Someone messaged me on Blogspot asking for tips on how to make a fashion blog after reading this entry. I can only assume this was a joke. But it made me re-read this. I wrote it 4 years ago when I moved to LA. Now on hiatus I find myself relating to this too much.
I was just reading the paper, and by paper I mean googling words and then clicking on the “news” tab to see if they are newsworthy.
I just googled the word of my post college existence ”Unemployment.” And up popped this headline “Florida Unemployment Stuck at 10.7 %”. Stuck huh? Nice word choice Business Journal. See I read Business Journal. Okay it’s the Jacksonville Business Journal, it’s a step-up from Perez Hilton. Back to “stuck” why “stuck?” Where is the unemployment going? Is it a competition? What’s the next headline “Finally, Florida Unemployment is No Longer Constipated We Hit 10.8%, At Last.”
Another fun fact, I keep misspelling ”unemployed” and “business”, perhaps this is why I am jobless?
As you can see, this whole “being unemployed thing” is getting out of hand.
Today’s accomplishment: instead of driving, I walked from point A to point B. For the whole three-minute stroll I was paranoid that the LAPD was going “pull me over”. Can you even pull over someone walking?
It’s come to the point that when I actually have a meeting I’m an hour early, because seriously what else do I have to do? So I just sit in my car and chill. I can’t call anyone because usually I’m underground. So I write. Writing by hand is an interesting thing. I don’t do it as often as I should, so my handwriting kinda looks like a child’s. Actually no, I think children write more legibly then me. It’s getting bad, somehow my “O”s look like “A”s, so when people read my handwritten name they think it’s “Gabi Canti” well at least my “O”s don’t look like “U”s…
You would think that having all the time in the world would make me super productive, NOPE! All of this free time has made me incredibly lazy. I realized I think my biggest accomplishment this entire summer was seeing John Mayer perform twice. See, only a skillful jobless person like myself could pull this off. When I saw his 10:03PM tweet that he was having a secret midnight show at hotel cafe, I was there by 10:07. It’s not like I had a job to go to the next day. And when he had another show where you couldn’t buy tickets online (such a strange concept) instead you had to physically go to the Troubadour to get an armband that you couldn’t tamper with. This really pissed off the girl behind me who was “so hung-over and like seriously had to shower ASAP or else…” anyway yours truly was there with bells on. And by bells I mean my “beltlace” I stole from Mr.T. FYI beltlace is a belt/necklace, yes I just made up a word, I’m also trying to make “Linner” (lunch/dinner) happen.
Since I’m unemployed I do yoga like it’s my job. And by yoga I mean core fusion (http://www.exhalespa.com/mind-body-classes/core-fusion/) which is like a mix of yoga and Pilates, it’s sooo LA, even though you can do it in almost every major city, yes, even Boston. I say “yoga” instead of “core fusion” because no one really knows what core fusion is, also I don’t want to explain that it’s also Pilates because once I put “Pilates is something fat people do to feel good about themselves” in a script, which isn’t really true and I didn’t mean to generalize, I was really just referring to myself last summer who made Tasti Delight a daily habit and would literally sit on the floor in a Crunch Pilates class spacing out, not really moving, not breaking a sweat and definitely not getting a workout. Hence Pilates is something fat Gabi did to feel good about her self last summer.
I also clean a lot. I’m becoming my mother it’s really not pretty. Each morning I wake up between the hours of 11AM and 1PM, and I make my bed. No one sees it so I don’t see what the difference is, but I do it anyway. Every time I cook something, and by “cook” I mean make a salad, grill something on the Foreman or microwave, that’s really the extent of cooking I do. After “cooking” I HAVE TO Lysol the counter and Swiffer the floor. I am my mother. But today I didn’t feel like cleaning. I’m on strike.
People always ask me, since you don’t have a job, what do you do all day?
To which I reply “Go fuck yourself”
Probably not the best thing to say on a job interview.
But today it figured it out. What I do all day is: work out, clean, cook and eat. Minus the whole eating thing I’m pretty much a 22 year old real housewife of New Jersey. ’Cept I don’t have have a Sugar Daddy… yet. Just my real daddy who tells me I need to stop impulse shopping and getting parking tickets because I don’t read signs. Sorry dad!
So I caved in. Today I had an interview for a part time job. Which my dad told me I should make a full time job because seriously what am I doing for the other part of the time? I tried explaining to him about my very jam-packed days of waking up around noonish, working out, cleaning and eating, he didn’t buy it.
The job is to work retail at a store I worked at for about five years in five different locations but for some reason they had to re-interview me, I guess to make sure I didn’t get fat.
I was chatting with the very perky manager on the phone the other day who told me it was super important that I wear my most fashionable outfit to the interview. Oh yeah and to bring my resume. I love how it is more important for me to look fashionable then it was to bring my resume.
I told her sorry, my ripped “boyfriend” jeans, flannel shirt, fedora, booties and every accessory I own are all in the wash so I hope it was okay that I wear my second most fashionable outfit, my teal “Cool Catsuit” and matching Skrunchie (see photo above).
But I ended up opting for something safer, shorts, and a blazer with heels. I couldn’t get over the looks I got in Santa Monica walking around in heels and shorts before noon. I should’ve worn the unitard…
Speaking of unitards, why did American Apparel all of sudden decide to sell “disco clothes”? There is a reason disco is dead. I’m pretty sure I saw the same pink nylon see-through button down in there that they made this girl throw out on What Not To Wear. Did Dov (what kinda name is that?) decide in the early 90s, you know what America needs? More spandex, pleather, and nylon, and partially pornographic pictures of quasi-attractive homemade models.
I’ll leave you with these inspiring lyrics from Chicks on Speed “Fashion Rules” enjoy:
Fashion is for fashion people
It’s hard to be cool if you don’t follow these
Fashion is for fashion people
Get out there now and break the rules
BRB slow dancing in a burning room.
I wish I could say this was true for me, but I have neither a boyfriend or John Mayer tickets. :(
Another post on Hello Giggles. Can I go back to camp now?
I’m fine. I promise.
Truth. Follow this blog. So funny.
Too Much Sex And The City…
Love this blog
It has recently been brought to my attention that my mother has been doing a lot of “praying.” And by “praying” I mean she’s been asking “Jesus” that I ”marry someone who is tall and is a hedge fund guy.” (source: my dad)
So when I came across this beautiful letter that Dr. Kelly Flanagan wrote his daughter about the kind of guy he hopes his little girl marries some day. I couldn’t help but think about my dad. And if my dad had written this letter, what would my Mom add that would inevitably make it borderline inappropriate. (as she does to most nice things).
Below is an excerpt from Dr. Flanagan’s letter in italics - with what I imagine my Mom would add. (It’s not hard to tell them apart..)
I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.
I DO care if YOU put your elbows on the table, Gabriella!!! I BOUGHT YOU TIFFANY’S TABLE MANNERS ! Did you read it? Don’t lie! Want me to send it to you? Do they have book stores in LA!!?!
I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.
Oh! He belongs to a golf club? What are you going to wear!?? Barney’s having a sale!
I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.
But seriously, DOES he have money? What does he do?!
I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.
Oh this one is nice! But I hope he’s tall. And works for a hedge fund. Really that’s what’s the most important. Hedge funds. I don’t even know what a hedge fund is! I just know it means he makes a lot of money.
I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.
My daughter was in an Obama video!!!!!!!
I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.
As long as he doesn’t look like a terrorist and his name doesn’t sound too foreign….
I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.
I don’t care what his religion is, as long as he believes in Jesus!!! :)
In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:
And that he has money….