Thank You, Universe

The universe is good. Sometimes, it has to give bad news and bad feelings to good people, but then it does something to remind them that the world is good if you let it be. In the last four days:

- The relationship that I thought was the most princess perfect fairy tale relationship ever, the one that I pointed to to say "Look how they fell in love and weren't scared of it", broke up.

- A marriage that I had pointed to over and over again and said "Look how many obstacles they have, and they've found this really healthy way to overcome them and be together," pretty much is almost assuredly breaking up

- I basically got told that I was not loved enough. That even though I had been told otherwise again and again, in the moment where I needed to be the person who was loved the most, I wasn't.

- I discovered that there's someone out there who hates me enough that they will go to unbelievable, UNBELIEVABLE, lengths to shatter my life. And in many ways, they already won before I figured it out.

And so, right, not the best week. But then this morning, early, just as I was waking up, I got asked to be Tyler's godmother. And it was the best thing I've been asked to do in a long time. And I'm going to take my job as godmother more seriously than you can imagine. She didn't even know how much she was giving me a gift I really needed this morning, but she did. Even if she did it via text message!

Boys, girls, it must be dumping season, yeah? So here's what I'm holding on to, and it usually helps. When God takes away somebody who took up such a big space in your heart, it's usually because he needs to make room for somebody who's going to fill you up even more. Stay the course.

 

Let's Answer Some Email! It'll Be Painless!

Lots of email that made me think this week. Lots of people saying things better than I could. Lots of interesting dialogue that distracted me from work and that other situation. Let's answer some of it live, shall we?

From Red Delicious (how's that for a badass alias, ma'am?):

"Just read your blog and how you've been sad lately about things, namely about not having a child yet.

I know you didn't ask for my advice, but since I have a couple kids, I thought I could help out.

First of all, Jocelyn gets what Jocelyn wants. If you haven't gotten something yet, it's because you haven't wanted it enough.

Second, don't become wistful because that is not reality. Kids bring tremendous and immeasurable amounts of love and joy and astonishment, but also tremendous and immeasurable amounts of fear and sorrow and guilt. I love my kids more than life itself. They are God's gift to me, and I take my job as their mom more seriously than I probably should. They bring deep down joy and happiness and so much fun to us. They've taught me more about myself than I thought possible, and more about God and the world than my own experiences have. BUT, on a day like today, I might've given them to a gypsy if there were any gypsies roaming around! Disrespectful and demanding, whining and yelling, wasteful and so messy; these are all things that come with kids.

So I think what I'm saying is, when you feel ready enough, and in God's time, you will be a mother. When it is meant to be, it will be. Just make sure you go into this phase of your life with a very realistic outlook."

That bold is hard to read, eh? I couldn't think of a better technique.

And, of course, she's right and that was an important reality check. Let's address a few things.

"Jocelyn gets what Jocelyn wants."
It's true. And listen, there are two elements here. One is that I get that I haven't wanted it enough to really make it happen because I'm aware that if it were ALL I wanted, I'd have it by now. I will be the first to admit that I'm always the girl who leaves the party with one pinky finger tightly wrapped around the brass rail on the bar, screaming for a final raspberry martini and a last dance. And I mean that metaphorically about life, not literally about last weekend. So you're right. If I were totally ready, it would have happened by now. And honestly, I thought I was and then the situation changed. Which is about the second element.

Because there's an element to wanting and finding that aren't in my control, right? If other people don't want it too, there's nothing I can do about that, right? And of course the logical answer is that subconsciously I seek out people who aren't really ready for that so that I have an excuse to have that last raspberry martini and rock out to some Abba. I guess maybe that's an excuse, except that on this particular day I feel like it's not me making the choice. But you're right. You're right.

Secondly, you should always give mom advice. Becasue you're one of the best moms I've ever seen. I'm glad you let me share your advice with everybody.

From Luscious Lisa (I'm on a roll with the names, ya'll):

"What are the point of relationships, really? Are they so we won't be alone? They provide company, this is true. Possibly a safe sexual environment. Then again, did you know that most Hep B occurs in heterosexual people and not drug users or homosexuals? Just a bit of trivia there."

Firstly, thanks for the uplifting trivia, Lis. I feel better now.

I will answer. I mean, obviously it's left over from when we were cave people and it was necessary in order to preserve life and children and such. That's such a cynical thing for me to say, isn't it? That relationships have nothing to do with our deep emotional need for companionship or love, that it's because thousands of years ago babies would die and the
species wouldn't flourish without two people to support the life of a child. What is wrong with me? Or, more precisely, what's got me feeling so cynical? But anyway, once, like three years ago, I wrote a poem about this.

Seriously - that's my answer. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Ho says:
"I gotta believe a lot of those muscles in "300" were CGI ..."

Shut up, Ho. You will not ruin this for me!

