Doo Wop (That Thing)


Most of my stories, the really good ones, start like this:

I got drunk at a friends birthday party one night in August 2015.

I was sitting in a couch, three drinks in and talking to two friends I hadn’t seen in eons because I’m a hermit shut in who was working long strange hours on weekends so being social was always a challenge. Also, I’m a hermit shut in. While chatting, I was approached by a woman holding a bottle of wine the way I hold a bottle of whiskey.

With fucking conviction.

She tells me (and I’m a bit of a haze because exhausted and damnit whiskey) she’s a divorce attorney right off the bat and I nod how impressed I am because a) a bit tipsy b) that’s forward c) she’s pretty young. I’m drunk and don’t know I’m being flirted with. I’m also dumb and don’t know when I’m being flirted with. It’s potent concoction.



mood forever

I proceed to have a good time playing a very complicated game of Exploding Kittens (I’m not crazy about it you know? Give me Cards Against Humanity anyday) while doing pulls and my eyes get bloodshot and nothing hurts and it’s 1am and I’m in a basement party listening to Skrillex like I’m 19 and I know I’m being watched.

I vaguely recall sauntering over and talking, god only knows what I said but I’m pretty sure I was engaging. I was being grilled by other friends because I get loud and obnoxious when I’m high, drunk and exhausted. I do my best not to text Waffle and I realize with every cloud of smoke that I’m not even thinking about Waffle anymore. I’m not thinking about anything. I’m talking to this girl and can’t remember a goddamned thing but I’m Skippy peanut butter smooth and it probably is working but my close friend, let’s call him The Vet is sideeying me because he knows I’m drunk and I’m torpedoing my chances at anything remotely resembling a normal social human.



Hey lil mama

I go back to the game and see Her standing up to go and I drunkenly declare “I’m supposed to go with her.”

I have no idea why I felt the compulsion to do that but yeah, there you go.

So we’re outside and this is where, like most of the things that happen after a good night out I don’t remember shit.

I get home and find a message on Instagram.

Someone slid into my DMs.

If you’re one of those people who lives under a rock or is just not hip to things (or a proper hermit who doesn’t follow whatever is going on in the world) it goes down in the DMs. A direct message on Instagram is like opening the Ark of the Covenant at the end of Raiders; it could be face melting.


It goes down in the DMs. People confess things, send you messages make you wonder what is going on in the world or with you that someone wants to just slide in and start chatting. I ignore it at first, mild interest compelling me to give one word vaguely flirtatious answers and all the while, my mind is drifting to whether or not this girl is someone I want to talk to because my heart is still stuck on stupid with Waffle. I let the conversation die…after giving Duck my number.

The texts come in, simple, occasional and flirty. I wind up reading them, low level checking out Instagram and keeping tabs. Duck is fond of selfies. VERY. Fond of Selfies. And food. It’s interesting. There is something alluring about the nearly hourly updates of selfies because the eyes tell a story that was still very interesting.

Duck gives good face.

Which brings me to the title of this post.

That thing.

I’ve found that I’ve an uncanny ability of having strong feelings towards people with very simple features that seem to just be otherworldly if you know how to look for them. With Waffle (I can barely recall it now which, shoutouts to me for having the ability to kinda worm my way out of that right? Nah.) it was the eyes and smile. Still gets me. I noticed with Duck, it’s the jawline and curve of the lips. Go figure. It’s that thing. Everyone has it. That quirk that just makes a person perfect and unique to the beholder. I am compelled to tease Duck and text “You take alot of selfies.”

“Feel free to unfollow.”

Simple. Challenging. Confident.

What a little shit.

We flirt on and on and as Waffle drifts farther and farther away from me, the loss feels less and less like a loss and the hole still feels like a hole but it is what it is, I accept that this is just how things are going to be. Waffle isn’t coming back and Waffle is totally fine with never being anything to me.


I end up texting again with Duck and we make plans. I put them off. “I’m tired.” I put them off. “Come hang out.” I put them off. I get a call. I’m a little buzzed (naturally) and wind up making plans to meet.

That. Thing.

I sit in a car with Duck from 11p to 4:30a and sleep like a toddler til 11a the next morning. It’s a Sunday and I wake up with a text message.


We make plans again and again and I don’t break them. The experience is unique. We’re trying to understand each other; both of us are victims of circumstance with relationships with pieces of metal fragments still stuck in soft part of our hearts and bodies. Her way of coping is with the selfies, mine, uhhh well, you know what mine is and we’re two people who are just trying to figure it all out. The strange thing about meeting someone and getting along with them is how often you see layers of other people on them. I don’t mean their pasts or their exes, I mean people you’ve met along the way to meeting the person in front of you. You see the person you had a crush on but were to afraid to approach, the person you were with and it all fell apart, you see the elements of someone you want to be in them and that’s when the layers fall away and you see it.

