.D. friendly JetBlue Airlines. Even though the stewardesses take their job too seriously, I still enjoyed my Munchie mix and diet Coke while I learned that 4 airbags deploy in my row in the case of an emergency. And I'll never forget it.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for New York pizza, namely on Bleeker Street. The party in my tummy had no idea what was coming. But it liked it.

Dear Baby Jesus, I may be the only thanking your for pigeons. But they're funny. So thank you.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for the Museum of Modern Art, where hipsters and crazies assemble to be weird, but with an open mind. I had no idea that a bad of cat litter and self-mutilation was art. I'm sorry I got tired and weirded out before we reached all of the floors. Maybe I'll start at the top next time?

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for the Not For Tourists Guide to New York City. I didn't know that looking at a map was still for non-tourists.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for the infamous Subway and it's sense of humor. This poster was our favorite. Thank you also for that guy playing the guitar on the L train and how everyone thought it was okay. On that note, thank you for all of the subway platform performers. Livin the dream.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for the Naked Cowboy. We know each other real well now, as you can see. I'm sorry, I know my body is a temple, but it isn't a very good temple if no one visits, right. So the Naked Cowboy went straight to the basement.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you soooo much for Magnolia cupcakes. Sweet, sweet nectar of your tears and crystalized sugar never tasted so good.

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you most of all for the best friends ever, not all pictured here. This picture just had the most in it. I can't wait to live there.

Random act of dance...

Random acts of kindness are so '08. The new way to spread joy and sponeneity in the world is random acts of dance. It's gonna be big in '09.
This was done at the Liverpool Station. 10 hidden cameras, 400 dancers, and countless bewildered people who nonetheless joined in.