Catwoman says:
"I am sorry (el situation) went that far out of control. It is baby mama drama without the baby. Beware the breakdown man. He is responsible for this result and must learn from this. Resist the temptation to nurture and act with the extreme empathy at which you are so good, it could result in inertia. Remember, you are a Goddess, and I love you. A bender was in order, regardless if it were of magnanimously embarrassing proportion."

Why I love her (other than she's always right): She just justified my bender of embarassing proportion.

And finally, this story unfolded this week:
Ferris: http://www.postgazette.com/pg/07081/771527-55.stm. Sad. I don't think I've ever given the thing a second thought, up until when they said it won't be there anymore.

Pookie: I guess we'll have to buy it. Then load it on a flatbed truck and take it on a cross country road trip called "Go West, Big Jim -- Go West." Now, all we need is $10,000 each......it is sad...i've passed that statue so many times it's become part of my subconscious...

Ferris: We'll cross the country with it, finding out a lot about ourselves and America along the way. Finally, upon arriving in San Francisco, Big Jim becomes a gay icon, but during its triumphant (yet ill advised) parade down Lombard Street it teeters over and kills Pookie. Ferris, in a fit of anger, curses the day the steel giant was ever created; the statue gains sentience and in a fit of remorse, throws itself into the Bay. It is never seen again, and Ferris ends his days working in a coal mine.

And then, magically, it was saved.

Thanks for all the email this week. It was good.

 

One Big Jar of Pills

Bling is one of the smartest men I know, and I know a lot of smart men. He can tell you about every tactical and historical inaccuracy in The 300, and not just because he watched the special on A&E afterwards. He can run down information I didn't even know existed about history, religion, politics, engineering, anything. He can logic around any argument I come up with for anything to the point where my mind actually gets changed. He's a smart boy.

He's also a coke dealer. That's what he does.

I'd love to say that he's a bartender or a professional gambler, because he does those things, too. But his real profession is coke dealer.

And also, before we go on, let me emphasis a coke dealer. Not my coke dealer. I am not doing coke. I know him from the bar where he bartends. It's one of my traditional stops. One of those places where girls and I drink for free and where, on insomnia nights sometimes when nobody is picking up their phone and I need to wonder, I sit and talk to Bling about European history.

And last Friday I sat at that bar for hours talking about Greek history, and boys who hurt your feelings, and what I want out of life and ... coke. Remember the days back in the day where I would have these absurd conversations with people and then share them? Let's do that tonight.

Bling
Dude, one thing I know is that when you get my stuff, if it's cut, it's cut with good shit. The (insert name of nationality Bling likes to dog), those fuckers cut their shit with baking soda. BAKING SODA. Why would you put something up your nose with your coke that you know a)clumps and sticks together and b) as you may know from putting it in your freezer is designed to actually kill smells?

Me
I have to tell you, I really have no idea.

Bling
It's the (insert name of nationality Bling likes to dog). No respect for the customer, right? Why would your customer come back if your product is crap?

Me
I think you may be overestimating the ability of the average Vegas tourist who wants to do some coke to, you know, differentiate between product. I'm just saying.

Bling
You're probably right.

Me
Do you ever worry about getting arrested?

Bling
Dudette, we live a block away from a police station. They leave us alone. They know what's going on, but they also know we don't keep guns in that house. They're okay with the dealing as long as there aren't any guns involved.

Me
There are so many things in that sentence that cause me pause, but here's one. In my experience with people who deal like you deal, don't you think it's maybe a safer call to have a gun around, you know, for emergency protection?

Bling
Here's what I think. I sure as hell am not taking a life over this crap. And if somebody wants to steal my stash, I'll give it up long before guns come out. I can buy more stash. I'm not touching guns.

Me
I guess it's really refreshing to hear that. I guess.

Bling
All the cops at that station know us. This one time, these stupid (insert name of nationality Bling likes to dog) fuckers tried to steal my car. But the dumb fucks took the keys while they were in the house and then went away for half an hour and then came back for my car. And by that time I had realized they had my mother fucking keys. So when they come back to get the car, roomieA and roomieB go running out of the house with baseball bats. And so I call the cops, you know the ones right down the street who know us, and I'm like "Some motherfucker is stealing my car and my roommates are going after them." And the police were actually like, "You gotta tell us which one is your roommate - what do they look like? We don't want to grab the wrong guy." And I look out the window, and roomieA is beating the SHIT out of that (insert name of nationality Bling likes to dog). And I'm like, "My roommate is the one beating the shit out of the (insert name of nationality Bling likes to dog) with the baseball bat. And the cops came and they ONLY arrested the (insert name of nationality Bling likes to dog). Can you believe that shit?

Me
It's hard to believe. It's true. Hard.to.believe.

