oopsie daisy

On Pencil Sharpening. Seriously.

My friend David Jacobs is incredibly smart and even more opinionated. But the thing is: he’s one of those guys who’s has a strong viewpoint on everything, but also wants to seem nice. Which, when we’re talking about me, is totally my favorite.

For example, yesterday he was telling me – AGAIN – what a great writer I am. I know, I know. You’re not supposed to admit to stuff like that if you want people to take you seriously, but you know what? BECAUSE I want you to take me seriously, I’m going to admit to stuff like that. Because, um, hi. Writers don’t write so that we can sit at home all alone with our cats and cheap grocery store wine while perusing our journals from high school. You think I wrote those journals for ME? Please. Every single word I’ve every written was in the hopes that one day—some day—I’d have an audience who wanted to read them.

Duh.

Anyway. Back to me. (Oh right. Because we ever leave that topic.) Earlier today my smart, talented, super intelligent friend David Jacobs and I were talking about great I am. Okay FINE. We were actually talking about football, but in between that, he might have said something kind of exactly like:

“You could write about pencil sharpening and I'd read it.”

So, my awesome friend David Jacobs. This post is for you.

On Pencil Sharpening: An instructional how-to for people who don’t know how to sharpen a mother fucking pencil. In 34 easy-to-follow steps.

1. Before we can really tackle this subject, first we need to discover why it is you feel the need to write with a pencil. As far as I’m concerned, the only important difference between a pencil and a pen is that a pencil is impermanent. Erasable. Changeable. Uncertain. So maybe the bigger question here is: WHY A PENCIL?
2. I’m not a therapist, but I have one who’s outrageously expensive and would happily chitchat with you about everything except your need to use pencils. Bonus: he’ll also laugh at all of your jokes. Sometimes for, like, twenty seconds. Which you’ll later calculate cost you $1.34. But, I mean, hi: it’s kind of worth that much just to have someone laugh at your jokes, am I right?
3. Anyway, after you get validation that your childhood was pretty fucked up and that it basically makes sense why you are the way you are, hopefully you’ll have the confidence to buy a pack of goddamn pens (which pen specifically is too broad of a subject to tackle here, but when you’re ready, rest assured: I have an opinion) and end this pencil nonsense.
4. In the meantime, because, yes, the therapist’s job is to drag this out for weeks/months/years, let’s talk about your stupid pencil.
5. Am I going to set you back with your shrink if I ask why you’re not smart enough to buy a mechanical pencil?
6. Fine. I’ll pretend for the sake of this exercise that you’re taking a standardized test. Maybe the LSAT! Your parents always did hope you’d amount to more…
7. I guess I’m also now pretending that we live in the 1980s and they don’t offer these tests on magical machines called computers.
8. Honestly, if you’re going to make me go back in time, can we at least go back to a time when Huey Lewis & the News didn’t rule the airwaves?
9. PSYCH! I LOVE HUEY LEWIS & THE NEWS! (You remember “psych,” don’t you? It’s from the ‘80s. When you still had things like “hope” and “dreams.” And the confidence to write in pen. FINE, it was erasable, but still.)
10.  Anyway, no point in living in the past. Here we are. Just you and your pencil. Your unsharpened, good-for-nothing pencil.
11. Um, yeah. I just Googled “unsharpened pencil” and was assaulted with this result: “Life without God is an unsharpened pencil.” Mostly I blame myself for relying on Google for help when I’m feeling uninspired, but also? FUCK YOU. (You is YOU, not Google. Just in case that wasn’t clear.)
12.  So, just so I’m clear, we are now in total agreement that life is far better without unsharpened pencils and/or pencils in general, right?
13. I hate you.
14. Okay. Take the pencil. Now find your sharpener. OH RIGHT. This is basically impossible because pencil sharpeners aren’t an actual thing that exist! Kind of like “happy marriages” and “good parenting.”
15. You know what? Because I’m feeling so generous and because you’re basically the most demanding and insecure person I’ve ever met, I’m going to help you out. Go to my bathroom. Look on the third shelf all the way to the right. There. See that blue plastic thing? That’s my eyeliner sharpener. TAKE IT. It’s a gift. No seriously. Keep it. I can totally afford a new one.
16. Now stick your pencil in my sharpener.
17. Ew.
18. No seriously. Ew.
19. Wow. Really?
20. Still?
21. Awesome. I’ll just sit here while you….
22. Okay. Now, oh god. This is only going to get… Now turn your pencil in my—I mean—THE—sharpener.
23. Keep turning it. Like a good nine or ten solid turns.
24. Now pull your pencil out.
25. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
26. Assess the tip of your pencil. This is a personal preference. Personally, I like a pencil so sharp (not that I write with pencils because I’m not a savage, but IF I DID) that I may very easily shatter the tip with one forceful crossing of a “t.” You seem like you may like your pencils a little more, well…accessible. But hey—whatever. You can always come back and sharpen it again.
27. Speaking of. Oh my god. Did you let the pencil shavings spill all over the floor in step 23? Jesus Chris Mother of Mercy. You’re supposed to sharpen your pencil over a wastebasket. Or even the toilet. Were you raised in a barn? Oh, this is my fault because I didn’t tell you exactly how to do it? Well played. Well. Played.
28. Pick that shit up.
29. Hopefully by now your therapy is starting to resonate and you’re feeling like the things you have to write are worth inking for eternity. But just in case you have a relapse, let’s try the pencil out.
30. Here’s a single sheet of binder paper. That seems like something people who use pencils would be into.
31. Write whatever you want.
32. Oh, look at you. An “F,” a “U,” a “C”…
33. Oh! Look at that. Someone’s pencil broke already! Next time try writing with less “enthusiasm.”
34. Also, is that REALLY your handwriting? Yikes. Good luck with that.