That thing. The thing that makes that person stand out in a crowd, how you can pick them out and know that they’re the one you want to spend time with. It’s not always sexual in nature, not at first because like anything, that takes time, especially when you’re talking about two people who are still very hurt by the way other people treated them. That thing is what keeps you two moving around each other, slowly orbiting until you’re comfortable enough to atleast broach the subject of whatever else you want, whatever else you need. It’s that thing that makes us all a little more curious to get closer in an increasingly isolating world of dating apps and casual connections; that thing that makes you crave human contact when you’ve adapted to life without it. You find yourself wondering how their day is, you stop thinking so much about the person you were with someone else and the person you might be with the person in front of you.

That thing.

You weren’t looking for anything but it sneaks up on you and that’s it.

The trick now is, how to not fuck it up.

What I Learned: Comeback Season

I’ve been terrible with all this haven’t I?


A recap.

Waffle is a ghost. Somewhere between all the madness and chaos of my life, work and just holding on to everything that I could (plus not getting shit for Christmas, petty I know) I realized that Waffle is a lit cigarette in my chest. I still feel a ways but I guess I can’t hold my breath for so long because thats the best way to suffocate.

I finished strong at work.

I’m watching my brother turn 29.

I’m watching my mom battle cancer. She’s winning.

Started 2016 with my first West Coast trip to CES in Las Vegas where I broke night partying and slept on a plane back, exhausted but not hungover.

I’m in a very interesting relationship that started in a smokey house party, traveled onto Instagram, resulted in a long night hanging out in a car and continues in Bay Ridge. (This is entirely paraphrased and downplays the very intricacies of the entire event but you don’t need to know everything do you?)

I’m watching my credibility in this industry slowly expand and my ability to make things happen becoming more apparent.

I still have fears and anxiety and worry that it’s all going to disappear but the less I pay attention to that, the better. I’m working on being better acclimated to the world I’m in and trying to not be so stressed about how I sound to people or how I look but I’m learning that I’m not as bad as I think and this sense of self comes from having been around people who were more than likely already depending on my ability to be accommodating and generous.

I’m still learning to not be a punk speaking to people but also that people need to not be such assholes and the only way to survive them is to have a strong sense of self. I’m still working on that. I’m making a name for myself and that means more than I thought it could because I guess at some point I lost my voice and my spine and I’m finding that while learning to project more.

If I look back at where I was I can see the valley that I walked through, the trees I wrote my initials on and the places that became landmarks. If I stay too long looking I’ll miss what’s in front of me and in that regard, not go anywhere.

So I’m moving.

Where I’m going, I have no idea.



What I Learned: October 23


I’m going to do something different.

I’m going to pick my highlights from the week.


I got a new tattoo. By new tattoo I mean a monstrosity on my forearm that took three and a half hours to do and swelled up once I took off the bandages and let it air out. Then it stopped swelling and I felt awesome because awesome. I’ll be continuing to finish it off in the upcoming month. Should be a good time. The reactions I got from people is amazing though. “Holy shit is that new?”

It’s pretty sweet.

#Patterns for today at @8ofswordstattoo. For booking info visit #ladytattooers #bettyrosetattoos #8ofswordstattoo

A photo posted by BETTY ROSE Tattoo Artist (@bettyrosetattoos) on Oct 19, 2015 at 10:19am PDT



A shoot day with Joe Budden. No one asks him for beard tips.


Amazing live. Also boobs.

Waffle….siiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. So much sigh. heart eyes for days.


I’m off from work and wind up impressing myself by breaking my personal record in walking to the post office to pick up my LootCrate for this month. It’s pretty decent, the Bill and Ted shirt is probably the highlight. And the Sonic Spork. I prep for a road trip and wonder, is this what is to come? Fun in the field?


Field trip.

What I Learned – October 16th

This week’s edition is super deluxe with photos, overworking, heart eyes emojis and flames. I loiter in the Javitz Center for New York Comic Con, spend some cash flexing, pull off a few Hail Mary shoots battle a cold and win.


