ava.a.muse.d.

Dating With A Poker Face

2009-12-17T17:51:00.010-06:00

“I won’t tell you that I love you/Kiss or hug you/Cuz I’m bluffin”

Lady Gaga is brilliant. There. I said it. It’s out there and there is no going back. Sure, I’m a fan of her music, and I think her style is crazy sick (in the fiercest way possible) but there is something else I’ve come to adore about her. Her persona is so blunt, unapologetic, and out there, and yet, she is shrouded in mystery. We have clues to the depths of her through her music, her videos and even the bizarre outfits she wears; yet we continue to wonder, “What is REALLY going on with her?” I believe that there is something to this as we put ourselves out there in the dating world time and time again. Shouldn’t we have layers to ourselves that protect a portion of who we really are? Shouldn’t select people get to see this EVENTUALLY? How can we be upfront and honest without letting our guard down?

Here’s the thing: I would love nothing more than to go around with platinum blonde hair, designer sunglasses, wearing a corset made of a disco ball and hot pants over fishnet stockings while carrying an umbrella. (It is moments likes these I wish I were a drag queen.) I think this would intrigue people yet keep them away from me. While I’m on this trip down daydream lane, I think I would also have a posse of male models playing music while I do fierce choreography down the streets of Chicago. Ahhhh a girl can dream. Luckily in real life I do indeed strut down the street. Anyhow, the point is that without all these theatrics, a “normal” girl must find other devices to protect her from all that is hurtful. We must deploy other defenses.

“The story of us, it always starts the same/with a boy and a girl and a (huh) and a game”

Yup. Hate the game and not the playas. We all have to play this goddamn game. It’s stupid, it’s lame and it just feels so counter-productive at some point when trying to find “that one special person.” (I just puked a little.) I’m sure you are all shocked to know that I am a blunt person and this translates very much into my dating life. And I have come to the conclusion that this scares guys. In fact, I’ve been told this. By several people. I guess this is my attempt to get rid of the game to some extent and to level the playing field, to look the guy in the eye and state my intentions and impressions. What is wrong with that? Apparently quite a bit, since it doesn’t work. At first, I think this brutal honesty protects Little Miss Ava. It separates the strong from the weak and who will put up with me. But somewhere along the line, if some dude sticks it out, this honesty turns against me and I find myself opening up more and more of myself.

And here is where I ask, WWLGD? How does one stay honest without giving all of themselves away? I feel at this point I should stress that in no way do I want to be aloof or a pretentious bitch. I hate that shit. I merely am searching for a more successful way of self-preservation.

“I wanna Just Dance but he took me home instead/Uh Oh- there was a monster in my bed/We French kissed on a subway train/He tore my clothes right now/He ate my heart and then he ate my brain"

This is the worst part. Letting this guy, who will turn into a monster of some kind, into your heart and your head. It happens. All the fucking time. Not just to me, but to my friends (see Rules to Dating My Friends.) And this just simply can’t happen anymore. For I no longer see the point of putting myself out there with nothing in return. I would rather have walls built high, shrouded in masks and costumes. Oh, and my career. And thus leads me to the last reason why I love La Gaga: her passion and drive to her career and her art.

“Je veux ton amour/Et je veux ton revanche/Je veux ton amour/I don't wanna be friends”

Sometimes it is just best to move on with life and make career and passions the focal point, once again. It’s fairly obvious that Lady Gaga is a sexual creature. Amen sister. But it would appear that she isn’t one for relationships. Her career and being Gaga is center stage. Who’s to say she doesn’t feel lonely at the top, but screw it. I think right about now I would rather conquer the world than be constantly tied down by going from one failed attempt at a relationship to another.

“And I know that it’s complicated/But I’m a loser in love/So baby raise a glass to mend/All the broken heart/Of all my wrecked up friends/ I’ll never talk again/Oh boy you’ve left me speechless/You’ve left me speechless so speechless”

Ambien Haze

2009-12-05T00:53:00.004-06:00

In the midst of an Ambien haze, as I toss and turn, between mostly awake and not enough asleep, I have an epiphany: "I'm not girlfriend material!" Holy crap. Is it as simple as that? Have I become so fiercely single and free that not only do I freak MYSELF out about potential relationships, but I also freak out the other party? Could it indeed be a matter of "it's not them, it's me?"

Ok, I'm no shrink so I don't know exactly how I'm going to make sense of this or what the appropriate pscyhobabble is, but here is what I've come to realize since the chillly weather has set in.

Sometimes the fiercely single girl, in reality, wants some comfort and piece of mind in curling up next to a reliable guy at the end of a gray day or a wretched week. Sometimes it's better to stay in than go out. Sometimes it's nice to know someone is thinking of you as much as you are thinking of them. Sometimes the thrill is simply in learning a history of a person during chats until 4:00am. And then somewhere down the line creating a history of inside jokes and stories between the two of you. Sometimes the single girl tosses and turns in her Ambien haze thinking, "yeah. That's what I want. That's what I need. Where is it?"

She drifts to sleep putting sweet, content dreams in her head.

But the morning comes, as it always does, and so does reality. She gets ready to face the day, alone. She realizes that, perhpas, she may have been romanticizing this dream relationship scenario. "How could two people even make all that happen?" she wonders as she waits for the train while a cold wind bites her face.

Then waiting in line for vice number one, coffee, she thinks that maybe she's selfish. "That kind of MUTUAL arrangement takes, what's that word again? Oh. COMPROMISE."

As her mind drifts from her work, she angrily returns to her original thinking. "It's not ME! It's THEM. Them. What could possibly be wrong with me? I'm sure I have a lot to offer. Yeah! Assholes."

Then on her bus ride home, to her shelter from the storm, she sees a couple. The girl leans in and the guy quietly kisses her on the top of her hairline. The single girl melts a SINGLE drop. "Yeah. That." She wistfully thinks. "As simple as that."

Maybe the truth is, psychobabble aside, it's been a long-ass time since I've felt that way about anyones, so fully and completely as to totally overhaul my anti-relationship self without knowing that I've done so. Perhaps I've become jaded. And not necessarily by being burned buy guys, but by simply enjoying pure freedom in singlehood. I honestly think I should now be put in the "relationship challenged" category. I would have no idea where to being. It's like riding a bike, right? But more like jumping off of a cliff, no? Crap. Either way, it's terrifying, I suspect. But listen, i think the fact that I am now ENTERTAINING the idea of the R-word (that's "relationship" for those of you not paying attention) is a big deal. Maybe I'm not as un-girlfriendly as my sleep aide would have me believe. Go Me.

