The TILT

Things I’ve Learned This (Sabbatical)

- I really miss writing. 

- I share too much and most people can’t handle it.

- I don’t miss working out.

- Walking home from work is a splendid perk of living in this city. 40+ blocks in good weather should be considered “working out”

- Raines Law Room is a really fun speak easy, but feels a bit masculine.

- The Book 50 Shades of Grey is brain toxin. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good erotic tale, “good” being the operative word. I  wish I could just accept that absurd amount of fiction* and unnecessary use of synonyms but, I really can’t.

*Men feeding mouthfuls of wine to their “lovers/subs” like a momma bird will never ever be considered sexy in my book.

- Hemingway is the man.

- I have an uncanny ability for finding gorgeous men to ogle at on the internet. ie: THIS  , THIS, and THIS TOO. 

- If you’re not going to answer my questions or be a shady fuck, I will figure out the answers on my own.  (Psst Instagram can unlock clues to things too.)

- Curiosity and the ever-lasting spiral of assumption makes me nuts. I prefer bold hard honesty.

- Picnics in Central Park are not to be missed or taken for granted. Ever.

- If he’s not trying, he’s just not that into you.

- Just because they SAY they’re into you doesn’t mean shit. Actions Actions Actions.

- Just because his actions show you he’s interested in you today, doesn’t mean he will be tomorrow.

- The restaurant August in the West Village is delightful. Try the foie gras and pair it with a nice little glass of Saturn (wine not planet)

- Alcohol on dates can induce premature sex and crying. Don’t get wasted on dates, dummy. (note to self)

- Sometimes people cry after sex. It happens. Emotions are all intense and your body is pumping hormones and adrenaline and things can get all messy and blurry in there. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean you’re a nutjob. It just means you can feel. Embrace it. You could be a drone like 90% of the people out there. Just try not to get caught! ::wink::

- Bad cocktail of illicit drugs can make you into a raging face-eating psychopath. Don’t do drugs.

- Playing “the game” is exhausting to the point of atrophy.

- I like to push people’s boundaries.

- I rarely think of the EX anymore (this moment excluded). Except when certain songs poke at the memory, but it’s tolerable now.

- Laughter in the company of someone who understands exactly what the fuck is going on is the greatest laughter in the world.

-The ride on the tram to Roosevelt Island takes a few minutes, costs the same as a subway ride and should be ventured for the view alone. Once on the other side, get an ice cream, relax and watch the crazies go by.

- I have a few love affairs/crushes/flirtations going on with men that don’t live in this city. I believe the geographical distance is precisely the reason those even exist. There’s safety in distance.

- SCREW BRUSSEL SPROUTS.

- FUCK TOFU.

- ZESTY SALSA WHEAT THINS FTW.

- I’m God awful at Math.

- I shouldn’t have to do math at work. Period.

- Being a Miami Heat fan is healthy. The games go on when they say they will, they’re a reliable form of entertainment. And even if they’re disappointing one day, you can bet they’ll redeem themselves soon enough. The Heat is my boyfriend.

- Just once I want a man to look at me like their world would cease to hold any joy and completely fall apart if I weren’t in it. Just once.

- “Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know”* are the truest words I’ve ever known. *quote by Ernest Hemingway

TILT : Things I Learned Today

When I moved to this city I never understood why people would walk around looking at the ground. Almost as if they were blind and could navigate the streets by mere sensation. As I got off the train to my apartment this evening I realized that I too was staring at the sidewalk and suddenly it became clear to me. I was staring at the sidewalk because that sidewalk could be anywhere in the city, as long as I intently stared at the non-descript pavement I wouldn’t have to look up at the ghosts that fill the streets. The ghosts of the recent past, where we stood, where we laughed, where we kissed. With eyes averted I didn’t have to look at the bodegas with endless flowers for sale. The very flower shops that he used to frequent to surprise me with a simple bouquet to make me smile for no reason at all. The blue box where we used to pause for a midnight cigarette. Or our patch of “nature” across the street, which was just a tree lined ledge by the Chase bank. We’d go “camping” there, or just sit and pretend. A watermarked space, two blocks, that flood the mind and heart. 

See, the pavement is unfamiliar to me. During those days I never noticed it because I was too busy looking forward, looking up, looking at him, and taking it all in. 

For now there is comfort in the downward stare. I understand now, New Yorkers. I’m one of you. But I look forward to the day when I can look up again, wave fondly at the ghosts of that delightful time, or just see something new.

