KICKING DOWN THE DOOR, ONE POST AT A TIME

I have a friend named Holly. She's awesome. She's the one who inspired me to start this blog in the first place. She read my last post and was pretty *Pun intended* disappointed in me. She called. She wrote. She told me to never give up. She told me to kick the fucking door down if I have to but to keep writing *She's from Texas. Did I mention how badass she is?*

I have another amazing friend named Chris. He also took the time to tell me how much he enjoyed my blog and how talented and amusing and all around special he thinks I am. *I might have paid him to say that* And my friend Jesse also reached out and told me he never misses a post. *Seriously, Jesse you're the man-thanks!*

Sometimes, that's all we need. Just a little encouragement. A little love. A little appreciation. *And a swift kick to the head. Thanks again, Holly!*

I'm lucky. I just put a little daylight between me and my feelings of despair and now I see that I can't stop. Won't stop. I just got a little sideways there for a minute. *It happens. Especially to uber-emotional Redheaded Gemini's like myself*

So, I'm up off my knees and moving on with my Pretty Girl Quest and my Where is My Pretty Girl Discount? Blog. *See Chris, God does listen. Your prayers have been answered*

Also, how cool is this? I've decided to go to The Iowa Burlesque Festival this weekend (http://iowaburlesquefestival.blogspot.com/)  so how can I not write about that? It's gonna be insane. I'm taking a couple of workshops; an 'Intro to old timey burlesque bump & grinding' and a 'How to shake your ass, class *As a single girl, I feel that ass shaking is one skill that I should definitely have in my back pocket. So to speak*

But the best part of all? The Queen of Burlesque, TEMPEST STORM is going to perform! Who's that you say? First of all, she's a legend. #Recognize. She's seriously everything a girl could hope to be. A Natural Redhead. Dated Elvis, worked with Bettie Page. Is 85 years old and still going strong. *And also has like, the most amazing boobs, EVER!*

Her motto is simple.

 "Never stop doing what you love. It makes you who you are." -Tempest Storm

I couldn't agree more.

So Pretty People, I'm just gonna keep on keeping on. Because this is me. And because I love it.

I hope you do too!

x Lydia

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-11/10/13

I give up.

I can no longer deny the obvious. I'm just standing still, spinning my wheels and going nowhere.  Since I started this project a year ago, I am no closer to getting my Pretty Girl Discount than when I began.

Even worse, nobody is reading this blog *Except you Holly, Chris & Julie. I know you are the only three people on this planet that give a fuck and for that, I will always be grateful* But let's face it, three people does not a movement make. It sucks to be ignored on a daily basis. And there is nothing worse for an artist than to perform to utter and complete silence. I can't even get people who actually know me to post a comment or take one second out of their busy lives to give me a thumbs up on Facebook, let alone get strangers in the real world to give me a Pretty Girl Discount.

*If I had a really amazing bitch face I would be doing it right now and it would look just like this*

 

*Or this!*

I guess I thought it would be easier. That all my hard work would eventually pay off. That all the stupid classes and self-improvement workshops and bad dates *Oh my God, the bad dates*

and gym time and power of positive thinking la-de-dah would somehow lead me to someplace better.

But it didn't. It hasn't. I hate to admit that my life is not improving at all. That I'm stuck. That every single goal I had set for myself has not come to fruition. But that's the truth. It sucks to fail so publicly but there it is.  I mean, there are only just so many times I can beat my head against the wall before it starts to really hurt.

So, I give up. Just like that.

Maybe I'm just one of those people that will never get what I want and I need to just accept it. Maybe I'm going about everything the wrong way. Maybe God has some insane master plan in store for me that will kick in when I'm eighty and make everything that came before it make sense.*Seriously, God if this is what's going down I am so not onboard for this option. Can you please come up with something else for me? Thanks * But for now...I give up. I tap out. I'm done.

I might come back. Regroup. Write some more. Try again. I might not. We'll see.  I'll let you know if I do. *That means you Holly, Chris & Julie* But for now I am gonna step away from the blog. Step away from the quest.  Stop trying to get people to care when they so clearly don't. Spend some time figuring it out.

Who knows? I've been a very good girl this year.

Maybe Santa will give me a Pretty Girl Discount for Christmas?

x

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-11/3/2013

I swore I wasn't gonna...but I did. I ate all the leftover Halloween candy. *Oh, the shame!* It was a lot. I'm not gonna lie or try to sugar coat it. *Pun intended* I pretty much have been binging, one bite sized piece at a time. And now its officially cold out here in The Midwest and its 'Cuddle Weather' and I'm still fluffy! Boo!*Yes, this is a drawing but its pretty much exactly what I look like right now without my clothes on. Except my boobs are not quite as awesomely huge. And yes, you're welcome perverts.*

So, yesterday I pulled it together, threw what was left of the candy out of my house, *You can't even donate Dum-dums, nobody wants them. They shouldn't even technically be classified as candy as they are utterly joyless.* and re-committed to my healthy eating and workout program. Which is why this post is gonna be short and sweet *Puns! Again, I think I'm super funny* because I still need to get my workout on tonight.