...Time passes. I'm talking to some woman from Ohio about the tournament. Bling is hanging with Goofy Pill Boy, who is the bartender he works with. They ALWAYS work together. ...

Me
Hey, when Goofy Pill Boy wants some coke at work, do you make him pay?

Bling
Nah, that would be way non-bro. Anyway, he's a pill popper. So I'm not so into pills, but when he wants some coke I just trade him some pills for some coke and I have this big ass jar of pills from him at home. When I'm bored or stuff, I'll pop one and see what it does.

Me
That's, you know, kind of way fucked up, Bling. You know that, right?

Bling
Yeah. Hey, people are coming over later to watch Akira on the plasma. Wanna come?

And so, later that morning, I'm over at Bling's watching Akira and I get up to wonder around and there, when I'm nosing through closets, I find the jar of pills. It really does exist. Seriously.

This happened. This is my life. No joke. And I'm kind of thankful that I was there to hear the story without having to actually be part of the story.

 

Is this really happening?

Sanjaya?

I can't even watch.

 

Thoughts to Start the Week With

I swear we'll come back to the pampering topic. I have a lot of email on that subject to sort through. Also this week, dead birds and conversations with a coke dealer ( a coke dealer, not my coke dealer. I am not doing coke.). Good times. In the meantime, five thoughts to start the week with.

1. Elliot Yamin: I swear to God, that album is fantastic. There's only, like, one bad track on the whole thing. You think I'm just saying that because he was my favorite one on that season of American Idol, but I'm not. And, also, how hot did he get? Hot. The "Alright" track is a great running track. The "One Word" track is uplifting. The "Moving On" track is really, really good. Don't bother downloading the singles, just download the album. It's worth your $10.



2. Michael Burkard: This week, a meditation not from Rumi but from Michael Burkard.
From Today's Crisis:

Today's crisis is entitled "Sunlight"
It feels too strict in its brightness
And upon awakening from a night of ghosts
you feel the brightness is, in a word, opaque.

3. Phonetics: This is actual conversation with shamus today:

shamus
I know why you pick the wrong men for you all the time.

me
Well then hit me, because I'd love to stop doing that.

shamus
stay with me here.
k-ceeeeeeeeeeeee
ton-eeeeeeeeeee
rand-eeeeeeeeeee
jimm-eeeeeeeeeeee
charl-eeeeeeeeeeee

me
(pause)
(runs hand through hair)
(makes scrunched up face)
Are you really telling me that I pick the wrong men for me because I'm attracted to them because of ... phonetics?

shamus
I'm just saying there's a track record to prove it. Get out of the box, lady friend!

4. Why I haven't called anybody back: I'm ovulating. It makes me sleepy. I swear I'll hit people back this week.

5. Also, shamus: So, as some of you know, sometimes this thing happens with shamus and I where we start a joke and then neither of us wants to be the one to punk out on the joke before it's gone as far as it possibly, possibly can. The Phil Collins albums would be an example of this. Those pictures from Hawaii might be considered an example of this. The time shamus convinced me that my move after drinking heavily was just to lay my ass down on the sidewalk would be an example of this. Every "Why not buy a round of Jack Daniels shots for EVERYBODY and then drink them ourselves?" would be an example of this. And now, a new example. Glamour Shots. This is going to end badly, I can feel it.

So, shamus asks me what I want for my birthday. I begin the joke that I want Glamour Shots. I then proceed to work that joke to the point where I begin a MySpace campaign with his teenage sisters to rally him to do this. All this time, I have to admit, I feel that shamus will punk out on the joke. That he's not going to spend his hard earned dollars getting me "tasteful adult photographs for your loved one." And I should have known better. Because, behold, in my hot little hand is my Glamour Shots gift certificate.

Now, you see, a wiser person than I am would say, "That's funny. You win, shamus. I don't have the balls to do this." But I am not wise in that way, and my only response it to step up the game and take it far beyond the level it was designed for. Oh, I'm going to my Glamour Shots appointment. And I'm buying something ridiculous for it. Like a Little Bo Peep outfit, or a naughty nurse outfit or something like that. Tell me, what should I wear to make this as ridiculous as possible? And don't waste your time telling me Catholic schoolgirl outfit, because that's like 150 notches below what I need to do to ensure that I'm not the one who punks out on the joke before it's been taken as far as it can possibly, possibly be taken.

And that is all. It's 8:15pm on a Sunday and I'm just getting in the shower to get ready to go to dinner. I have to get out of this town!

 

U-N-L-V: UNLV GO FIGHT WIN

Firslty, you know you live in Vegas when at 9:30pm you're laying in bed watching Melrose Place and updating your blog because your dinner reservation isn't even until 1:00am on Sunday morning. What is wrong with this city?

