Failed Stress Release

I've been really stressed out lately, so today I decided to have some fun. Because I find myself way too amusing and have the brain of an eight year old boy, I decided it would be a good idea to scare the crap out of my boyfriend by stealing his cellphone directly in front of him, pretending to walk out of his apartment building with it(he lives on the ground floor), and instead hide in the laundry room right next to the front door of the building only to pop out and scream when he walked by subsequently scaring the crap out of him.

I know I'm so romantic.
My boyfriend is too. Here's an excerpt of the love note he just chatted me on facebook: (note: this is real)

Best. couple.ever.

Anyways, here's what happened:

Everything is going according to plan. I steal my boyfriend's blackberry and run out the door pretending to run out of the apartment. I hear his apartment door open because he is pissed off that I took his cellphone.  I hear him say, "Raach?" checking to see if I'm still in the building. I hear his door shut and assume he has walked out and is going to walk past the laundry room outside to chase me down the street with his cellphone.  I'm hiding, adrenaline is rushing, I'm so excited to scare him. I hear footsteps. He is about to walk past me. I pop out of the laundry room and scream AHHH and then realize the person who I have just screamed at and scared is an 85 year old Quebecois man with a hearing aid. He is not amused. He yells things at me in french. I have no idea what he's saying  (even though I've lived in Montreal for four years and probably should) so to me it sounded like he was screaming "BAGUETTE MS. CLAVELLE MADEILINE FROMAGE CA VA BIEN LE CHAT EST SUR LE TABLE!!!!!!!" and I apologize profusely.

Anyways, I guess I learned a couple valuable lessons today: 

1) Don't hide in public laundry rooms.

2) Old people don't like to be scared.

Now as a result I have a crippling fear of old people. Like I'm scared to call my own grandmother right now because I keep having post traumatic stress flashbacks to that old french man screaming at me. I can just add this to my list of irrational fears which include:

1) Tiny women.

2) Dying in a greyhound bus crash while I'm on the toilet in the back. (They need to add seat belts to those toilets. For real.)

3)  Sharks in the bathtub even though they live in the ocean (although to be fair when I was a kid my parents thought it would be funny to tell me sharks could come up from the drain and lived in NYC sewers.)

4) Vaginas. (I'm even scared of my own. They look like aliens or something.)

5) People figuring out that I facebook stalk them all the time. (Don't judge me. You do it too.)

Let me know if you share any of the same fears as me. We can bond about it.

xoxo,

Clown Girl

(Studying Gear)

Happy Halloween! Can I borrow your kid?

Dear Friends on Facebook who have pictures of their babies as profile pictures instead of pictures of themselves,

Do you think anyone can lend me their small child for the night? I'm thinking a two, three, or six year old. They have to be able to walk.  I'm not trying to be creepy or anything-but I need one for Halloween. No-don't worry it's not for my costume, I need one so that I can go trick or treating. (Although it would be kinda cool to dress up as Willy Wonka and have your child dress up as an Oompa Loompa. That's not weird, right? Sh. We'll talk about it later.)

I just miss trick or treating, okay? I miss not being pressured to come up with a costume that's either slutty or clever and topical, and I miss not having the pressure to drink so many skittle flavored vodka shots that I puke into my boyfriend's trash can or my roommates purse.

Look-it probably works out for you too. I mean you're probably sick of your kid anyways right? I know I would be. All I'm saying is-FREE BABYSITING. All in exchange for your child, and a measly reasonable percentage of his or her candy.  Don't worry, I wont take all of their candy. But at least 70 to 80 %.  Mostly chocolate. And I'm super responsible. You can check my credentials and everything. I have all my shots. I wont take your kid to a bar or anything like that. They can have coffee at that age though, right? It'll probably be a late night.


    
I would have one of my own, but I'm really not down for the whole getting fat for 9 months, having it come out between my legs, (I only want things going up there, not out) and then having to take care of it for the rest of my life deal.  I just want one for this one night.
I mean isn't that why people have children? To use them as Halloween slaves?

Anyways,
let me know what you think.
Happy Halloween!
xo,
Your Child's Auntie Clown Girl

 I'm all dressed and ready to go as non slutty Harry Potter. No really-I'm even wearing pants.  That's big people.

Please Don't Kill Each Other During Hurricane Sandy

Okay, I'm getting pretty concerned with how serious the Hurricane Sandy warnings are getting on the news. I'm originally from New York City but I don't live there anymore and it's strangely enough times like these when I miss it the most.   

I love you New York, and I hope that everyone stays safe, warm, and dry and that the subways don't flood so that you are still a functioning city afterwards. I know that this hurricane must be a really big deal because all of your Starbucks locations are closed. I don't know how all of you are going to live for the next 48 hours. I will pray for you.

I find that New Yorkers are particularly bad at handling natural disasters. Maybe it's because when they happen we're used to being on the go and end up confined to our small apartments with our families and only our facebook statuses to express ourselves with until the power goes out. Maybe it's because most of us use our ovens for extra storage space and don't really know that when the news tells us to buy non-perishable items, they don't mean beer, wine, gum, and cheese nips. In a city that's used to having everything it needs at all hours of the night, it's really hard to not panic when Duane Reade, the corner deli, or CVS closes. (Seriously since moving from the city I've really missed being able to go downstairs to the corner at two AM to buy razors, a sandwich, condoms, marshmallows, mascara, a greeting card, and dog food.)