Jordan Catalano “The Dumb Hottie”

It was the 90’s and MTV was still moderately cool and came out with a show that has molded pretty much every girl I’ve ever known including myself. (I own the DVD box set, btw, and watched every episode again in my 30’s)

My So Called Life made me believe that even weird girls with burgundy hair could somehow catch the eye of the hottest most unattainable guy in the whole school, hell, the whole world. Enter Jordan Catalano. 

Now, here’s the thing. A lot of people have asked me why I didn’t include him originally, we all loved him, he was super dreamy and is a total life ruiner. But is he? Let’s explore…

Even though I had the super duper hots for Jordan Catalano because his eyes are what Unicorn tears are made of, I never convinced myself that he was anything other than a total 100% douchebag. And he was duuuuumb. Fuckable, for sure, but  the most we could expect from him is that he could tone down the douchebaggery for about 30 seconds in order to say something remotely nice to Angela—which, ultimately, Brian Krakow wrote for him anyway. So very “Cyrano.” Sigh. 

There has never been a more obviously flawed character in the history of pop culture. There was no redeemable quality in this guy then or in retrospect, besides those goddamn eyes that I want to swim in like warm sex pools. And that face…Someone resurrect Michaelangelo so that he may sculpt it in all of its perfection.  But really, once we get past that what else did he have? Mystery? No, he was just stupid so we’re glad he didn’t talk much. Remember his song? About his car? Good grief.  Was he funny? Um…never. Did he love Angela like no other? Uh, no. She basically wore him down with her obsession. And once she finally tired of him after he fucked her best friend (classy) THAT’S when all of a sudden, Jordan, convinced himself that maybe he actually did like her? YAWN. 

So although we’d all like to go back in time and fuck Jordan Catalano senseless in that boiler room (which he hid in to make-out with Angela because he’s ashamed to be seen with her, btw, um…cool) We should take a step back and thank baby Jesus and the orphans that this guy has never entered our life. Well, at least not mine.  Because letting a guy that lame and stupid ruin my life would be more shameful than that damn song about his car.

Oh, and he’s short.

TILT (L) Things I Learned This Lifetime.

There’s been a series of “life-ruining” activities lately from a gaggle of misguided males, guys, boys, etc, within the lives of myself and a few of my female friends. This is a sad fact of life, but, I’m not here to bash or point fingers because that’s just not my style. I’ve taken the opportunity to place the blame where the blame is inherently earned. And take an introspective look within myself to figure out…Where did it all go so very wrong?

I will now introduce you to: THE LIFE RUINERS.

#1 Luke Skywalker “The Reluctant Hero”

I was taken to see the Star Wars movies as a very young child. I think I saw Return of the Jedi when I was 6 years old. I fell immediately in love with Luke Skywalker. At the time I saw him as this heroic cherubin-faced do-gooder who wielded a light saber and championed his love/sister Leia as if she were the greatest thing since sliced braided bread. Well that’s all it took. 

I realize now that Luke is a pussy. He’s a wavering soul that couldn’t make a good life decision if it light-sabred him in the balloon knot. Lost, as lost can be, in outer space. He’s got a conflicted home life (to say the least). And I’m pretty sure he actually had the hots for a blood relative which is also something I’ve endured. But, I digress. As the hero archetype he basically represents EGO, however the hero archetype is often dumb since he doesn’t have the knowledge of the collective unconscious. He sets out to please himself and his ego and ultimately walks off without the girl, or anyone else really. 

This particular guy has shown up in my life, definitely once. Perhaps twice. Certain aspects of this guy in many familiar faces. Your first love will always come back to haunt you. Luke, I’m looking at you. The others, you know who you are.

#2 Danny Zuko “The Cool Guy”

I was in the first or second grade when I became unwaveringly obsessed with the movie Grease. So, I was about 8 or 9 years old. Still a hopeless romantic at that tender and awkward age. And by “awkward” I mean “tragically unattractive.” I watched it every single day when I got home from school because I was infatuated with, of course, Danny Zuko. He was the coolest guy in the whole world. The leather jacket, the cigarette, the T-Birds and the weepy rendition of “Sandy” that he bellows at the drive-in. This guy was a dreamboat in my pre-adolescent eyes.