Trying to sleep well,

Ava

An Open Letter: To the Guys Who Want to Date My Friends

2009-12-02T21:41:00.002-06:00

From: The desk of Ava.

To: The dudes who wish to date my friends. There is a right and a wrong way to go about this. So pay attention. There will be a quiz, you shady motherfuckers.

We haven’t met, but I know ALL.ABOUT.YOU.

It’s a fact. You know this. I know this. It’s science. When a girl meets a guy she’s into and temporarily swept away by in those hazy first days of lust, she gushes to her friends. I do not have the data to confirm whether guys do this. Me thinks not. All of the sweet, precious and minuscule moments you two share are then recounted to me, with open ears and heart. “He sounds great!” “Like, he really gets you.” “That was sweet of him!” “He must be thinking about you all the time.” And so on. We’re already sizing you up, my friend. Things are looking promising. In the words of Ru Paul, or my family and friends when I myself begin dating someone, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Don’t say to her, “I’m not going anywhere.”

This one should perhaps be more of a side-note because its placement isn’t necessarily in the correct chronological order here, but it deserves mentioning. The two of you may have begun discussion on what you are looking for in a relationship, where this relationship is going and blah blah more use of the R-word. But let me tell you something, when it gets to my little ears that you have told my dear friend, “I’m not going anywhere,” my response is either, “I’ll never meet this nice young man” or, “this will only end in tears.” Unless you are The One, you probably will never get to numbers four through seven on this little list. But if you fail and number three, you’re screwed and therefore, spice these words to you’re liking because you’ll be eating them. Hard.

When we do meet, kiss my ass.

Not to sound conceited or full of myself, but if you’ve been hanging around mi amiga numero uno, you’ve probably heard a fair share about yours truly. Finally, the conditions are ripe for us to meet. It’s a momentous occasion. All parties are nervous. I mean, at least you should be. We’re introduced. So far, so good. In an ideal meeting, we have an opportunity to chit-chat and get to know each other. Even more ideal, alcohol is involved to loosen things up a bit. I might be able to get in a few little questions such as, “what are your intentions?” or, “So-and-so is really great, isn’t she?” Yes, these are questions that a family member, like a father, would typically ask. But for us single gals, we are a family and must take care of each other. Because if we don’t, who will? But I digress. This is about you, meeting ME.

Our first introduction has gone smoothly, and chances are, we will be seeing quite a bit of each other in future social situations. At this time, it would be VERY WISE TO CONTINUE TO ENGAGE IN CONVERSATION WITH ME. Wait, for you to ACKNOWLEDGE MY PRESENCE. Failing to do these simple standards of social conduct will put you on my bad side. And yes, it is as bad as it sounds.

If you hurt her, you’re hurting me.

So, you managed to kamikaze your way through number three. Congratulations, you will probably continue to do more harm than good from here on out. Let’s buckle in for the ride. I’m sure you will continue to find ways to “fuck it up.” And brother, when you start fucking with my friend, all bets are off. As I have mentioned, you are already on my bad side. Each time you

a) Bail on my friend

b) Manipulate her in any way

c) Have her complaining about the latest fuck-up of yours using

1. Gchat

2. Text

3. Phone

4. Dinner conversation

I AM GOING TO HATE YOU EVEN MORE AND TELL HER TO END IT WITH YOU.

It’s too late to kiss my ass, dumbass.

If you are still around at this point, like a case of herpes that just won’t go away, congratulations, you’ve really found a way to stick around and continue to mess with my friend’s life. And since you’re still around, you have now figured out that I’m a Big Deal and should be sucked up to. Well, buster, tough shit. I can see through your intentions and find them dishonorable. Go away.

We probably shouldn’t co-exist.

I might be cordial and jovial to your face but nothing would give me more pleasure than to deliver a swift kick to your balls, express, from me to you. Just know that. I’m playing nice.

Break it off and MOVE.THE.FUCK.ON. And let her do the same so she can find someone better.

For the sake of the sanity for everyone involved, please. There. I asked nicely.

It’s been a real slice,

Ava

PS: Damn it feels good to be back.

abandonment issues

2009-10-20T20:47:00.003-05:00

Hey Biscuits,

It's been an interesting couple of months in this gal's life. But I'm here and ready to write again. There's a lot on my mind and I'm ready to rock.

With the love of a thousand Pumpkin Spice Lattes-

Ava

Hopeless Cause: Party of One

2009-05-01T12:41:00.007-05:00

Question: Why do 83% of ladies who are just about my age have diamond rings in platinum settings on THAT finger?

Answer: Duh, Ava. That's what most people your age DO in their mid-20s, is probably your response.

Well...bite me. And you MIGHT be right. Maybe. Probably. Yeah. Right?

I realize it's "spring" (which I say with much trepidation because I feel like I haven't seen real sun, because tanning beds don't count, in almost a week) and people get engaged around this time of year...right? Does that explain why the rings are so shiny? I don't know these things. OBVIOUSLY.

I don't want to say that I'm panicking but I have been thinking a lot about my lack of relationship status which inevitably leads me to the question, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!" Why can't I just let myself fall into a relationship? What am I holding onto with this whole single gal thing? Well, to be truthful, I love my life. I am very fulfilled with work, friends, projects, alone time, etc. I just don't see how I would fit someone into what I've got going on because at some point, you do have to let some of these freedoms go in order to be in a true partnership with someone else. And THAT I'm not ready to do.

Am I selfish? Yes.

Am I asking a lot of questions right now? Yes. Just trying to figure all of this out.

I've been subtly aware of these thoughts for some time, but it wasn't until a recent visit from my parents that the self-doubt began to swirl in my mind with more vigor. After a lovely walk, my parents and I sat down outside of Bobtail Ice Cream taking in the passers-by and gearing up for our ice cream purchases. Across the street from us was a VERY attractive dude walking his adorably large chocolate lab. I mean, you could tell this guy was hot from a distance. Now, it should be noted that we were in a neighborhood which Galatea and I consider a gray area in terms of sexual orientation of attractive guys. We're only a few blocks away from Lincoln Park (known for young hot straight yuppies) and Lakeview/Boystown (known for young hot gays). You just can NEVER TELL on Broadway.