Day one of New York Comic Con starts with me basically getting wide eyed and overwhelmed. I bought these tickets back in May and here we are, deep in the heart of fall, walking around in a place that I’ve come to know quite well. The show gets bigger every year and this year, by some small miracle, isn’t as crowded. The reason is simple, The Walking Dead have a massive event at MSG and half the thirst traps are there and not at the con.We hit a panel on horror books and during the conversation, she puts her head on my shoulder and I don’t know it’s just…it’s the bees knees.

basically im schmidt

I wind up buying some t-shirts early because, while everyone knows Sunday is the shopping day, I know the shirts in my size will sell out fast. I wind up with an SSR shirt from Marvel, an Agent Carter shirt designed for We Love Fine along with a We Love Fine Toothless tee for Waffle.  I drift back and we head out…but first…I buy my first ever Comic Con branded tee. I need more tees like I need holes in my head. I race to Artist Alley where the delightful Ant Lucia signs my copy of Bombshells #2; I miss Marguerite Bennett and forget to bring my Robbi Rodriquez books but there’s always another day. I pick up and get a signed Kevin Wada Catwoman.

I adore that man and want to be friends.


It’s day two of New York Comic Con and Waffle and I are on a tear. So far, we’ve hit early morning panels for ABC Family (soon to be Freeform) screening and panel for Shadowhunters.It’s just as you imagined; attractive teens in impossible situations winning and looking attractive doing it. I’m glad I bring my telephoto lens today, despite the incredibly heavy bag and wind up taking some great photos. Followed by that, we watch some of panel for The Chronicles of Shannara and I take a good photos of Manu Bennett and marvel at the fact that Terry Brooks and Mercedes Lackey basically birthed my love of fantasy. Afterwards, super cool Shadowhunter gear in tow, we wind up on the show floor where I basically go completely batshit insane and pick up shirts and loot crates and Marvel Collector Corps boxes. It’s like reverse Christmas but for me.

We sit in on a pilot screening of a series called Containment…which makes us scream FOUR TO SIX FEET every few minutes because viruses and ew.

It’s funny to think how Waffle and I have fallen into an easy rhythm and maybe it’s because I’m slightly delirious from weird sleep habits but it feels like we’re starting over in a strange way.

I could also be making shit up because I’m an idealist and still believe. We get Five Guys for dinner and I stare at her like she’s the most miraculous thing ever. She is.

I have another one of those weird sense dreams and wind up thinking the universe is working in my favor.

basically the whole weekend


The finale. I hit Artist Alley early and get Valentine De Landro’s signature on Bitch Planet one, Marguerite on Bombshells #2, Phil Noto on my Black Widow TB,  miss out on Terry Dodson for Princess Leia 1, miss Stacey Lee for Silk 1, and Azceta for Outcast one but it’s okay because I can’t keep running around Artist Alley and leave Waffle with the kids. So we hit the floor and split up; I get another set of Marvel boxes, miss out on the Funko NYCC exclusive tickets for a Pop Game of Thrones Iron Throne, wind up getting a Jack Skellington with Vampire Teddy from Waffle, get an Ant Man Collector Box (meh it’s okay) Hit one panel that I really wanted to go to, The Women of Marvel and am deeply inspired to do more. I believe I’ll be there soon. I’ve always wanted to work there to be honest and I think it’s the fact that I’m so close to things that I want that I believe I can have them, they are mine and that they are due to me.

there’s a reason why I like this guy


I end up at work wearing the Wonder Woman cap I picked up and pretend to be atleast fifty percent more powerful than my usual 25 percent so I’m actually running at 75%. Fires are everywhere and I have to run out for a shoot on location with animals.


Only, it doesn’t work out that way because communication breakdown.

Consolation prize?

Co-worker got Doughnuttery and them donuts are tasty as fuck.


The hits keep on coming as we steamroll through a news day, I run some budgets and I basically start preparing for the gross inevitability of the cold I’ve been fighting to finally win. I start preparing for a shoot on Wednesday in a designer store and realize, I basically do alot and that’s pretty cool.I spend the last two days talking non-stop to Waffle who’s on vacation.

mood forever


I start early  and wind up in Little Italy covering the pre-launch of a store called Noah. The founder was the creative director for Supreme and I wind up staring at really nice things and listening to a super chill dude talk about how kids are smarter than we give them credit for, it just looks like they’re doing stupid shit because we have old people eyes.

still get off my lawn

I wind up back in the office where we have to prepare for another field shoot, I may have a celebrity in one room but rap time is a real thing. Go figure.

I leave late and wind up Midtown Comics like, four days ago I wasn’t at Comic Con and pick up a bunch of titles to begin the madness next year.

I get home, take a cough syrup bath and knock out.


Imagine the longest day.

Now extend it.

So we were basically doing one thing and then wound up doing three things and I’ve gotta tell you, it was elegant as fuck to watch me, Tits McGee running up and down the hall with gear to move from one studio to the other because sometimes interns aren’t the smartest creatures on the production planet.

I was an intern once but I also knew a) when to act, b) act like I knew what I was doing c) get out of the way of the people who knew what they were doing. There’s nothing more heartbreakingly tragic than an intern who doesn’t have basic common sense or the ability to act like they know what the fuck is going on. If you’re someone who’s looking to get an internship, or start working on things, you need to just take a few deep breaths and get your head in the game. You’ve got to make sure you can fake it til you make it, okay?