But let’s take a closer look shall we? Danny Zuko is the biggest dick on this planet. He falls “in love” with some chick on the beach because, let’s face it, she has an accent and that’s just oh-so-exotic! She’s leaving back to a foreign land after the summer so a commitment is inherently out of the question…bonus! How predictable. He’s got it made until she shows up at his school that year. “Oh, fuck!” And what does Danny do? He rejects her in front of a bunch of strangers, humiliates her, and cuts her up in front of his moronic entourage to show what a swinging dick he really is. But then in a zippy twist Sandy realizes he sucks and starts dating the nice, albeit rather boring, jock—who takes her on actual dates and treats her like a human being—and then suddenly Danny wants her back! Of course. Dance numbers and singing happen because love is so hard, blah blah and at the end of the film she dresses up like a hooker to impress him and  they end up together. Or do they? I’m pretty sure he cheats on her with some skank immediately following the return of their flying convertible back to the school parking lot after Sandy takes off her painted on pants and gives him her “virginity.”

We’ve all been there.

#3 John Bender “The Bad Boy”

I’m old. Which means that John Hughes films have shaped my life in a very profound way. The Breakfast Club being the one that really had the most impact. When I was about 14 I saw this movie for the first time. I was IN LOVE with it. Everything about it spoke to my inner soul—which has always been more angst ridden than my age required it to be. (Please note I fell in love at age 3 with my imaginary friend that didn’t play with me…that story is reserved for the book) Anyways, it took all of about 12 seconds for me to hone in on John Bender, the dreamiest bad boy I’d ever seen. His clothes, his sarcasm, his looks, his “Who gives a fuck” attitude and charm is what wet dreams were made of, and they were. John Bender is the man that I would look for for MANY years to come. He was the begrudged know-it-all mysterious brooder that I would look for with my eyes wide shut or bulging open within any male that came close to me, for years.

Now all the qualities I thought were the living-end for most of my adolescence are those belonging to nothing more than an insecure underachiever. Good looks and a sharp tongue can only get you so far. John treats everyone like crap drowning them with is bile which is just his way of overcompensating for the fact that he’s too wrapped up in his self pity to find the balls to overcome his circumstances. These are traits of a weak man. A weak man draped in bad boy savoir faire, is a mistake I’ve made too many times to mention. He convinces the hardest p*ssy to tame—within the slim pickins of the detention hall—to hate and love him all at the same time. Weak men love the hardest conquest—FACT. It makes them feel like they’ve achieved something. And that’s what he does, and what does she do? She gives him a diamond, because girls love to GIVE to the one’s least worthy of their time, affection, and financial nurturing. He’s a rebel and she’s got something to prove. This NEVER works out. John Hughes doesn’t make sequels…for a reason.

Bad boys are bad. Period.

#4 Lloyd Dobler “The Hopeless Romantic”

Who doesn’t love Lloyd Dobler? Put on this Earth to love ONE woman. That’s what he’s good at. The nice guy with a heart of gold. He manages to grab the heart of the “smart girl” a noble quality by any standard. I was the “smart/funny” girl for a long time before my boobs became more “boob” than “fat” for many years, and that’s why Lloyd filled me with hope that someone would and could love me some day. He writes her a letter after having sex with her that said ” I’ll always be there. All the love in my heart, Lloyd.” This brought Lloyd to the level of greatness, he was no longer just a “guy.” And of course let’s not forget the boombox scene with Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” blasting in the early morn. That scene will be ruining lives for years to come. It ruined mine, that’s for sure. I’ve only had one boom box experience and it was a day late and a dollar short. 

Sure, Lloyd sounds perfect. Until you reach adulthood and realize that Lloyd was scared and lazy. He had no aspirations, he had no life of his own. He wanted to be a kickboxer? That’s cute. Cute and hopeless. Diane had dreams, goals, and aspirations as any good woman should. When you get over the whimsy you realize you want someone that is going to be a partner, not just a mooch with good intentions. This takes a LONG time to realize. Of all the dreamboat mistakes, Lloyd is the easiest to forgive, but still…get a life, Lloyd. It takes more than loving a woman to be great. Be a MAN that loves a woman and we’ll talk.

My “Lloyds” always show up when it’s too late, when they’ve annihilated all the love I had to give with their whimsy and laziness and self-doubt to be bothered by it anymore. It’s a shame though, really is.

