La Rosa Knows

Over the weekend I went with 6 of my friends to Palm Springs, (cue Robyn, Donna Summer and various other gay-themed divas).

We rented a house with a lovely kitchen, in which two of my friends challenged each other to a cook off.

The remaining 5 innocent bystanders could do little else but create score cards to rank Taste, Texture, Presentation and Originality. And, of course, wait patiently for their battle to begin.

The chefs are pictured above, young and red haired Tommy, and equally young but less red haired Joseph.

Oh, there was PREP WORK.

Which included Tommy making his own pasta and letting the noodles dry on the back of some chairs.

Which resulted in things like the above: an arugula salad with tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, red pepper puree and balsamic beads that Tommy made using a molecular gastronomy kit!

We were all horrified, obviously, and to ease our nerves we sat quietly at the table, drinking down the wine pairings that were so carefully selected with each course.

Some of you may know the above as a Chicken Francese, but for those held prisoner that night we liked to call it, “Just the beginning…::Shudder::”

This homemade basil ice cream sandwiched in freshly baked shortbread and topped with strawberries and blackberries was the last of the courses (THANK GOD).

Our captors proudly stood at the head of the table after the meal, anxiously awaiting our verdict.

What can I say? Gourmet food is just the worst, amiright?!?

You know how everyone uses those fun shadow hand puppets to impress people and get into college and stuff?

Like, I can do a really mean dog, or a patriotic bald eagle—it’s no big deal, seriously guys, leave me alone already.

Welllllll. Someone is beating us and that someone is this amazing artist Kumi Yamashita.

She uses one light source and carefully placed objects to create intricate and beautiful shadows on walls. I dunno, I guess we should step up our game.

Untitled (Child)

Lovers

There are a lot of sexual fetishes I wish I didn’t know about. For example, Plushophilia—or a sexual attraction to teddy bears. (Stay the fuck away from my teddy bear!!!)

Then there are those I wish existed, but to my knowledge do not. These are those wishes…

Enemysadism

Oh, what’s that? You’re turned on by the idea of destroying all my enemies with your beastly hands?!

That sounds like maybe the sexiest thing ever, boo.

PS- That’s a hot ass braid you got on.

Massagelinctus

I define this as the ability to only become aroused after giving me a marathon massage. Say, 5-7 hours in length wherein the only words uttered include, “Turn over” and “Is this hard enough”?

Also, those are unintentionally sexual but ripe for fetishism, no?!

Goslingphilia

What do women want? Ryan Gosling. When do we want him? Now.

Quite frankly, I’m not sure why more straight men aren’t modeling themselves after the Adonis that is the Gosling. If I were a straight dude I would have a fetish for this man that was borderline in need of a restraining order, and you know what? I’d get chicks. I’d get them ALL.

If dudes just wore similar clothing, grew facial hair and started every sentence with “Hey girl,” the world would be a much happier place.

Incidentally, if you are the man who created these “How To Look Like Ryan Gosling” videos, I applaud you and humbly request that you contact me post haste.

VacationHomesera

Maybe you’re a man who can only achieve orgasm after purchasing a destination vacation home and you want me right there with you. I don’t know!!!

All I’m saying is that while others might judge you, I wouldn’t stop you from doing this. No, boo, I’d understand your needs and encourage them. I’d help you seek out new areas of the world to pillage and mark with your sexually deviant appetite.

Call me.

Spaghetti Fetishism

Classified Ad would read:

Desperately seeking a man who finds that watching a woman eat an entire bowl of spaghetti and meatballs is stimulating.

Should agree with Sophia Loren when she said, “Everything you see I owe to pasta.”

Please reply with A/S/L.

Did I miss anything??

My love of John Waters films started when I was a fat kid in middle school and watched the original Hairspray on a loop. Ricki Lake liked to eat, I liked to eat—I felt a kinship.

Then I watched Pink Flamingos, Pecker…the list goes on.

So, when I saw this story on Stereogum about the man himself hitchhiking in Ohio I thought…That makes sense.