So, my mom spots the Hottie With Dog (HWD) and was like, "how about HIM, Ava?"

I reply, "Ma. He kinda looks gay. I dunno. Maybe he's not. Damn. He's hot."

Dad: "You should talk to him. Find out."

Me: "DAD! I dunnoooooooooooo. Ugh."

Mom: "He's cute! AND he has a dog! Come on!"

Dad: "Yeah, Ave. Oh, here he comes."

Me: Slightly panicked and in AWE of this dude's hotness, trying not to drool, like his dog, I reach out and his doggie comes over for a pet. Such a sweet doggie.

HWD: "He likes you!"

Me: (Swooning inside). Yeah! Look at him! Awwwww. What's his name?"

There is now a flurry of conversation about the dog, with my parents occasionally chiming in, but the HWD really seems to be chatting us up. Very friendly. To me, a classic gay trait. BUT, a classic FLIRT trait. I'm lost. And, I can't REALLY get my game on with my parents sitting next

to me on a bench. I mean, come on.

And so, HWD walks away to enjoy the rest of his day, with his dog, without me. Le sigh. I usher my family into Bobtail so I can eat my feelings. It tastes like chocolate swirled with slight disappointment, sprinkled with longing.

My dad, always ready with a one-liner that is hilarious but really fucks with your head states, "I guess I'm just going to DIE alone without grandkids!" Awesome.

And then it hits me. My parents are really freaked out that I'm not in a relationship. I make no sense to them in this regard. They support me in all the things I do, even if they don't understand it, but this is probably difficult for them to grasp. When my mom was my age, she had been married for 3 years and had one year old. I don't this is what my parents expected of me at this point but I bet they would like to see I'm on my way to a relationship of some kind.

Of course this is something I'm GOING to want. But I don't think I'll be able to settle for anything until I feel that pull in my gut, that all consuming giddyness and blindness that makes you feel like you're 15. And that's the best I can do.

Thanks for listening-

lady ava

the DVR: A Tribute

2009-04-22T17:45:00.012-05:00

This topic has been on my mind and in my heart for about a month or so and I must express my appreciation and wonder for the magical device, the DVR, for it has changed m'life.

Back in the old days. Prehistoric, ancient times of yore, I would find a show, enjoy it, watch it and make it my beeswax to be on the couch at that given time each week for my show. Either that or trust that I would catch a repeat airing. Dicey.

And then the DVR came into my life (otherwise known as calling Comcast and being like, "I want that DVR thing, in my house, attached to my TV. Kthanks.") And now, my life will never be the same.

*CAUTIONARY NOTE: Do not record daily programs like, "The Soup" or, "Chelsea Lately." You will not be able to catch up with them all and your DVR will be 84% full in two days. Record shows like that when you know a special guest will be on.

Also, treat your DVR like men. Discard them (shows) you find yourself not watching and delete after viewing a program. Clear that shit up for the next one...show. Oh you know.

My DVR has provided me with:

1) FAST FORWARD THROUGH COMMERCIALS WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

2) Bret Michels and his Skanks of Love. But you already knew that, right?

3) Tough Love on VH1. Goddamnit I love that show.

4) The Housewives of New York City. (The OC Housewives, I would like to note, make me want to conduct a lobotomy on myself. I CANNOT EVEN WAIT for the Housewives of New Jersey. Holy Fuck. Also, for spot on hilarious recaps, check out Scented Glossy Magazine. Love that funny bitch.)

5) Sitcoms like "The Office" and "30 Rock"

6) Lifetime Movies. Oh fuck yeah. We need to talk about this.

I don't know how many of you out there watch Lifetime, TV for Women, but OMG yah should. Lifetime is currently bringing the immortal and epic tales of Nora Roberts to life. Done. Count me in. Where do I sign up? I'm there.

Last night, Galatea and I watched "Midnight Bayou" staring that chubby child star turned hottie boom bottie Jerry O'Connell. Lifetime's recap:

In the Nora Roberts movie "Midnight Bayou," Harvard-educated lawyer Declan Fitzpatrick (Jerry O'Connell) impulsively gives up his settled life to buy Manet Hall, a newly restored plantation manor near New Orleans to which he has always found himself drawn. Legend has it that the house is haunted, and shortly after Declan moves in he starts hearing voices and seeing things. Declan is also distracted by an undeniable attraction to Cajun local Lena Simone (Lauren Stamile), who grew up on the bayou with her grandmother Odette (Faye Dunaway) and has her own deep connection to the manor. Living in the house, Declan begins to have visions from a century past and details of events that took place in the mansion. With the help of Odette, Declan and Lena realize that they are inextricably linked with Manet Hall and uncover a shocking secret that has been hidden there for more than 100 years. (The "Midnight Bayou" movie is based on the Nora Roberts book title of the same name.

I mean, COME ON! How can you NOT watch? Twenty minutes into this, oh what's the right word what's the right word, MASTERPIECE, Gee and I were invested. To the point that we were shrieking, "what the FUUUUUUCK!" and, "Shut the FUCK up!" along with, "Noooooooooo waaaaaaayyyyy" and the classic, "YEAH! Makeoooooouuuuuut." In retrospect, there could've been at least two or three more sex scenes but whatever. O'Connell was hot and the story line was gold.

The DVR is currently holding for me "Tribute" starring Brittany Murphy (yeah, where DID her career go, right?) and sex on a stick Jason Lewis, better known as Smith from "Sex and the City." Brittany looks like a hot mess but Jason looks like he should take advantage of me. YEAH I SAID IT.

People, I think we can all put money on the fact that I will be watching each and every one of these movies with a carton of cappuccino with chocolate chips frozen yogurt in my little hands.

Now, if only Lifetime would re-air "The Golden Girls" again, my DVR life would be complete.

DVR, oh sweet sweet DVR, what joy and mindlessness you bring me. I lurve you.

Anxiously awaiting the return of Mad Men-

A-to-the-VA

Ava Log- April 13. Rain. Cold. Gray.

2009-04-13T20:39:00.004-05:00

And damp. Bleak. Lethargic.

I refuse to put my winter coat back on.

I'm starting to panic that Spring, real 65 degrees, sunny, trees in bloom, open patios, sundress wearing, frolicking Spring will never come.