#5 Troy Dyre “The Untamable Philosopher”

Reality Bites came out in 1994. I was 16 years old. Is there a more fucked up age than being 16 and female? Probably not. When I saw this movie I couldn’t believe how crazy in love I was with Troy Dyre. He was smart, funny, sarcastic, cute—in that unwashed musician/coffee shop attendee sort of way. He was unlike any boy in my high school and he was all I wanted. After all he really “loved” Lelaina, he was just ill-equipped to show her his feelings because he didn’t know how, right? That friendship was too special, his feelings were frightening and he didn’t know how to “deal.” How noble.

 ”You, me, and five bucks” are words that ring in my ears to this day. I want so desperately to believe that’s all you really need. And from time to time, I’ve found some semblance of it, but it’s usually fleeting, much like Troy’s true appeal. Just because a man reads books and knows the meaning of “irony” at the drop of a hat doesn’t mean he’s a life partner. Troy is anguished by life and how he sees the world. Defined by his cynical view of the the world and everything in it. Lo and behold he’s a musician, coincidence? Probably not. Troy only gets the nerve to go after Lelaina AFTER she’s met a suitable match (much like Danny Zuko) then it’s GAME ON. Suddenly his jealousy can’t be masked and in a weak moment Lelaina gives in, much against her better judgement. And then, before the sun comes up Troy bails on her. Freaking out because he actually had a genuine emotion and boy, those are scary and scary is sticky and sticky means stuck and stuck means “LET’S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS POSSIBLE” And so that’s what he does. He eventually returns once his dad dies and he’s got nothing left in the world so he seeks comfort in the one woman that’s always been there for him. La di da.

Umm…yeah. Been there. Done that. Moving on. I still love smart boys with sharp tongues, I just expect a little more than the bare minimum. And if feelings scare you and you gotta cut and run, well fuck you too. Feelings are scary, but with great risk comes great reward.

#6 Russell Hammond “The Rockstar”

Oh Lord. Russell Hammond. Almost Famous changed my Universe when I saw it. I’ve always loved music and musicians. Since I could remember a man holding an instrument sent shivers down my spine. It started with my father, the violinist, he was the bees knees as far as I was concerned, until he bailed on my mother and I when I was 7. Setting off to find his true happiness in anyone and anything that he could. We were better off without him. That kind of selfishness can never lead to anything good so I wasn’t that sad to see him go, to be honest.  Anyways, I’ve always fancied myself a respectable groupie—loving the musician for more than their presence, but for the gift of music they were giving me and the world. I never gave in to tour bus shenanigans. I have far too much self worth for all of that nonsense. Penny Lane was my hero and Russell, well, Russell was the most desirable man on Earth. The wily and misunderstood artist who just wanted to be “real.”  He was sexy and smooth and said all the right things even when they were dreadfully full of shit. And he LOVED, Penny. In the end he saw the error of his ways and set off to find her, right?

WRONG. That is what I wanted to believe so badly. So so badly. But let’s face it, Russell is the epitome of a musician. He’s defined by his music, his band, his instrument, his persona. He lives for the adoration of strangers and it’s never enough and it never will be. He’s married and he’s cheating on his wife with the most notorious of all groupies. There’s no doubt he fancies, Penny. Who doesn’t? And while he’s lonely on tour he has the company of a feral nymph, how exciting. But once Penny shows him her true feelings, forcing him to confront the reality of the situation he pussies out and sits there with his wife and lets Penny look and feel like a total asshole. This is the man that sold her to Humble Pie for 50 bucks and a case of beer. Sigh. ::heart breaks:: Once his wife divorces him, I’m sure, and the groupies are all lackluster, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he made a mistake, perhaps, and gives Penny a call. But time has given Penny wisdom and she sets him off to make other wrongs right. I used to think that after he talks to William he gets in a cab to go find Penny, but that’s just naive romanticism. Penny leaves to Morocco and Russell rejoins his rockstar life as if it never happened. That’s a tragedy, his ambivalence is a tragedy and it’s heart-wrenching disappointment is comparable to any and all the forlorn love stories of our time.

I found my Russell once, and now he’s gone. Just like that. And maybe I wanted it to be something it never was, or maybe he came into my life to teach me that there is no amazing love story set out for us. Even if it is four years in the making. That just because you want someone or something doesn’t mean that it’s going to work out, and that I shouldn’t believe that  everything that glitters is a “Golden God.” 

I haven’t really figured out what it means, just yet. What I do know is that I will be retiring my groupie shoes and swearing off musicians from this day forth.

