70. The Week in Me
You raggedy bitch.
Since my last two Substacks have dropped with my vague (listen, family reads this, I have to be a little vague) my exes have been swarming like the locusts they are! I guess they read my posts and interpreted that I was single or available, somehow, which would be a massive surprise to my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law who read these posts every single week. And therefore to clarify, here is their favorite person, Matt, with Simone and her beautiful Esther Williams pose:
I am certainly not looking to date, thank you, heartbreak comes in all forms!!! But yeah, I have been Ramona Flowers with a corporate-appropriate hair color battling my own evil exes since my posts dropped. One of my worst exes1, a longterm one I equate to the worst and whitest behavior out of a Sally Rooney novel, texted me on Saturday night.
The phone went off, a specific vibration pattern set years ago so I’d feel it next to me and wake up in case he was dying in a ditch, off to jail, off to rehab, off to where the fuck ever, gaped at my phone, gaped at the sheer Philadelphian nerve, and turned my phone to Matt, who immediately grabbed a checkerboard pillow from the couch and gave it to me to scream into. I screamed. He then said “hey, that was a good one!” and strode off to let me do what I always do, taking this Delco dickhead’s call, taking his pity ploy, taking out my wallet and in years prior a titty or two -
Except I didn’t do that! Not even one titty! The boy is the equivalent of a West Philly Free Box2 molting from the rain on the corner of 49th and Larchwood so I have managed to over the years unionize with more than one of his former flames. Skip a stone around the Gold Standard patio and you’ll hit one, you know? So I exhibited *Natasha Rothwell voice3* growth and texted one of them. It turns out SHE ALSO HAD A TEXT FROM HIM, and so we did the very mature thing of blocking him sending him the exact same text at the exact same time.
He freaked out (good!) and sent me the new song he wrote, because of course this was the time to do that?!?!!? He also apparently reads this blog, insisting I’m the one who told him about it. (Considering we last spoke before this blog was even a twinkle in my keyboard, no.) So if you’re reading this, you feckless fuck, your voice got raspy.
Beyond that dose of dish for you, it is not a good week. I am double-fisting bad news professionally with being deeply fucking sad, all the time. I miss someone I held dear, who held me with fingers spread to fall through. And fall I did.
To read:
I wrote something flagrantly, exorbitantly unkind, and while I had considered taking my name off of it, I decided that adding my name could bring one of my favorite blogs,
, some deserved new readers. So here is a breakup story that I wrote, didn’t edit in the slightest, and texted to my friend Julie, a flagrantly, exorbitantly gracious friend:
Julie also recently hopped onboard as the newsletter editor for the Philadelphia Inquirer and I am very proud of her. You can sign up for that here.
I recapped the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty red carpet and apparently this was very funny (thank you thank you):
Vanity Fair Oscar Party 2024 Fashion Recap
A LITERAL DOORKNOCKER BELT AND BIG HAIR AND LEATHER AND GLOVES AND A BEDAZZLED CANNOLI PURSE?!?!!?! SHOULD I SUE!?! SHE HAS IMPUGNED THE INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OF MY OWN DAMN DNA.
As a Jew, I struggle in finding antizionist voices that don’t invalidate the tenets of my heritage. I appreciated this essay by Rachel Barenblat, who writes the Velveteen Rabbi. My shul is also fantastic in validating the Palestinian cause and using the tenets of Jewish values to center peace and love. Two words that I used to think of together as cosmetic, printed onto gogo dancer Halloween costumes and Limited Too makeup caboodles, but now feel their collective power. Richly.
Fuck this bitch. (via
)My college friend
wrote about an Anastacia single “Left Outside Alone” that I had never heard but played excessively this weekend.
I took Lily Gladstone’s loss at the Oscars very personally, as people I care for dearly are close friends and collaborators of hers and I wanted to see their joy over this proud moment. However. This Vulture summation by Nate Jones detailing why Emma Stone took the award instead brought some closure.4
To listen:
Congratulations to Da’Vine Joy Randolph on her deserved Academy Award. Thank you to
for turning me onto this gorgeous Stevie Wonder cover. What can’t the woman do!Thank you to Caleb for insisting I listen to the new Ariana Grande album. This one leveled me.
To watch:
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Matt came in during the Oscars to watch the Best Visual Effects award handed to the team who made Godzilla Minus One, a movie we both adored. Matt is the biggest Godzilla fan known to man and monster (he has the Toho logo tattooed on his damn Disney prince forearm), and got very emotional seeing this franchise win its first Academy Award.
Matt told me that it was very nice that the team brought little Godzillas with them so the big man could be there on his big night and then we both cried. Look at the little gold Godzilla WEARING A BOW TIE.
The shoes the Toho team wore to the Oscars. I need ‘em.
And this video of the crew learning of their nomination, also…come on. The little Godzilla parade on the table?! I weep!!
This is literally just Simone:
As a bonus, this is Simone AND ME:
This is literally just Lugosi:
Actually my babies:
Various and sundry:
Me:
Please look at my friend Drew dancing with his cat Courtney, who taught herself how to pee on the toilet. LISTEN UP FIVES, A TEN IS PEEING!!!
Love you bitches,
TG
Many are friends and even family. I just bought tickets to see Baroness with one! I, and I am saying this more to remind myself than anyone else, have had many healthy and mature relationships.
You’d be shocked at how often the West Philly Free Box on the curb is just a collection of dildos.
Though not enough, not nearly enough.