                      

                                                (Hurricane Essentials)

I know right now people there are freaking out about lack of hurricane supplies because yesterday my sister J. almost got clubbed to death by a 35 year-old wielding a can of chickpeas trying to buy the last box of quinoa at the union square Whole Foods. NO ORGANIC HEALTH FOOD FOR THREE DAYS AHHH THE HORROR.

If any of you need to do Yoga though, don't panic-I did just get an email from a Yoga studio telling me that even though the storm was on, they were open. So don't worry you can all still stay fit and have toned asses even at a time like this! I'm talking to you Lulu Lemon Squad! So hurry hurry hurry to the 9 PM class!

All that being said, I am really worried about my family's own safety. But it's not because of the hurricane (even though they live along the East River) but actually because they're all trapped in a small apartment together. We have three rooms (a set up I'm sure fellow New York families are familiar with) so each of them have picked one of these rooms to spend waiting out the storm in. This set up goes as follows:

1. My mom's in the living room on the main desk top computer sending me emails of pictures of cute cats and videos about pygmy goats, (http://animal.discovery.com/tv-shows/animal-planet-presents/videos/pets-101-pygmy-goats.htm) along with some angry email rants about how much my dad and sister are pissing her off. She also is enjoying posting things on my facebook not realizing that my wall is in fact, not a message and that everyone can see what she is writing.
   
   
2. J. is in the bedroom sending me emails about how much our parents suck from her laptop along with a commentary about the season of 90210 she's watching and some pictures of fashion items she's pinning to Pintrest and:

3. Dad's in his office (the bathroom) sending me articles about recent murders that have happened in Montreal (where I live) from his i-phone along with some advice on how to protect myself from identity theft and genocide.

They've all been really really good about not getting into a fight so far, but I still remember Hurricane Irene which I was home for because it was in the summer of 2011.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a rainy summer day and everyone in the city was flipping out because Starbucks and Duane Reade were closed. I was amongst these people. My sister and I had a lot of pent up energy and were bored so we decided to dress up fancy and watch a movie on Netflix, but ended up getting into a fist fight about whether to watch Jackass or Casa Blanca. If you know both of us, you can probably guess who wanted to watch what. (Hint: She's the classy one).

So here's a progression of that fight :

Note the coffee cups we're clutching on to for dear life.

                                                               

My mom had two bottles of wine in the fridge so she and I decided to drink them both. We are both not good drunks (Read: Ability to get wasted after a single glass of wine, or check out this blog post about one of my previous drunken experiences: http://xoxoclowngirl.blogspot.ca/2011/09/what-is-it-about-alcohol-that-makes-bad.html ) and ended up prank calling the chinese food restaurant about 19 times because that was one of the only things open. We were lucky and our power didn't go out even though the news stations had said that it was a possibility, so we got to watch a family movie together and I somehow ended up in the corner hysterically drunk crying because the dog in My Dog Skip gets hit in the head with a shovel.

My dad then told me to “Shut the fuck up” because he was trying to watch the movie which reminded me of child hood nostalgia and that time I cried because I was getting on a bus to go to camp and he told me to “Shut the fuck up" and handed me a box of tampons, a flashlight, and some batteries which in his head was all an eight year girl needed to get sent away from home for the first time.

My family then consumed about two pounds of gummy bears (another necessesary New Yorker hurricane non-perishable) and had a HUGE fight about politics and whether or not Lindsey Lohan was a good actress which ended in our favorite game “WHO CAN SCREAM THE LOUDEST?” and then the next day I woke up on my couch with our poodle on my head and no pants on only to find out that Hurricane Irene basically skipped Manhattan entirely.

If we didn't kill each other through the last Hurricane, I'm pretty sure all three of them will be okay throughout this one-even without Starbucks.

Anyways, I hope everyone stays safe in Hurricane Sandy (Seriously, Sandy sounds like a bitch) and good luck waiting out the storm! I miss you New York!
Xoxo,

Clown Girl

My Modeling Portfolio

Hi friends,
I haven't posted anything for awhile but that's mostly because I've been working on big big things for the new career I decided I would do this week since I like to change career tracks every so often. I like to call these career switches my last year in college life crisis.

 Anyways this week I'm: MODELING!


  new headshots...no big deal.

No Seriously, I'm a model now. Stop laughing. Anyone can be a model these days after all, you just need a facebook account and a 2,000 dollar hipster camera. Or photobooth with special effects-you know whatever floats your boat.

As a result of my new career path, I've decided to apply to the newest season of America's Next Top Model. Which brings me to my next question: Is that still going on? I'm not sure. If it is, it's probably in season 24 and I'm going to be on it.

So WATCH OUT TYRA! I'm FIERCE! RARRR.

Sorry got a little riled up- Check out some of my portfolio:


This is from my edgy shoot: I call it "Drank A Bottle of Wine and Tried to Walk Down the Stairs"

Here's one that I did in Italy on a shoot for Vogue:

I don't know about any of the rest of you models out there, but I find it pretty hard to be a model with very little fashion sense. Not having a fashion sense as a girl sucks. Seriously, can I buy one somewhere?