So there you go David Jacobs. This is what happens when I can’t sleep at night and when I make a New Year’s resolution two weeks into the New Year that I’m going to post on my blog at least two times a week. What tough topic would you like me to tackle next?

Daisy promises to blog more in 2012 if you promise to be patient while she remembers how to do so.

Your Tweets Bug Me

Now that Google+ has made Twitter and Facebook totally obsolete, I figured I could  finally post my list of Top 10 Things on Twitter that drive me absolutely bananas without actually offending anyone. Because, apparently, offending people is now something I care about? (No, not really.) (Also: that's how Google+ works, right? It makes all other social networks "ohmygod, sooooo yesterday?" I don't actually know because the whole thing is too much geometry for me and instead of making an effort to figure it out, I'd rather spend my free time sitting on the couch knotting friendship bracelets and watching "Pretty Little Liars" on ABC Family. Just like every other 30-something woman you know.)

Anyway, enough bragging about my amazing life, let me get to the part where I denounce yours.

See, here's the thing. I would never call my best friend and announce, “Wow, I just had the best cup of Blue Bottle coffee!” and that’s not *just* because I am not a weirdo hipster who orgasms when my coffee comes with a perfectly drawn can of PBR in the foam. No, it’s because I’m alive, and as a result, am unfortunately forced to interact with people on an almost-daily basis, and you know what I’ve learned about people? They don’t care about my coffee. Or my commute. Or my job. Or my vagina. (Okay, fine, they care about my vagina. Rather, they did before I got in a relationship and it shriveled up and died.) And yet, for whatever reason, with the invention of Facebook and Twitter, people now feel that they need to elucidate their friends and followers on the most mundane, and frankly, pathetic aspects of their lives.

Listen, Bob, we barely even spoke in high school, so I promise that I do not need to hear about how your daughter’s diaper smelled like rotting whale carcass. Also, you’re a man, so no one even believes you change your daughter’s diapers! Stop lying, Bob. Also: HIDE. UNFOLLOW. DEFRIEND.

And yes, I realize that the bitching about how people share stupid things we don’t care about (like their morning coffee) on Twitter has been done a bazillion times, but you know who hasn’t made a list of things she can’t stand seeing on Twitter? That’s right: ME. And since I follow people who bug me (NOT YOU, OBVIOUSLY) just so I can get a feeling of superiority when they tweet yet AGAIN about their emotions (Seriously, who does that? So gross.), I’m totally qualified to write a list like this.

So here goes. In no particular order.

SHIT PEOPLE DO ON TWITTER THAT THEY SHOULD REALLY STOP DOING RIGHT THIS SECOND. (PLEASE.)

1. Oh, you cleaned your apartment? Since you're tweeting about it, it appears you’ll be shocked to hear that no one cares! There's not one single soul who wants to hear how many hours you spent with a bottle of 409 in your hand unless, of course, you're tweeting about how you're trying to get the blood of a dead hooker out of your carpet. Also, why do you have carpet and not hardwood? Gross.

2. It's even grosser that you have carpet since you have a dog. And yes, I know. Your dog is cute. Your dog is silly. Your dog has really stinky farts. I get it: You love your dog. That’s awesome. But guess what? He doesn’t need his own Twitter account. SERIOUSLY. Unless your dog is actually a magic typing dog in which case, WHY ARE YOU NOT A BIZILLIONAIRE?