Anyway, the outcome of the UNLV game was sad, but the experience of watching it at B-Dubs was not. We got there at 2:30pm for a 7:00pm game. When we got there, we looked all serious and work-like. Like this (click 'em to see 'em bigger):



Then the following two things happened:



And suddenly the pictures ended up looking like this:







My favorite, of course, is the Bondo high five shot. So.drunk.

And also, this is my new boyfriend. Enjoy. I know I did.

 

How to Pamper a Girl Like a Princess

Sometimes, I get email from people I don't know who read this blog and I'm like "Really? That thing that I wrote was confusing to you?" But yesterday I got an email that was seriously like, "We guys are confused about how exactly you pamper a girl like a princess." And I was horrified! Because everybody should know that! How will you ever seduce the perfect woman if you don't really know how to princess pamper? And so, because I have been all about improving humanity recently, I'm going to explain it. Really, it's for the sake of all mankind. Thank me the next time you get laid, boys.

The first thing you have to understand is that there are three different ways to pamper a girl depending on what your desired outcome is. There's pampering to get her into bed, there's pampering to get her into some kind of ongoing relationship that's not, um, designed to end in marriage, and there's pampering because you want her to really love you and take care of you for the rest of your life. This is complicated, so keep up.

Pampering a Girl So You Can Sleep With Her: Listen, honestly, if you don't know how to do this, I'm not sure I can help you. Here are the basics though:
- Don't overdo it on dinner. If your real goal is to sleep with her, big bloated bellies don't help. But don't take her to McDonald's either (ahem, RJ).

- Lots of drinks. Not beer. Drinks. There's a difference.

- When the old dude/young chick comes by selling roses, buy one. Work this into your budget BEFORE you go out.

- There's no such thing as saying "You're beautiful" too many times.

Pampering a Girl So You Can Sugar Daddy Her: This is not really the best way to describe the type of relationship I'm really trying to explain here. But let's say you like a girl more than a one-night-stand, but you're definitely not looking for a wife or even a girlfriend. I like to call these LTNSR (long term, no strings relationships, also known as "What Jocelyn is Queen Of"). This is the case where you REALLY need to step up the pampering. Because let's be real, unless you are Adonis in bed, there's not much reason for most girls to stick around in this type of situation. Girls want husbands and babies, so if you want to convince a girl to be available for your one weekend a month of availability, you'd better turn the pamper-meter up to 100. Here's a list.
- No weekend counts unless you take her somewhere four star and romantic. Think beaches, think mountains, think bed and breakfast, think swanky. Do not try to sugar daddy if this is out of your budget.

- Room service. Plan to order it once you're there.

- Gifts. Expensive ones, but not ones that were chosen randomly. You still need to put thought into what she'll like.

- This is important. You have a life outside of her. She knows that. She's going to be curious about that. Part of the deal with princessing her is that you have to respect that she's choosing to be with you with no real future and therefore deserves whatever information she wants. Don't try to keep secrets. She needs that information to keep from falling for you for real.

- IM, text, email or call at least every other day. Keep the connection there.

- Mail her things. Like in the physical mail. But not things that will remind her painfully about your life outside of her. Things like "I was walking by a store and saw this and thought of you."

- And, finally, always, always, always, always when you see her tell her that you thought of her a lot when you weren't with her. Always.

Here's the thing you need to keep in mind: Everything that I described above can easily cross the line into "manipulation just to keep her hanging on." Be real. Keep it real. Know how much of this you're doing because you're both okay with your LTNSR and how much you're doing that just isn't fair. It's harder than it sounds.

Pampering a Girl So That She Will Fall In Love With You: This, of course, is the most admirable one, but also the most difficult one. Why is it difficult? Because when you think of "princessing" a girl, you think about what I described above with the whole LTNSR. But the reality is that there's a whole different kind of princessing that goes on if you want a girl to fall in love with you. And this is where most men don't see the difference. So here's a list.

- Listen, material things are important. I'd like to tell you that they're not, but unless your girl is Mother Theresa, they are. Don't forget Christmas and birthday presents. Presents bought for no reason at all are a good thing. The difference between pampering a girl for a LTNSR and pampering a girl to make her fall in love with you is that you don't have to buy expensive things. Know what three of the best princess presents I ever got were? A book about Hanson (yes, that Hanson) because he knew I would find it funny and endearing, a digital photo of my two favorite stuffed animals in a frame and a video postcard of a sunset. Because you're giving her time and energy, you don't need to spend. But you do need to give her "things" and "stuff."

- Really, seriously, and I can't emphasize this enough, you have to tell her that she's beautiful ALL THE TIME. Especially if she's "aging out." Every girl in the world is insecure about your finding somebody prettier than she is. Even Elizabeth Hurley got cheated on WITH A NASTY LA HOOKER. Tell her that you think she's beautiful even if she's just come home from the gym and hasn't shaved her legs in three days. Okay, don't do that, because she's not stupid and she'll never take you seriously again if you do.

