La Rosa Knows

In great news of the day: Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog is going to be shown on the CW.

Sure, you can watch it online, but the fact that it will be on a TV screen with commercial interruptions makes it somehow feel, oh, I dunno, more important.

I saw this article called “If Hip-Hop Lyrics Were Book Blurbs” on Book Riot and had a good LOL.

Here are two of my faves, but definitely check out the rest if you’ve ever tried to logic a connection between hip-hop and literary fiction. Or just like clever things. Either way!

This is superrrrr awkward and extremely personal, but I feel I need to address it.

You may have heard last week about a comment that Joseph Gordon-Levitt made during a Comic-Con panel about what it was like to work with Emily Blunt:

“She’s funny … and let’s face it, most pretty girls aren’t funny.”

Well, (ha ha…), as you can imagine this caused quite the uproar in the blogosphere. Specifically among women who felt their looks and humor had been called into question by someone whose career started with a film called Angels in the Outfield.

I just wanted to clear something up because…I’m the only one who can.

You see, that comment wasn’t actually directed at Emily, the reporter, or the angry robots who run Gawker.

It was directed at me. Me. Erin.

Not because I’m a woman or in comedy, but because I, Erin La Rosa, pissed off G.I. Joe.

SIDENOTE: I should also explain that “G.I. Joe” is a pet name we came up with—we being myself and JGL—late one Thursday when we were watching G.I. Joe: The Rise of the Cobra on Netflix and eating kale chips from Trader Joe’s (do you sense a theme here or what?). Anyways, JGL is in the film. He plays Doctor “Rex,” and as you can imagine this wasn’t the first time we’d watched it together.

In fact, one of G.I. Joe’s fave activities is watching films in which he stars and asking me what I think of it. For some reason, (probably because, like all actors, he’s insanely insecure), this makes him feel better and he claims that if we don’t watch then he, “will start drinking in his sleep.” Whatever that means.

Anyways, to make an already personal and awkward story short—the reason Joe made that comment at Comic-Con is because I didn’t want to watch 500 Days of Summer.

It was July 4, we had plans to go to Rian Johnson’s house in Malibu for a BBQ and I was wearing a super cute dress that I’d just bought half off at Topshop. The last thing I wanted was to sit on his leather sofa and watch that movie for what was, quite possibly, the 500th time this summer.

G.I. Joe sulked, he pouted, and at one point threatened to pull down his pants and do something that is too vulgar to mention on the Internet. (Think about that, too vulgar for a place where 2 Girls, 1 Cup, was allowed to be a thing.)

Needless to say I’d had just about enough of Joseph Gordon-Levitt, his Francophilia, and intense need to watch himself on a loop. I told him it was over—it being us—packed up my Topshop dress, went alone to Rian’s, and had myself a big old kosher hotdog topped with vegan chili. It was the best thing I’ve tasted in months.

Considering we’d just broken up, I took a small break from Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. I’m not a complete monster.

I waited a week, then attempted to make a joke that was not about G.I. Joe at all. Repeat, NOT about JGL.

Eye roll. Sigh. Typical.

To be fair, he was freshly single and, well, I was too. So, I can see why he may have misconstrued this to be about him. I guess…

I thought this little public temper tantrum was the end of it. That is, until 2 days later when I heard about the comment he made in regards to Emily Blunt.

Sure, he can try to explain away that comment all he likes and claim it was his way of complimenting Emily, but I know the truth.

I know that what my now ex-Joe Joe was trying to do was make a little dig. He felt that I’d publicly humiliated him on Twitter and, feeling vulnerable, decided to do the same but on a much larger and far less subtle scale.

Well, Joseph, if you’re reading this (and I know you are), I get it. You win this round. Except you don’t, because now every funny, pretty lady in America hates you.

Maybe it’s time to take that trip to France that you’ve always talked about. Hell, knock yourself out with a loaf of baguette for all I care, just stop texting emoji’s of puppies and high heels to me. I don’t know what the hell that means and it’s creeping me out.

There, now you all know that truth.

Photograph by Desert Raven

Hey friends!

Some of you may recall that I recently found out that a short fiction piece I wrote is getting pubbed.

Today it went live on Storychord and I couldn’t be happier with the look, sound and feel of it.

Here’s an excerpt from the piece:

A breeze came off of the ocean and poured through the screened-in porch. The damp heat of it coiled around Jack like a heavy coat, and the space suddenly seemed too warm and too small. The air smelled of wet pennies and seaweed, the way an approaching hurricane season always did. It made him edgy, thinking of those waters heating up for a big storm. The wooden planks of the swing jammed against him and burned hot against his back and thighs. He looked up and saw that the stuffiness had even encumbered the blades of the ceiling fan. It was quiet except for that hushed loop of the fan and the rasp of the swing.

Would love for you all to read it in full here and, if you’re feeling generous, REBLOG or LIKE it on Facebook!

Also, tell me what you think, maybe?

Yes, your virgin flower is a precious gift from the gods and if anyone tries to take it don’t hesitate to stab them in the elbow.

That being said, there are some crucial lessons all virgins should learn before they, well, lose it forever. These are those lessons.

1. Movie: Cruel Intentions

Lesson #1: Never announce that you’re staying a virgin in Seventeen Magazine unless you want a couple of sexy, manipulative aristocrats to fight over you.

Lesson Number 2: Definitely announce your virginity in that magazine because of Lesson #1.

2. Movie: Teeth

Urban truth: All vaginas have razor sharp teeth that can be used indiscriminately for the purpose of revenge.

