When you were a young girl, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and excited about everything life had to offer you, you’d act out scenarios with your Ken and Barbie doll. You'd play make-believe and act out what you thought your life would look like in your 20’s, 30’s, and beyond. This is of course was before Ken made you cry because he cheated on you with Malibu Barbie, and then told you that he wanted to make it up to you by buying you the Barbie limo with the hot tub and then you guys bought the Barbie Mansion and lived happily ever after. Well, kind of.

Your 20’s

What you imagined your 20’s would look like- Before you were double-digits-years-old you imagined that at 25 you were going to be a newlywed.  You would marry a doctor or a successful lawyer and have a big house with a white picket fence, two dogs, and a bun in the oven.  

What your 20’s will really look like-  You are bloated from drinking too much because you graduated college and feel lost and are $20,000 in debt so it’s better to just drink and not think about it. And Chad, that douchey law school grad, never called you after you met him at that smelly dive bar and you put makeup on for him and you are pissed. 

Your 30’s

What you imagined your 30’s would look like - You have three perfect kids with no behavioral issues.  You and your perfect husband have so much money that you decide to retire and buy a boat.  You are very skinny multi-millionaires with perfectly straight, white teeth.

What your 30’s will really look like - You have a dog, you’re still single and you’re waiting tables for a living. You have a major toothache and probably need a root canal, but you don’t have health insurance so you let it ride.  You are thinking about going back to school because you have no idea what you want to do or be and your mom thinks you are a lesbian because you’re not married yet.


What you imagined your 40’s would look like- You never imagined your 40’s because 40 is really, really old.

What your 40’s will actually look like- Cats.  All I see are cats. And gingivitis. 



Weak Ass Disney Princesses

I don’t know about you, but I grew up idolizing my favorite Disney princesses.  I wanted to look like them, be like them, dress like them, and my first lesbian crush was Ariel from the Little Mermaid.  Yes, I suppose I’ve got a little something something for a redhead with a tail. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been thinking more and more about these ladies and it took me 32 years to realize that a lot of the Disney Princesses that I grew up idolizing were weak ass bitches.  

Let’s start with my girl Ariel from Little Mermaid. SHE GAVE UP HER VOICE TO LOOK GOOD?!  She literally was like, “You know what, I’ll never speak again, I’ll get rid of my tail and my dinglehopper, just to get the man”! What?! You’re just gonna leave your father, Flounder, Sebastian and all your other little sea creature friends to spend the rest of your life sitting silently with some chiseled-too-good-looking-not-so-bright-prince?  No ma’am.  

Next up is Cinderella.  First of all, this is just another blah blah blah story about how a woman needs a man to escape from her current situation.  Second of all,  I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been cleaning my apartment on my hands and knees to look up and see a Prince who is there to invite me and my family to a party.  I’ve never had a Prince come to me.  I always have to look for them.  I sit online all day swiping right looking for my Prince and still can’t find him.  And again in this story, the girl has to completely change herself, bippity-boppity-boo style and become what she thinks he wants her to be to get his attention. Lame.

Sleeping Beauty- This takes it to the extreme showing us that a woman needs a man in order to literally live. Like, she can’t get out of bed, unless he kisses her?  Wait, doesn’t Snow White need a kiss from a hot man to live too? Are they the same person? I also remember them both sewing at some point as every good woman should.  See, these women are written in such a way that they are literally interchangeable.  Oh brother.  

And this list of Disney Lamos can go on from Belle to Rapunzel. The only thing I like about these fairy tales is that I have no idea what any of the Princes names are… to me he is just ‘Prince’, because let's be honest they are all replaceable.



How to Send a Successful Dick Pic

It took 32 years, but I finally received my first dick pic. Now let me explain. I have always been the girl saying that no girl ever wants to receive a dick pic. Ever. And while I’m not a huge fan of the idea of them, I now realize that there are ways that you can send a successful dick pic without seeming like a total creep.  Here are some tips on how to send a successful and non-threatening dick pic.

Rule #1: You are only allowed to send a dick pic if the girl that you are sending the dick pic to has already seen said dick in real life via some sort of a hot and heavy session.  This includes a little feeling around down there, full blown sex or anything in between.  So, if she has seen the actual penis in real life, and it went well, I repeat AND IT WENT WELL, then feel free to send her a snap shot. PS: When I say, ‘It went well’ I mean for her, not you.

Rule #2: No unsolicited dick pics.  Unless the girl asks you for one, do not send a dick pic to any girl who has not seen your penis in person. Ever. Don’t do it.  

