There are some things I’ve been noticing for a while in these new years of my adulthood.
1. My new friend Eddy is a recent college graduate. I see him with his “I’m taking a bite out of LA enthusiasm” and I’m exhausted by his energy. I think, “Wow, that was so ten years ago.”
2. I don’t partake in gossip about who is dating who with the excitement I once did. I do run people’s addresses through Zillow to see how much they paid for their home and what their property is worth.
3. I buy overpriced presents from my friends’ overpriced wedding and baby gift registries. I wince less and less about it.
4. I have been invited to picnics (not a party, a picnic) every weekend for the last three weekends. Activities included a water balloon toss and lawn croquet. I screamed out during the balloon toss, “Oh my god! This is the most fun I’ve ever had!” I was serious.
5. As I was putting on my tiara so I could crash the Asian Pacific Filmfest as Fannie Wong, Former Miss Chinatown 2nd Runner Up, 3 white hairs exposed themselves. And that was just one one side of my head. There were more on the other.
6. I just sent out an evite for my housewarming party which happens in the daytime and I told people it was ok for them to bring their parents or kids to the party. I am purposely not holding a party at night because I don’t want people to get out of control and ruin my floors. Plus, I get so tired at night.
7. I realized last month at the Vet’s office that my cat Oliver is 12 years old.
8. I’m considering taking a soapmaking class to spice up my life.
9. I’m more turned on by his taste in furniture than his looks. And if it doesn’t work out between us, we can actually stay friends.
10. I am drinking a beer alone right now as I type. Not to get drunk. Not to be social. Just to take the edge off.
I take a break from the nauseating task of trying to buy a home in LA, to share with you the latest brilliant project of my friend Brian Feldman. You may remember him from an earlier blog post. He is indeed, Orlando’s broker, balder and more brilliant version of David Blaine.
Brian is doing this week what a lot of my friends had joked about doing in the wake of same sex marriage rights being completely written out of state constitutions. Brian is exercising his power, no, HIS RIGHT, to marry a total stranger. And by stranger, I mean… a woman stranger…because you know, the law and all…
Brian agreed to marry any woman who showed up at the Orlando Courthouse at 3pm yesterday. Three women showed up. One woman with a baby strapped to her. So Brian picked his wife in the most sincere way possible, by spinning a water bottle. Then the lucky lady proceeded to fill out a marriage license with him. On Friday, Brian Feldman marries Hannah Miller. I don’t know who she is and nor does he. Though apparently, she has a very understanding boyfriend.
If I had the time to fly to Florida and wasn’t so desperately trying to preserve my FICO score in the wake of trying to buy a house here… I would have gotten myself hitched to that nice Jewish boy myself. Brian Feldman and I could have showed the world: Marriage is for fags.
But instead, I enjoy this nonsense from a distance. And so can you.
Here’s some really last minute notice but I’m telling a story tonight between 7-9pm pst on KXLU, 88.9 “The Mystic Pete Chronicles – Tales of Love and Madness.” Streaming also online. It’s a quaint little story about the time I got a Diva Cup stuck in me and had to call friends to help me get it out.
The role was a frumpy Chinese waitress with lots of pimples.
And it’s been a funny story and all, but I can’t help but think from people’s reactions (veering more on the “Well that’s Hollywood for you” rather than “What! You are gorgeous! You aren’t frumpy and ugly Kristina!”) that maybe I am a really really really ugly and horrible looking human being.
I mean, I was able to laugh it off AT FIRST, but I’m feeling from people’s reactions, and this whole experience with these commercial auditions, coupled with enough bad awkward girl memories to fill a lifetime— that maybe I really am that ugly looking person and have yet to embrace it.
And here I thought I was hot all these years. Here I had thought that I had a decent rack, nice body and a great smile. Was I wrong? Am I an ugly person?
As I drove back from the callback and looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror, I had the most horrible thought in the world.
This is the most horrible thought in the world…
“I am so ugly. I do not deserve to be loved.”
Then one by one. I got flooded with more terrible thoughts and horrible memories. Maybe my mother was right when she told me as a kid that I should be on the radio, not TV. (She’s long since taken that statement back, btw, and is fully supportive of my career.) Maybe I will die alone and unloved. Maybe I’ll never be in a relationship again. Maybe my true calling is as the cat lady persona I keep mocking ironically. Maybe I should change careers and work in a dark room, alone, where nobody would have to look at me. Ever.
Because I am so hideously homely.
It’s such a horrible feeling to look at yourself and feel like you can’t be loved. Because everybody deserves love.
EVERYBODY. The frumpy and the pimply included. Do you hear me!? We all deserve love!!!
I shook myself out of this funk pretty quickly when I realized that there will always be someone who loves me.
“Hey! There’s someone who no matter what, will cheerish and adore me!”
And that someone doesn’t care if I have a frumpy day! Or get a pimple!
I smiled to myself in the mirror, that old familiar smile when I realized that someone in life does love me.
Who will always love me for who I am do you ask?
Gross and creepy old white men with large collections of Samurai swords, with a sizable Asian fetish, who jerk off to Asian porn and go on sex tour trips to Asia!
They will always find me beautiful and love me!
Yay for them! They will always love me. No matter how frumpy or pimply I get.