The Truth on Men As Providers

When men reach a certain age they go through the, “I Need to be a Provider” crisis. It’s usually around the age of 30 and it also often compliments the women’s, “I Need to have Kids Soon or my Eggs are going to Dry Up and Die” stage. Add a glass of Cabernet to the mix, and Viola! Nervous breakdowns for everyone!

I’ve been thinking about these two stages a lot.  Ready for kids or not, as a woman, I sometimes think about my eggs dying because it’s a biological issue…It’s a scientific fact that the older I get, the harder it will be for my ovaries to wake up and make a baby happen.  I’m thinking at this age, my ovaries are kind of like my comedy career.  I have time… but if they don’t start making moves, they are going to wind up doing community theatre in Boca Raton Florida for the rest of their lives.  Make sense? Great!

But the “Men as Providers” breakdown… it’s such an old school mentality.  It’s a “Bring Home the Bacon” way of thinking.  Nowadays, women are happy to bring home their own bacon.  Well, for me it’s turkey bacon, but who’s counting?  I only need men to provide me with a few things.  

  1. I need them to kill mice.  I really can’t bring myself to kill them.  I can get them on the trap but then I throw them out the window because I couldn’t handle killing them and putting them out of their misery.  So yes, if I find myself back in New York, I would like a live-in man to kill mice for me.  Note: This is more of an East Coast issue.

  1. Changing light bulbs.  My ceiling are high, and because I don’t have a ladder, when I climb on my step stool, I still can’t reach to change my light bulbs.  I have a really tall friend, Kelly, who could probably do it for me, but it would be nice to have a live-in man to do that while wearing nothing but a tool belt. Note: Please see picture to the right. You're welcome.


  1. And the third thing that I need a man to provide is SEX. That’s it. Plain and simple.  

So men, stop worrying about being a provider.  Just get your mouse-killing game down, do some stretching for a lengthy reach, buy a tool belt, and be available for sex whenever possible.





Single and Ready to Mingle... with a 40 year old homeless man....

176528_822491218947_1855399_oSo I've been dating someone since I moved to LA and we finally and officially broke up last week.  So you know what that means...  I am BACK ON TINDER. Let the good times roll.  Because my ex was was 30 going on 15 years old, I decided to try something new, a 40 year old.  40 year olds are men right?! I need a man dammit. 

So I find a cute 40 year old on Tinder and we chat a little bit via Tinder and text and he seems really cool.  He was a pro skateboarder and now he produces skateboarding videos for a legit company.  We had good text banter and decide to meet the next night for a drink.  

A half hour before our date he called me.... Yup, called me... and he seemed funny and sounded cute and I got really excited.  He also offered to pick me up, but i told him I didn't want him to know where I lived just in case he would try to kill me in my sleep if our date didn't go well, but the offer was sweet. 

I get to the bar and he's already ordered his drink but didn't take a sip because he was waiting for me to get there and cheers him.  Cute!  So I order my drink and.... he lets me pay for it.  Woof.  He's 40 and he let me pay for my drink.  Okay, fine.

We are having good conversation,. he's cute, we are getting cozy and it's time for drink two... he says, "Hey I'll get this round, but you're getting the next one... it's 2014 right?". And there may have been a wink in there. Yea, I think he winked.

Wow.  Okay.  

Then he asks me where I live exactly. I tell him that I live next door to the Standard Hotel and from their pool you can actually look across the street and see my gym.  He had recently been to the Standard and remembers the gym and that's when he dropped the bomb of dating-stories gold.

He says, "Oh that's your gym.  Nice! I go to 24 hour fitness but I only joined the gym because I live out of my car a lot and I use the gym to shower and use the bathroom." 

Did you get that? He lives in his car.

"How often do you live in your car?" I ask.

"Well, this one time for a year... then one time for 6 months.... and then a few more months recently and then I moved into my place in April.  You should come over sometime, we usually have a kiddie pool on the roof but we emptied it and now there's water in our ceiling and walls. Woops, I was supposed to call the landlord about that. But yea, I live in my car sometimes." 

"Check please. Don't worry John, I'll get this round."

So I let him drive me home because he was homeless yet harmless.... the car was nice and much cleaner than I had expected.  A 2008 Prius that smelled like new.

"Wow, you'd never know you've lived so long in this car."

"Yea I'm very clean, Lindsey.  I have it together". 

25, 40, 30... I guess age doesn't really mean a thing. 