My high school fashion career basically consisted of sweatpants and glasses along with the occasional too tight pair of pants that made me look fat. Sometimes I'd go for the tight shorts option and forget to shave my legs. This led to some really nasty comments from my best friend at the time that crushed me as a sixteen year old. I didn't eat for like a whole hour.  Life was so hard.

Anyways- I'd say my peak-like-when I really started coming into my own was when senior year I wore crazy colored tights.  I was the neon queen. In retrospect I probably did it because then people would just consider me quirky and instead of saying that I lacked style would just say that I had my very own.  I'm not talking American Apparell "oooh this is trendy right now! Let's wear orange pants today!" crazy colors, I am talking bat shit crazy "WOW she's wearing green and red and purple in the same outfit with gold shoes and blue sea horse earrings!! How original!!" Well I'm not sure if it was really that original, it mostly came from that fact that I'm creative and relatively color blind.

Anyways, the crazy tights gig worked for awhile, but when I tried to continue it in college it didn't bode so well since I ended up in a University full of hot biddies and hipsters.  All I was left with was being an 18 year old with a bunch of crazy colored tights 12 year olds buy from Claire's, and a shit ton of really good Halloween costume options.

No one told me I wasn't allowed to wear fuzzy blue leggings to the club okay?

This required a bit of a wardrobe reform, but it's okay I've worked it out now. I either :
A) Call my exceedingly much more fashionable and younger sister J so she can tell me what to wear and give me rules and guidelines for the outfit of the day/evening. For Example,
         Actual J Rules:
  " sweatpants are for studying alone in your apartment....they make your ass look big and are not to be worn in public." (I have to admit I cheat on this rule a lot. Probably 6 out of 7 days a week.

"No, a striped top and lacey black see through tights with a flower patterns on them do not go together!" (How can someone be THIS detail oriented? It would have taken me hours to notice all those things about the outfit)

"You are a  WINTER and you need to stop wearing magenta and yellow!" (What does being a winter mean? Does it mean I'm a frigid bitch? Does it mean always wear a jacket even in summer? Does it mean I'm COOL???)

   "no, you can't wear that dress because your boobs are out and you're going to look slutty when you meet your boyfriends parents for the first time. That is a dress that you can wear to the club or when you're trying to get laid.' (Actually she packed me outfits for the whole week I stayed with them. Like full on outfits with instructions on a piece of paper in case I forgot how to match colors which came very much in handy because of course I did)

   "Okay seriously if you ever wear that skirt again I will come to Montreal and kill you. It cuts you in half! (I don't understand this. I still feel like a whole entire person wearing it.)" 


My other options:

B) Look into four mirrors and parade around my house whining about being fat and ugly until my roommate B. tells me I look good.

C) Go to my boyfriends apartment, look into four mirrors and parade around his house whining about being fat and ugly until my boyfriend C. tells me I look good. If he doesn't I cry for what appears to be no reason and throw assorted candy wrappers I find in my coat pocket at him. It's okay...blame the crazy on the PMS. (like every day of the month. Seriously it's like the one advantage of having a vagina.)

--
I wonder if any celebrities or models have a really really terrible sense of fashion. Like do you think Heidi Klum ever forgets to tie her shoes or brush her hair?  I'm sure she did one of those things at least once.

You know what-I think there's hope. I really do think I can be a successful model with a booming career with just about zero fashion sense. And you know what? Maybe one day I'll even get a stylist who's not a forced sister or roommate or boyfriend. Just maybe.

 Reach for the stars kids...reach... for the stars.
xoxo,
Clown Girl

The Vatican is in Florence...right?

  

Buon Giorno! Ciao! Come Stai?

Eat, Pee, Love: Chapter 2:

I’ve spent approximately two months in Italy studying abroad and participating in an internship.  Lots of travel/study abroad blogs and websites provide accounts of what people are doing or what to do when you’re abroad, but I’m going to go ahead and say that no one actually gives a shit about travel blogs or what you ate for lunch.  Let’s be serious, our lives have all been going on while you’ve been away and no one really cares about what you've been doing without us for the whole semester.  I’m also going to go ahead and say that those advice sites don’t really tell you the real nitty gritty facts about going abroad if you’re a broke ass female student.

In light of this, I’ve decided to provide a couple of real life study abroad in Italy tips for all of you classy ladies out there. A gift from me to you, hope this helps: 

*Disclaimer: CG is of Italian heritage, speaks Italian fluently, and is somewhat of a jerk in her every day life. If you’re offended by the following blog post, I’m probably not friends with you.

----

1    1)  Learn how to say tampon in the language of the country you’re going to, so that you don’t have to yell at the guy at the pharmacy counter “Il tampono!? Le tampone?! El tampona??????!!!!!?” (word to the wise: in Italy Duane Reade, CVS, Rite Aid, Pharmaprix, and Walgreens do not exist so don’t expect to walk into a Pharmacia and find a pack of gummi bears or pretzels, Ain’t happening.)

--

Literally the greatest thing I've found in this country so far: HELLO KITTY PADS!!!!!! Who wants me to bring some home??

                                                                    -- 

2    2) Don’t wear tank tops or you’ll get hit on. Don’t wear skirts cause you’ll get hit on. Don’t wear pants cause you’ll get hit on. Don’t wear sunglasses cause you’ll get hit on. Don’t wear hats cause you’ll get hit on. Don’t wear…..