Which in turn, means that Summer, true 85 degree, air conditioner units, bathing suits, days at the lake, not watching TV for weeks at at time, sandals and sunglasses, the sensation of fewer responsibilities and flings of Summer will never EVER arrive.

Chicagoans are tough. We grin and bear this shit weather with patience and cynicism. We're all just trying to survive at this point.

What Not to Wear: Khaki Pants

2009-04-09T13:39:00.007-05:00

haaaaaay gurl. lookin good.

You know what, people? I don't get it. Khaki. Pants. Let's talk about it.

They make me yawn. I see a girl wearing them at the bus stop and I kinda feel bad for her. And these were actually a cute pair of khakis. But she was probably wearing an argyle sweater under her jack-YAWN-et. Oh. Excuse me. Ahem. What was I sayi...khaki pants. Right.

It's not like I've never worn a pair of. Oh no sir. Homegirl worked at a golf course for at least five summers. But that was a uniform. Perhaps it's the hours and hours of wearing an ugly polo shirts and khaki pants/shorts, sweating in the sun or freezing in the early Midwest mornings, that has tainted my view.

The last pair of khaki pants I owned was in 2004. College. They were pretty cute. They had a wide leg trouser cut. But anytime I wore them, I felt so unoriginal. This can be a minor problem when you're dating a Republican/golfer/futher accountant. (We all know how THAT relationship ended, right?)

As far as I'm concerened, one can make a stronger fashion choice and NEVER EVER wear khakis...unless they are part of a uniform or your golfing.
My work here is done.

Toodles!

ava

heart anatomy

2009-03-28T16:17:00.003-05:00

Song lyrics are funny things, aren't they? A song is playing one moment, surrounding you with melodic sound, and the next moment, you hear each and every word and it stops you. My recent obsession with Pandora Radio led me to the song “Breakable” by Ingrid Michaelson.

Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess.

And we are so fragile,
And our cracking bones make noise,
And we are just,
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys

Which led me the lyrics of one of my favorite songs,"Nothing Better” by the Postal Service. (lo siento, I could not find an official video to this song. If you don't own it, do yourself a solid and GET IT NOW.)

Will someone please call a surgeon
Who can crack my ribs and repair this broken heart
That you’re deserting for better company?
I can't accept that it's over...
I will block the door like a goalie tending the net
In the third quarter of a tied-game rivalry
So just say how to make it right
And I swear I'll do my best to comply
Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together

I love the idea of what our hearts are anatomically. It’s just a muscle. It circulates our blood. Our ribcage protects our heart as well as our lungs, which give us breath.
I love the idea of breath. I think it’s the best way to remind ourselves that we’re living. Each moment, is a breath.
(Strange fact: I can no longer eat meat off of ribs. One day, I visualized their anatomical placement and what their actual function is. Ava does not eat ribs, folks.)

What’s strange about the science of these parts of our body, our hearts and our lungs, is how much they mean emotionally and poetically. I have had moments that have taken my breath away. I have missed someone so much my heart ached. The fusion of our anatomy and our emotions is rather spectacular.
Humans, we’re funny things, aren’t we?

you ask, i tell

2009-03-12T22:47:00.007-05:00

My friend James recently asked me to write a little summin summin about the following topic:

Why is it difficult to meet and mate in the city? What is the female perspective?

All right, James, here is what lil’ol’ Ava thinks. I believe that the city is the most powerful influence in this equation. We’re all in this urban jungle trying to survive. I love the city. I can’t imagine living in a place like the small Midwestern town for whence I came. But I’m not gonna lie and say it’s easy to live here. There’s a price you pay for living in a place surrounded by 2.8 million people. Shit, trying to get from point A to point B on le CTA can drive a sane person insane and the insane…well, they live on the 22 bus and/or the Red Line.

But I digress. My point is that most of us young people who move to a city whenever we can make a break for it are looking for some kind of excitement and adventure. To get married, buy a house in the hometown, and pop out some babies A.S.A.P. is N.O.T. an option. There is more out there and we want it, goddamnit!

This is where I’d like to address The City from the lens of a female. I never saw myself as a “career oriented” woman. Sure, I had different ambitions and ideas of what my career would be. But really, I’m a “blowin in the wind” kinda gal. When I moved to the city, however, suddenly, I’m in a job with a slew of possibilities. I have this “when opportunity knocks, grab it by the balls” mindset. I’m gonna get shit did. I feel empowered, intelligent and strong. This work life along with a group of fabulous gal pals and a social life, as well as being sure to make room for Ava Alone time begs the question: WHO HAS TIME FOR A BOYFRIEND? Whoa, Nelly! Let’s back this rant up to the topic of Finding a Guy.

A personal anecdote: When I first moved to Chicago, I was in a four year relationship. Less than six months after this move, the relationship was over. This has been called, “the most mutual of mutual breakups” and after a significant amount of time, my ex and I are friends. I mean, the breakup sucked, I did drop 10 pounds and felt a bit lost for a bit, but it was for the best. And thus, Single Ava was born (and there was much rejoicing). And I must be honest here. I love me single. I’m good at it. I’ve got this shit DOWN, ok? And the whole being free to be a skank isn’t even part of it (although occasional vacations to Shameless Ho Ville have been known to happen. Ooops.) I love that I am totally free to do what I need to do. I don’t answer to anyone. I love this. I enjoy nothing more than spending the entire day alone (especially in the summer) speaking only to someone when I need to order coffee or food. It’s cleansing. I savor this. Then again, that’s just me. I’m sure James would like to hear more of an all-womankind answer. Here it is. I’ll make it simple for the male reader out there.

CITY GIRLS=STRONG. INDEPENDENT.

We know what we want, when we want it, where we want it from and what to wear while we get it. And if we don’t, we fake it. Can’t tell? Of course you can’t. We're good.