Rule #3: If you are going to send one, make it look nice please. Look.  A penis is not the most beautiful thing to look at.  Put some time into the background, the lighting, and the angle of your ween. Sometimes having your hand on it makes it look a little nicer. But much like Goldielocks and the Three Bears, please don’t hold it too tight, or too soft, you have to hold it just right.

Rule #4: When you send it, just send the pic and nothing else.  Please don’t put a caption such as: “How do you like that meat?”, or “Come and get it”, or “Hot and Horny for you”. A dick pic speaks for itself and we don’t need anymore added flair.  


Rule #5: If you send me a dick pic, please know that I am going to show it to at least 4 people.  


Out on the Prowl- Cougar Edition

Notes-Scandal-Blanchett_lI almost always date men my age.  Sometimes I date guys a few years older than me and maybe I’ll go a few months younger.  Occasionally I'll have a wandering eye for a Silver Fox, but I usually stick to guys my own age for fear of old balls.  

I met a young lad a while back through a friend, who was super flirty, super cute, super charming, and super HOT.  But young… like 7 years younger than me. Remember that movie with Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench…where Cate bones the little boy? Well, I am Cate Blanchett in this equation which is making me feel as old as Judi Dench in comparison to him.

Well, he’s been persistent about taking me out for a drink for a while, and when I ended my last relationship, I finally took him up on it… cause I look 25, right!?  He picked me up and chose a bar (that’s a lot more than I can say for most men my own age). Wait, now that I think about it, the bar was a little far away, out in the Valley. Was he afraid someone would see him out with an old lady? Possibly.  We got to the bar and the bouncer at the door carded him… so he looks at his ID, which probably says, what, 1995? And then he looks at mine… squints, looks at me, looks at him,  blows on it and shines it off, looks again, dramatically squints… OKAY DUDE I GET IT… I’M OLDER THEN MY DATE.  He then says, way too loud so the whole bar can hear him, “Wait, I don’t have my glasses, DOES THIS SAY ‘93 or ‘83?!?!?!?!?!?!”  I say quietly, ‘83. He then high fives the hot little boy i’m with and we went on our way.  You can call me Cate, because I’m into it.  



Sad Relationship Survey- please fill out

Ah yes, another messy-I-want-to-crawl-in-a-hole-and-die-because-I'm-going-to-die-alone-anyway-but-I-hate-him-but-I-obviously-don't-I-just-hate-him-right-now-because-my-feelings-are-hurt-breakup.  Fun!  Our last hangout was the catalyst for the breakup. Please take the survey below so I can see how you would have handled the night.  

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It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood: NY vs LA Edition

Everything that irritates me about my neighborhood in LA, doesn't compare to the craziness in my hood in NYC, yet it seems scarier, sketchier, and creepier. In New York I had a group of homeless men in front of my building who eventually became my buddies. We'd high five on the way home, I'd give them left over Magnolia cupcakes from my days as a Sex and the City tour guide... we were cool.  In New York, your neighborhood homeless people don't fuck with you because they want to stay in front of your building, have a comfortable place to be and illegally use your electricity.  You're happy, they're happy. In LA, they are aggressive and don't care who you are or where you live, but one things for sure: YOU live in THEIR neighborhood.  So, yes, they are going to light matches and throw them on your lawn, they are going to call you a nosy bitch when you and your dog walk by, and they are going to break bottles on the street outside your window at 8pm on a Tuesday night. Welcome to Hollywood.

hate my new neighbor.  I first saw him a few days ago while letting my friend into the building, and right away I knew he was bad news.  I can't tell if it's a rapey vibe, or a methy vibe, or both, but I know I don't like it. He's not on a lease, but he's somebody's "Uncle". My friend came over to hang for a bit, and when he left, I went to walk my dog and I ran into the new creepy neighbor and the first thing he said to me was, "Was that your boyfriend, or your brother?".  Awesome. Nice to meet you too. As I looked at his greasy, sweaty face, I thought to myself, "I wouldn't be surprised if he killed me in my sleep and cut my face off to wear it as a mask". He also reminds me of Howard the Duck, who terrified me as a child. So yea, I'm not a fan.

And I don't really understand why I am so afraid of him.  I shared a fire escape in New York with a neighbor who was most definitely the neighborhood meth dealer and there were sketchy people coming in and out all day.  He had wild sex parties that I was lucky enough to hear all the time, and I once caught him watching me and my ex have sex and when we stood up and looked over to show him that we could see him watching us, he just stood there waiting to watch some more. (I called Dan Savage and he told me not to confront him, let it be, and get better blinds. I did). There were multiple occasions where he would party with his friends and sleep in a tent on our fire escape two feet away from my window.