                                                                   -- 

3   3)   Italian men don’t take no for an answer. No does not mean no here. No means “Principessa, I speak-a-the English, per favore, lets-a- make-a- the sex?”

No Mario, I don’t want to make-a- the sex with you.  Go find your brother Luigi and Princess Peach and that mushroom guy and go back to your Party or Kart. Also after being here for this long I bet Princess Peach’s peach is pretty damn hairy, cause they don’t really wax or use razors here on any part of their body. It’s awesome I haven’t shaved my legs in six weeks and I never want to come home.

----

4    4) Italian Sausage isn’t kosher.  Capisce? Their hotdogs are still inside the buns.  Ain’t a ton of brisses in Italy ya get what I’m saying? This is the land of pizza and the Pope. Even if you don’t sleep with any of the men, you’ll probably catch a glimpse of an uncircumsized penis or five cause European men love to let their junk hang out no matter what age or size they may be. Si signore, I went to the beach for the day and I wanted to see your itsby bitsy wiener hang out of an itsby bitsy speedo. That’s exactly the kind of vision I was hoping for today.

                                       I even wrote a song about it:
                  

                         To the tune of the "Itsy Bitsy Spider":

                          The itsby bitsy weiner hung out of the speedo’s side,

                          The man was eighty six and I was horrified,

                          He tucked it back in and everything was fine,

                      But I’m scarred for life and that should be a crime.

                                                          ----

     5) If you go to Southern Italy, a “Hopping bar” that all the kids go to is a café with three bar stools, Bacardi breezers, and some fourteen year olds who will ask if they can touch your boobs.

                                                            ----

    6)  Eat everything Italians put in front of you or you’ll get yelled at but don’t get fat if you’re a girl cause you’ll get yelled at.

                                                            ---

     7) Sarcasm isn’t really a thing here. Wait let me correct myself -MEN can be as sarcastic and crude as they want to, but if you’re a woman, as soon as you open your mouth and say something back they shrink back in terror and ask how your boyfriend deals with you.  My boyfriend deals with me fine, he just knows to not talk to me before noon because any statement he says will probably be responded to with a grunt and a swear word or three.

                                                                ----

       8)  You’ll probably be asked “Sei Single” or “Siete Single?” a lot. People are obsessed with having a significant other here and I’m all set once they here that I have a boyfriend, but my roommate Mace is single, and because she’s twenty-one with no man they all think she has a birth defect, is slightly mentally retarded, or a lesbian. (None of which she is).

                                                                   ---- 

9)    Make sure you pack your own Diet Coke in your luggage. Diet Coke isn’t a thing here. And I don’t know why, but no one in the world seems to understand that coke zero isn’t the same thing. This is a BIG pet peeve of mine.  Coke zero and diet coke are NOT the same thing. Any self-respecting woman who pretends that they are on a diet on a regular basis knows this. 

                                                                                  This:

Does not equal this:

(This is what runs through my veins instead of blood). 

                                Diet Pepsi also is not the same thing as Diet Coke.

                 If I order a Diet Coke I want a Diet Coke and not a Coke Zero or a Diet Pepsi.  

I     I think I need to introduce that as part of my contribution to cultural diffusion kind of like Marco Polo did when he went to China and brought back Spaghetti. Look at me I’m so cultured.

  

                XoXo,

             Clown Girl

London Bridge is Falling Down and So Are My Pants

Ahoy Maties (I think that’s British, or at least British pirate or something) from London! I’m here with Spiels and we have had a lot of exciting things happen to us in the last few days. We’re on a journey through Europe so that I can gather information for my new book: Eat, Pee, Love. It’s all about finding yourself after a messy divorce and peeing in public restrooms.Julia Roberts is set to star in the movie. For a sneak preview, check out my chapter entitled:


 “2 Idiots Abroad”