#7 Ryan Gosling “The Perfect Man”

RyGoz is a true life-ruiner. It’s not his characters, although, Noah in The Notebook is a notable life ruiner for sure. Who loves like that? No one. He’s pretty dreamy in Blue Valentine as Dean, even with his receding hairline. (I haven’t seen, Drive, yet, but I’m sure he’s ridiculously hot and heroic in that too) So, fine. It’s no surprise to anyone that Ryan is the most talked about dreamboat out there these days, he’s good looking, respectable, talented, funny, charming, witty, intelligent, loves his dog, his mom, babies and children, not afraid to commit when he finds a special lady, shit, he’s even a real life super-hero fighting crime on the streets of NYC. The man is everything a girl could want. And this is precisely WHY he’s the epitome of a life ruiner, reigning supreme amongst all others.

Ryan, God love him, is only one man. Elusive yet approachable, you think you could have him if you were lucky enough to meet him and you were having an exceptionally “cute”  and clever moment that day. But the pressure is too much, because, let’s be honest with ourselves, you’re not going to run into Ryan Gosling. And if you do, you’re not going to be cool about it. You’re going to flip out and act like a nerd, and though he’ll be nice about it, you’re just ONE hot chick in a SEA of hot chicks out there that want nothing more than to love him with all your guts. 

Another drawback here is that he’s a method actor. I once dated one of these that broke up with me for a short stint, stating that he had to “explore his role,” this of course was code for exploring his co-star’s hole while they were doing a play together. It’s no surprise that Ryan falls in love with his co-stars, after all he’s really INTO his role, right? Yeah. This is not good. Not unless you’re his co-star for that brief and fleeting moment, and even then, if you had the love of this man for 5 minutes how could it not tear you up to lose it once the martini shot was wrapped? Exactly.

Ryan Gosling is too much, he’s too great and he sets an expectation in us all for a kind of greatness that is not easily possessed by mere mortals. He can not be the bar because we will for sure be destined for all sorts of disappointment. 

That said, I’m waiting to bump into you at Max Fish or the Food Emporium some day Ry Ry, and although I can’t marry you because I’ve sworn off artists for the rest of my life, I can go have a drink or coffee with you and woo you with my wits and then I can bang you within an inch of your life. And mine. And I’ll be totally Ok with that.

So, for now, I sleep diagonally in my bed until it’s filled with the next mistake or Mr. Finally. The journey to the final frontier continues…

The things i learned this past week.

Losing someone you love, not by death or distance, but by a choice someone made on their own that directly affects you, can cause a pain in your chest so severe that you would sometimes rather be dead.

It takes strength, courage, and selflessness to LOVE. Yourself or anyone else.

I prefer the oxford comma.

You truly realize who your friends are when you’re at your absolute worst.

Not getting to fuck a random stranger can cause physical pain to some people. 

You CAN lose a man after you lose a bunch of weight and look your best, that’s a first. (maybe a first in the history of the world.)

I would sell my soul to the devil himself to either have a Delorean Time Machine or The Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless mind.

I’ve kicked my artist habit. If you’re a writer, actor, poet, musician, illustrationist, painter, photographer, muralist, performance artist or anything that even remotely smells like some kind of need to express your feelings through art, you need not apply. This is an anti-artist establishment from now on.

It doesn’t matter how much you love someone.

Don’t believe everything you’re told, written, shown, or feel.

Just because someone tells you they love you, doesn’t mean they feel it, believe it, or aren’t scared to death to utter it. (this might be the biggest doozy to wrap your brain around, I know.)

Miss Sixty has the nicest jackets.

Cab drivers get sad if you cry in their cab.

Sleeping has become scarce. Eating, a bore.

Sparrow Tavern in Astoria has a delicious Steak sandwich with cracked pepper aioli. I highly recommend it. (even without the bread)

Mosaic in Astoria does NOT have liquor, but it’s a very cute place.

Sometimes it has nothing to do with YOU no matter how amazing you are. But that’s a pretty hard pill to swallow all the same.

I can’t stand myself right now, I’m in shock anyone else can.

My friends love me.

I’ve lost 17 pounds with that crazy ass diet. And now have to buy smaller jeans.

I’m strong. I will survive this too. And even though I don’t really believe it at the moment, I WILL love again, and I will trust again, and there will be someone in this world that can graciously accept the love I have to give and give it back–whole heartedly—with intention, honesty and kindness.