Apparently a band touring around was driving down the highway and saw a dude trying to thumb a ride and when they stopped it turned out to be Waters.

…there was a man at the side of the on-ramp with a sign that read ‘to the end of Rte 70.’ Jen wanted to pick him up, but we drove past him. As we passed by, our sound guy said ‘John Waters’ Luke said, ‘Yep, definitely John Waters.’ We got off at the next exit and circled back. He was still there. We pulled up, opened the door and asked where he was coming from. ‘Baltimore,’ he said. And we said ‘Get in, sir.’

The group tweeted about the whole thing and wound up taking a few amazing photos along the way.

Apparently he was dropped off in Indianapolis on I-70…I dunno, should we go find him?!

As someone with a shameless addiction to coffee, nothing pleases me more than when a new study comes out singing the praises of my drug du jour.

NPR reported on the study and its findings, stating:

Freedman and his colleagues undertook the biggest study yet to look at the relationship between coffee and health. They analyzed data collected from more than 400,000 Americans ages 50 to 71 participating in the NIH-AARP Diet and Health Study.

“We found that the coffee drinkers, they had a modestly lower risk of death than the non-drinkers,” he tells The Salt.

Here’s what he means by “modestly:” Those who drank at least two or three cups a day were about 10 percent or 15 percent less likely to die for any reason during the 13 years of the study. But you don’t necessarily need to be a heavy coffee drinker.

I bolded the parts that spoke to me or, rather, that validated my 3-4 cup a day habit.

Do you see, my mouses? Do you see how now I will live forever?!

I decided to try Tom’s natural deodorant because someone told me that real deodorant has aluminum and that gives you breast cancer. I dunno, it sounded scary and I am easily swayed by people who sound like they know it all.

However, they didn’t warn me that this au naturale approach doesn’t really work at helping you smell like a lady daisy—which is my preferred smell. So, now I reek of lavender and day old socks (TMI?!?).

When I looked into this for myself the truth is mixed. Yes, normal deodorant has parabens and parabens have been found in women with breast cancer. However, there’s no research that supports that parabens cause the development of breast cancer and, furthermore, there’s no evidence that deodorants cause any kind of cancer.

The other shitty thing is that parabens aren’t just found in deodorant, they’re in our lotions, sunscreens and most makeups. So, if you’re cutting out deodorant that’s no guarantee that you won’t get your paraben fix from any number of the cosmetics you use (and I do use a number, by the by).

I would still like to use natural deodorant because, in my mind, my armpits are neighbors to my breasts and if I can do one healthy thing for myself it might as well be this.

My question is this: has anyone found a natural deodorant they actually like or have any advice on how the eff to handle this?

This was the weekend for college graduations and I am no exception.

I walked in my grad school graduation this past Friday. WHAAAAAT?!?! Yes, everyone, I am a Master.

Initially I wasn’t at all interested in participating in the ceremony and I feel like I had some valid reasons. 1) I’m 27-years-old and, like Easter egg hunts, aren’t I a little too old for this shit? 2) My thesis was turned in on December 10, 2011, it has been a long time since I’ve actually been a student, so this felt a little overdue and 3) Is walking down an aisle in a smelly robe really necessary?

However, it was my Mom who convinced me to walk in my own ceremony. She got emotional over the phone, cited the fact that my grandmother hadn’t gone past the 9th grade and had always struggled with writing and then told me I was doing it and that was that.

So, I emailed the head of the department to let them know I would be walking, ordered my cap and gown and took time off from work to make my parents proud.

I have to admit that up until the day of the ceremony I was really not looking forward to this, any of it. I don’t relish being the center of attention and, to be honest, caps just don’t look right on my tiny, peanut head.

But as soon as I was back on the USC campus—fight on, Trojans!—something clicked. It was the same feeling I had the first day of classes two years ago and it can only be described as butterflies and a little bit of nervous hiccups. I was sweaty but beaming. I thought I might throw up but wanted more coffee anyways. There’s just something about being back in school that charges me up a bit and that morning I was really glad I decided to go through with graduation.

