Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Becoming a Model

Anorexia: because you're only attractive when you're close to death

‘What is it about those women that makes men like them so much?” I asked, sitting outside with a friend, staring at the amazing beauties before me.

”Because Kim." My friend said, "…they are MODELS.”

Hmmm , now that was an idea. So men actually like…models?…and if I was a 'model', I would attract more men?

Now this was certainly an interesting thought. But what would it take for me to become a model? And how long before I could actually start telling people I was a 'model'? Do I have to sleep with Johnny Depp and have an acid trip with Janice Dickenson before I get my modeling card? As I sat thinking over my friend’s comment that evening, watching Bring It on:In It To Win It…I thought...maybe I could do this. Think of all the things I have accomplished in my life, maybe modeling could be one of them.

So I wrote out a list of everything it would take for me to become a ‘model’.

After many hours and the demolition of two lead pencils, I finally had my list.

Step1- lose 20 pounds

Step 2- become tall

Step 1 is easy, losing weight is a simple game that everyone knows how to play and knows exactly what it takes to accomplish…become a coke feign. Problem solved. Coke is clearly the answer and I will be running my fingers along the outlines of my kidney and intestines in no time.

Now on to step 2. Become tall. This was seemingly easy at first…break kneecaps, trick blind doctor into inserting longer metal rod into my ACL... Bada bing bada boom, I am a few inches taller.

Finding a blind doctor however, seemed to be the hardest part, mostly because, assuming the doctor used a seeing eye dog and being that dogs are not allowed in hospitals, how would I know which doctors were blind? Then, in my quest for blind doctor, I came to find out that APPARENTLY you are not allowed to do coke before you go in for surgery. Which totally destroyed my 'being a coke feign' plan. What kind of tomfoolery is that?!

Regardles, now I am onto a new plan.

Plan B- Fuck modeling, write children’s books.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Book Titles

So I have been pondering recently ("pondering"...get it?! ... yeah, neither do I) what I am going to title my first non-fiction book...besides titling it the obvious 'No One Loves Me So I Blog', I thought maybe I needed something more.

I need something serious, yet thoughtful... exciting, yet provoking, challenging, yet...not challenging? I don't know, but I figure that is why I have tell me how to live my life and what to title a please review the titles below and let me know what works for you, or if you have any ideas of your own...because sometimes, I think people who read my columns have actual thoughts in their brains...not always...but definitely sometimes.

Book Titles:
Old People Can't Use Computers: And other truths on life

Female Comedians: And other things that aren't funny

Old People Like Duane Reade: And life's other truths

Women Cry Like Girls: And other true events

Women Can Vote?!: And other things that baffle my mind

Skittles: I don't taste the fucking rainbow

Drunk Dial Your Way Through Life: A Guide

Jesus Wore Ugly Sandals: And other truths

Online Bank Statements: And other proof that Satan exists

Friday, January 25, 2008

Single Grocery Girl

Dear Single Grocery Girl,

I can see your items. Laid out flat like a dope carrying American at the Mexican border. Why I ask, single grocery girl, do you stand in front of me with oh so many yogurts? So many nonfat yogurts I think you could drown in a dairy filled scuba tank. And why so many Smart Ones? Not that I don’t enjoy a Smart One every now and then when I am craving preservatives in a frozen form, but could you try and appear less single perhaps? Maybe buy a pack of beer and some condoms just for my sake? Because as I stand behind you in line, waiting to buy my Vodka and Star Magazine, I know you see me. And I am doing exactly what you think I am doing my Dear.
Judging you.

Of course I am judging you! Good God and sweet Jesus Eleanor what else would I be doing?! Thinking nice thoughts? Oh no no no. Of course I am thinking bad things about you sister Mary Kary let’s not live in lollypop and cotton candy world!

Single Grocery Girl, I wonder, how many rice cakes and single serving cracker packets can fit in that pantry of yours? How many ‘Lonely Girl’ frozen dinners can possible fit in that freezer? And most importantly, how many tissues can fit in your wallowing hole of despair? Ah but alas as single girl approaches to pay with her Ocean pictured MasterCard, I think, I hope actually, that she has important things in her life to keep her going…things like a loving family… good friends…. the new season of The Hills on DVD...

So until we meet again, I raise a Lean Cuisine to you Single Grocery Girl, in hopes that one day your cart is filled with chips and other shit food and beer… as I will know then, you will have finally found love!

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

A Thought On Fame On This Tuesday

So there comes a time in every writer’s life, when you just don’t know what to say. And you want to be funny, and hell, you are funny, sometimes you can't even HELP but be funny, it's like Jesus puts the jokes directly into your mouth and it's all you can do to spit them up all over everyone. And then sometimes being funny is hard, hard when you have things happen such as the death of Heath Ledger. And everyone is talking about it, everywhere you go. And yet I can’t think of one witty thing to say about it.
Not one fucking thing.
Mostly because he is 28. Damn, man, 28 years old. Why? Why at 28? When you got everything?
Look at us writers, waking up every morning , taking our first sip of coffee, trying to get out there running, make some career out of nothing.
Say something.
Write something.
Act something.
Model something, that means something.
Does it mean something?