- Surprises - and this is coming from me and I HATE surprises. Surprise her by stopping at the grocery store and bringing her back a Hershey bar and an orange. Surprise her by cleaning out her car for her because she's not good at remembering to do it herself. Surprise her by leaving her notes on her pillow at night. I could give you a list of 100 ways to surprise her, but this entry is long enough already.

- Music - if you're a hipster, make her mix tapes. If you're anybody else, regularly email her mp3s of songs that made you think of her that day.

- Always, always, always kiss her goodbye and hello no matter where you are and who's with you.

- Pull Out the Big Guns: Look, you can't get away with not doing this. Eventually, you need to pull the vacation card out. Save up. Do it right. Create a romantic environment that's totally removed from reality so that you can really let both of you get immersed in that feeling. Sorry. I know it's pricey, but princesses need vacations.

- And, finally, tell her every single day how important she is to you. Every.single.day. If you need to put it on your daily "to do" list, do it.

It's really not that hard, right? I mean, depending on what it is that you want in the end. I mean, are we asking for too much?

I'm so curious to hear if the ladies think I missed anything. I'm so curious to hear if the men think we really do want to much. Hit me up. I read email.

 

4 Steps to Getting Over a Day Where You Start Crying at 10am

I mean, seriously, crying at 10am. That's not me. That's how far things got out of control.

Step One: Go to wine week at Smith and Wollensky with your staff. It's our favorite event of the year, which pretty much says all you need to know about me and my staff. You'll drink enough to forget for a while what you were crying about.

Step Two: You'll also drink enough to need to sleep it off. Sleeping will help you forget what you were crying about. And when you're done sleeping...

Step Three: Go running. Run, run, run, run. You will once again forget for a while what you're crying about.

Step Four: Here's the unfortunately unhealthy one. Call your kryptonite. And what, you may ask, is a girl's kryptonite?

A very smart girl, who most likely will yell at me once she reads this, once said to me about a boy who's been in my life for a very, very, very long time that he was my kryptonite. He's that kind of boy: the kind who loves me, the kind who (on paper at least) has everything that I want, the kind who would take me back even if he had to change everything in his life (and his life is good) to do it.

But he's no good for me and I know it. Or I guess, more accurately we're no good for each other. He has a life that he built while I was away, building a life. And I could never tear that down. And even if I did, I'm not good for him in the long run. I need a little too much. He gets tired of giving me what I need. It wears him down. I want different things than he does, and we all know how that usually ends up. Mostly though, I need a little too much.

But he's still my kryptonite. He's still the thing that makes me make bad decisions sometimes. A bad decision, for example, is when you burn the house down with one boy and the next day, because you need to feel valued, call your kryptonite. That's a bad decision. I mean, sure, for the hour you're on the phone you feel like you're the most important thing in the world to somebody, which is a feeling you weren't getting before. But long term all you've done is add to a situation that has no future.

But you didn't go to sleep crying! And that's all that counts!

 

The Single Most Scarring MySpace Experience EVER

I was not having the single best day ever to begin with.

So I log into MySpace to check my MySpace mail. And I'm scanning through the usual - actual messages that I want to read from people I know, messages from people whom I don't know that are clever enough to catch my interest and messages from people whom I don't know that horrify me in the creepy, creepy, creepy way. Actually, there are messages from people whom I do know that horrify me in the creepy, creepy, creepy way, but that's a different story.

And then I hit a message from my new least favorite person in the world. Anthony. Who is 18 and from Illinois and wants to tell me that...

I'M A MILF.

I swear to God. That's the content of his email. Let's review the ways in which this is horrifying.

1. Being a MILF means that I'M OLD ENOUGH TO BE A MILF. Which I am, which I'll concede begrudgingly. But seriously, I did not need to be reminded BY AN 18 YEAR OLD that I'm technically old enough to be the mother of one of his playmates. Thank you, Anthony.

2. Being a MILF means that I would actually be a mother. I AM NOT A MOTHER AND WE ALL KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THAT FACT THAT I'M STILL NOT A MOTHER. Again, I didn't need AN 18 YEAR OLD to remind me of this. Thanks a second time, Anthony.

3. In the worst piece of information in this scenario, Anthony's MySpace page features a picture of him that looks EXACTLY LIKE A PICTURE I TOOK OF MY LITTLE BROTHER AT ANTHONY'S AGE, ALSO WITH HIS GUITAR.

So I'd just like to take this moment to thank Anthony for sending me such a flattering, positive MySpace mail. Seriously. I feel better now. Next time, just tell me that you think that I'm hot. Don't make me cry about being 33 and childless at the same time.