It’s just really irksome when you basically just blink a lot and watch people running around to build a set and you’re just…there…

Anyways, it gets done and I have to drink more cough syrup to continue my bumpy road back to 75% operational level so I trudge off from work well after my appointed time to leave and get home just as Grey’s Anatomy ends. Tumblr, you never cease to amaze me because them recaps…girl…let me tell you…Callie…you….you’re dating a girl named Penny and you bring her to mutual friend dinner like…off the rip? Naw. You can’t do that.



Sorta low key sorta chilled but still wound up doing work because that’s what I do. I get the car and play Uber for Waffle. I pull up, blaring some music (that new Demi Lovato ain’t bad) and I hand over the aux cable…which she sets fire to. It takes everything in me to not mash my face into her neck and just be like, let me love you all over again.

We wind up at Target where she basically takes advantage of my Uberness and picked up a few things. Again, I may just live in crazyville in my head and basically had heart emojis but I did see a lot of blushing. My internal monolog sounds like this:

Irony being what it is, we wind up seeing two people who we worked with who basically knew we were a thing..or at least had suspicions…and their reactions were amazing. It’s been quite some time since we’ve been spotted in the wild and of course it happens when we’re in the place that started it, not to mention that it was in full view of people who are probably still whispering and wondering if we’re together. I keep having these strange super sensory dreams and they’re all connected and it feels like the will of the universe is finally working in my favor.

I have a great job, a chance to really grow and evolve and then there’s this. It’s been the longest strangest most bizarre week of the year and I’m here for all of it. There’s something about October that is filled with magic. It’s not the pumpkins or spiced lattes or even the fucking season change, it’s just the way the universe and I have worked over the past few years. Waffle and I got together on Halloween, my favorite time of year and since then I get a little wistful for that moment when a spark became a fire and we just burned bright. I like the idea of the phoenix. I like the idea of doing it all over again, better, stronger, braver.

I sneak pictures while we’re at, of all romantic places, Buffalo Wild Wings and make strange small talk about futures while trying to not stare at each other. There’s only a small table between us but it’s a million miles and a dozen people in the entirety of the restaurant but we’re just there and it felt like it was going to be alright.

We are the same people, scarred and changed by whatever it is that people go through and we’re still bumping into each other the way you do when you’re home in the dark. It’s strange and familiar and it’s comforting, scary but it makes things bearable when you know that there’s a light right there that you can flip any time and see the person standing there, just as confused as you are as to why it took so long to find that in the first place.

On the drive home, she takes over the AUX and we’re laughing and joking and just being in the moment and I swear I wanted to kiss her and I think she would’ve let me. I tested the waters with a well time joke about her smile and the blush…

total sidebar, this movie was the first one to accurately describe what it is when you see a girl and just get stupid faced

I drop her off and tell her I’ll text her when I’m home and wind up blurting out love you and she smirked and nodded.

wedding vows forever

So I guess you could say this week was one for the record books.

Now universe, do your thing.


What I Learned: October 10

This week, I return to my comic book roots, get optimistic about text messages and try to not lose my head.

Last week was pretty busy and I’ve noticed that I’ve completely lost control


After driving round in the rain yesterday and finding two action figures and buying two bluray movies at Target while hoping that Waffle would reconsider saying yes to me and a rainy joyride, I wind up at my brother’s house to deliver passes for NYCC. The college trip to Howard is cancelled thanks to the looming disaster that is Hurricane Joaquin and I’m allowed to sleep in a little bit, which, given how badly I’ve been sleeping is basically like being given a golden ticket.


I’m up early for no good reason other than I’m now waking up before my alarm clock. Either because I’m not sleeping right or because I know the sounds of shitty top 40 radio enrages me more than the braying sound the alarm makes so to avoid being cranky, I just wake up.

I’m feeling more and more tired as of late and it’s due to large part that my brain is screaming at me about the sleep thing and the fact that I’m just working nearly every day. The funny thing is that I’m also PAINFULLY aware of how close New York Comic Con is and all I want to do is spend time with Waffle in the confines of the smelly aisles of the Javitz Center because in my head I’ve made it my mission to win that heart back and I think that Stockholm Syndrome is a legitimate means of making someone fall back in love with you.

it worked for these two right?

I head to work and get in early enough to walk and watch something on Netflix before settling into an awkward work flow where we all want to be somewhere else and debate the merits of covering the Chik-Fil-A opening.

Mostly for science because supposedly it’s the greatest chicken ever but I feel a little weird wanting to try chicken as supplied by hyper religious bigots who would sooner throw said chicken at me for being bisexual.