Now Spiels and I arrived in London to stay in a lovely home of people we met on the internet through a couch surfing website. This was a great idea, except being from New York City we are so stubborn that we don’t like to ask directions to places. We decided to take the tube right from the airport to prove that we were city girls who could navigate London expertly. When we got on the tube, the announcer said “this is a Piccadilly bound line to “Cockfosters.” Well being incredibly jetlagged and incredibly immature, we couldn’t stop laughing. Have you ever heard a British person say the word Cock? Cause it’s hilarious. Go youtube it right now or check out British porn or something. After getting dirty looks from everyone around us who were probably thinking something along the lines of “Bloody retard Americans. Jolly ho chaps” we got off at our stop and got lost. When I imagined myself in London it went something along the lines of this: I go to the flap we’ve rented-oops I mean flat-and change my clothes into a beautiful gown I’ve bought especially for London.Then I’m outside Buckinham palace and I meet the love of my life Harry Potter. We gallavant off to do magical wizardry things and he dumps Ginny Weasley for me. Then since he is a national hero we go have tea with the Queen and King Arthur or Phillip or whatever his name is. Instead upon arrival I got yelled at by a homeless man. He was very angry. When he asked me a question I pretended I didn’t speak english. I said “non ho capito” (I didn’t understand in italian) and he then told me to “go back to China where I came from." I felt at home immediately. Yes, London’s homeless people had charmed me, and I was immediately in love with a new place and ready for adventure! After dropping all of our stuff off at the flat, we attempted to make coffee on our lovely hosts espresso machine. We thought we could figure out but it ended up with the machine going out of control and me dumping it upside down not over a sink (I’m smart) but don’t worry we cleaned it up and I don’t think they know. We had coffee and tea at the exotic starbucks to get our batteries recharged and then headed out to explore the city. I walked into a bunch of train platform and embarassed Spiels, but none were platform 9 ¾. I then tried to climb a lion at Trafalgar Square. I knocked over two small children trying to get to the top but to no avail. We then started our lovely travel diet called Economexia. Now Economexia is all the rage in Europe nowadays, I mean I would know I’ve been abroad for like a whole day now so clearly I’m an expert on everything like all of you lovely people who’ve been abroad one semester. I love football. No-no, I don’t mean American football, you may know it as soccer but it’s not called that. Also now I say cool words like cheers and only drink espresso. I went to see this art exhibit but I forget what it’s called. I’m like so cultured. See? Expert. Economexia is a diet when you don’t eat food in order to conserve money and fit into your bikini for summer. It can be done anywhere in the world really. Economexia diet plan: Breakfast: cereal you buy from a store Lunch: a piece of candy Dinner:belly button lint? We’re going to look FABU in no time. Then, the following morning I went to Stonehenge. It was incredibly breathtaking. I began to imagine how amazing it was that I was standing in a spot that was sacred to former civilizations. Even though the tour guide said that no one really knows what the stones are or how they got there, I think he’s just stupid. Clearly you can recognize them from that episode of the Flinstones where Fred is cooking dinosaur burgers on giant stones. DUHHHH. Obvi Stonehenge was a prehistoric restaurant. Archeological case closed. I’m a genius. See, cartoons really did teach me something! I will be sure to keep you updated with more of my pretentious travel diary throughout the summer.


 Xoxo,

Clown Girl

Part of Your World or Something

All I've ever wanted to be for my entire life was a Disney Princess. I grew up wanting to be The Little Mermaid, but at a certain point realized that I didn't have red hair or a tail so I switched to wanting to be Belle. Regardless, for the first couple years of my life when anyone would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I responded with either “A cat” or “The Little Mermaid”. My parents were not proud. I guess they figured I would grow out of it at some point, but when I failed to realize that I could not in fact be the Little Mermaid or a cat, their solution was to tell me that in order to become a Disney Princess, one needed a law or a medical degree. This prompted a slew of questions.

--

“But what does Ariel do?”
“Ariel is a lawyer at Cravath, Swaine, & Moore. She works in a HUGE office in the middle of Manhattan for A LOT of money.”
“Did she take Flounder and Sebastian with her?”
“yes. They live in a bowl on her desk.”

“But What does Belle do?”

“Belle is a publisher for Random House. She works midtown and is married to the Beast. They have a huge townhouse on the Upper East side.”

“Did they take all the servants with them too?”
“yes. You can see Mrs. Potts she takes their poodles out for walks in central park.”

“What about Sleeping Beauty?”
“Sleeping Beauty is a doctor at Sloan Kettering. She helps people with cancer. All the princesses just went to the fundraiser she held last weekend. ”

“oh.”

“Does Cinderella have a job too?”
“She works at Goldman Sachs”
“What's that?”
“It's a place where princesses work. Maybe you'll work there some day!”

–

So after hearing this I decided I was most DEFINITELY going to college.

Then when I was eight years old a girl named Julie told me that there weren't any Jewish disney princesses so I couldn't be one. So I did the rational thing and bit her.

I vowed right then and there to be the first genuine Jewish disney Princess.

I still have my original sketches of her (I wasn't(still am not) a good artist but check these out:)

RIGHT. RIGHT. I'm so damn talented.

Her name is Jappy. Twenty points for whoever gets that joke.

For awhile after that I switched to wanting to be Harry Potter. I even mailed myself a letter when I was ten from Hogwarts in the hopes that I could trick my parents to sending me to London. I was SURE that when I got there everyone would figure out that I was a witch and stick me in Hogwarts anyway. PSH who needs logistics?

After a number of years, I decided to semi grow up and switched to telling people that I wanted to be a marine biologist.

(I don't know I'd just seen Flipper and Free Willy and something inside of me clicked. But my parents were happy with the whole science thing.)

So I went to a science high school.

Where I almost flunked biology.

THEN I pretty much failed math.

That's when I realized that I'd had it wrong all along. I didn't want to be a marine biologist or a princess with a medial degree or harry potter. What I wanted to be was an ACTRESS who could be any of those things. Even a cat.

Childhood identity crisis problem solved. Now I can be anything that I want.

Watch out Disney fans, Jappy the Jewish Princess is coming your way.

Xoxo,

Clown Girl

A Serious Discussion on Childhood Obesity in America

Political Commentary from the one and only Clown Girl

Clown Girl's Presidential Platform for the 2012 Election

 *please send your donations to the Clowngirl campaign. If elected, we hope to raise money to buy the starving undergraduate students of the world alcohol and save the whales. 

Finals Survival Guide

 FINALS: EEEK! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? YOU HAVEN'T GONE TO CLASS OR LISTENED TO YOUR LECTURES OR TAKEN YOUR TEXT BOOK OUT OF THE PLASTIC!!! HOW EVER ARE YOU GOING TO PASS ALL OF YOUR CLASSES??!! 