Help! I'm acting like a Psycho Hose Beast

ytY0aBDI moved to LA for me.  For my career, to change my life, and so my son, Oliver can grow up in an environment that would provide a “better quality of life”.  So recently when I started hanging out with a cute boy, I wasn’t looking for a distraction and I especially wasn’t looking for a relationship at all… but let me break something down for you:

When a guy says, “I can’t get into something… I have too much going on… I’m focusing on myself and my career right now but I’m down to hang a little”,  that’s exactly what they mean.  When a girl says it they mean, “I can’t get into something… too much going on… focusing on myself and my career… I like you A LOT, I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m not looking for anything right now but are you my boyfriend? When are we gonna make it face book official? Do you like me like I like you? Yes let’s take our time, take it easy… … let’s just hang out …but like 4 times a week okay? And if I don’t hear from you every couple of hours I’m gonna feel crazy.  Do you think I’m crazy? YOU are making me crazy.  I like you. I’m sorry ”.

So while yes, I’m newly dating someone, by the time you read this I may not be because I have been acting like a psycho hose beast.

So this is a cry for help. Help! I can’t stop being crazy and this guy is a really nice guy and I haven’t thought about my ex or Tindered in months.  Score! 

Listen, I’m hoping he doesn’t read this, but if he does….  I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about this other dude… so don’t get a big head about it… you’re alright but I’m really busy and I can’t really get into something right now so let’s just hang. Okay? 

Ps. The dude is actually and oddly enough someone you’ve heard of before…  I’ll give you a hint… the way we met involves a crack head, an exploded bottle of sprite, and getting hit in the face. (Hint over, just read the story here).



La LA Land


Your Big City Siren is a weird new city.  Well, I did it.  I left New York for a while.  I’m not going to say leaving my beloved New York was easy.  The thought of my exit was paralyzing to me. I made my friends hang out with me every possible free second they had, I stopped drinking knowing just one whiskey would send me into the downward spiral of the century, I packed up my apartment, did one last game of tequila BINGO at Tortilla Flats, and I got out of dodge.  And my little dog too. 

My thoughts and feelings of New York the past year were kind of like how I started to feel at the end of my last relationship.  We’d hit a wall.  We were doing the same thing over and over and while sometimes it felt right and good…. something had to change.  I was having a hard time finding the change with the lover that I had (or New York) so I knew if I didn’t get out now, I’d never do it.  So I turned 30, cut my hair off, and moved across the country fully in denial and with every plan to come back to New York ASAP.  (Don’t worry, I kept my rent stabilized apartment and I didn't pull a Britney) 

Saying I left NY kicking and screaming would be a understatement. When I took off from JFK, we flew over the Empire State Building, Lady Liberty, and Central Park.  I had this cartoon vision of me literally jumping out of the plane and letting little pieces of Lindsey fly over all the dumb tourists and horse and carriages.  They shouldn’t be there anyway! Did Blasio get rid of them?! See, I’m not there so I don’t know!

Before my move to LA, I made a 2 week pit stop to FL to take of some family matters,  (Urkle says hi and also, “Did I do that?”) and two weeks later, I arrived in La La land… the land of…. home to…  I arrived in LA.

I gained 6 pounds right away.  No change in diet AND I haven’t been drinking.  Is it grieving weight? Is god telling me he wants me back in NY so he’s going to make me the fattest one? I don’t know.  My friend Nicole told me to look for the signs that I made the right move… So, my first week my subletter in NY bailed on me and I instantly lost $2,000, my ceiling in my bathroom caved in, I had 3 interviews for a waitressing position and didn’t get it, and I’m fat.  I’ve decided to not look for the signs and just try to live.

Listen, LA is no New York. It doesn’t compare. And that’s just it … it’s so different you simply cannot compare.  LA is fine.  I don’t dislike it.  I dislike driving.  Despise it.  I will go down in history as the girl who walks in LA.  I can’t parallel park, I have to wear my glasses at night, and I can’t park on hills because it scares me.  Who am I?

LA is a place where you can see a Hasidic Jewess with fake tits (I know because I saw it), you can drink a green smoothie everyday (And then walk around with Kale in your teeth all day), and there’s avocado on EVERYTHING. The homeless are well-dressed, entitled, and also a bit aggressive. I’ve seen a few of them with I-Phones. LA is a place where even the fat people are in shape. Seriously, I’ve never seen ANYTHING like it.  Everyone has a spray tan, “cold” is 70 degrees, the roads are shit, the highways are insane, the hiking is a scene, the weather is amazing.