I’m getting another tattoo in a few weeks, it will say “You’ve gotten into my bloodstream, I can feel you flowing in me” I had reconsidered getting it, but then realized that I do want to feel that way again about somebody, somebody that feels that way back. I love those lyrics. I always have. They’re mine. And no one will take that from me.

I don’t hate “him”. Though it might be easier if I did. 

“This too shall pass”

And I wish I was this dog right now. How happy and cute is he? In my mind he’s dancing in the face of fear. <3

(“you” asked me to write. well, there you go. If only you had the courage to read it…maybe someday.)

Things I Learned This Week

Going on a hard core diet divides the people in your life into two groups: Haters and Supporters.

Haters will do all or some of the following: 

-berate you publicly on social networks about your idiot choices

-mock your food

-shove delicious sugary confections in your face 

-question your choices with a disgusted look on their face.

-eat things they wouldn’t normally eat in order to make you jealous.

Supporters will:

-Encourage your crazy choices while planning a full intervention if you get “too skinny.”

-tell you that the delicious junk food they’re shoving in their face tastes “gross” or “disgusting” in order to curb your ferocious cravings and feelings of hate and envy

-put up with your borderline psychotic mood swings.

-tell you you’re pretty even though you look like a monster (see below)

Hormones and detoxification gives you the skin of a 13 year old going through puberty. Really bad puberty.

Having bad skin makes me 100x more miserable than being on a very low calorie diet.

Benedryl helps with the faceplosion but causes the sleepies and horrendous restless limb syndrome.

Your favorite foods will follow you in abundance when you can’t partake in them. 

Making the perfect hard boiled egg is a plight of trial and error: Perfect egg is accomplished by putting them in the pot of water before it boils, once it starts boiling set timer to 10 minutes. Then peel and eat.

Hurricane pandemonium in New York regarding a Category 1 Hurricane far outweighs the actual impact.

The bodega downstairs stays open through a hurricane and has not closed for one second since 1972. Way to go Helen Grocery!

When choosing an economical place to live outside of Manhattan, Astoria is nicer than Bushwick.

Spotify is pure liquid awesome and can save your life when you’re iPod-less.

I CAN lose at Trivial Pursuit when faced with the adversity of annoyance, hunger and impossible “sports and leisure” questions.

and I CAN lose 9 lbs in one week.

It’s been a while, I know. But for the person that is still out there willing to listen, maybe there are 2 or 3 of you left…I’m back. 

Due to my “fat kid who will perpetually think she’s fat syndrome” I’ve started a new diet. It’s kind of crazy and I don’t want to tell you what it is or what it’s called just yet. We’ll see if a) I stick with it and b) it works. I’m hoping for both.

I will tell you this fun little fact: It involves a hormone found in pregnant women’s pee. Yup! And I had it flown in from India. There is no end to my neurosis on the weight issue, this might be the strangest thing I’ve tried but, why not? If nothing else it would lead to a good story, right?

The first 2 days on this diet you’re supposed to PIG OUT! Which is my favorite part of any situation, obviously. It’s the Super Awesome before the Total Suck. After those first two days I’ll be restricted to a 500 calorie diet. That’s right! I’m not missing a digit. That’s all. 

I know what you’re thinking, and that’s fine. Go ahead, think it. Worst case scenario: I’ll fail and you’ll all point and laugh and say “I told you so!” Best case: I’ll lose a bunch of weight and you’ll be begging me to give you the secret. 

I’m sure I’ll be learning a whole lot so I figured I’d better fire the ol’ blog up again.

So we’ll see…

Thanks for reading all those words, and now I’ll reward you with a picture.

This is out of the ordinary for a TILT entry. But it has to be done. 

cuhcuhcourtney:

Please reblog. This little kitten showed up at my house yesterday and I desperately want to get him the surgery he needs or it will become infected. Please help me and donate anything you can, for sadly I can’t afford the surgery on my own.

Donation link

TILT (M): Things I Learned This Month

The frequency of The Tilt is directly proportional to how busy I am, that said…

Peter Luger’s is a carnivorous free-for-all, the bacon they serve as an appetizer is half an inch thick and melts in your mouth. The Burger is voted #2 (#1 spot belongs to Le Tub located in my old hood, Hollywood, FL) and the steak is tender and delicious. 

Company holiday parties celebrated in April will lead to Bukowski-like debauchery and involve weeping web developers, the slapping of one’s boss, and limbo.