Chill out. I got you guys. Just follow my comprehensive guide, and you'll be golden.

Step 1: Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy. Or Harry Potter, or Hillary Clinton-whatever figure will give you a boost of confidence in the morning. Try to wake up early, or at least set your alarm for 7 AM and then hit snooze so it feels like you're being really productive when you sleep for two more hours.

Step 2: Wake up for real, and go for a run at the gym to get your creative juices flowing so you can focus on properly studying. Try to find your sports bra and put on shorts. Once those are on sit on your bed so you can put your sneakers on. Fall back asleep.

Step 3: Wake up again for real, and try to go out the door but OOPS you forgot your iphone and you can't go running without it since you need music-and you really haven't eaten since yesterday so open the fridge and try to find breakfast. Realize you haven't gone grocery shopping in 3 weeks. Well you can't go running without food and you can't get food without going grocery shopping. Guess you're gonna have to go shopping.

Step 4: on the way to the grocery store, run into an old friend. Realize you should have coffee together. Decide to do it that instant. Talk about how STRESSED you both are with the end of the semester. When you finish, go back home and agree that you will go out together later when you are done studying.

Step 5: SHIT you forgot to go running and buy groceries. Okay well time for the library. Log onto a library computer. Go on facebook for like 4 hours. You're like really really stressed for your final Monday, so you should study. But you know what- you're just so stressed out from studying, take a break.

Step 6: You can't study without another coffee. Go buy coffee. You see that the coffee shop has muffins. Well, you didn't really go to the gym but you'll go tomorrow so buy a muffin with your coffee. Go back to the library. Check out your phone. You're friend texted you to come over and watch the first three seasons of 90210. Hmm...okay. You can probably do work at the same time.

Step 7:  You and your friend make dinner together because you really only ate a muffin and coffee today and you did so much work and kind of went to the gym (or at least put your sports bra on) so you deserve a break.  

Step 8: SO STRESSED OUT. Make sure to complain to your friend about how stressed out you are. List all your finals in order multiple times, and compete with each other to see who is more stressed out or who is the most fucked out of the two of you. FINAL MONDAY AHHHHH. FREAK OUTTTT. THREATEN TO KILL YOURSELF. THIS IS SO HARD. Shove twizzlers in your mouth. Relax. It's okay you'll go to the gym tomorrow. Feel guilty cause you're complaining and people in Africa don't have water and stuff.

Step 8: Wake up the next morning on your friend's couch, feeling like P Diddy. Eat chocolate easter bunny lying around house. It's okay..you're going to go to the gym as soon as you find your sports bra...

-

yeah right.

D is for Diet!

I really really like sugar. I've been battling this issue for years. I'm constantly on the “I'm moving to LA in a year so I have to lose ten pounds ooh let me cram this piece of pizza into my mouth” diet. Ideally, I would love to have the metabolism to eat a box of cookies a day.  My addiction to junk food is hard times. Whenever I go grocery shopping, I almost ALMOST always make it out without buying crap food, but then I think to myself “what if I just walked down the aisle and looked at the candy?”. This is usually followed by an internal argument that goes a little something like this:

--

“you don't need the skittles, skittle are 210 calories per little bag and this giant bag has 8 servings. That's a lot of calories that you don't need.”

“yes. Yes- you DO need the skittles. You wont eat them all in one go. You wont!”

“no. no. don't buy them! Skittles will just end up on your fat ass tomorrow morning.”

“yes. Yes! Buy the skittles DOOO itt. You deserve skittles.”

“NO. BAD. BAD. WHY ARE YOU REACHING FOR THE SKITTLES. STOP REACHING FOR THE SKITTLES!”

“YES YES! Get the skittles! It's fine if you promise you wont eat them all in one go! That big bag of skittles will last you like a week!”

Yeah that's a lie. Usually they're gone within fifteen seconds of buying them, because I eat them on the way home.

Look-at least skittles are something normal to eat on the street on the way home from the grocery store. I've done worse. One time I managed to eat pita and dip it in hummus. I'm an expert multi-tasker.

I think I reached a new all time low the other day when I ate ice cream out of a carton while walking home.

WHAT IS UP WITH MY LACK OF SELF CONTROL AND WHY DO I LOVE SUGAR SO MUCH?

I know that eventually if I want to have children I need to get a handle on my shitty food habits. Or I need to find a husband who can deal with my crippling addiction to sugar. If I end up with a health food nut, I'll have to divorce him on the grounds of not being allowed to hide chocolate in my socks. WHAT? I get hungry in the middle of the night, okay?

No but seriously, I need to do something because I can see my future unfolding something like this:

–

Whatever dude is dumb enough to marry me:

 “kids, today we're going to talk about healthy eating. We should always try and eat as many vegetables as possible. We don't drink soda in our house because it's bad for you and it makes you hyper. We should also only eat sweets sometimes. Wait a second..where's your mother?

Four year Old Child:

“Mommy's hiding from you on the toilet with a bottle of sprite eating a giant cupcake. She didn't want to share.”

–

When you're a broke ass college student, it's hard to find success with diets like Slim Fast or South Beach. Buying shakes and bars is expensive, and the cabbage soup diet makes your house smell like shit. In light of this, I've decided to develop a cheap, easy, (and fun!) CG Diet Cleanse Plan! It's all being compiled into a book, and it can be all yours for just twenty easy payments of $19.99!!!!