I have fast hands and would catch it and eat it with joy but also that’s too much work.

Either way, we finish and walk over to see what the fuss is about and let me tell you, it’s a mile long line, no exaggeration.

I wind up getting Wendys.



Sunday is much nicer weather wise than Saturday or Friday.

It might also be because I got an early morning text message from Waffle.

It’s sickening how my mood, my entire brain chemistry changes once I get a message from her; it’s almost as if I could take on the entire world with an arm strapped to my back, win and be home in time for Once Upon A Time with Waffle and chill. This kind of thing can kill me. In any case I enthusiastically answer the text with the kind of eagerness that basically is embarrassing.

Tramp Stamp

So we agree sorta to meet after work which mercifully goes by quickly.

Netflix and chill is not to be.

Waffle basically slept the entire day away.

I’m not crushed so much as I saw it coming because I’m pretty good at predicting that kind of thing. Either way, the little tingle still lingers.

I wind up doing laundry, eating a sandwich and watching last week’s Grey’s Anatomy On Demand. I wind up making gagging noises while Callie flexes on Arizona and her ‘new girlfriend’.

legit my OTP fight me

It’s like, c’mon man, fucking support the love and just…fix it.


They let all the other trash OTPs get atleast fifteen sporting shots before one of them dies or something Shondalandy happens. Callie goes through a fucking windshield, delivers her premie baby, survives heart failure and physical therapy, MARRIES Arizona who then loses her leg in a plane crash THEN cheats on Callie THEN buy a house together then…

the fuck man?!

Love works somehow in all of this and then they’re like, nah they’re good let them date other people.

My skin crawls.

it’s like no one knows what goes into being that open or vulnerable with humans. They’re awful. They’ll maim you. I believe that love works like a stronger friendship. I call you bro. My best friend. Not because I don’t respect you or don’t love you. You’re the best friend I have. Everyone else is trash.

Anyways. I continue with laundry and prepare myself to throw socks at the TV during Once Upon a Time.

Once Upon a Time and let me tell you…

If they’re not angling Regina and Emma together, they need to tell the production staff because for fuck’s sake, you don’t romcom zoom and light two people who are supposed to be plutonic bros. I mean if you casually cruise the Tumblr tags, it’s basically going to make you a believer.

also I just happen to think that chemistry is something you can’t fight.


They’re totally bros. They watch out for each other in ways that other people don’t.  It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

In anycase, I wind up watching that, getting caught in the feels and watching Fear the Walking Dead.

Then I get another text.

We wind up talking throughout the episode and I gotta say (I also have to admit that I know you’re probably reading this and if you are, well, hi.) it’s still a really nice feeling. I’m still optimistic as hell as evidenced by the most vivid dream I’ve had in a long time that only makes me feel like the universe is listening and for that, I’m thankful.


The world is a blur and I’m told I have an insane task to pull off. Plan a massive field trip, plan an NBA interview, chase after Jack Hanna and his people for paperwork and keep my wits about me while balancing multiple shoots on one day.

It all falls into place somehow.


I honestly don’t remember what happened but there was candy and everyone was happy about that.


I’m in Brooklyn working on this project and I’m wandering the halls of the a government building and I can’t help but wonder if in another life, could I have actually gone into politics.


I live in my head.

We have a great conversation about art and gentrification and I hope that I can find the brain power to really put together something dynamic.

In the meantime, two other shoots go off and I have to pat myself on the back for not completely melting down while exchanging confusing text messages about the status of comic con passes that have suddenly come up as available.

I’m good at multitasking I really am, I may be short circuiting a little because I can’t even come up with a good enough logical answer so I tuck my phone in my pocket and work work work.

I leave at 9.

I get home and watch TV and color. Yes. An adult coloring book works wonders. I have a decent talk with Waffle and for some reason, all the ghosts of the past drift into my mind and I’m immediately reminded that despite the petty arguments and sniping, we’re two people overworked, decently paid and sexless. I wonder if trying to diffuse the tension would help or only throw gasoline onto an already raging nuclear aftermath that is our lives. At this point, given my ranting on Sunday about OUAT all I want to do is find a goddamned happy ending.


Emergency packing and lunching for what will be the best weekend ever.


Jack Hanna planning.


Special edition.

What I Learned: September 25

This week: I break a personal record at the bar, strategize ways to make things on the internet work and meet The Game.


So I’ve been going back and forth all morning with Waffle about things to do when I get out of work. See, I work weekends while Waffle gets every other weekend off. I am forced to ask this question: Where was I when these kinds of schedules were being handed out?

With my luck I was probably working.

I any case I also have plans with someone else because, let’s face it, I have that kind of luck where things go exactly the way I think they will.