For the record, I am just trying to get My Pretty Girl Discount and be the best version of me. I'm still not trying to change everything about me, just the parts that are holding me back. *Like my fathead*

However, before I log off to get my beast mode on, I just wanna *Briefly* get my rant on first. Today, I was shocked to discover that Disney *Aka the Evil Empire* is trying to sex up all it's female characters. Luckily, when they tried to give Merida from BRAVE an extreme makeover, the internet went nuts. *Those trolls are good for something after all. Thanks guys! It's now safe to return to your steady diet of porn and commenting on Reddit.*

So Disney recanted and went back to the original design which made her more of a badass warrior than a wench at a local Ren Faire. *Power to the people, y'all!* But that hasn't stopped them from changing everyone else. Oh no! They have re-designed all the other Disney ladies, giving them nose & boob jobs, bigger lips, skinnier frames and way more makeup. They also downplayed anything that made them seem independent or strong. *Really, what is the difference between the way a porn star, Real Housewives of Wherever and a Disney Princess looks? Trick question. Now there is none*

This sucks! They are basically telling little girls that their only worth is in being the object of desire, not what they can accomplish or create with their brains or skills. Now, listen...I clearly have issues based on how I look and I *obviously* want to be considered as pretty as the next girl *Or prettier! I want to be the prettiest girl in all the land! Is that cool with you, mirror-mirror?*, but I'm also proud of who I am as a person. I've worked hard to be educated, kind and friendly and to become what *I hope* is  pretty much a well rounded person...not just a pretty person who is *Temporarily* round. My point is, women should be celebrated for both beauty and brains, not just one or the other. *And little girls especially, should not have to worry about being fuckable. What? Yes, I said it. Because basically, that's what this amounts to.*

 They also shouldn't have to fit into Disney's narrow definition of what is considered 'hot'. I mean, check out Princess Tiana. *The only African-American Princess* They gave her an obvious nose job among other things. *What does that say to all the young black girls out there? I mean don't they already have to go through enough without having to live up to the unrealistic expectations of a cartoon? *

But I get it, the sexier these princesses become, the more they have a shot at snagging the prince.  Listen I too, would love for Prince Charming to come *And not just on my face this time*

But I'm not gonna pretend to be something I'm not. And I'm not gonna be just waiting around for him *Singing to the birds, sleeping or scrubbing floors*. Instead, I'm gonna step away from the candy and rescue myself. And when he does show up I fully expect him to love all of me and not just the pretty parts. *And that fairy tale, has the best ending of all.*

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/27/13

 

Slut O'Ween really is my favorite holiday of the year *And not just because its Irish* but I am bummed that even though I finally live in a house *On an awesome, family friendly street* I will not be a “Good candy” house. I always thought when I grew up I would be a "Good Candy" house, giving out full size Snickers without breaking a sweat and restocking with flair. *Seriously. I thought my house would be so badass that trick or treaters would bus themselves in just to get a shot at my stash*

The reality is sadly, somewhat of a letdown. I just don't have a ton of extra cash to spend on total strangers *Tiny ones at that* But even with a serious lack of fundage, I did try. I mean I did spend precious weekend hours shopping at the suburban hell known as Wal-Mart. *Valuable tip:Never go to Wal-Mart on a weekend. Or during the week. Or pretty much...ever. Unless you have a death wish or seriously have a lot of time to kill. Like, um, twelve hours. Because that's how long it will take you to check out. For real. And even after you've left the store your soul will still be tainted. #True*

So there I was, smack dab in the epicenter of the evil empire where, in between dodging beef jerky, boot scootin grandmas decked out in half-shirts and jorts... *Or even less*

 

I attempted to avoid the assorted mess of humanity who had already dosed up on Molly and pulled the trigger prematurely on the whole, "Hey, you know what would be amazing right now? Let's dress up, go out and get our rave on!" *At Wal-Mart. On a Sunday afternoon*

 

 

Eventually, having made it through the madness and getting to the front of the checkout line, I now had the privilege of shelling out about thirty bucks for bags of crappy mixed candy like Swedish Fish, Lemonheads and Jolly Rancher lollypops instead of mini Milky Ways and Kit Kat bars. *Sorry, kids but times are tough. Please don't egg my house* Oh, well it could be worse, I could be planning on giving out healthy snacks or something.