In the month I’ve been here, I’ve met Doogie Howser and Zack Morris, I landed a gig as a receptionist on a TV show (I’m not a receptionist, I just play one on TV), I got an agent, I’m working semi-consistently, eating lots of craft service because I’m broke, I go on hike dates, when people talk about swells I pretend like I know what they’re talking about, I went to a bikini competition (Don't worry, I did not compete), I got paid to sit on Malibu beach with the stoner from Clueless, had late-night In-N-Out Burger, I grocery shop at Ralphs or Von’s, and I got a ticket for being on my phone while driving.

While I’m still a fish out of water, every day gets a little better. I never realized how much of an east coaster I am until I got here.  I’ll find my groove, I know.  I’ll find my friends and family here, I know.  I have had people out here hold me up and completely take care of me, while others have done the “LA-flake” on me for sure.  But the people are nice here, and “The weather and the quality of life” is not too shabby either.  People like to say that here. “The weather and the quality of life”.  It makes me laugh. I just need to find my coffee shop, my dog park, my Vietnamese place for summer rolls, my bodega, my gym, my perfect-for-me apartment in my perfect-for-me hood.  All those little life things that I had back home that made me feel like a person.   

Listen up New York.  I’ll be back and soon. I’ll come stay inside of you this summer for a little while and we’ll go to Shake Shack and wait in line for burgers, see some plays, lay in Central Park or Madison Square park, take a train to go to a beach, run on the West Side Highway, see some outdoor movies, we’ll have brunch with endless bloody marys, hang out with all my lovely neighbors, drink wine on good friend’s couches when we are too hot to go outside, picnic on the highline, take a stroll on the Lower East Side, hang out with my deli guys, see some music at Rockwood, drink too many whiskeys and dance at LIT lounge.  Now THAT’S my kind of “Quality of life”.








Another Love Letter to NYC

It’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge to write. Maybe it’s the snow storm or how freaking cold it is outside.  Maybe it’s because in a few days, I’m leaving NY for a while.  Maybe because some idiot I went on a few dates with texted me last night saying that I was lazy because I haven’t written or come out with a new Kelly and Lindsey Episode in a while.  Yes, you got me. I’m lazy.  So after I worked outside in 15 degree weather in the aftermath of a “Blizzard”, then worked out at the gym, I had planned to come home and work out a little more.  But I keep thinking about this douche calling me lazy, so I decided to write instead.  In a way, he’s right.  I’ve been lazy when it comes to writing on Big City Siren, which don’t forget I started because I thought my ex-boyfriend was an idiot.  So here I am, years later, sitting on a new couch, but still writing because some idiot I’ve made out with inspired me to do so.  What does this say about me? I am not sure.  (BTW: When you go out with a girl a few times, and you are invited back to her place for the first time for a little make out session, you don’t go from zero to anal is .03 seconds.  I don’t know if that’s how they do things in Ireland, but that isn’t how we do it here, honey. Aren’t you glad you texted? How’s the gigging going?)

This is a post I’ve been putting off for a while.  Dropping hints here and there about a move across the country to LA.  I guess I’ve been in complete denial about the move, and I still don’t really have a solid plan. I truly hope to be a back and forth person between LA and NYC.  I love NY.  I am not ready to leave, and that’s why I am doing it.  If I don’t pick up and leave for a while, I’m never going to and the reality is, I’ve been unhappy for a while now and it’s time for a Lindsey adventure.  I’ve been stuck.  Stuck in the same routines, stuck when it comes to men, my social life, and I know I’m ready for a change. I don’t love LA but it makes the most sense, and I am hoping maybe I will love it. Or at least make myself love it. So I have a one way ticket and I’m bringing my dog.  

I have had a lot of success in New York.  I’ve written a few shows and somehow got people to not only see them, but to buy tickets to them. The New York Times took me mini golfing and wrote about my comedy. I found a job that let me travel and live a comfortable life in NYC. I’ve done thousands of Gossip Girl and Sex and the City tours. I’ve become great friends with my deli guys. I produced a five-episode web series.  I met my life partner, Kelly and created an empire that will continue.  (Yes, she is coming too. She’s is right behind me). I have fallen in love a few times. One of those times was really really good...swoon. I found an awesome apartment that I will NEVER get rid of. I have the most amazing neighbors who are seriously family. I found Cafe Forant, my place where everyone knows my name. I’ve made some friends who have really kept me together after all these years. I bonded with my sister, as adults and I don’t think I am just the annoying little sister anymore (I am totally still the annoying little sister).  I feel like in some ways, I made NY my bitch, and in other ways, it made me NY’s bitch.

NYC, I’ll be back.  Maybe in a month, six months, a year, or five.  Who knows. But you are the best/worse city in the world and you have my heart.