Our ceremony was scheduled for 10:45 but didn’t start until 11:30 a.m. I got to see a lot of my old classmates and it felt good to hear about their writing and what they’ve been working on. I forgot how important being with a community of writers can be, and that setting just reminded me that I need to keep up those connections and grab on to fellow writers like they’re a goddamned life raft.

My parents were so proud, all smiles and hugs, and it felt really great to have them there and watching what I had accomplished.

What I came away with, in spite of all my objections and apprehensions, was this: It’s okay to be proud of your accomplishments and actually celebrate them. I know it can feel self indulgent, and it did, but you need those times in your life to help you get to the next level.

Plus if your parents are anything like mine, they’ll reward you with a Congratulations card stuffed with hundies.

Thanks, Mom and Dad! And congrats to my fellow Trojan grads—we did it!

This is the part where I try and get to know you better, after which I’ll invite you over for a hot tottie and we’ll fall in love. But before we plan our lives together, let’s play a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill.

I’d like to propose the following for your consideration:

Zac Efron

Josh Groban

Zach Galifianakis

Your answers will be judged and harshly. Explanations of said choices are encouraged. That being said, who of these would you fuck, marry and kill?!?

Let’s be honest, if I get a takeout menu in the mail I get excited.

So, imagine my happiness when I got a real package from my friend Brook!

When she lived in L.A., Brook would always show up to parties in these fabulous necklaces and bracelets that I always loved. The real kicker, though, was that I couldn’t go out and buy one for myself, because they were hand crafted by her!

I think that’s why she finally cut me a break and included a bracelet of my very own in the package! It is absolutely stunning on, double-layered with turquoise beads and metallic ribbing. I adore this bracelet, wear it everyday and always get compliments without fail.

Just wanted to share my amazing new piece of bling and also pass along Brook’s Etsy store, Vintage Brook, in case you’re looking for something special!

I’m already obsessed with this Middleton Blue Eco Chic Tribal Necklace that’s named for the color of Kate Middleton’s engagement dress.

Thank you, Brook! xoxo

From an early age I understood that romantic comedies were hyper exaggerations of what would be waiting for me once I got out into the dating world. I never bought into the idea of love at first sight, or that I’d fall for a man I thought was long lost and we’d kiss in the rain—though, that would be pretty awesome.

What I did take away was the ample tips I gleaned from watching actors go on faux first dates. These scenarios had clearly happened to the writers, and the actors, adults themselves, were most certainly pulling from their own life experiences, right? People are always afraid of first dates, but the real trick is to stay one step ahead of them and just know what to expect. Once you can get that part figured out, it’s smooth sailing.

So, I’ve done you all a solid and outlined what movies have taught me about first dates. You’re welcome.

Lesson: You’ll Get Knocked Up

Because of the massive amounts of alcohol you’ll have to drink just to get through one, you will get pregnant on a first date.

So, if you want to save yourself 30 or so pounds and a bunch of diapers, keep those parts in your pants and wait till date #2.

Lesson: Be Anti-Semitic

There’s no better time than a first date to bring up the rampant racism that your Grammy Hall harbors to the core. I mean, Annie told Alvy about it right up top and look—they had that adorable lobster scene together!

Don’t you want that?

Lesson: She Won’t Remember Your Name

It doesn’t matter how many waffle houses you build her, if you’re Adam Sandler and are reading this, at the end of the day (and the date) a chick won’t even bother to remember who the fuck you are.

Lesson: Don’t Trust a Hoe

Look, I get it: renting love for a night seems preferable to going to some cheesy restaurant, dropping a cool hundie and leaving with little more than a kiss goodbye.

But trust me when I say that you won’t be able to get rid of that hooker. When you leave for work you’ll come back and she’ll be in your bathtub, singing Prince and trying to negotiate a price for the week.

For the love of god, just don’t do it.

Lesson: You’ll Be Covered in Semen

Ladies, they may not have taught you this in sex ed, but men are constantly masturbating. They’re like The Terminator only it’s The Sperminator and their mission is to hose you down and pass it off as hair gel. I apologize in advance.

Anything I missed?!