I don’t have the track record with men like Galatea does. I’ve dated some fun guys. But I am usually left disappointed and disillusioned. Enter a girl’s best friends Bitter, Jaded, Cynical and Pint (Ice cream. Then beer.) God only knows why men treat us the way we do. On the other hand, maybe She doesn’t…Anyhow, I don’t have time to go into these theories. It makes me tired at this point. Suffice it to say, a lot of us girls have been treated like shit by a lot of you guys. This is truth. And I do NOT need to hear “but girls do it to guys too!” Suck it. I’m writing this. I’m no math whiz, but I believe this best represents the situation:

Guys hurting girls > Girls hurting guys

A+ Ava AND a gold star. You so smart. Based on this equation, we can deduce that at some point girls breakdown and then build up their walls. Not letting someone in becomes the game, and we have to be good at it. How many times can we put ourselves together again after someone either dents us with disappointment or causes us to crumble to the ground because they’ve broken our heart before we are no longer the girl we once were? Sometimes blocking the male species is soley for self-preservation. And we deserve that. If we don’t treat ourselves right, who will? Better yet, I’ll quote RuPaul, “If you don’t love yourself, how the HELL you gonna love somebody else? Can I get an amen?” Amen my mista sista.

Here it is, what I think it all boils down to.
We’re all getting over the last person.
We’re all a little lonely.

We’re all trying our best (except assholes and skankfaces. They suck at life).

But I like to think that sometimes, the stars align and two people are completely in the right place at the right time.
And then the spark happens…
Ha.

What? A girl can fantasize, can’t she?

I hope that helped, James! I hope people out there in Internets-land keep the conversation going.

Keepin It Real Cuz That's What Real Do-
La Ava

for You

2009-03-04T19:39:00.004-06:00

Oh hi You-

Now I'm healed, well, almost. I mean, for the most part. Enough so that when thoughts of you float into my drifting mind, I don't lash out in visceral anger, pain or grief. Just a gentle twinge of disappointment...in You. No, thoughts of You are now more like a vague reminiscence, a nostalgic trail of fuzzy moments.

(It should be noted that music is a different situation entirely. There are still certain songs and/or artists I hear that manage to both stab and flip my guts.)

For some time now, I've wanted to drop You an email saying...something. The words just haven't formed right in my over-analytical mind. So I didn't. I would say something when i knew what to say.

And then it was You (it's always You) who broke the three month void and popped up on instant message. You. Boo. Yet I wasn't spooked. Taken aback, sure, but I wasn't rattled like I had been three months ago. Look at me. I'm growing.

You: Too long

Me: I know

You: You suck

Me: Shut up. Actually, my phone was stolen a month ago, along with your number.

You: Oh

Me: I thought of emailing. Didn't know what to say

You: How about (insert inside joke here)

Me: Considered it

[Brief and vague "how are you" and "what's up:]

You: So do people there hate me?

Me: Yeah, pretty much

You: Why is that? Why didn't you defend me?

Me: How would I even do that? Why would I?

You: It's all how you present it

Me: All I had to say was that you went and got yourself a girlfriend and that was that

You: See? How you presented it

Me: You hurt me. People don't like to see me hurt. It's simple.

You: Oh. Right

Me: And I didn't go into detail because it hurt too much. What's done is done

You: Yeah I guess

Me: Can I ask an honest question?

You: Sure

Me: Do you think of me? Not in some deep or profound way. Just from time to time, "hmmm. Ava."

You: Of course

Me: Ok

You: Do you have a boyfriend?

Me: No. Not really

You: Why not?

Me: Because I'm terrified of commitment

You: Weird

Me: You are

Overall, I felt strong, confident and unflustered. Oh, and I didn't feel like I had to puke ONCE! Success! I was honest and unapologetic.

I handle confrontation best when it's just words. Black and white. Bold and clear.

To throw this back to a Sex and the City episode, it is akin to when Carrie sees Aidan again in the episode "Ghost Town." The idea is that everywhere you go after a breakup, or after the relationship dies, you are haunted by moments shared with someone you once loved. Me? For the longest time I couldn't walk a certain two block distance on Clark Street without feeling like I was having the emotional shit kicked out of me by unique memories of You. Thanks.

What Carrie explains in this episode is that when you actually see your ghost, you need to "confront, accept and release."

And that, my long lost love, is what I did with You.

I confronted You and said what I needed to. I did not back down.

I accept that it is what it is. We are where we are now.

And I release everything I've been holding onto all this time.

I can't shake the feeling You will be some kind of presence in my life (to most of my friends disappointment and collective shaking of heads). We'll see.

But for now, I miss You and I think of You.

Until we speak again...

Older and wiser-

ava

Take it away Duffy:

no, i did not abandon ya'll

2009-03-01T20:30:00.004-06:00

Hi there Puppies.

I feel awful for abandoning you in the abyss of the internets.
I suppose the sheer magnitude of my last entry left me speechless…or not. So, what have I been up to? What have I been amused by? Quite frankly, not much.Here’s the thing. This winter will not end. It just won’t. At this point, it’s about survival. You see, there are a few things that happen to a person over the course of a winter in trying to cope with the plummeting temperatures and serotonin levels.

1) Get your drink on. Here in the Chi, we don’t mess around when it comes to drinking. It is really a coping mechanism, a way to escape and have a crazy fun time. For example, Valentines weekend should have been renamed, “Bitter Bender Weekend.” This involves going out Friday, even though you really didn’t intend to. This kind of night typically has a beginning, middle and an ending of destruction. Saturday was Valentines Day. Oh joy. Drinking necessary. Sunday had been in the works for weeks as a day drinking extravaganza with my friend Faith. We’re talking roughly 12 hours of drinking all around Chicago. Yes, I am a little champion. And let me introduce you to the Bearfight. Slam an Irish Carbomb and chase it a jagerbomb. However, we chased with a cherrybomb. Fucks ya up! Needless to say, I think my liver is STILL recovering. Poor thing.

2) Hibernation. After the bender subsides, curling up on the couch for hours and hours on end is all one can really handle, or afford. For the past few weekends, I have made the couch my own little island. Bad TV, great movies, internet surfing, meals and occasional naps all go down here. This, my children, is what Seasonal Affective Disorder looks like.

3) Overanalyzing my own life by watching relevant episodes of Sex and the City. Self-explanatory.

And so, it is day in and day out, trying to survive until the first thaw. I hope all of you are finding ways to survive the never-ending winter.

Lots of love and sunshine-
Ava-licious

an open letter:VH1

2009-02-05T00:59:00.010-06:00

Dear VH1.
Wow. Where do I even begin? (Breath). Your Sunday night line-up has pretty much changed my life.There. I said it.
From 7:00-11:00 Central Time, I am mesmerized, delighted, in awe and happy. Oh so happy. Chicago winters are tough on me, VH1. They’re cold, harsh, bleak and depressing as fuck. But for 3 hours during the week, I am transported to amazing places and experience pure joy.