In short: Waffle winds up canceling on me but I wind up connecting with someone else to wind up at a bar.

Not to sound like an animal but I wind up at the same bar where last week, I had the the most awkward experience with the most braindead bartender because I believe in the place and I tend to have a good time with decent people. So naturally after a few hours:

I get home before midnight, gurgling and trying to not text anyone out of context. I think I watched the new episode of Doctor Who but to be honest, I’m not a fan of perpetually pissed off throbbing forehead vein having Peter Capaldi.

Sorry fam.

I would’ve been better if Clara was actually a Time Lord or even a Doctor or at least Michelle Gomez’ Master was given more scenery to chew. I’ve lost faith in Moffat as a showrunner and I just keep thinking “Why couldn’t they just lock in Natalia Tena for this role? Why’d it have to be a crusty ass white male? Why’d we forget about Danny Pink? When is Clara going to declare her love for the girl she was hanging with before The Doctor? Why am I sober?” You know, real questions.

Anyways. I knock out.


Round two of text talk with Waffle…which starts at 7:30 in the morning.


Again, like a loser, I answer and feel the stirrings of hope in the shitty little thing I call a heart and indulge in the conversation because for some reason, liquor fueled sleep is always the best sleep I have.

The thing that sucks about that is when you’re sluggish from a good night out, you feel it all moving around your body. I actually get winded moving around to get up and I immediately start saying, “I’m quitting for real. It’s done.” I also push myself more to work out and make sure my fat ass can outrun a chainsaw wielding maniac but I’m always so tired.

Backtrack: It’s not the booze’s fault, it’s my fault that I can’t just time manage things.

I get to work super early and prepare for what I know will happen: Everything is going to fall to the last second because I have plans (which I never have) and of course the universe likes to keep testing me.

We have slightly serious debate about whether what a woman wears directly impacts her odds of being raped and I have to remember that I’m still a 31 year old world weary female and these are two guys who’ve never had to double check anywhere they’ve been for anything in their lives. Ah, to be part of the patriarchy.

It doesn’t bother me so much as make me sad that the American culture, the patriarchal nature of living in the world, limits and taints the way men view women to the point where they’re simply just things to look at or touch when they want to. We tell girls not to expose their shoulders in the summer because hormonal stupid boys won’t be able to not focus on the lessons; we tell them they’re valuable based on what they wear and that a boy’s education is way more valuable than a woman’s right to comfort. It’s a little infuriating. I’m putting away the soap box.

On the low I’ve been planning to meet Waffle for a movie day and wind up, because of course the universe works like this, having to sprint from work to the theater. Along the way I ask myself why the hell am I even bothering considering the way things have been between us lately; me with my still inexplicable optimism Waffle being Waffle, stressed and angry. I race to the theater in record time and see The Scorch Trials.

gotta get in shape, dystopia is gonna suck

The movie is pretty good (didn’t even read the books and I’m a jerk about that kind of thing) and I do my best to stay out of Waffle’s wrath because basically the road to the movies was paved in my being cursed out, called an asshole and being made to feel like shit because of fucking Mercury in retrograde.



Wheels up into work where I build a portion of a set, put a mic on The Game and try my damnedest to not let the anxiety get to me while planning a few things that need to be done for what sounds like the most taxing day ever on Wednesday.

I shovel less than delicious italian food into my face after a super breakneck speed day and wind up with an awkward case of angry tummy.

When I get home, I start watching wrestling because I’m an adult and Waffle texts me with some of the most heartbreakingly why would you even talk about that messages and I wind up staring at the ceiling trying to understand how long one can stay numb. Basically, do we not go to a concert because of feelings? I could care less but it’s the fact that I spent the money, I want to go and you need a break.

I’ll fucking sell them if anything.

Perhaps kindness needs to be beaten out of me.

The concert in question: Tove Lo


I think I have a breakfast fueled by peanut butter and bagels.

I buy candy for everyone because I actually live in a van and want everyone to be my friend. Trying to fill it up with puppies and kittens is a serious chore…buuuuut.

It’s a lot.

I plan for tomorrow because its’ going to be one of those days where everyone wants to give up and murder everyone else like it’s the only way to survive. I’ve noticed that I’m making inroads but the confidence is still 100000000000% in the trash. Means nothing.

I leave late.


First shoot: This dude from Shark Tank who basically makes me feel like I should reevaluate how I pitch EVERYTHING. Which is good because he’s super nice and Canadian and that’s basically a weakness.

I get a text invite to a New York Liberty game and full discloser, I haven’t been going or had any interest in attending. SO. I wind up saying yes.

