I am leaning out the window of my childhood bedroom. My hips are propped on the frame and my left hand is planted on the garage roof below. My right hand is holding a cigarette. I know that at any moment my mother may burst in and catch me smoking. If she does, she’ll probably slam the window shut; trapping my upper half outside and leaving my lower half exposed for a good ol’ fashioned spanking. But that’s just the risk I’ll have to take right now.
You’re so cute. Look at you, under all of your umbrella-riddled glory. Oh my god! Is that a peace sign you’re making with your fingers? Peace be with you too. Can a Jew even say that? This one can!
My least favorite time was when two men were performing sexual favors on each other. What they were doing didn’t bother me as much as the fact that they weren’t listening to me. They were in a dark corner at the back of the room, making sure third base was thoroughly satisfied before they’d leave the bar to hit that home run we all so desperately crave.
I want to make one thing clear: I do not think “journalism is dead.” In fact, I think journalism is the ‘Madonna’ of professions; it will get face lifts until it outlives us all. This is a post about my decision to stop trying to be a journalist.
Every morning around 6am I get home from work. I shield my eyes from the sun and scuttle into my apartment. I stare at the computer for two hours before adjusting my glare to the ceiling. Sometimes I fall asleep. Most of the time I don’t.
We were going to be famous. We were so excited about our idea, a second bottle of wine was opened just for the occasion. “We’ll call it 30 before 30!” Tessa yelled as her wine sloshed back and forth in the glass. I was frantically writing everything down. Continue reading
I wasn’t sure if the woman about to go to second base with me spoke English or not, but she had delicate features and a nice smile so I trusted her. Continue reading
“I’m not that kind of girl!” Dan squealed, his eyes twinkling under the florescent lights. We’d stopped for a couple of glasses of wine before heading to Juilliard. I felt like the Queen of New York. Lightly resting his fingertips on the rim of his wine glass, he leaned in to tell me something juicy and wonderful. Continue reading
I found this note I wrote to myself: Continue reading
I am sucker for handwritten notes. Any kind, really, but especially ones I find in public. I feel sneaky peaking into someone else’s life through their writing. The notes are usually; grocery lists, nonsensical words, numbers, etc.
Today I found this little treat folded up on top of some moisturizer at a department store in Dazhi: Continue reading
“If you were stranded on an island and could only bring three things what would they be?” I hated playing this game in summer camp. Do your parents count as two things? What kind of outlets does this island have? Do they speak a different language? Will there be boys there? The answers didn’t really matter because I always ended up choosing the same things; my parents, beanie baby collection and stuffed dog, Lucky. Continue reading
Sprinting through the airport, I vowed to start exercising the second I got to Taiwan. There are multiple reasons why I hate running through airports, first and foremost: my travel backpack. As if my 5′ 2” frame and chronic baby-weight don’t already make me look like high schooler, running with a backpack surely seals the deal. Continue reading
Five black dresses hung in my dressing room; two were too small, one made me look like a hussie, one had a curious stain on it and the other one was perfect for emulating the body of a pregnant woman. I went with the dress that made me look like a hussie. Exactly one day and a handful of hours later, I was tugging at that dress in front of 30 people I didn’t know, three people I knew, and a casket. Continue reading
I didn’t publish this in January because I felt like it was too narcissistic. Now I’ve learned to be proud of the little things.
A 2011 annual report for this blog – by WordPress.