Here's an excerpt for all you lovely lovely people out there!

-Cut out pictures of really really hot girls and tape them to your fridge. The best girls to tape to the fridge are pictures of models from the Victoria's Secret Catalogue.
(Side note: What is Victoria's Secret? Do you think it's that she's really really fat? Or maybe she's a spy? Everyone knows that hot underpants turns dudes on, I mean it's not exactly a secret, so it's for sure not that the underwear is the secret. Plus if the underwear WAS the secret, then no one would be able to buy it because...it'd be a secret. )
Back to the cleanse:
Anyways the purpose of putting the models on the fridge is so that every time you go to the fridge some hot bitch is leering right back at you going, “HAHAHA I AM WAY MORE ATTRACTIVE THAN YOU. DONT EAT THE CAKE.”

IF YOU DONT EAT  CAKE YOU CAN LOOK JUST LIKE ME!!

-Take the money that you would spend on junk, and put it in a jar. Even if it's just like two bucks at a time, eventually you can go shopping for clothes with it. Then instead of going up a whole dress size from shoveling snickers bars into your mouth because you felt like you were going to die alone one night, you can BUY A BRAND NEW DRESS FROM AMERICAN APPARELL. YAYYY.

-Duct tape your mouth shut. If you duct tape it shut NO FOOD CAN GET IN. DUHHHH.

GOLDEN!
-Dieting is tricky, and some junk food escape artists (ie. me) still manage to eat with a duct taped mouth. To save yourself from yourself, duct tape your hands together because everyone knows people without hands can't eat.

-If duct taping your hands together doesn't work, then a pretty good solution is putting yourself in a straight jacket or duct taping yourself to the ceiling. HA. TRY TO EAT SNICKERS BARS NOW BITCH.

Now I've just gotta get a celebrity to endorse it.

The CG Diet Cleanse! Endorsed by Kim Kardashian and that fat puppet from sesame street!

                                  D is for Diet!

Satisfaction guaranteed.

Xoxo,

Clown Girl

I'm an Ass Man Myself......

 Over the holidays I went on this amazing amazing trip to Israel and happened to spend New Years in Jerusalem, which some consider to be one of the holiest cities on the planet.  One might ask, "What does one do in the holiest city on New Years Eve?"  Sing songs and hold hands? Pray? Drum circle? The answer my friend, is  to get unbelievably, inappropriately hammered.

                               
Getting wasted in Jerusalem is definitely something all religious people (like me) should do at least once in their lifetime. Somehow figuring out how to pee in the street when you don't have a penis to help you aim is much more rewarding there than it ever is anywhere else. Not that I would know or anything.

Right before midnight the streets were getting really crowded and  I ended up losing all of my friends in the crowd. And by losing all my friends, I mean that in my drunken state I walked away from all of my friends.  Sometimes when I'm drunk I like to play "Where's Waldo" with my buds but then realize I'm not wearing red stripes or in a children's book. Usually when I realize this it's after forty five minutes and I've already made out with a lamppost. Thanks Jack Daniels!

Oh wow, he's so tall and hot.  He really turns me on.

On that particular lovely evening, as  I was rejecting other uglier shorter lampposts (I got high lamppost standards) and trying to find friends,  tons of men started grabbing my ass as I walked through the crowd. Like this one dude would grab it, and then I'd walk away, and some other dude would grab it, and then I'd walk away, and then SOMEONE ELSE would grab it. I don't think my ass has ever gotten that much attention in it's life. I'll make sure to ask it later.  But anyways, twenty minutes into this I realize the single greatest thing ever.  ASS GRABBING IS TOTALLY SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE IN ISRAEL. YES YES YES!



Don't ever tell me it's okay to grab your butt cause I'll do it all the time.  I love butts. I love ass grabbing. HUGE fan of ass-grab tag. Call me, we can play it later, it's very intricate and there's teams involved so we need enough people. Invite your friends. I'll make a facebook event.



I subsequently went on a mini ass-grabbing RAMPAGE. And when I say rampage I mean I ran through the street of Jerusalem grabbing juicy butts. Israeli men have great butts, (my friend TR and I dedicated a tumblr to this, check it out, maybe you're on it, it rivals girlsinyogapants.com) and I must have grabbed some of the finest asses of all time.


Anyways, gonna go grab some people's butts on campus now. Hope I don't get arrested!

See you all next year in Jerusalem,  when we will conduct ourselves as appropriately as possible!
xoxo,
Clown Girl

Crazy For Cosmo

Cosmopolitan is every girl's guilty pleasure. Most of us spend six bucks a month on it in the hopes that we will better our inner girly gurus (I don't know what this is. I read it in Cosmo and I'm trying to expand my girly vocabulary) and sexify our female selves.

Cosmo also has a section for men, but I'm pretty sure they don't read it because the cover of the magazine is normally some shade of pink, there's pictures of dresses in it, and if boys followed all the sex and boyfriend tips the world would be a much more unbalanced scarier place.

I've never been considered much of a girly girl, but I read Cosmo which is weird because I don't usually buy magazines or newspapers.  Sometimes I learn the news I don't learn from Twitter by reading my roommate's Economist on the toilet and I guess I learn about the latest fashions by mostly reading my other roommates Vogue on the toilet- but for Cosmo I'll make an exception. Sometimes I find it difficult to get through because it gives me tips on how to properly coordinate my nail polish and paint the boy I like a picture of a pretty pony (boring), but for the most part, the six bucks I pay a month provides me with ten minutes of endless entertainment and a lot of ads for kotex.