Second Shoot: Jaleel White. Urkle. I mean. If we’re talking bout 90s nostalgia being over the top…it’s this shoot. He’s nice. doesn’t want to talk about Urkle at all and honestly I’m glad I didn’t wear my retro shirt (I have no retro shirt with his face on it, I’m not a savage) honestly? he’s awesome and I’m glad he’s a genuine good dude. He’s also directed HELLA tv shows so that means he’s basically working and making things happen.

Third shoot: I have to do something else. that’s at 6. I shoot it and hope for the stars.

the game is at 7. I leave at 7:00

I arrive to MSG at 7:05.

I have long legs and determination.

I watch the first two quarters and get into my seat with my dudes with two minutes left in the second. Halftime is weird because its like the brand is struggling to find it’s niche and also we’re lacking direction as a whole. I basically stare off and wonder what could’ve been…and low key struggle to not text Waffle who’s still MIA from me.

y u no answer my text

After the stunning win, we get pizza and I race uptown to my brother’s house where a gallon of honey jack whisky is waiting for me.

I make a few snaps that I don’t send because I’m not that ripped and at 2am I send one text to waffle, figuring she’s at work and will appreciate it.

I’m wrong.

I get no answer.

I think tap out at 2:15 after tipping over in a seat from a 18 hour day. I don’t know. I might’ve done a full 24 hour day and not even know it.


Sleeping into the double digits is a strange luxury. I wake up at 10:30 and giggle at my godmother interacting with the TV and yelling about the pope. Honestly. It’s hilarious.

I spend the day chilling with my brother, watching the most random fucking anime ever and then some south park episodes that make us marvel at how good these guys are.

I get a text from whatshername and basically explain Wonder Woman Wednesday which results in a dinner invite I just can’t take.


My brother laughs at it all and we just sit in his room until my ass goes numb in the folding chair I’ve been using the whole time.

I feel terrible because again, I feel like an absentee parent. He’s a good man (yikes!) and I don’t know how to fix that. I have so many things to fix and I’ve only one shabby ass toolkit. I don’t know how to do it all, if I should and what’s priority. Honestly, I feel wasted all over again.

I leave at 6:30 and wind up tackling some home projects, finishing my imported Irish whisky (Tullamore Dew) in my Loot Crate sent mug and prepare for my ‘cousin’ who’s landed a ‘dream job’ to come over and muck up my terrible black hole of an apartment.

I watch Tove Lo live videos just so i don’t feel like I’m wasting my money and time in trying to get Waffle to reconsider the whole, ‘this is going to be awkward because of stupid fucking reasons’ I want to sell the tickets but low key I want to see this show…I’ve been on for awhile I should go…I bought them though because Waffle likes Tove Lo and I’m a sucking up and sad.


It’s 5 am and I’m a car going to Pennsylvania.

By 11:30 I’m a WalMart buying more toys, two bluray movies, a pocket coloring book and another suck up toy for Waffle.

By 2 we’re back in the car on the road and I’m still working on work emails.

By 4 we’re in a cracker barrel shoveling food down our throats.

When we get home it’s a little past 7, it’s dark and I’m coloring.

No word from Waffle but tomorrow, I’ll be in SoleXChange hopefully making another internet banger.

What I Learned: September 11

This week, I like trains, Made In America is a dustbowl dance, drones are both awesome and terrifying, I have no idea what I’m doing and I have a dream where basically everything I want happens, I just need the universe to deliver.


so basically I’m struggling with extreme anxiety which causes me to take a sleeping pill the night before (I got home at 9pm, ate nothing, took a shower, took a pill in bed at 10p. ON A FUCKING FRIDAY) and wake up in the early morning like a groggy drunk four times before the actual alarm goes off.

We’re off to a rolling start.

I head to the office early to pick up gear and race to Penn Station in the hopes of catching a 10 am Acela train to Philadelphia. I have a plan and everything seems to be in order but we all know that those things don’t actually mean a gotdamned thing.

We wind up getting on a  train a full hour afterwards that pulls us directly to Philly where we embark on what I hope will be the least anxiety inducing day of my young career.




I get the passes from the wicked hotel, we head to the festival grounds and proceed to sweat.

The truncated version of this story goes like this:

  • I almost punched someone out during Modest Mouse.
  • Nick Jonas struggles WAY too hard to put soul into his voice. You’re on a Justin Timberlake track, just let it happen organically babe.
  • Glitch Mob plays a lot of moombaton
  • Drunk girls are the worst creatures on the planet, second only to drunk frat bros.
  • Cops on bikes are absolutely adorable.
  • Puke is gross, chunky puke grosser, beer puke is basically the reason why beer sucks.
  • Halsey is the day AFTER we leave; I won’t get to stare at her.
  • Deathcab for Cutie is immaculate live
  • meek mill got away with doing karaoke hits from other rappers, yelling and bringing out Nicki Minaj yet I’m still perplexed how his fans think he WON against Drake. He basically admitted he’s powerless.
  • Beyonce basically sounds like top 40 radio cranked to fifteen in hell, complete with overwrought wailing, unnecessary remixes to her own basic songs about female empowerment, a lot of circle ass movements and bamboozled everyone by performing a third of Destiny’s Child’s three albums (because she owns the rights to everything because of course she does)
  • Bar wings on an Amtrak are glorious but a whisky chaser and I’m basically living a golden life.