* The picture attached is my family at the best restaurant in New York.  Go there.  





Oliver the Dog's Brilliant Celebrity Impressions

Those of you who know my dog Oliver, know that not only is he the star of the web series, Kelly and Lindsey DO New York, but he also does brilliant celebrity impressions.  Here are some of his best impressions:

Falcor from The NeverEnding Story:



Max the Dog from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas:

Max_the_little_dog_of_the_grinch-1oli 9


Sir Didymus from Labyrinth:

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A Who from Whoville:

6a00e5536b8b4188330111689cc4ea970coliver's commercial headshot


The Nothing from The NeverEnding Story:



Donald Sutherland:

Donald_Sutherlandoliver's legit headshot


David Hasselhoff during his infamous cheeseburger incident:

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Single's Week is Stupid

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Did last week seem a little lonelier than usual?  Did you have an awesome week hanging with your girl friends and trolling for dudes with popped collars?  Did you see that woman screaming on the subway that she wanted to die?  If you answered yes to any of those questions, then you may have put together that last week was "Single's Week".  

Yes, that's right. According to some of my single friends on Facebook, last week was Single's Week, and both Facebook and my single lady friends are NEVER wrong.  Except for my friend who went home with a 24 year old DJ and woke up with a suprise on her.... never mind.  Sometimes my single friends are wrong.  

Did you celebrate Single's Week?  I did. I celebrated it by performing my most single behavior which includes but is not limited to: Eating a cup cake for dinner, going out to eat with a couple and being the third wheel, three times, getting stood up by a dude on Saturday night, and pooping while blow-drying my hair. Pooping while blow-drying my hair is probably my most single behavior.  Sometimes I'm in a rush. 

My friends on FB expected me to "Girl Power" all over Single's Week's face because I am a strong, independent, single lady, but let's be real.  If you ASK any of my single friends, they will tell you they are either looking for or at least interested in companionship.  Sorry if I'm being negative.  But it's true.  So I guess my point is that I don't celebrate "I'm Hungry, and I'd like a Piece of Pizza and There isn't any here in my Apartment Week". So, I'm not sure why I would celebrate Singl'e Week.  It makes sense in my head.

I'll be real.  I am not necessarily looking for anyone or really doing a good job putting myself out there, unless trolling on OK Cupid counts, (I. Can't. Stop. Looking), but I am interested in the idea of being in a realtionship. Just like I am interested in eating pizza, but I don't feel like going to the pizza place a few doors down.  

I will think positively for a minute, (but just a minute so you better read this next part in under a minute), and say this:  celebrating being single is a good reminder of why you aren't dating the last idiot you dated, or the two idiots before. (Sorry idiot #1,2, and 3 but stop reading my blog is you don't like it). It's also a good reminder that dating someone because they make an epic sandwich, does not a relationship make. The sandwich, while delicious, does not make up for the fact that HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE YOUR BOYFRIEND.  I repeat, he just makes a great sandwich.  You can make your own sandwich without him.  You can't date someone for their sandwiches, great body, the fact that they like Breaking Bad or that they can play the Ukulele.  It's just not good enough for you.  

I am a CATCH.  (See picture below)

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Single's Week is a reminder that when you are single you are thinner, you don't have to listen to some dude snore in your ear, and you don't have to be so concerned about another person, and you can focus on yourself. 

I think I have really grown up this past little stretch that I've been single.  I know my worth, which unfortunately a year ago, I knew my worth but didn't honor it.  I got stirred up in the pretty lights.  I dated someone for the heck of it while still thinking about and not being over someone else, and that's confusing and damaging for everyone involved.  I also cared more about them and their feelings than I did myself. Each man in my life has taught me a lesson about myself.  Shown me my major weaknesses, so I do think heartbreak, and disappointment, and singledom is extremely important.  

So this is no "Pity Party, Party of 1".  This is also not a Girl Power blog entry.  It's something in the middle. So now leave me alone and stop reminding me that I'm single.  I'm going to go watch The Real Housewives, eat chocolate, fart and rub my belly... alone.  Actually, I have one man in my life that will be joining me and he has a huge wang and that's all I really need. Not his wang, but him. You may know him, his name is Oliver.

Ps. Do you guys think I'm going to go have sex with my dog? While he has a huge wang, I'm not going to touch it or anything.  Just shut up.  And happy late Single's Week.

Pss.  Did you guys notice that I still haven't written about moving to LA because I am totally in denial.  Just give me time okay.  Stop pressuring me.

Pps.  You look really great in that outfit.  Are you single?

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