Writing, blogging, thinking, smoking, sipping coffee, thinking more, blogging more, more smoking, more drinks, more writing, more thinking….and for what?
For a little bit of fame?
Want a little bit of fame?
Got a little bit of fame?

So you wake up, start running, start hustling, go get a little bit more. Off to get just heard, just a little bit more. All of us creative individuals, looking to get some piece of work heard, seen, smelled, tasted, touched. God all I want is to heard. God all I want is to be seen. God all I want is to be touched. And look. Look how great fame is. So great that it can’t even make you happy. Can’t save you from much, especially not yourself.

Couldn’t save Heath.

Is it going to save you?

Couldn't save Heath.

So to all my writers, my actors, my singers, my dancers, my models, my painters, my thinkers, my comics, my sculptures, my script writers…I hope that what your out there hustling for each morning is happiness. For peace with yourself. Or maybe some sort of peace in your life where you are. Cause being heard, seen, tasted, touched, may never make you complete.

Do what you love.
Love what you do.

Cause fame will never complete you.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Everyday Normal Guy- Part 2

Because he cooks good macaroni motherfucker!

Friday, January 18, 2008

Friday's Deep Thoughts

If God was to be aged in years…that would make him what?... 102? 103? And if God were to know all the humans on earth and want to communicate with them, via Verizon (it DOES have the largest network)….would he have to use an old-man cell phone like the Jitterbug?…with large scale numbers and display? Would Jitterbug give God a cell phone plan for free? Does God get a mail-in rebate? Where would the rebate be mailed back to?... And more importantly…does Verizon sell Jitterbugs?

Monday, January 14, 2008

Dating Do's and Don'ts (also know as- dating advice from a Shallow Bitch)

Who are these mexican douchbags? I hope they stop "talking" and start
"sexing" pretty soon, jeez Louise!

Walking my roommate to yet another date (no I did not go on it with her, I only walked there cause it was on my way to the bookstore although I bet that dude would have been stoked to have two English majors grinding his ass) we talked about the feelings she was experiencing walking there, about to meet some guy who could possibly be her future boyfriend. The feelings we came up with were: fear, dread and nausea. Why are all first dates so fucking bad? Even when they are good they are bad. Welcome to the worst interview of your life, the one where you have to be charming and witty, and smell good and not fart. I mean it’s so much pressure I get a little bit of back vomit just thinking about it. I have a ‘marrying’ list, of all the men in my life who I have resume myself to marry when I get to the “scary age” ("75") ... I do this mostly so I will never have to go on a first date ever again. I plan on scanning the list drunk one night with my eyes closed... point my finger and whomever it lands on gets a phone call and a flight to Vegas (accompanied by lots of date rape drugs of their choice- remember those horror stories back in the 90’s of people getting drugged at bars and the next morning waking up in a tub full of ice with their kidney’s stolen for money? Well those are the kind of drugs I am talking about). John is keeping his fingers crossed right at this very moment that he is the lucky choosen one.

I have been on enough first dates to teach a class on them (I normally carry around some library microfiche and a projector at all times anyway). Here is my list of Dating Do’s and Don’ts coming first hand from a real expert…and by ‘a real expert’ I do mean ‘a real asshole’.

Dating Don’ts:

- Don’t talk about yourself. I don’t care about your job, your education, your money, that you were adopted from “Korea”.. blah blah blah….I do care that you laugh at my jokes, ask me about my job, my education, and how I was adopted from the “Mall of America”
- Change the rule above from, “don’t talk about yourself” to just “don’t talk”. All women really want out of life is a good looking mute anyway. The only time I will ever enjoy your voice is when it is screaming my name later covered in a bathtub of jello. So until I start boiling the sugar water, just shut it.
- Don’t wear anything that is too outdoorsy. No construction boots. Just don’t. I don’t have time to even get into explaining this one. I don’t even think there are enough words in the universe that can go into explaining this one. And don’t wear anything from LLBean. Are we chopping wood and whittling a toothpick into a stool?... No? …Swimming wild rapids with salmon swimming upstream?... No? …Eating bear meat from inside a tree-bark tent and shitting in a dirt hole? …No? …Then just don’t.
- Change the rule above from “don’t wear anything too outdoorsy” to, “don’t wear anything”. I prefer my men to just show up naked ready to go. (Editor’s note- this also helps enforce rule number 1, the no talking rule).

Dating Do’s

- Do lie to make yourself seem like a much more attractable kind of person. Women love it when men lie, they practically force you to lie. The more lies the better. Women can't handle the truth, so the more lies you can produce the more you are on your way to a successful relationship. Example: - “ Yeah so I work at Morgan Stanley... yup, made the twenty thousand bonus just last week….I didn’t take it though…gave it all to charity…the charity for battered women living in the city….Yeah I live in a penthouse place…but I house homeless people there on weekends…either there or I let them sleep in my Porsche…”… See how the lie was so much cooler?