I also had a neighbor in New York whose name was Marco, but he sometimes went by Sweetwater.  He was very very sweet, but he had a whopping case of the bipolars that would get a little scary.  Every time you'd see him, he acted as though he never met you and he'd have a different life story than the last time you met him. He would put on different accents, from Boston, to English to Madonna. He had different professions, sometimes a lawyer, or a flight attendant.  He had a different names, Sweetwater and/or Marco.  One time I came home to a pink heart made out of construction paper on my door and when I looked around I saw that some neighbors had the same, while others had wax smeared on their door.  I asked around and it turns out that Marco had a habit of throwing wax on people's doors that he didn't like, and put hearts on those he did. Marco eventually got kicked out of our building for aggressive behavior after a major blowout between him and himself one tragic Easter Sunday.  I'd take Meth Neighbor and Sweetwater over Howard the Duck anyday.

So I've seen Howard the Duck lingering here and there around the neighborhood numerous times since I first saw him a few days ago.  A few neighbors have also expressed concern about his creepy and murdery vibe. He asked a neighbor if he thought smartphones could detect crazy people.  I wish that was a thing, with this guy living near me. The other morning I came home from the gym to a mini Kit Kat bar on my doorstep. And I knew...I just knew who left it there.  Creeped out, I left it there and closed my door to go inside and take a shower. As soon as I ran the water, I heard a knock on my door.  I opened it and sure enough it was a very frantic, sweaty, and manic Howard the Duck with a bag of open Mini Kit Kats.  


"Please take this bag" he said.  

"No, thank you."

"Please, please take it."

"I really don't want it, but thank you"

"But what if there are children running around who want it"

"What if? I don't know.  But, no thank you"

Ever since I turned down the Kit Kats, I can see him scowling at me every time I see him....burning a hole through my black ungrateful heart. I think I really offended him.  If I die this way, I'm gonna be pissed.  So, if you don't hear from me for a few days, he's about 45 years old, he says he "works for the 1%", he's in apartment 21, and he looks like Howard the Duck.  

Goodbye cruel world,




Well doggone it, look who's single

image1 (2)I got a dog a few years ago to help me meet men. After many hangouts in local dog parks and outings all over New York City it finally worked. Oliver walked me into the arms of a hottie hotterson outside my deli one drunken 4am on a Monday night when I was living in NYC.  On our 1st date I brought him along… our second date as well… and come to think of it, I think in the past year, we’ve hung out without Oliver maybe once or twice. I’ve been dating this dapper dude for over a year now after we both moved to LA and rekindled our little threeway.. me, my man, and Oliver the dog.  

My boyfriend is so cute with him.  When he comes over he will attack Oliver with kisses before I get my share of love. He will spoon him tight all night as the big spoon while I have to hang on in the back without anyone holding me… it’s really...cute.  

They are absolutely in love. In fact, my man will send his mom cute pics of them hanging at the beach, hiking at Griffith Park, or just lounging around the house on a lazy Sunday.  It’s so funny, because he hasn’t even told her about me and she knows everything about Oliver.  He even wanted to bring Oliver home for Thanksgiving.  I thought about letting him go but I didn’t want to be alone for the holiday.  Wait a MINUTE.  

I’ve been dating him for a YEAR and his mother doesn’t know that I exist but she knows Oliver’s favorite treats, his origin story, and his birthday?! Whoa Whoa WHOA.  I am the third wheel in my own relationship! This isn’t about ME.  This is about Oliver. Do you think… wait, do you think he’s only dating me to get to Oliver?  Of course he is!  I mean, Oliver can sleep over for two weeks in a row but god forbid I want "too many sleepovers" in a week. Should I kill him?  I mean, the dog. Get rid of the body, Jinx Style!?  This seems to be the only way to get to my boyfriend and have him all to myself once and for all.  But if I kill him, he will be SO devastated it may ruin our relationship. I know what I must do.  I must cause a rift between the two. They must have a fight, a bad falling out.  But how to do it? I could teach Oliver to pee in his shoes?  To eat his favorite Back to the Future shirt?  To pee in his shoes?  Wait, did I already say that?

But they love each other.  Their bond is stronger than anything I’ve seen before.  The baby talk that occurs… it’s special… it’s.... different.  You can see that they are best friends and their love is everlasting.  And I, well. I... he doesn’t look at me like he looks at Oliver.  And Oliver doesn’t lick my face like he licks his.  I think I need to bow out.  I think I need to appreciate the love I’ve received this past year and let them move forward in what they have.  I will find another dog, who will bring me another man.  

What am I saying?! Oliver is my Prince.  And I don’t care what Oliver needs.  I rescued him from the streets of Compton.  He’s lucky to have a home.  So, I guess I just have to break up with the boyfriend.  

LA.  Get ready.  She’s single and ready to mingle... and she has a REALLY cute dog.  

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