meaty-essays by samantha irby

“I was always falling in precocious child love with the most inappropriate people, but always the people you’d least expect: the grown up (probably homeless) man who smoked cigarettes all day in the park near our apartment, the uncoordinated boy with the unfortunate skin who sat across from me in the band, the social studies teacher. It has always been my tendency to swoon over the safest available target, the one least likely to draw the affections of anyone else. My favorite New Kid on the Block was Jonathan, for fuck’s sake. I knew in my heart that I would never in life have a shot with the smooth, adorable front man who got all the solos, that a Jordan or Joey would never be within my reach, so I focused my attentions on the shy one who danced and sang in the background. I’m a fan of low-hanging ambiguously gay fruit.” (82-3)

“Being jealous because some bitch has a dude is like being jealous of a goddamned stomachache: I’ve had one before; and while what I did to get it might have been fun, once I’m actually stuck with it, it kind of TOTALLY FUCKING SUCKS. If I knew one single woman who was marrying UP I might change my tune, but everyone I know is sucking the dick of a regular, broke-ass dude.” (220)

“I’m thrilled to pieces that you have to sit down at the kitchen table once a week with a shoebox of receipts and explain to a grown fucking man why having money to pay the electric bill is more important than upgrading his game console, but please wake me up when we get to the part that makes me feel bad about myself. Maybe the noise from the bouncing check will be loud enough to do it.” (226)

so, i’m officially in love with this woman. nehal told me about her blog sometime last year, and because of the choices of font colour, i couldn’t really ever read it. but here comes this collection of essays and boom-regular black text in a bound book form of essays-all over it like russell on kimora when he was trying hard to prove his prowess. i’ll admit that i felt some feelings when i saw the wedding photo of an old imaginary flame, but what exactly am i jealous of? i don’t really believe in marriage. perhaps it was the reminder that i have a penchant for the impossible, and i’m trying to live in my mind without delusion (if you’re an interesting person who’s honest and down for 6 months on, 6 months off-holla) and there are those who keep hooking me back (though at least for shorter intervals-phew). i mean-i am obviously immune to the nice folk who are very dedicated to badgering me with daily messages over many mediums that sadly don’t have anything interesting to say or report because they don’t read any books and do not do anything but work.

“Considering the number of 30+ year old dudes I still know living at home or still sleeping on some bitch’s couch or still subsisting on ramen and potato chips, I’d say I’ve kept this ship afloat pretty well.” (94)

”I wasn’t even getting attached until you made me feel like it was okay to get attached. And now I’ve been punished for something I hadn’t even wanted to do in the first place.” (25)

“Has this motherfucker ever met a woman before?! Has no one told him the ladybody rules?” (30)

“1.My neck is crazy hyperpigmented; it’s basically every shade in the pantone African-American skin collection, from Smokey Robinson to Amistad” (35)

“That is the worst part of the walk of shame, the tasting of last night’s dinner and some dude’s dirty balls on my breath while standing awkwardly in line at Starbucks, tongue fiddling with the grime on my teeth.” (38)

“It is assumed, naturally, that since I haven’t seen you in two weeks, and you sent a sort of ambivalent mean-ass text yesterday, and I ordered and drank an entire bottle of French wine at dinner, that once we get back to my place I expect you to eat me out while pretending to like it while I pretend you are good at it.” (126)

“An avid masturbator, I had grown bored with my imagination’s ability to come up with new ways for Tom Cruise and Method Man to fuck me.” (127)

“Dreaming about someone whose allergies I need to remember when I’m at the grocery store: that’s where the real romance is. Because I’ve had sex before. What a fucking snooze, my dude. Sex is so dumb and boring and unless you’re in really incredible shape or you have a ridiculous imagination and are into some really freaky shit, what you do and what I do is limited to a handful of very similar things. Even your grandmother has been choked and spit on and handcuffed. Why don’t we instead dream up some motherfuckers who will set up the automatic renewal on our magazine subscriptions?” (158-9)

i’d like to say that i’m feeling optimistic about one day dating again, though i need to be realistic about the reality of the situation out there. for the moment, i’m good being single (and happily, willfully so)-it’s something that i should’ve allowed myself a long time ago, and i’m kind of disheartened over the way that people choose to speak to each other. it’s like porn and unrealistic immigrant bravado (to quote vincia, “why are uncles so thirsty?”) have blown everything out of proportion and it’s hard out here for a smart girl who’s also single, sexy and free. i’ve recently recounted experiences that will appear in my one-woman show because they are too ludicrous not to share, and i’ve heard my share of nonsense. but there has to be a flip side to all of that, right? right?!

basically, i love that this woman reads caitlin moran and bust magazine, loves soderbergh and YA, advocates for never cohabitating with anyone, and made me laugh out loud multiple times on a bench outside my work. her tumblr rocks my world, and i would nominate her to do any commencement speech for any institute of higher learning. the graduating class could be so lucky.

albums released on the 504 streetcar: the dreamgirls soundtrack, les nubians-princesses nubiennes
duolingo status: spanish skill tree completed, 220 day streak, 1961 lingots, italian level 7

how did you get this number-sloane crosley

ah, to romance lady liberty:

“All immediate hints of purpose went out of the rooms themselves. Showers in kitchens, toilets in living rooms, sinks in bedrooms. It was as if Picasso were born a slumlord instead of a painter. Nothing was where you thought it would be, which would be eccentric in a mansion but was disarming in an apartment. Once, at a party, I opened a door expecting to find a toilet but found a stove instead. Just a closet with a stove in it. And a bare bulb hanging, as if to say, “Here is where we roast the children.” (44)
“Now people mourn the closing of a Starbucks on St.Marks Place and applaud the opening of an American Apparel on the Upper West Side. It’s reasonable to register a noise complaint before midnight, and there’s no shortage of dirty looks waiting for you if you fail to recycle whatever that is you’re drinking. Our lawas have become hard, our hearts soft. Of course, New York has always been the one place where people are nostalgic for when it used to be worse.” (83)
“Or is it just one of the city’s little mysteries, like how no one has ever seen a baby pigeon?” (87)
“American!” I said, far too proudly. This was during a time when it was common to glue a Canadian flag patch on your backpack so that the natives would be thrown off your Yankee scent. Never mind the fact that anyone with a flag patch glued to their bag should probably have the crap beat out of them.” (208)

Read more:http://www.myspace.com/lovethatapple/blog#ixzz11uwsQl00

keep toronto reading-palmerston

“her face looked like a plate of samosas left out overnight in the rain.”-this is just one of the brilliant food-based quotes uttered by jaspreet singh from his book chef, which will be next on my list of holds at the library. this was a really beauty-full collection of performers, half of whom i share good folks with, and the other half that i’m sure that i share good folks with, i just don’t know it yet. thank you, toronto, for once again confirming that this is exactly where i need to be. and also, thank you, palmerston, for providing this laugh on the way out. the following excerpt from a children’s book is quoted near the door:

“O lovely Pussy!

O Pussy, my love

What a beautiful Pussy you are

You are

You are

What a beautiful Pussy you are

Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!”

oh, libraries, how you are the spice of my life, forget “variety”.