Ladies, if a guy doesn’t treat you right, asks you to dress as a french maid, etc. use that vagina dentata!

3. Movie: Almost Famous

Hippies have hoe tendencies, and your virgin seed is a novelty to them. Want your first time to be an orgie? Look no further than a group of gypsy on-the-brink band sluts.

Anything I missed?

Because I’m a redhead and obsessed with all things that involve my people, I stumbled upon this article.

The title was “Gingers Get Own Dating Site” which told me two things: 1) That’s racist and 2) This is a British thing.

Sure enough, TopCarrots.co.ukis a site devoted to matching “gingers” with other well suited “Top Carrots,” or whatever.

According to the article…

IT manager Sam Heakin, 22, who created the site, thinks it could help high profile redheads like Prince Harry, 27, and singers Ed Sheeran, 21, Geri Halliwell, 39, and Nicola Roberts, 26, find true love. Sam said: “I have noticed a trend in people seeking redheads in dating columns. As a redhead-lover myself, I want to make it my mission to help lonely gingers and ginger seekers find a that special someone. I will definitely find them true love.”

Something tells me that Prince Harry doesn’t need help finding love—and Geri Halliwell isn’t a natural redhead, FYI— but it would be nice to see them end up with other…gingers, to use their offensive language.

What do you think about redheads dating each other?

…It’s a waffle food truck outside of my apartment every morning at 9 a.m. before I head to work.

I saw this article on the Wafels & Dinges truck in NYC and thought, “I am filled with a jealous rage that can only be solved by drinking wine.” And so I did, and so I did.

Also, there’s this food porn photo on their website:

Step up your waffle game, Los Angeles.

There’s a store called The Literary Gift Company and none of you have bought me anything from it, so there’s the first problem.

Secondly, they have literary maps—as in, famous authors’ names penned into the shape of the United States, Britain and Northern Ireland.

What I’m trying to say is, I can see Vladimir Nabokov’s name and maybe, just maybe, that means I am him.

Do you see, do you finally see now?

In case you haven’t heard, “Tubthumpin’” band Chumbawamba announced it’s official split on their official blog, called—what else—Chumba.com.

Here’s why they’ve decided to ruin my memories of a 90s childhood:

We felt we’d got to a point where what we did as a band; and specifically the writing, recording, touring cycle; wasn’t doing justice to what Chumbawamba set out to do in the first place…

Chumbawamba was our vehicle for pointing at the naked Emperors, for telling our version of the truth; it gave us more than the joy and love of playing live, writing songs and singing together; it gave us a chance to be part of a broad coalition of activists and hectors, optimists and questioners. But eventually the rest of our lives got in the way and we couldn’t commit the time and enthusiasm that the band demanded. Couldn’t keep up with whatever responsibilities came with a band like this.

And you all thought art was dead!

Who wants to go pay tribute to their memory at a karaoke bar??

I’m over the moon happy to announce that I found out yesterday that I will be a published fiction writer very soon.

(!!!@#$%SCREAMING#%$!@!!!!!)

A short story I wrote (which, to be fair, received no less than 20 rejection letters from various publications) has been accepted to Storychord.

Storychord is an online publication that I have always admired. It’s curated by Sarah Lynn Knowles, who runs SARAHSPY and is Vice President of The Furnace Review, and brings short stories, artists and musicians together in one place.

My short story, “Tracking the Nest,” will be published in an upcoming issue—I’ll keep you posted as to when—and will be paired with a piece of art and a music selection.

Did I mention I had to go through 20 rejections for this one acceptance letter? It feels really fucking good.

:D

This weekend I went to see the majesty that is Magic Mike.

This is a film that takes place not far from my hometown of Clearwater, Florida in a little big city called Tampa.

For those who haven’t seen the shirtless billboards or the impressive red band trailer, this movie is about a male stripper with a heart of gold, kinda, and all of the disappointments and drama that exist when you make your living by shaking your naughty bits for dollars.

Finding love is one of the dilemmas that the protagonist, Magic Mike (aka Channing Tatum), has trouble with. As you can imagine, putting a dollar down a stripper’s Velcro thong is one thing, but going to dinner with them after a show while they’re still greased up and wearing body glitter is quite another.

That being said, here are my thoughts on this coup d'cinema, in bullet point format:

What I Liked:

-The choreographed dances were sensational, not just because they were filled with wild and half-dressed gesticulations, but because it actually incorporated some solid dance skills.

-Matthew McConaughey playing Matthew McConaughey was a smart move and one that I will always support.

-The attention to detail when it came to Florida-isms (i.e. putting tape over the windows during a hurricane, the slutty chicks waiting in line for Amphitheater, etc.).

-Channing Tatum’s acting was pretty good, considering this film is based on his life story and you’d think he may be too personally attached to the material. Or whatever.

-There are a lot of humorous and funny tongue-in-cheek moments that I appreciated. The film is aware of how silly a lot of this seems and made use of that. Brava.

What I Disliked:

-The worst part of Magic Mike is when they’re talking. I joke, kind of. But one of my friends said after the movie ended, “There was way too much story.” Agreed, but only because the fun parts took place when there was dancing involved.

-Olivia Munn: I can’t get on board with liking this chick. I just can’t, I’m sorry, Munners.

-The ending felt rather abrupt, right? Not that we needed MORE story, but it needed one other beat.

-Some things seemed a little unnecessary, like the hot girl who had the pet pig (though, I want that little pig).

-Why isn’t Rihanna’s “We Found Love” actually in the movie, like it is in the trailer?

Otherwise I thought it was an all around fun and frisky night of entertainment. Would you agree?