Day 11: Friend Time

Here’s a basic usage of my time:


As evidenced by the chart, I spend barely more time with friends than I do standing in front of my closet in the morning. (And way too much time watching TV, but we all already knew that and are pretending to consider it cute/endearing, right?)

I don’t spend enough time with my friends. It’s been an eternal weakness. I’m an extrovert (an ENTJ, to be exact) and love spending time with other people, but I am fiercely protective of doing what I want. For example, right now I am sitting at my kitchen table with a beer (see the yellow pie piece) and listening to the Chicago soundtrack. (Side note: my dream role is Velma Kelly.) I often prefer to do something specific in the moment over whatever I could be doing with friends.

To be clear, I love my friends. I want to be social and have a rollicking good time at my weekly pub trivia or at a great epicurean dining experience or doing something totally basic like bowling. But I don’t do any of that super often, because I love doing my own thing. The most time I’ve ever spent with one non-me human being willingly is with my bae (see the green pie piece) and that barely counts because a lot of that time we are watching TV (orange pie piece).

I’ve noticed recently that I am WAY less likely to spend time with my friends when it gets dark early. Why is this? 70% sure it’s because of the whole seasonal affective disorder thing coupled with the days feeling shorter than a long summer day. When days feel shorter, I feel less satisfied with my overall day because, no matter how productive, leaving work or finally leaving the house after dark is a huge bummer. People need sunshine. (Ha, like Mary Sunshine from Chicago. Did I mention I’m listening to the soundtrack?) It almost seems like the day is over already and it’s too late to be social. Weird.

Today, I was tempted to skip my regular Tuesday night trivia. But then I realized it was GORGEOUS outside, and that earnestly was the breaking point to convince me to be social. I’m not overthinking this by connecting a gorgeous, sunny day to a day fit for drinking beer in a pub. That’s not what this is. But it’s sunny outside, which means in California terms it’s basically summer. And summer is the best season, the season where you get to wear shorts and sit outside and barbecue and just do. what. you. want.

Summer is the season to actually shave your legs, to take walks at 8pm, to make s’mores even if you don’t like them that much. Summer is the best. So are your friends. So get your fill until it gets dark early again.

Day 10: Girls vs. Girls

I bet you’ve heard a woman say, “I just don’t like girls.” You might have said that yourself.

I’m not talking about orientation or parenting preference. I’m talking this weird stereotyping of your own kind.

Remember when Ariana Grande had that donut licking incident? She’s on record as having said, “I hate America.” Yes, she’s American. She’s not changing citizenship anytime soon. She claims to have said those words to express disdain for the unhealthy diets of many American citizens. She’s at a donut shop, though. Do you see what I’m getting at?

Women of all ages (but — an important distinction! — not all women) have said that they “just don’t like girls.” Why is this? A listicle:

  1. This implies that you are the only female you like. I’m pretty sure that if the shit stinks, check your own damn shoes.
  2. Isn’t this its own class of prejudice or stereotyping? Surely not EVERY female is unlikeable. But I know one who’s looking pretty sour right now.
  3. Yes, a lot of times someone “doesn’t like” something mostly because the thing doesn’t like them. Or because they don’t understand it. This is a defense mechanism. I’d love for the conversation to become about how she can accept other women, starting with herself.
  4. I promise you this isn’t as subjective as it sounds: it’s said with a bit of a chip on the shoulder. The same chip that’s in play to talk about how she “just really likes football” or she’s “just a regular person” (ahem, looking at you, Jennifer Lawrence). And a lot of women DO really like football or ARE regular people (duh). You know what I mean.
  5. What’s up with using the term “girl” instead of woman? I have no real statistics on this, but in general my memory’s audio files are telling me that generally these women dislike “other girls” and not “other women.” Perhaps revealing.

Several years ago, I was flipping through a magazine. On the last page was a quote from Emma Stone: “I don’t like women who don’t like other women.” (Caveat: I tried to look this up — I didn’t try that hard, tbh — but it mostly rendered links to “I don’t like women but I love Emma Stone!” so idk.) Amen, sister.

I have always been a girl’s girl: my friendships are forged much more easily with females more than males. I don’t understand men as well, and I am pretty sure that somewhere along the timeline of ol’ A-Dizzle I was severely mis-taught about men and their differences from women. Thankfully over time I have adapted to understand friendship with men, but I still make a point to hug HER before HIM when greeting a couple. I think it’s the inverse of the “I don’t like girls” problem. And this isn’t a 100% true statement: I have had consistent male friendships in my life. I am in a relationship with a man (hi honey! that’s you!). I can easily strike a conversation with most people, gender nonspecific. I have some interests that align me with the opposite gender, according to popular culture. I’m also a very imperfect person. I’m also a feminist. I also use the word “bitch” to reclaim it, to mean someone who’s REALLY FREAKIN’ FANTASTIC.