Anyway, what I really wanted to share this week was a heartwarming tale of Halloween past. It was only a couple of years ago but it was one of the few times I went full slutty on October 31st. *Scary? You betcha!* Enjoy!

Women use Halloween as a fail safe. A way to show the world what we have been hiding behind our carefully constructed 9 to 5, our professional faces and to do lists. Halloween is the only time of year we can let our inner slut out and not get shamed for it…by other women.

*Cause more than likely they will be dressed up as a pirate whore and won’t give a fuck.*

And I always dress up. Some years are sluttier than others but I always dress up. And sometimes, this makes me *Temporarily* more special than normal and that can be a problem. *For others. Never for me*  As I have previously mentioned *Please see this entire blog for reference* I am not the type of girl that gets all the easy attention. When I walk into the room, I am not the one that is instantly greeted and fawned over. And I’ve learned that some friends prefer me like this. They want to be the ones that steal the thunder and all the boys. In fact, they have gone out of their way to befriend me for this express purpose *I’m not friends with those girls anymore don’t worry *

But on Halloween, I rule and sometimes this is greeted with anger and annoyance by some of my “friends”. I used to have one such frenemy I will call Rachel *Because that is her name* when I was working briefly in Arizona.

We were tight. Super good friends. *Or so I thought* She was five feet nothing, blonde and a former cheerleader. People thought she was an adorable spitfire. *So naturally she was used to getting her way and whoever she wanted.*

 

But she was also *For the most part* down to earth and a lot of fun. One Halloween Rachel threw an epic party. The entire house was decorated, there was way more alcohol than food *Always a great ratio* and most of the population of Phoenix had shown up.   

 

 

*No seriously. These pics are from Arizona. Everyone looks like this there, that's why I had to move away*

 

 

 

I was running late. I was freaking out because I had no idea what to wear. I knew I couldn't compete with the scraps of fabric the other girls were calling  costumes so I finally decided to make up for it with fabulousness. I went as a showgirl in fishnet tights, a corset and lots and lots of glitter.

By the time I finally showed up, the party was in full swing. I walked in and I guess it was the outfit or my "I'm so pissed off because I was running late" attitude but I was instantly given a VIP, gold plated Pretty Girl Discount. Heads turned. Several men asked if I wanted a drink and all the women in the room gave me dirty looks.  *Oooh, spooky*

 

*I couldn’t remember when, if ever, this had ever happened to me. But it was fucking awesome and I loved it!*

Almost instantly a super hot, dirty looking boy with a pierced lip hit on me. Before I could even get liquored up I found myself on the grass in the backyard hooking up with him. *He was an awesome kisser. Plus, I really like hot, dirty looking boys*

 

Eventually, I came inside to take a breather and gather my thoughts *And, let's be honest... gather a large cup of vodka with cranberry juice while I was at it* and that's when I noticed that Rachel was mad. Like really, super angry. At me apparently. When I asked what was going on, she wouldn't say. Just walked away from me like I had poisoned her cat or something.

Then, one by one, all these girls started coming by *Um, Rachel did you send these heifers?!* to talk to me. And they all had the same story. Even though they all were ‘just friends ‘ with the hot, dirty boy it was “Not cool”  that I was hooking up with him. By the way, me and the dirty boy were both definitely single, so this totally did not make sense.

Whatever. I was at a party. This was Halloween. It was supposed to be fun!

But it wasn't fun. It was becoming super uncomfortable. All these girls were throwing shade, Rachel was storming around muttering shit about me and I was all butt hurt because I never get all the attention and was having a moment and Rachel just couldn't let me be great! *Why won't you let me be great Rachel?*

I went back to making out and chatting with the dirty boy  in the backyard but it was becoming increasingly awkward. Being the good friend that I was I decided I would go and try to resolve the issue with Rachel so that Dirty Boy and I could bail and go have some serious fun.

I asked her. Point blank. Do you like this guy? Do you have something going with this dude? She just gave me a chilly look of disapproval and told me, "No. I barely know him." *Ooookay then. What's your deal?* She would not admit to liking him or to being mad. It was like I had violated some super secret tenant of the girl code without realizing it and it was not her job to tell me what I'd done. And then it hit me. She thinks she's prettier than me. And she's pissed that I am getting more attention than her. *And yes, this photo is EXACTLY what her face looked like. EXACTLY*

Wow! Regardless of what passive aggressive potluck she was serving to me, I knew the truth. She was determined that if she was not getting his attention then neither was I. *Ultimate cockblock*

This is how extreme it got. After talking to me, Rachel suddenly freaked out, shut off the music, flipped on the lights and started tearing Halloween decorations off the wall. She yelled, "This party is over people!" It was 10:30pm.