Flying by the seat of my pants, spend an hour and change on the phone with my brother trying to remind myself that my depression shouldn’t keep sneaking up the way it does. He reminds me that every time I start to feel shitty its when I’ve had a major project that seems like it was a nightmare to even pull off. I tell him the two can’t be connected that’s just crazy.

OR maybe it’s not. It’s in my head.

I’m lucky to be working.

I get on the train and basically listen to Slipknot.


I struggle to avoid answering emails again but I do it and settle a few things.

I send a charming flirty text to Waffle asking about Shake Shack and a play day.

swing and a miss

I struggle to get out of bed. But I do that. I struggle to take a shower. I do that too. I wanted to get dressed and buy some half priced comics. I don’t do that. I read Libba Bray’s magnificent post about her struggles with depression. feel it on a deeper level and wind up finishing a project because I was holding onto it in the hopes that my genius (which is suffering) would shine through. I just press publish and wait for the responses at this point. I want it to be good but realize that I’ve been working on this for quite some time and they’re just for fun, they’re not my real works or passion but it’s keeping me busy and distracted.

I spend another hour and change on the phone with my brother. He knows I’m feeling lousy and doesn’t ask about my going over there. I owe him a big weekend.


I wake up highly motivated but by highly motivated I mean I wind up getting out of bed at a decent hour and attempting to dress. I do get dressed only to wind up getting food with mom. I wind up going upstairs and staying there.


I wind up watching Serena/Venus knowing exactly how it’s going to end even though I want an insane upset but it doesn’t happen.


I start my day with another Waffle call and find that these things are starting to be a habit…which I like….and then that gross feeling of hope starts blossoming in my chest and try as I might, I can’t shake it at all. I don’t want to but It feels like that scene in Carmilla where Laura tells Carmilla not to kiss her or be around her because it’s y’know, feelings and stuff.

Fuck it.

I’m waiting on that payback Universe.

I do a terrific job of getting out of bed and out of my house to go to work and up comic books and action figures.


I do.

I talk myself out of buying a pile and get only the essentials because I have to be a decent person for fucks sake and also NYCC is coming.



Things happen. Honestly? Can’t remember.

mostly because an accidental ‘what up bro’ text turns into ‘bro, come to this event tonight’ which leads to 4am burgers at a diner.


I make an ass of myself with LA Reid (serverely distracted by work emails and texts so I COMPLETELY miss his speaking to me like a regular person. We’re talking about my Wen Kroy Danger cap (thanks Mighty Healthy) and I joke about not quizzing me about being a serious Rangers fan. I’m a certifiable moron.

this hat is basically my favorite hat ever.

So I go inside, get some Ketel One and Red Bull because I’m actually a college sophomore and those things excite me and listen to what is possibly going to be my favorite album ever once it’s released.


The quick jaunt out into the world turns into an adventure when we pile into an Uber and wind up at Webster Hall where, despite my VIP tags, I’m denied VIP Access but still wind up yelling most of the words to Cam’ron’s music as it blasts from the main stage because…he was there…

I have more Hypontiq in my body that I’ve ever had before…a full decade after I was old enough to buy it.

We walk out, sweaty and confused with ringing ears and end up eating burgers at a diner that I’ve come to love. I burn the shit out of my mouth, shovel all the food into my face hole and get home at 5am.

lit forever


I have to run a shoot for adidas.


It goes well and the funny thing is that I know the guy who’s running security because one of my past lives entailed my having to be a security/service person. My natural instinct is to make friends and pass cards with the staff; because, as previously mentioned those people will always be working and you want to have fun and they know you’re fun, they’ll share the fun. I can’t drink and work, its just not something that’s good to do.

I learned that I’m capable of much and many things this week but even superheroes have their limits.

god bod

it’s also bizarre to be at an event in SoHo where I can see the Lights…The weather was the same today as it was fourteen years ago. It’s strange to think that I was pocket sized, full of hope and never knew what was to come. It’s just a strange day and weekend because it doesn’t feel like we should be hobnobbing when people were killed nearly steps away from you and the fashion show. I know it’s been years and people learn to heal from it but it’s still a bit strange for me.