I’m sure that this issue has been examined very well by a more informed expert. I’m not that person. Still I know it’s not fair for a woman to say things like, “I don’t like other girls.” That’s an untrue blanket statement that can’t encompass all the nuances of gender and personality and behavior, and also you really don’t sound cool. I promise you. You really don’t sound cool.

Day 9: Mistadobalina

In case you’ve never heard this song, yes, it’s real. It’s based off a Monkees song, which is based off an airport PA system announcement. So the next time your mother leans over to you during the previews at the movies, tell her that no, Hollywood hasn’t just recently run out of good ideas. It’s a long-term pandemic.


This post brought to you by this song on repeat approximately every 17 days (the cadence at which I remember this song exists).

Day 8: Hair

Post by Amanda Delzell, hair expert. Credentials:

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There is no more difficult aspect of my appearance than hair. (And I am including the general ability to gain and retain weight much more quickly than, say, a certain male counterpart of mine.)


Hair is difficult for so many reasons. If you hear a woman (or, to be inclusive, someone with really well-done hair) complain about it, they aren’t exaggerating. I have a lot of hair. (NO SERIOUSLY I KNOW YOU THINK YOU HAVE A LOT BUT I REALLY DO.) Let me share with you, men and/or other people who don’t necessarily have hair trouble.

  1. Washing hair is a big event. I wash my hair 1-2x per week (even though I *never* style it) because I never know how it’s going to turn out and I’ll probably just lazily put it in a bun for the next 5 days anyway.
  2. Hair DOES NOT want shower water to leave it. Airdrying takes hours, and if I go to sleep with wet hair, I AM going to have a slightly damp scalp in the morning. It can take at least 30 minutes to blowdry hair haphazardly. If you want to dry it carefully with a round brush? See you tomorrow, friend.
  3. Blowdrying can straight-up set off your smoke alarm. This happened to me ALL. THE. TIME. at my apartment in LA. Now in the Bay Area, my blowdryer sometimes shorts my circuit if basically any slightly-higher-power device is on, like a space heater. What I’m saying is blowdrying your hair *will* make you freeze to death.
  4. You have to wash your hair like ALL THE TIME. It’s not like painting your nails, which you can do once and wait a week or two to redo. Some people have hair that gets greasy FAST. Thankfully mine has maximum oil-absorption powers (fun fact: in high school, someone jokingly poured a whole glass of water on my head when it was in a ponytail, and you couldn’t even tell) so if I am not in the middle of a training cycle and exercising a lot, I can go a whole week. To be clear: it doesn’t look good, but at least it doesn’t look permanently wet.
  5. You have to stand for over an hour. Blowdrying with a round brush, section by section, takes forever. You have to divide sections of your hair small enough to be exposed to the hot air; you must go over the same little section 2-5 times; for extra-textured gals, you have to go over it with a flat iron or other hot tool. (Hah, hot tool. Like Ashton Kutcher or something.) This means that hair is a 90-120 minute time investment — MULTIPLE TIMES PER WEEK!


Hair, in sum, is a curse. But man does it look good. I’ve noticed that having a “good hair day” can be a seriously empowering event. And then I thought: am I shallow?


I read recently that “some women are empowered from baring a lot; some women are empowered by modesty” (or something like that) (for the record, I’ve learned I’m definitely empowered by physical modesty). I think that’s a good way to look at the effect that hair confidence affords. If you like your hair, show it the F off. Enjoy it. You spent long enough doing it. Make it count.


This message is brought to you by a 15 minute shower + 30 minute “towel drying” + 10 minute haphazard blowdry + 80 minute roundbrush/flatiron drying session.


PS: I will physically fight anyone who thinks this is a bragging thing. Yes, I am hashtag-blessed with a decent scalp production, but that’s not the point, so shut up.

Day 7: Fitzgerald Delzell, the movie star

My cat has recently been hired as a stunt cat for the movie industry. 

What movies need a stunt cat, you ask? 

Any movie starring Kevin James with a super hot wife he’s sick of.


I’ll miss him, but I’m proud that he’s following his dream to be an actor. He’s never liked sitting behind a desk. 

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