When I went up to her to ask what was wrong *Again. God, sometimes being a girl is just so dang exhausting!* she just gave me a satisfied look and said that she had asked the hot, dirty boy to leave her house so he was gone. She just wanted me to know. *Then she proceeded to tear a heavily duck taped, giant ghost off the wall. With her bare hands.*

Most of the people were bailing the party in droves but there was a small, hearty band of revelers that were not willing to call it a night. *We were totally drunk* So, we kept the party going. Outside. On Rachel's front lawn. *Fuck her* 

I was bummed that the dirty hot boy was forced to leave without saying goodbye to me but eventually, I picked at random a tall muscular guy dressed inexplicably as a Mexican with a giant sombrero *This was Arizona so in frat boy logic I guess he thought he was being ironically funny or something* and went home to his place to have sloppy, drunk sex. *Happy Halloween.*

 

The sex was mostly forgettable *It was totally forgettable. I always forget to add him to my sex list. If I do remember, I usually just add him as ‘The Mexican’ because I don’t remember his name. I don’t think I ever actually knew it.  Oops!*

But I learned something valuable that night. Fake Mexicans aren't necessarily better in bed than real Mexicans and whether we get The Pretty Girl Discount or not, Blondes don't have more fun...Redheads do!

*Hey Rachel, how you like them apples?*

 

 

 

 

 

 

WALK OF SHAME SUNDAY-10/ 20/ 13

Sorry this post is going up so late but I had a Home Depot kind of day. You know, just like in the ads? Where a normally docile suburban lady dweller *That would be me* wakes up on a Sunday full of churning desire to improve my entire world in six hours using only the gumption God gave me, an insane, misguided belief in my own abilities and an unlimited line of credit at The Home Depot. "Let's do this", echoed so loudly in the back of my mind I thought I actually could. And so, armed only with my new pink work gloves *So pretty, so clean, so impractical* and old gym shoes, I stomped into the side yard ready to tackle the overgrowth from the last six months.

 This led to meeting my neighbor who bailed me out when she saw me attempt to dig up a tree with a pair of scissors. She's awesome. *So sweet & nice. Plus she grew up on a farm so she had real tools and knew how to use them. Handy.* We spent the next four hours getting to know each other while digging, tilling, pulling, chopping and shoving green stuff into yard bags.

Unlike the ads on TV where the smug couple finish the job in their clean khakis and cashmere pullovers and then sip a delightful mug of chamomile tea and ponder the merits of adopting a third world orphan with what's left of their Sunday *Come on lollypop, we can do it. We've got three whole hours left!* on their newly constructed front porch, I was exhausted.

Yeah, unlike them, my yard work led to me taking a Silkwood shower and passing out on my couch until 7pm at night. *Dead sober. This might be a first*

Did I mention that I never ate breakfast before tackling my yard maintenance? Oops! So,  I was starving when I woke up and decided to start over with the most important meal of the day. At 8 o'clock at night. *It's sad but I pretty much am my own latch key kid*

Which lead me to just posting this now.

*Anyway.* What I really wanted to talk about was Whore-Oween. More specifically, what kind of slut am I gonna be on October 31st?

Because let's face it...men get to be sluts year round but for women there really is just that one special night of the year where we get to go buck wild and pretend that we don't love all the attention. Good girls gone slutty seems to be the trend at every costume shop across America*Blurred lines* I mean, you just try and find a cat, witch or devil outfit that isn't more explicit than a pap smear and I will show you on the map where you are in Canada.

Every costume has to be a slut. Them's the rules. And I intend to stand by it. I too, will be dressed as a slut...Even if I'm just stuck handing out cheap candy to the neighborhood kids. *And scaring the pants off them. Well, only if their over 18. I'm not totally creepy*

But this year, I've been having trouble deciding what exactly I'm gonna be. Get a bunch of paint samples and go as Fifty Shades of Grey? *The Sluttyness is implied*

How about a slutty Sharknado?

 

 

Or Miley. I mean, there's just so much I can do with that. Go as a slutty, twerking Panda? A slutty foam finger? Or a slutty wrecking ball. *Wait. That's redundant. Everyone knows that wrecking balls are already slutty. They will literally bang any building. Even ones in the bad part of town. Ha!*

Later this week, I'm gonna bust out a throwback Halloween story that will blow your socks off but in the meantime...if you've got some suggestions on costumes for me, send them my way. *Seriously. This means you. Please comment on my blog. I don't write in a vacuum. I need constant praise and approval in order to survive. Thanks*

Cause if nobody gives me a better idea...I might just go as The Government Shutdown. I'm gonna dress up as a non-essential employee *Slutty, of course*  so that way, I don't have to spend any money on candy and can use it instead to pay off my Home Depot credit card.

Or wait? What If I just combined it all & just went as The Ho Depot? Now that's a suburban dream I can get behind *And twerk the hell out of it. Take that Hannah Montana!*