(Lesley is cupping my boob here.)

Apple TV is one of life’s luxuries that should not be overlooked.  I’ll be spending the next 6 months under covers in front of my television set. Thanks boss men for the gift and the truancy.

Sucker Punch is one of the worst movies ever written. The script is non-existent. The movie is only worthwhile if you’re a pedophile fetishist and it’s set on mute. Spoiler: You never get to see the “sexy dance.” Ever. Oscar Isaac killed it as Blue.

There is nothing worse than Bikram Yoga. Nothing. I still can’t believe I paid $60 to willingly endure 90 minutes of torture administered by one of Satan’s henchmen disguised as an 85 pound asian woman. For those who have never experienced it, Bikram is like going into a sauna with 40 other people and then contorting your body in ways that your body begs you not to. Then repeating it twice as time stands still while other people’s sweat slap you in the face, but it doesn’t matter because the salty sweat from your own brow is blinding you simultaneously. And then, your lungs catch on fire. I thought “puke and rally” was a term used only to describe a night of drinking. I was wrong.

Honey drizzled over Pinkberry’s chocolate flavor fro-yo is truly delightful, and the only thing that’ll get me to stop crying after Bikram.

One Bikram class burns 964 calories and the ONLY reason to go back. If at all.

I don’t enjoy anything for 90 minutes straight. Anything.

60 degrees in NYC, beats 60 degrees anywhere else in the world. I see you coming, Spring, and you look so pretty in your floral dress.

Friends come and friends go. Bye Bye.

“Batshit-crazy-as-fuck” is the new “interesting”, apparently. 

There are 1400 calories in move nachos. 1690 in Pretzel Bites! Pretzel Bites? Those aren’t even delicious. What the?

Sigur Ros invented a language called “Hopelandic” if that’s not the dumbest most unicorny-rainbow-pixie dust-faggotry ever created by man, I don’t know what is. Sigur Ros, your music is pretty good, but now I have to hate you based on that shit alone. You did it to yourselves.

I prefer lyrics I can understand, as a general rule.

A duck has 3 eyelids.

Louis CK’s - Chewed Up - is the funniest stand up I’ve seen in a while. I laughed until I cried and back again.

Pictureshow is my new favorite photo-filter app for the iPhone.

Broken Bones by The Holidays is my new jam.

and I suck terribly at any form of scrabble both manual or digital. It’s embarrassing. 

TILT(W): Things I Learned This Weekend

Talking on the phone on a train, elevator, or confined public area is rude, in my opinion.

Driving is like riding a bike. You never forget how, but your first time back is a little scary.

He loves me. (and ice cream)

Collaborating in the kitchen is a delicate dance which involves patience, compassion and a winning sense of humor.

Faulty faucets will flood your face.

*This is what it felt like.

Jerry Maguire is an exceptional film, that said: The characters of Dorothy and Jerry had no business being together. Their arch makes no sense and I only realized it after my 30-some-odd viewing. Maybe it’s because “We live in a cynical world…”

Marshmallow is term to describe a Hipster because they’re soft and white.

The guy at Cozy Corner thinks it’s acceptable to put 12 sundried tomatoes in my tuna melt, which wasn’t melted. WTF type of cultural faux pas is that? Who in their right mind puts a shit ton (or any) sundried tomatoes in a tuna melt? We’re under attack and the world has gone to shit. Period.

My menstrual cycle hates me.

A group of 12 or more cows is called a Flink. (snapple fact #752)

Nancy Whiskey Pub is a quaint establishment and to be our new watering hole when our office moves to Tribeca. Their upstairs is for midgets only as the space from floor to ceiling measures about 5’11”. 

I have no idea where the emergency stairs are located in my office building. Uh oh.

Between March 11-March 15 there is going to be a horrible Earthquake in Arkansas. We are all unprepared. Yikes!

My roommate can perform Jedi-mind trickery. She somehow convinced me to pay for a month of Bikram (hot) Yoga. Two things I’m not a fan of, Heat + Yoga. And I did, I bought it. Spent $60 of my hard earned bills on it. Who am I? Better question: Who is she?

Some people pick their nose on the train with reckless abandon. This is fucking disgusting. People, we all have to ride together, let’s make the experience as unoffensive as we can, huh? Yes, I’m especially talking to you, sir with his knuckle halfway up his nose hole, get it together! Thank you.