First, you bring me “Confessions of a Teen Idol” hosted by the ALWAYS relevant Scott Baio. Former teen idols are brought in to live together and have another shot at fame. These idols are Jeremy Jackson (Baywatch), Chris Atkins (The Blue Lagoon), Jamie Walters (90210 Original), Billy Hufsey (TV’s Fame), Adrian Zmed (TJ Hooker), Eric Nies (the first Real World) and David Chokachi (Baywatch). In each episode, the Idols go to group therapy to face the demons of their former fame and

demise.

Hottie boom botties from back in the dizzay

Next, a challenge is presented. Previous episodes include making over their image, auditioning for a commercial, putting on a show for children and auctioning themselves off for charity. All brilliant. They even had to sit and listen as a control group of women, their former target audiences saw the “then” and “now” of each guy and give their honest reactions to them. Not pretty in most cases. At some point in each episode, there is always one guy who can’t handle the pressure of the situation any longer and threatens to leave the show.

And then comes Baio Ex Machina. Where would ANYONE be without El Baiocito? With a little help from his friend Wayne from The Wonder Years, they help talk whoever isin crisis mode. Ooooohhhhh Baaiiooooooo.

What is truly remarkable about this show is that it isn’t competitive. No one is getting kicked off if they don’t have the best makeover or don’t’ do a good job at the audition. These guys really support and care about want to see each guy succeed.

Baiolicious

(Cue: awwwwww). It’s actually refreshing to see people act compassionate instead of turning into cutthroat maniacs. (Cue: Next two hours of programming).

At this point, VH1, I’m feeling good, feeling hopeful and already anticipating next week’s soul-searching with former idols. And then comes "Rock of Love Bus With Bret Michaels."

Dear Sweet Baby Jesus Lying in a Manger I love this show beyond most things I’ve encountered in my life (via TV). It all goes back to last fucking miserable winter. My roommate LOVED this show and I just didn’t understand. “Bret Michaels? REALLY?!” I would ponder.

Bret, you're my hero

My brain just couldn’t get a grasp of this complex question, so I didn’t tune in. And then one day, my curiosity and depression got the best of me and like any good drug, I was hooked. Although the “Bret Michaels? REALLY?!” still plagues me from time to time, I soon realized it’s not about him per se, but the rather the CRazY beyotchs who fight, fuck and drink for this “Rock of Loooooooove.” This show has captivated my brain cells (as in, I have less of them now) and my soul (as in, surely I sold it to the Devil for loving this show so much)

that I have decided to commit a WEEK, yes Loves, a week to all thing Rock of Love. You. Are. WELCOME!

And so, I must wrap up hour 2, VH1 by saying, goddamnit this show has NEVER disappointed me. My jaw always drops, I’m always screaming/laughing (scraughing, if you will) with joy. You just need to know VH1 that Bret and his hos NEVER disappoint. EVER. Amen.
Klassy Ladies

And for the final hour of your fine Sunday shows: "Tool Academy." Vh1, this is reality TV. Period. This is th

e pinnacle. The tops. Years and years of reality competition shows have led to this gem of a miracle of an answer to a prayer of a diamond in a rough. Someone was under the influence of something mystical when they came up with this one.
Here it is, those of ye unsaved by the majesty of this show. THE POWER OF TOOL COMPELLS YOU!

Toooooooooooolssssssss!

Dudes arrive to a show they believe is “Mr. Awesome.” Immediately there is yelling, stripping, grunting, hair spiking, lotioning abs and madness as these men-children prepare to perform for a group of screaming women. They. Are. PUMPED. Meanwhile…their girlfriends (GFs from here on out) watch all of this go down in another room. They witness their boyfriends’ parade in front of, kiss, flirt and grind up on other women. Oh yeah.
The host, some dude with a smug voice, brings the men together after the show. And in walk the GFs. Jaws drop. Eyes lower. “Oh my God”muttered. GFs glare. Oh yeah.
Dudes are informed they are not, in fact, competing to be Mr. Awesome. Nay. Their GFs have enlisted them in the Tool Academy. HUZZAH! Dudes must go through sets of challenges such as Communication, Fidelity, Humility, Maturity, and Bravery, to name a few, in order to become reformed and worthy boyfriends. Oh yeah.
Now, when an Asshole is kicked is expelled from the Tool Academy, the GF has the option of either staying with the loser or leaving his ass. Oh yeah.
The winning couple receives $100,000, chump change in reality show terms as of late but the golden ticket jackpot here. Shit. I’d taken it.
In this moment, I have decided that I will devote a separate entry or two to Le Tool Academy and all it’s glory for there are so many specific moments I must address and simply throwing them in now will not do you justice, VH1.

Congratulations and thank you, VH1. Every week, I look forward to spending my Sundays with you. During these dark days of winter, you fill me with hope and wonder. What else can I say?

You do good work, son.

All my love and Real Talk-
La Ava

who could ask for anything more?

2009-01-31T14:09:00.002-06:00

The sun was shining on this beautiful Saturday. No, I didn’t venture out to enjoy the sunshine even though it’s beaming through my windows. So, in order to be productive, I slapped a face-mask on popped in the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie, “Shall We Dance.” This is serious work, people.

Fred and Ginger movies make me so happy. The music, the dancing, the dialogue, the wacky situations are perfection. And Ginger Rogers?Lady was FIERCE! She NEVER takes crap from anyone. She knows what she wants and gets it. So when she does start to fall in love with Fred Astaire, when they’re dancing, it is magical and she is totally caught off guard. The movie centers on these rumors that the two of them are married and someone addresses her as “Ma’am.” Her response, “Ma’am!? It’s MISS!” Hell yeah! Love her. These movies were so smart and sharp. They just don’t make them like they used to. Yes, I’m a 75-year-old woman. Bite me.

As the sun sets, my pores are smaller, my skin is glowing and Ginger Rogers is my hero. Oh, and btDUB, a little fact I picked up watching the special features, which I do with all classic film dvds, Fred Astaire’s daughter is Ava Astaire. How fabulous do I feel!

Happy Saturday, bitches!

all the king's horses, all the king's men, somehow put ava together again

2009-01-26T23:40:00.002-06:00

There are moments where I sit back in my life and Le Sigh. It’s been a rough couple of months but as Galatea just pronounced to me today, “I will no longer listen to anything you complain about. You’ve got it all.” To that I say, “Bitch is right.”

