Que Sera Sera

Hair Update: I'm cured

I washed my hair in holy water and now everything's fine, the end.

No, okay. So I’m in Tulsa for a bit and my mom made an appointment for me with her hairdresser, Sam. Sam has been doing my mom’s hair for 30 years and knows her shit and I knew she wasn’t just going to try to sell me some crap products. She asked me if I’d had my thyroid checked, and I said no, but I’d read a lot about it online and didn’t have one single symptom, just some tacky hair. Then she asked me what products I used and said that the L’Oreal Vive conditioner and the Curls Rock styling paste were full of polymers, and build-up from them had coated my hair so thick that she had to shampoo it with Pureology clarifying shampoo three times before it even sudsed up. But after the third time, it was stripped and clean and it looks and feels like my old healthy hair again. So I’m never using either of those products again, and she sent me home with lots of Pureology bottles and samples instead, because they’re good for your hair and not full of crap and polymers. Sam also told me to tell you, the internet, never ever to use Pantene because they’re the worst. So let’s have an honor code here you guys.

I guess I now have a hair care regimen: I’m supposed to wash my hair twice daily with Pureology Purify shampoo, use the Instant Repair leave-in conditioner, and once a week, use the Reconstruct/Repair conditioner. Then I’m going to use the Real Curl creme for styling/anti-frizz and man just typing all of that is a lot of work and I should be getting paid to endorse all this shit. My mom said, “I hope you realize that your hair is now officially high maintenance,” and I was like aww man, but it’s worth it to have hair that looks and feels and smells this good, and anyway, this entire process still takes less than ten minutes.

This might not be a very exciting post, but everyone kept emailing asking for an update, and who doesn’t like a happy ending, right? Okay now let’s never talk about it again.

Cringe: Crossing the streams

Next week we’re going to attempt simultaneous Cringes, same night, different continents. I know only this sort of thing usually only happens to very well-matched people in strenuously physical relationships, but let’s give it a shot.

New York Cringe will be Cringe’s return from two months away and its fourth birthday, so you should definitely shower and wear a clean shirt.

London Cringe will be guest-hosted by the amazing Antonia Cornwell, and there will be a DJ playing terrible wonderful ‘80s records.

There is one spot reader spot open for NY Cringe and two for London, so email me if you’re interested.

See you next Wednesday at one or the other! If anyone goes to both, you win a jetlagged hangover.

Wednesday, April 1
7:00 pm
Bardens Boudoir
36 Stoke Newington Road, N16 7XJ

The nearest overground is Dalston-Kingsland (two stops from Highbury & Islington tube), Bardens is then a five minute walk up Kingsland Road.

Buses 67, 76, 149 and 243 stop on Bardens’ doorstep. Buses 149, 243 and 76 operate all night.

Wednesday, April 1
8:30 pm
Freddy’s Bar and Backroom
485 Dean Street (6th Ave. & Dean), Brooklyn
2/3 to Bergen, any train to Atlantic/Pacific
More directions

Both events are free, as always.


best worst movie EVER, originally uploaded by Sarah Brown.

Last night Chris and Tracie and I packed some tiny bottles and went to see Knowing, the new Nicolas Cage shitstorm where he uses NUMB3R5 to try and 5AV3 TH3 W0R7D. Spoiler: it does not work. The world ends. Sadly, there will be no Knowing 2, because everyone and everything dies at the end, the entire earth destroyed by a sun shart (that one’s all Tracie), except for Nicolas Cage’s son, who escapes to Planet Narnia aided by a bunch of angel aliens who look like the guy from Coldplay, where he has to live out his days wearing Mormon underwear and waiting until he’s old enough to hump like rabbits. Also he got to bring his pet rabbit with him so that was cool.

This movie was hands down THE BEST worst movie I’ve ever seen, like someone crammed three movies into one hole and just let it fester and burn. And it totally burned; everything in this movie burns, including a fiery moose that was screaming and bucking like a bronco, and definitely the highlight for all three of us. This movie was so awful that we didn’t have to worry about bothering anyone by drinking and laughing; the entire theater was laughing as well, and Chris started a slow clap at the end that caught on and I would have totally bought a round for everyone in there because we all earned it.

We started out planning to drink whenever there was math, whenever there was a mention of someone being a widower, whenever Nicolas Cage ran, and whenever Nicolas Cage drank. A better rule would have been to drink whenever anything was on fire. When Tracie stood up at the end, her empty fifth clattered to the floor and Chris said, “Maaaaan. Is it hamburger time yet?” We were filled with joy and the promise of kahlua milkshakes and this was the best $12 I’ve spent in ages.