3. Along those lines…you love your baby. Not gonna lie, your tweets would be a lot more interesting if you couldn’t stand that thing, but since she’s over a decade away from puberty, you might as well come to terms with that fact that right now, all she can do is sleep and shit, and I promise you, no one cares. She's even less interesting than a dog!

Even worse is when you decide to speak for her. “My daddy is so great; he took me to the park today!” Listen buddy: You can tweet that your seven month old is thinking that, and you can even believe it if you want, but we all know that all she actually thinks about is her mommy’s boobs. Also, no girl ever says, “My daddy is so great,” unless he gives her a BMW for her sweet 16. That’s right, dude. Better start saving.

4. Oh no! Thoughts of expensive BMWs keeping you up at night? Can't fall asleep for the life of you? MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE PLAYING WITH YOUR PHONE INSTEAD OF LYING IN BED WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED. Next time I can’t sleep, I think I’ll send a singing telegram to your house, which isn’t actually a parallel experience, but will definitely be super annoying—just like your 3 a.m. insomnia tweets.

5. Frankly, it's a little weird that you can't fall asleep, since you were home at 10 p.m. to watch "Top Chef" just like you are EVERY Wednesday night, but I'm not going to judge you. (Lie.) I do, however, want to be very clear that I swear to god, if you post who got kicked off immediately after the show airs one more time, I am going to move to the East Coast so I can see it before you and then invent teleportation so that I can come back to San Francisco at 9:58 p.m. your time and stand outside your home with a megaphone blurting out the name of the person who got sent home. And yes, I get that it might be hard to invent teleportation, but even if it takes me the rest of my life, it will be time well spent in order to punish you for doing something as egregious as putting a spoiler in your tweet.

6. And sure, I get it. You don't care what I think about your constant barrage of reality TV spoilers because you have real friends who are THE BEST! You’re the luckiest person in the whole world because ohmygod, they're the most amazing friends in the whole wide world. They totally get you and you just feel so close to them right now. BFFs 4EVA! You know what else? YOU’RE WASTED. Stop tweeting and do another shot.

7. And yes, I get it you don't even have to pay for the shot because, yet again, you’re at a super exclusive invite-only event and it’s the most amazing thing ever. You can’t believe you got to meet [C-list celebrity] and how awesome the goodie bags are! I mean, sure you already have a [highly coveted tech item] because you got one the day it came out because you’re you, but you can totally use another one that you'll put in a drawer and forget about. No, you should definitely keep tweeting about it because I’m pretty sure everyone loves a showoff. And don’t forget to mention that right after this, you have to hop on the red eye to fly to [exotic place] for work, but it’s fine because you totally got upgraded to first class. I know it’s super hard to imagine this, but some of us are always smooshed in the middle seat between a fat person and a drunk guy with a cold, so we definitely want to hear more about your free champagne. No seriously. GO ON…

8. Oh, go on? You don't mind if you do! Because, guys! Something amazing just happened. It’s so exciting! You couldn’t be happier! Life as you know it is probably going to change forever. But, "Oops, I can't actually tell you what it is!"

Here’s a tip: if it’s a secret, then shut the fuck up and stop tweeting vague hints that scream, “You should totally ask me what happened because my parents didn’t give me enough attention when I was a child.”

9. Speaking of attention: No one cares if your email in-box is at 6 million or six. We get it. You get a lot of email. So do we all. Sure, most of mine is from Neiman Marcus and Shopbop, but that still totally counts as email and yet you never hear me bitching about it. So don't bother announcing to all of your followers that you finally got your inbox down to zero, because I promise no one is going to show up on your doorstep with a bottle of Veuve and a cookie.

10. And finally! Now that you got all of that email out of the way, why not go on a run? A five mile run! Or yoga every single day for a month! Better yet, get up at 5 a.m. to meet with your trainer. Okay okay, I get it! Not only are you smarter and more efficient than I am, you're also in better shape! Good for you. Honestly, I hope you kick ass in your marathon. Just please don't make me read about it over breakfast while I'm dipping my donuts (plural) in coffee (Irish). Thank you for all that you do.

God, that felt good. Probably the only thing left to do is hit "publish" and then go tweet about it!

I'm in Good Company

Jane Pratt follows me, Michael Sippey and Courtney Love. Seems just about right.

Amazon Refuses to Let Me Forget My Past

He's Totally Going to Ruin my Reputation. Also, it's "were."