When your world crashes around you for one reason or another, you can’t help but step back, look at the wreckage and attempt to pick up the pieces. But for a time, you sit in the rubble and feel the loss of what you’ve built up. And slowly, you try to put your life together again, like Humpty Dumpty, but the fractures are there. Some pieces are missing or don’t fit, It seems like you’ll never feel whole again and you just aren’t what you used to be. Any other catastrophes that hit you shatter that fragile shell you tried to re-create around yourself and your left raw and exposed to the elements.

This was the point I had been at lately. And it was awful. And I felt alone. But the biggest lesson was that I wasn’t alone. Not at all. Not close. My friends near and far began to rebuild me. And I had to surrender to that and trust them to do so. I must have done something right in my life so far to be so lucky as to have people who would dig in and get to work on The Revitalizing Ava Project. And at some point, I became strong enough to rebuild myself and take the steps necessary to make myself all around more awesome.

Tonight Galatea and I had dinner with two dear friends. We ate a delicious meal, drank a lot of wine and laughed uproariously for hours. It was one of those nights where you look at the clock and it’s only 8:00 and the next minute it’s 11:00 and time for the good times to end. It’s nights like this when your friends leave and you almost cling to them in an embrace, trying to hold onto what you love most about them and what you just shared.

I sat back, took it in and knew, this is love.
I’m so in love with everyone who has had a hand in fixing me.
I can’t think of a better way to start a New Year…well, a Chinese New Year. Same thing.

It’s all fabulous.

Onward and upward, hos-

little miss ava

when i grow up...

2009-01-21T21:47:00.005-06:00

You guys, I figured it out! And I’m super excited that I’ve finally figured out my destiny.

I’M GOING TO BE FIRST LADY WHEN I GROW UP!

For. Real. Watch me do work.

Ok, yes, I realize there are a few logistical “issues” with this newfound goal, but damnit, you can’t fight *destiny*!

I mean, YEAH, I will need to:
a) Date from a pool of attractive men who will become senators (Democrats, thank you!) without looking like a total gold digga. Kanye, don’t go there.

b) Actually get into a relationship. (shudders)

c) Probably should start burying those skeletons in my closet!
d) Take up noble causes. And push my agendas of arts and education. Mwahahaha.
e) Marry the dude.
f) Make some pretty babies.

g) Hit the campaign trail, winning the American people over state by state until they vote for

my man.

h) Move into the White House.

Oh, and do it ALL while looking FIERCE!

So, it’s obviousthat Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis is my inspiration. Clearly.

I even busted out my book, “What Would Jackie Do?” for further inspiration! Etiquette, style, class, grace, this woman was it all. I could SO do that! But as Galatea pointed out, I will need to accept that people will say bad things about my husband and will scrutinize how I run my family. All very important points to consider. But I think I could rock it out.

Another reason (a very nerdy reason) why I want to be First Lady, is to live in and with the history of the White House. I love me some historical facts and items. I love living in history. And I think I would enjoy living in D.C. for four to eight years. And like I said in my last post, I’m not the most political gal, but I would like to do some good and serve the public’s best interest. Plus, dignitaries will LOVE me! I would really like to do some international goodwill. I’ve got this you guys! I've. Got. THIS! Who's with me? Ava's husband for Prez in 2016? YES I CAN, BITCHES!

Plus, I’ll look FAB in oversized sunglasses and chic clothes. Truth.

hail to the chizzief!

2009-01-20T22:43:00.003-06:00

Can you feel it? Can you see it? Can you hear it?
It’s Change. And to me, it’s palpable.
Listen, I’m a cynic. I’m not the most political gal on the planet. And for some time, I was absolutely sure that our country would see its demise in my lifetime. But today, I witnessed our lives change. We’re on a different course. And it MUST change.

The words PRESIDENT Obama (how freaking sweet is THAT?!) spoke so eloquently this afternoon continue to ring in my ears this evening. I am filled with a sense of pride, of duty and of that other magical word, hope.
I feel like I could write a dissertation at this point in regards to some points Prez Obama made in his address. But alas, I’ve had some wine, it’s getting late and words seem to fail me in writing about something so profound.
I urge everyone to actually read his speech. This man is a writer. His words MEAN something. They must. He is thoughtful and deliberate. He will lead.
I’m riding on a wave of inspiration. And I leave you with this:

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a

local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

And so it begins...

oh9 can suck it

2009-01-14T23:40:00.003-06:00

Well, kids. When it rains, it shit storms.
As Galatea mentioned this weekend, my stuff was stolen from the bar this weekend. Mind you, this is a bar I bartend at once a week. I mean, come on. The universe is out to get me or teach me some lesson. I don’t know what it is, but it sure is kicking my ass and taking a toll.

Here is one lesson I know for sure. I have the most amazing friends near and far. Whenever I have been down and out and something shitty happens, friends just scoop me up and work their magic. It’s the kind words, it’s the actions, it’s that feeling that they understand and even more than that, EMPATHIZE with it all. They don’t want me to fall. I am just so full of love because of them. I don’t know if anyone deserves this, but I’m certainly proud and blessed that I’m on the receiving end of it all.

In light of the less than stellar start to 2009, I have decided to really celebrate the Chinese New Year. January 26th. IT. IS. ON. By this time, our Main Man Obama will be in the White House and everything will be rainbows, cupcakes and a better economy. Right? HELL YEAH.

I don’t think I was approaching 2009 with the right mindset, mostly because I find New Years obnoxious, like Valentine’s Day or Sweetest Day. There is just so much hype for a clock to turn to midnight. Of course I understand the “fresh start” and “another year, another chance” aspect of it all. Quite frankly, I hope to spend one New Years at a yoga retreat (preferably in a tropical locale) in meditation when the clock strikes twelve. I know. How “Eat, Pray, Love” of me. But it’s true.
However, in Chicago, you cannot go out ANYWHERE without dropping at least $150 MINIMUM. For one night. Yeah. Ridonkulous. And if you’re in a relationship, the pressure is ON, my brotha. If you do not find the perfect place to ring in the new year with your girlfriend, who just bought a new skanky dress and heels (even if it is 20 degrees out, yeah, she is retarded) then it’s over. Well, it’ll be over after she scores her loot and boo-tay for Valentine’s Day. I’m guessing you’ll be done by February 21st if you fuck up New Years. Welcome to reasons number 26 and 27 of “Why Ava CHOOSES to be Single.” And why go through all of that when you can do a shot of Jameson with your “If We Were Lesbians…” friend, Faith, and share a petit smooch. Followed by looking at each other and saying, “this is bullshit” and chugging a glass of champagne. Word.