 Cosmo also provides other enlightening facts, including but not limited to how Angelina Jolie stole  Brad Pitt, how to effectively online shop while in class, and how to be a "smart" "confident woman" (anyone else notice that this article is always placed next to the ads for push up bras?)


There's also a fitness section which tells me how to get 6 pack abs in 3 weeks and how to stop eating cupcakes but let's be real for a second, that's not happening to me anytime soon cause of how much I love food. Seriously, food I want to marry you.

mmmmmm....

Okay anyways, love for cupcakes aside, one of my favorite things about Cosmo is that it provides endless sex tips every month.

A couple of words on these:

A) I'm pretty sure they're the same in every copy worded slightly differently. Basically all the tips can be shortened to "BLOW HIM AND BANG HIM" but since it's a woman's magazine, this is articulated as:  "Gently place the tip of his penis into your mouth and make your way down the shaft. Think about the sun and the moon, and then follow this with intercourse."

B) Also,  I can see the tip below going very very wrong for me:
"Tie two or three knots in a nylon stocking, and gently wrap it (don’t tie it) around the base of his penis so it’s snug but still has some give."

And then what? Do a puppet show with the nylon? Put the nylon over your head and pretend to rob a bank? Wear the nylon and go out dancing?


C) I always forget all of them in bed anyway. It's a lot to remember.

D) Another one I'd screw up:

 "Make a playlist of sultry songs, and set it to shuffle during Sex. Change up your pace and mood to match each new tune." WHO HAS THE TIME FOR THIS? Yes cosmo, this is exactly what I want to think about all day, whether or not "Who Let the Dog's Out" is appropriately sultry to play during doggy style.

Anyways, I've decided to embark on a new project where I will create my own women's magazine for socially awkward women on the go. I'll be selling ad space in there for food products, nerf guns, beer,  and anyone who can invent a comfortable bra that still makes your boobs look good.

I've been playing with a couple of titles, one of them is "The Socially Awkward Turtlette" and the other is "Cosmo for Crazies."

Sample Articles:

How To Get a Boy to Notice You Like Them if You Aren't a Cute Sorority Girl And Enjoy Eating Baked Goods More Than Baking Baked Goods:

1) Don't look at them in the eye. Ever. When you do stare for way too long accidently.

2) Run away from wherever they are. DO NOT speak to them when you are sober unless it's something really off color and overtly sexual by accident.

3) When you get drunk around them, get really nervous and cram as much as possible into a sentence and definitely talk at them as fast as possible, even if what you're saying makes no sense.

4) When they touch you, say one word in a monotone voice and walk away.

5) Insult them in a mean sarcastic way. This will get the point across that you want to sleep with them.

6) When they stand next to you, get totally rigid and don't say anything for fifteen minutes. Eventually squeak, then run away.

7)It's hot to be clumsy. Own it. Walk into shit. Fall off of crap. Do it. Boys love it. If you bleed that's even hotter. Remember to carry around bandaids along with your condom stash!

8)  When they ask you what your name is, take a really long time to come up with the perfect answer. It's a hard question, so make sure you think it through.

 9) Do the white girl bounce to dubstep.

10) When you forget to wear underpants or don't because you haven't done laundry for awhile, pretend it's for sexy reasons.
--

How to Trick Yourself into Thinking That You Are On a Diet When You Aren't




1) The night before, steam a ton of spinach and then pack it in your bag to take to school. Once you are at school, buy a ton of candy and eat that for lunch. As long as you are carrying the steamed spinach around  in your purse all day,  you're on a diet.

2) If you eat everyone else's food, it doesn't count as calories. If you didn't buy it and you ate it, it wasn't real. So remember to eat off of everyone else's plate.

3) When you grocery shop, only buy foods with labels that say "organic" and "glucose free" and "Contains Vitamin C".
--


How To Stalk Your Ex Boyfriend on Facebook and Trash Talk The Girl He's Dating With Your Girlfriends:
It's Friday night and you have nothing better to do than stalk your ex boyfriend with a group of your best girls. You didn't care about him until you found out he was sleeping with someone new but now the most important thing on your to do list is to find out if she's better than you at life.  Ew does the new girl work for the humane society? That means she's an actual good person. Well, sucks for you. I hope a dog bites her hand off. Make sure your girlfriends are really supportive and say things like "it's fine she's fatter than you anyways"  and "her hair is really oily so whatever you're prettier."
--

How to Sleep till Fifteen Minutes Before Your First Class and Then Roll Out of Bed and Be Ready to Go: 

1) Shower the night before.
2) Try and Remember to Brush Your Teeth
3) Don't try to put on makeup, because you will probably end up with lipgloss on your eyelid, and eyeliner on your mouth.
4) Grab a coffee on the way to class.
5) Try and keep your eyes open so you don't bump into that hot guy in your history class strewing the contents of your purse onto the floor which if you're me is a bunch of baking chocolate, pieces of paper I write comedy on,  a thong, and a laptop.

--
Be ready for more,
Happy 2012!
xoxo,
Clown Girl