 

"The 300" is BADASS

I'm not sure I can review "The 300" any better than these three people did:

Charms94: "That was BADASS"
Ferris: "That movie should have been titled 'Man Thong'"
Shank: "I've seen it twice in 18 hours on the IMAX!!!!"

It's good, people. See it. Particularly see it if you are a female because there are plenty of shots of men dressed and looking like the man below who are throwing spears, while shirtless, in slow motion. I'm not saying, I'm just saying. And what I'm saying is "Yum."



In other news, here are my two favorite photos from St. Patty's day weekend. Enjoy those, too.

 

5 Thoughts to Go Into the Weekend With

1. If you were in any way out and involved with Shimmy and I last weekend, she's thanking you over on her blog. Just thought you'd want to know.

2. Hey, you, and you know who you are: If two people had nothing about themselves that they needed to work on in order to become good together instead of just good individually, then that would mean that those two people hadn't spent their lives becoming independent adults. It would mean that they had spent their lives just being whatever anybody wanted them to and morphing into something else just to make things work together would be easy. And easy is good but it seldom means there's going to be something solid in the end. That's all I'm saying. It'll work itself out.

3. Duke out in the first round. Clearly, I'm getting old because I remember a time when that was unimaginable.

4. So, I have a kind of intense next nine days planned, trying something that hasn't been tried before. This journal could be all bliss or all drama by next week. Interesting.

5. Here's your Rumi meditation quote for the weekend:

"A Thief loves the night.
I am day. I reveal essences."

 

For the Good of Humanity

A-Train asks the pressing questions about this ... and I feel that the answers will benefit humanity so much that I'm pulling it out of the comment thread and just answering it.

A-Train's Question
absolutely shocking content here. to help me understand life a bit better, if you don't mind, a couple clarifications?
1) is the store ACTUALLY called hottie world?

Jos's Answer
Yes. There's one on Maryland next to the Target across from the Boulevard. True story.

A-Train's Question
2) celine and fall out boy were separate songs, right? there's no live bootleg footage, i'm thinking.

Jocelyn's Answer
They were separate songs, but God how I could hope for a mash-up.

A-Train's Question
3) do the twins, um, share the room? not that i'm expecting you to know firsthand, but i'd imagine it came up in conversation.

Jocelyn's Answer
In another time, another place, like 8 months ago, I would have found out and told you. Oh, old times.

A-Train's Question
4) what percentage of women would you say do, in fact, have a "signal system"?

Jocelyn's Answer
Don't kid yourself. 100%.

A-Train says:
thanks in advance for your time!

Jocelyn says:
Whatever I can do to advance humanity.

 

Open Letters to American Idol

Dear Diana Ross,

I so wanted to make fun of you and tell you that "pronunciate" is not a real word, but I looked it up, and it is. I'm sorry.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Sanjaya,

Really? Justin Guarini hair was your solution?

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Phil Stacey,

You're my sleeper pick.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Blake Lewis,

You are no Prince. I have already grown tired of you. Please go home.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Ryan & Simon,

There's no such thing as too many gay innuendo jokes. Really.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Judges,

You're on crack. Chris Richardson rocked.

xo,
jocelyn

Dear Ruben Studdard,

How did it feel to be the only long-term Idol alum not featured in the pre-show clips?

xo,
jocelyn

 

Pampered Like a Princess, Fucked Like a Whore

Firstly, that sound you hear that is roughly the sound of a vortex sucking the earth through it is my mother's gasp of horror echoing across the continent as she thinks "Why, why, WHY can't my daughter have a sense of discretion?"

But that title? That's the title of my new self-help book for young women (by which I clearly mean 18 or over). It's going to be all about this concept that I was discussing this weekend. I decided that, before she finds true love and settles into a relationship for the rest of her life, every girl should have a relationship like the one in the title. The key, and this is the hard part, is that it has to be a relationship with a man whom she truly likes and respects and has a connection with. It has to be a man she considers her equal. But she's got to know that the relationship has no real future and she should just enjoy the time and space that the two of them can spend together for what it is. And then she needs to get pampered like a princess and fucked like a whore for however long it lasts. You'd be surprised how much that helps you come into your womanhood, or learn what it is to be a woman, or discover what you do and don't need men for, or learn how to be with a man without being needy. Lots of benefits. How brilliant will THAT self-help book be?

Anyway, in other news, I now give you another recipe. This one's for the perfect girls' night out on Saturday. Step-by-step for your convenience.

1. Have a non-rager on Friday night.

2. On Saturday, do all of the things you would normally do on a Saturday between the time you finished your non-rager and the time you were ready to start getting ready to go out again. This includes:
- Sleep until at least noon

- Wake up just long enough to go to Hottie World for club clothes (even though you have a closet FULL of club clothes) and Target for supplies

- Come back home, eat, and then promptly go back to sleep again between 3:00pm and 6:00pm. Rotate that napping action between the pool lounge, the couch and the bed. Don't feel ashamed of your commitment to napping.