He stuck his fist out in front of him and looked at me with a comical sense of seriousness, “Are you with me?” I’d never been in a bar fight before. The situation sounded anecdotally appetizing, but I’d never fully developed into the bottle-breaking, bar-fighting, bad-ass I needed to be for this situation. I clenched my fist even tighter around the little slip of paper as I shoved it into my pocket. Continue reading
“A TOAST!” Leslie yelled, smashing her butter knife against a mimosa glass. It’s 1PM on New Year’s Day and I have yet to go home and yet to stop drinking. “To the Apocalypse! Let’s quit our jobs, spend our money, and have the greatest year of our lives!” Continue reading
I started up the steps to Lewis’ apartment, I hate ending things, I really do. Why isn’t this 2002? I could just do it via AIM, but NOOOO I have to be responsible and do it to his face…ugh. After over a month of seeing him, I knew things weren’t going to work out. Continue reading
“Okay Marina, I have to go google Russian penis jokes for your interview tomorrow. Bye bye!” My father said not waiting for a response. I guess I should explain how we got to this point. Continue reading
My mother covers the camera on our family computer because according to her, “The government is watching us.” Why the U.S. government is watching two retirement-aged Russians, who have yet to learn how to properly pronounce the letter ‘V’, is beyond me. I try not to question my parents’ antics so I don’t run out of things to write about. Continue reading
“I love you,” he said. There is a point in the night where Brooklyn gets really quiet and really beautiful. It’s at this point everyone on the street falls in love with whatever is closest. For Gio, the closest whatever was me.
“I don’t know, ‘Dimitry’ is not a name you can scream out in the sack,” Leslie said looking up from the email I’d forwarded her. “Okay but how do I look in this dress?” I had 15 minutes to get ready for my first (and hopefully last) blind date. If I’d utilized my roommate’s date-reasoning, I probably would’ve avoided my last two nightmarish relationships. Continue reading
There comes a time in every strong, independent, single girl’s life when she can’t zip her dress all the way. At this time, she crumbles to the floor in a pile of teary worthlessness and decides it’s time to start dating again. Continue reading
“О да, прямо там?”
“да. Я думаю что нужно биопсии.”
What followed was a series of events that culminated into a “hypochondriacal break down” as my psychologist would later call it (but that’s in a few posts). Continue reading
My dad wore a Speedo to our neighborhood swimming pool when I was little. I had two choices; die of embarrassment or become a humorist — I chose both.
A pink thong greeted me as I got off the elevator. I wouldn’t have thought it to be that weird if it wasn’t still attached to its owner.
“The worst part of going through labor is you’re not allowed to smoke a celebratory cigarette in the emergency room,” according to my mother. My mom is a certifiable badass. Continue reading
Dear Mr. Heckler,
I first would like to apologize for not succumbing to your requests. As a comedienne and entertainer, it is my priority that every one who sees me perform – whether by choice or not – enjoy themselves as much as possible.
I was a pretty average teenager; I wrote a lot of poetry and hated my dad. Do you need any more proof? That’s why I never had much of an interest revisiting the place where my misery manifested itself: Deerfield High School.
Update: Due to unforeseen circumstances I am back at work. Which is ironic if you read the whole post. It’s a long complicated story that I can’t romanticize on this blog, BUT I don’t believe in pulling down posts. Maybe more to come about this, but probably not.
Double Update: Look out for a post with an update on the update.
The first time you have sex, after surgery, in nightmares: There are so many situations where being naked is simply terrifying.
The thing is, Julia Roberts has way more time and money than I have. So when I decided to go find myself; I couldn’t take three months off, visit three countries or do whatever-else it is she did in Eat, Pray Love. But I did have seven days to get my emotional shit in order, so I put together a plan.
The last thing my Mom said to me before I got off the phone was, “Well, that’s really stupid Marina.” And it was really stupid.
I love living in New York more than anything I have ever loved (including peanut butter, small bows and a well-made vodka martini), but I need to get out.
Rent+Utilities for your walk-in closet of an apartment: $900 a month
I nearly broke my neck diving out of bed to answer the phone. It’s him, It’s him, It has to be him. “Yeah?” Who answers the phone with ‘Yeah’?
“Hellooooo!” My mother yodeled, she called to ask about the latest charge on my credit card. I need to change my password.
Once upon a time, there was a girl trying to survive in a very big city. One night, in her haste to slip out of a cab, the girl lost a shoe. Before she could yell out, the cab disappeared into the blurry, but well-lit, horizon.
As the girl ran down 4th ave (in one shoe) she thought, How whimsical and free-spirited, but when she sobered up she just realized, how stupid.
The word secret should have a negative connotation, but for some reason it comes off as sexy.
A week in the life of my feet, or should I say shoes? Anyway…