- Do be an asshole. Women LOVE assholes. Take it from me, the more you insult me, beat me down, the more I will want to know you. No woman wants a nice guy. Nice guys are beige, And nothing is worse then beige….except maybe beige with white trim…but that is a whole OTHER story.

I hope you have learned something today about life and living. And that you can come back and give me a full report on your dating experiences and how I ultimately changed your life. Some people call me “Kim” and others confuse my name for “Guru”… take that as you will.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Tuesday Night's Deep Thoughts

I was in Starbucks the other day, writing this column and I started thinking about things I did in my life that made me feel like I have truly contributed to society. Things like, volunteered at a soup kitchen… read to children in a shelter…told a fat women not to buy anything corduroy… Of all the good things I remember though…there is one incident that stands out in my mind. NYCares allowed me to go read bedtime stories to the children at the Ichan Housing Project on the West Side. After reading two short stories some of the other little girls began to crowd around me on the floor. “You’re pretty.” One of them said. “I know.” I said. “But…” The little girl continued. “You have roots..” She then pointed her finger to the top of my scalp where my highlights ended. I looked at her standing in her tattered clothes, her barely full belly protruding, arms mangled and bruised. I stopped reading, softened my eyes and said,. “Well, you’re homeless…and your mama is a hoe….” I then smiled, and felt truly blessed.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Girls - Nemesis/ Archnemis and Aerobic Instructors

For those of you who have not read Chuck Klosterman, there is a theory he has that transcends most theories I have on life…and no I am not talking about my ‘men in Birkenstocks’ theories, although that comes close. The theory suggesting that women function better in society because they recognize they have a nemesis and an archnemesis. The nemesis most likely being their best friend (clearly) or someone who has been their best friend (pillow-fight mishap perhaps); and their archnemesis being the girl they have hated for many years (essentially someone better looking). As women we like to think, “Oh no Sally will be a nice girl and get along with everyone…” But the truth is, no matter how lady-like Sally is, deep down she is willing to kill one woman and have the other woman mangled by wolves… the one mangled and still surviving of course, being her nemesis.

My Nemesis is as predicted, one of my good friends. Or more so one of my ‘seemingly’ good friends. If you knew us closely you would know my deep seething hatred for her. Or possibly jealously. Let’s call my NemeisisHessica”… or as I like to call her “The Bitch that ruined my 22nd Birthday” . Now “Hessica” is one of those girls who gets away with anything. She can be a full out prick everyday of her life, because she is one of 'those girls'. And by ‘those girls” I mean- she is “hot and selfish”…two traits I have long desired to attain through many years of hard work.

She does all the normal best friend things…tell me how to style my hair…questions my job changes…tells me my uterus will never support babies…the usual. And as much as I hate her , I secretly long to be Hessica, long to be carefree enough to say what’s on my mind, wear what I want, think what I want….And some nights I sit awake wondering what might happen if a taxi cab ran her over. But truth be told, I don’t want that cab to kill her…just to mangle her up a bit, maybe give her a funny wink or smile or something. Maybe just hit the side of her leg just hard enough for her face to plunge into the cement street and break that perfect tip of her nose. Without her though, I wouldn’t spend so much thought into the clothes I wear going out at night, or the way I style my hair, or my overall attitude. And when all is said and done, she makes me strive to be a better (looking) person.

My Archnemesis is quite the same, except when I sit in bed awake at night dreaming of the cab hitting her I dream of it actually running her over and over again. I then imagine standing at her funeral while people talk about now they never much liked her to begin with. My Archnemeis of course being the first girl to ever take a boyfriend from me. I actually watched her walking out of his apartment building at 4am ...and no, I was not camped out in a bush carrying an extra large purple flashlight bought from the LLBean camping section (pg 24)…JEEZ! Not only did the cunt take my boyfriend, but she got some great job and some amazing house and even bought a car. I haven’t thought about buying a car since the subway system was invented in the 1600’s. I haven’t driven one in the same amount of time either. And the most expensive investment I have made this yet was in a bottle of percoet.

However my archnemis makes me want a get better job…rent out a bigger apartment…learn how to punch a nice uppercut to her face.... Either way, I actually work harder to become a better person by outdoing her. And stay motivated. And when all is said and done; having her around makes me a better person.

And one day when I am married and carrying babies, I may not care about either of these women. I may not care about any woman at all. But most likely I will just have new women to loathe in my life. Evil women such as, “PTA Members” or “Choir Singers"...regardless they all will make me a better person, forcing me to wake up every morning stating, “Kim, you woke up today to outdo that bitch.” Which, as I believe, is also a quote said by someone named “Jesus”.
Just sayin.