3. Once again, begin the night with food that is incredibly bad for you. In this case, I mean enchiladas with a commitment to cheese from Fillipos.

4. Take your time on hair and makeup. Listen to Celine Dion and Fall Out Boy while you do that.

5. Take really dirty photos that result in every pair of panties you own being thrown around your joint. This will make you feel hot before you've even left the house. And you can update your MySpace profile as an added bonus.

6. Make sure you start out at a bar where the bartenders know and adore you. They will mix you free drinks and make you feel special when they try so hard to ignore all the other clients so they can hang out and talk to you. This will make you feel sexy and VIP before you've even entered the club, and we all know that FEELING sexy and VIP is the key step here. If you really want to amuse yourselves, tell said bartender about dirty photo session and watch that go down.

7. DON'T hang out in any club that looks dead. It's your big night out! You don't have time to see if things get live. If the club is dead, move on IMMEDIATELY.

8. Meet the hottest twins ever twinned by God.

(Realize, after you meet them, that you must be in a good place in your life because those guys were blazingly hot, into the two of you and ready to party ... and you all walked away to get your drink and dance on without them. That, my friends, is a new place for me.)

9. Go to Tao. Get your drink on. Get your dance on. Have mixed emotions about women humiliating the entire gender with some of their club antics. Get stuck in between a Persian grind off while your girl looks at you blankly since the two of you haven't done a ton of duo runs and she doesn't know your signal system. Really get your dance on. Get a little lost in it.

10. Meet men who are sporting Willie Nelson bandannas. Get in on that action.


11. End the night at New York, New York in the diner with a blt, a baked potato, six chicken tenders, a huge pile of cheesy potatoes and some over-buttered vegetables between the two of you. Have no shame in that.

Girls - the era is starting to end. We need to rock this shit a few more times before it does.

 

Recipe for Champagne Friday

The thing that you most need to know is that when xtine and I headed out on Friday night, the words -- the EXACT words -- out of our mouths were "No rager tonight. Just a nice mellow night out in Vegas." And sure, if your definition of "non-rager" involves getting home and going to bed at 5am after drinking, dancing and strutting all night, it was a non-rager. More importantly, if you'd like to replicate our non-rager Champagne Friday, here's the recipe.

1. Dress like you're only planning on being out for a couple of hours, by which I mean grab whatever out of the closet and pull your hair back in a pony tail.

2. Make sure to kickstart the evening with food that is very bad for you. In this case, I mean go to The Dispensary for HUGE FREAKIN' BURGERS. Make orgasm sounds while you eat them.

3. At 10:30pm, arrive at the Wynn to meet K-Rock and Hott Scott. Immediately order champagne by the bottle with strawberries and then force everybody to take pictures, insisting the whole time that they will then use those pictures on their MySpace profiles for at least one day. Do that. (Click any picture to see it bigger)



4. If you're K-Rock, go all Sex and the City and switch it up to an appletini.


5. If you're Hott Scott, say "It's bullshit that I'm sitting here drinking champagne with a strawberry in it." Then show those bitches who's boss and hit it up out of the bottle.


Then REALLY show everybody who's boss by pouring your Michelobe Ultra into a martini glass.


6. Continue to drink like it's not going to hurt later because, well, why not?

7. Around 1:00am, head over to Mandalay Bay to meet up with A-Train. Immediately head to The Bar and proceed to to switch up everything you were drinking to something else so that you can enjoy the sick later. Make sure at least one of you is drunk enough to actually lay down on the floor at one point (in this case, me). Have A-Train guess what each of you are like in bed and be horrified at how accurate he is.

Make sure you hug a lot while you're still pretty sober.


Make sure you get drunk enough to look like this. HOT! My mama is proud.


7. Leave Mandalay Bay around 2:30am to head to GVR. Bad enough that you feel you need one more stop, but make sure you go through the McDonald's FREAKIN DRIVE THROUGH before you head out for a McNugget Happy Meal. We have no shame.

8. Become immediately obsessed with the My Little Pony toy from the Happy Meal.


8. Once you get to GVR, ROCK LIKE THERE IS NO TOMORROW.


And that, people, is how you have the perfect Champagne Friday. It was a non-rager. For sure. Which is why we all pretty much slept all day the next day.

 

Thankful

10 minutes ago, one of my favorite girls in the world left Las Vegas after we had the most fun, silly and emotionally cathartic girl weekend in months.

And then I read an email from my singularly favorite boy in the world and it was so beautiful that it made me cry.

And I just really woke up Sunday and was super thankful for my life. Even if I'm hungover and feel like a train hit me and I still need put in hours of work and a run today and my joint needs to be cleaned because we tore it up in here this weekend. I'm so glad I am where I am right now and surrounded by the people I'm surrounded by. I'm glad I've learned not to force it so that I can be this happy most of the time.