This movie also inspired Tracie and me to decorate a room in our homes as the Crazy Room, that tiny room they always discover in movies where the crazy person has been holed up, covering the walls with articles cut out from newspapers, and it’s always SO SCARY OH MY GOD NEWSPRINT EVERYWHERE EVERYWHERE. I think it’d be a fresh new direction in interior design, a bold change from all of this current mid-century clean lines mixed with occasional quirky antlers business; just a small, poorly lit room wallpapered with curling, yellowing articles, a rickety card table and a jar of questionable amber liquid, maybe some bowls of fingernail clippings here and there. We’ll put Etsy out of business with this shit. You should come over.

How I Learned

Next Wednesday night, March 25, I’m supposed to be reading at the How I Learned Reading Series at Happy Ending, hosted by the filthy talented Blaise Kearsley, but I have an unexpected family trip home that I have to take. That should not stop you from going, though, because the other people reading are definitely funnier than I would have been.

How I Learned My Adolescence was Over
(Author of The Kept Man and Instant Love)
(Comedian, “USE IT” at Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre)
(Comedian, Comedy Central, “Best Week Ever”, Tell Your Friends!)

Wednesday, March 25th, 8 PM
302 Broome Street, NYC
between Forsyth & Eldridge
(212) 334-9676
Get directions

Text messages saved in my phone, vol. 9

(Vol. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8)

I have champagne in my bra right now.

You know what I just realized, this place isn’t about ribs, it’s about having a good time.

It’s been decided that the creepiest way to wake up would be to Art Garfunkel crying softly into your hair.

It’s 2:00 am and I really had to concentrate to find the colon. Hey-o! That’s what she said!

I’m watching the Today Show and I just realized, I hate white people.

Are you pimping me out to the U.S. Navy now?

So I don’t know if “Brazilian wax” means different things to different people or something but oh my god help me.

I’m drunk on a Monday, so it feels like you should be here.

I think I held onto 16 as long as I could.

I am medium rare well. I only date astronauts now. I like my men grimy with lunar soil. What’s up?

Two new deviant sex acts discovered this evening: a dutch baby and the James Van der Beek.

Valhalla, are you co-ming?

You were right. I made out in a Volvo before June 1.

This morning, in bed: “Around 5 am, I hid some plastic eggs around the room for you. One has a $50 Chili’s gift card inside, so, you know.”

Fuck a shark or shoot your mom?

The rules are: shark is in water, not sedated, and you have to shoot your mom in the face if you do.

Because she was dumped at the prom by ENIAC

Why is eating Taco Bell alone just so sad?

I’m at Cracker Barrel and I just realized, I hate white people.

I want to organize a small get-together, just you, me, Mr. Bear, Grandma Lightbulb, James, and that balloon kid.

Remember when guys used to part their hair?

The dude whose dad fought the monkey is coming!

No, I vote dick in real life.

Band of Horses and M.Ward have both played on the plane while boarding. When did Natalie Portman buy Delta?

You and your witchcraft!

Something terrible just happened involving the purple underwear in my bag and the exec editor of the NY Times.

Texting in the bathtub: would Mr. Wizard approve? There’s your answer.

I need to find a way to let my mom know that people aren’t supposed to say “oriental” anymore.

Have spent the past two hours trying to book a hotel in Paris. None of them have Looney Tunes sheets, what’s that about?

My entire neighborhood has been swallowed by Sam Ronson’s vagina.

Can five people make one baby together?

You’re the new you! Mary J. Blige and I watch proudly like Obi Wan and Yoda at end of RotJ

Speedo, Kenny Rogers, mistletoe

Dreaming of cow stomach lining while sitting awkwardly on a salmon colored ottoman amid a sea of off-white silk. Sigh.

This is not an email you ever want to receive. From my mom, full text: What would you think about Dad buying a pet crematory?

I’m at a Chipotle in Chelsea and I would love to tell you that I just realized I hate white people, but I’m actually the only white person in here.

What can I say, I love a widow’s peak and an internet porn addiction.

Nothing says euro tourists like two guys walking down the street in brown leather jackets drinking tiny grape juices.

I’m keeping it. It works like velcro and makes the kids stay there.

If I were a gypsy, I’d be a grandmother by now.

And… I’m in love with you…

You should let your fingerprints grow back, just to be safe.


The back of the Reduced Fat Wheat Thins box tells me, “You don’t compromise in your daily life; you shouldn’t have to in your snacks.”

Reduced Fat Wheat Thins, I compromise in my daily life every day. Who do you think I am, the Terminator? You may need to rethink your ad campaign and structure it more towards people who eat crackers and less towards assholes and robots.

No March Cringe

I know, again. But don’t worry: Cringe will be back in April, just in time for it to turn four years old.

(Submissions are still open for the UK Cringe book at cringebook.com, and you don’t have to be from the UK to submit. More on that tomorrow.)

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