 

Marriage is Like a Donut

Don't lie. I know that late at night you all lay in bed and the pressing questions about me race through your mind. Is she on pace for a good run in SLC? (Yes). Is she glad it's laying out in the sun weather again? (Yes.) How is she handling Jared Cotter getting voted off of Idol? (Not well). Has she put the breaks on her party binge? (Uh). Does she really miss Di right now? (More than you know). And, most importantly, "It was over a month ago that she finished 90210 on dvd and switched to Melrose Place. Why have we heard nothing about that?"

Well, I'll tell you. I remember Melrose Place as being the far superior show, but the truth is that if you stack the first season of MP up against the first season of 90210, the kids from Beverly Hills will blow you away. In fact, you know there's an issue because in the first couple of episodes where they're really focusing on the 90210 crossover factor (remember, MP was a spin-off after Kellie and Jake hooked up on 90210), the entire Melrose Place cast gets their asses handed to them when Jennie Garth and Ian Ziering act freakin' circles around them.

And remember, the first season of MP was Heather Locklear-less for most of it. Amy Locane is no Heather Locklear, people.

But in episode five, the show starts to turn around! It becomes, well, the trash fest we all remember. In just one episode, Billy gets his own newspaper column and struggles with the lack of adventure in his life. He solves this by taking Jake and Matt BUNGEE JUMPING - because in the eighties that shit was hardcore. In the same episode, Jane discovers that she is pregnant and struggles with determining whether or not to tell Michael (who has said he doesn't want children) or just get an abortion. And then of course Sandy tells us about her experience getting an abortion back in the Deep South during her beauty pageant days. It's stellar nighttime soap opera drama, but what really happens that elevates MP to a new level in this episode is the following speech given by Michael:

"Marriage is like a donut. A donut is round. A donut is sweet. A donut is perfect. But something in the middle is missing, hence the hole. And I never know if you're supposed to fill that hole, or if it's a natural characteristic of a union between two people."

From the soul of Darren Star to you. And if that doesn't scare you away from marriage, try the new David E. Kelly, The Wedding Bells. It will.

 

You Only Wish You Had My Reading List

It's not an entertaining entry, but it must be done! There are so many people who made my birthday wonderful that I wanted to hollerout thanks. "But it's taken you so long!" you say. Yes. And I feel that that can best be explained with the following exchange that happened the other day.

Me
I feel like I can't catch up to all the things I have to do.

Him
Maybe that's because you were out until the early morning hours four out of the last five nights.

Me
You're not the boss of me.

Anyway, it's summer. It's reading season, and I got great books for my birthday. Thank you, thank you, thank you to...

(ILove)Paul Jack and Dex for outstanding hospitality, making me laugh all weekend, this, some photos that already have a spot on the wall, and this.

Halff for Meyer Lemon Pie. I need not say more.

shamus because I will be talking about how that bitch rolled out on Saturday morning for the rest of ever every time he pisses me off. And for the $50 gift certificate to Glamour Shots that I'M SURE IS COMING.

AshleyPooh and Emma for hauling out to breakfast.

Broke Daddy for changing my mental image of Michael J. Fox and Avery and Janet for a table reservation, American Idol gabbing and, sadly, Willow.

Erik, Robyn and Rayna for this, this and this.

xtine for this and this and this and some other stuff.

Pookie for this. (Yeah, I get it. Boo, Hillary. Subtle, dude).

ToniK for cookies. Yum.

Moon for this. (Winning the prize for most thoughtful, non-wishlist gift given to me by somebody not obligated to give a thoughtful, non-wishlist gift)

K-Yo for these. How perfect will that be for summer pool weather?

Catwoman for this and this. Which not only am I excited to re-read, but it reminds me of the study hall we had together with Budd Grebb.

And of course, my mom. For this hat.

And Matt McD and Hott Scott and BK and everybody else who remembered to call. Sweet.

And Charms94 for these and for my favorite birthday present:


And I think that's it. I have the best friends in the world! And I had a great birthday. It didn't feel like 33 at all. More like 22 and full of possibility.

 

It's Warm & It's Natural

The last time I was out with Hott Scott, I got this gem of wisdom about how my attention span is too short for relationships. And he had a point. And I resented that he had a point.

So we went out Friday night, and I got this sterling rhetoric that we can all now bank on.

"Jocelyn, you're like the David Koresh of emotional indictment. You've got the compound built up, there's ammo in the basement and you're like 'I will BURN THIS SHIT TO THE GROUND IF THIS DOES NOT WORK OUT.' "

I picked up the tab. It was the cheapest two hours of therapy I've had since November.


This is how we roll. It's F.A.S.H.I.O.N.

More pictures of the weekend's activities just added at myspace. Rock out.