The point to my tirade? Because clearly I need to wrap this mess up. Well, I think you can have a fresh start anytime. You don’t need a sparkly ball to drop or confetti to fly for you to make a choice for change in your life. And you don’t need to be in a relationship with one person to be truly happy or to feel truly loved. Right now, I’ll take the love of many. There’s strength in numbers.

So, suck it 09. I’ve got friends, art and the upcoming Year of the Ox on my side!

Dear Galatea,

2009-01-05T22:32:00.002-06:00

Find me THIS Sugar Daddy. ASAP.

kthanksloveyoubye!

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

2009-01-04T23:26:00.002-06:00

I have survived the holidays. Barely. This past week especially has kicked my ass. I cannot wait to return to my regularly scheduled programming of life. As much as I love to be adventurous and spontaneous, if I don’t have a routine to ground me, I suffer. Finding my way back to my life will be so healthy.

So, I kinda hate 2009. It could be because the last few months of 2008 really rattled me and beat me up. I feel like I’m starting the year off, not from a fresh and hopeful place, but from a space of being drained and uncertain. I’ll help to put this in perspective. This is what I wrote last year about 2008:

So, it's 2008 and right from the start, I can tell this year has a good vibe. I don't know what it is, but I can just FEEL it. A vibe of change, good change, and happiness and joy is so palpable to me. What's most amazing is how I have NO IDEA where this year will take me. Personally, professionally, physically and emotionally, I have NO CLUE! And that's fabulous. I really believe that, in life, there is a delicate balance of things happening the way they're supposed to (fate) along with effort and work in accomplishing tasks and goals. I don't think it's simply enough to sit back and say, "if it'll happen, then it'll happen" and then do nothing. Events and opportunities will go their natural course, if you let go and let them, but setting out to make something happen is positive too. Like I said, it's all about that balance. Personally, there are certain areas of my life that I know will happen the way they're supposed to. But I also won't give up on certain things unless I know they've been accomplished. At this moment, I feel like it's all about the adventure along the way, not the destination, although I can only wish the destination will be bliss.

Ummm, yeah. Not so much this year, huh?! But as Galatea so wisely told me a few months ago, when you bottom out, it can be a beautiful place to be. It’s from HERE one begins again.
I don’t believe in resolutions. I believe you only set yourself up for failure. I have some very specific goals I would like to achieve this year. I feel like I’ve lost track of parts of my life that used to define me, in my best ways. I also want to seize opportunities as they arise. Travel will happen. I want to focus on me. I don’t want to call it a reinvention, because I don’t want to change who I am, but rather get back to my best self. It’s re-prioritizing. This probably all sounds selfish, but I’m 25, single and living in a city. I have to take care of me. (And yes, I realize I have incredible support here and beyond and I’m never REALLY alone. I’m a very lucky gal.) Essentially what I want to get at here, is that I just don’t have any interest in men or relationships right now. I’m done. Such a waste of time right now. I really do have bigger and better things to concentrate on at the moment.
My New Years wish is for health, joy and strength. I wish all of you in Blogland the same and more.

(I also wait with baited breath for Obama to get in that White House! WOOT!)
I really hope to make it Fine in 09.

keepin it real-

ava

futuresex/lovesound in my pants

2008-12-22T00:12:00.004-06:00

dear justin timberlake-

thanks for the mind-blowing sex the other night.

it was just what i needed.

you sure know how to treat a lady right.

don't be a stranger.

x's and O's ;)

ava

hey you with the penis!

2008-12-20T11:42:00.003-06:00

Yeah, YOU. Let’s talk, asshole. And yes, clearly I’m an “angry bitch” and most likely listening to Fiona Apple’s rage right now. She remains so relevant to me. But I feel justified in all of this. So, let’s just put it out there, in a blind fury of words. Taste my pain, bitch!

I DON'T GET YOU AND YOUR KIND.

I just don’t. What’s wrong with you? HA. Why am I even asking? You don’t know! What do you want other than food, sex and other dudes to sit around and grunt with? Oh. That’s it? Really? Awesome.

Listen, I know women are complicated. Shit, I fully recognize I am a contradiction in terms. I’m sure we are very difficult to understand because we have so much going on, so many…complications. But YOU, fucker, are simple. So simple, in fact, it’s a challenge for our complicated-women brains to understand. You see, your lame and barbaric behavior makes us women neurotic. A simple text message, touch or look is up for interpretation, especially if we don’t know WHAT THE FUCK is going on inside your pea-brain. Personally, I HATE being that neurotic girl and I resent it when I'm made to feel that way. Jerk.

[At this point, I would like to address my dear male friends whom I turn to for advice and friendship. You guys are great. And although my words are harsh to you kind, on some level, I know you agree with me.]

Here’s what I wonder, in MY complicated pea-brain…at what point do you go from being a nice boy to an asshole dude treating girls like disposable things? Are you just programmed that way? When do you discover how to fuck us over, hurt us, leave us just generally fuck shit up?

For the longest time, I thought my future family would consist of three or four boys running around and me, and I would be the coolest mom (clearly). Now, I might have to agree with Galatea; Why raise someone that will turn into something completely foreign. My boys could think the world of me and treat me like the Queen I will be, but at some point, they will learn how to treat girls like shit. And that will break my heart. On the other hand, I don’t know if having a girl is what I will want to deal with either.
Cat Lady I shall be! yay.

Ok, listen. Here’s the Come to Jesus point. You don’t have to want a relationship. You don’t have to want to hang out anymore. You don’t have to like a girl anymore. You don’t have to want anything but someone to chill with. But..
You MAY want a relationship. Or not.
You MAY want to hang out.
You MAY want to do more than just chill.

You MAY just want to be friends.
You MAY want nothing. You MAY want everything.
So, do yourself a solid and GROW THE FUCK UP and be HONEST with us. Please.

As for me? My walls are up, my attitude is fierce and I will do what I need to do to be happy and strong. I deserve that much. And ladies, you deserve all the best too.

Vagina Power-
ava

an open letter: hall and oates

2008-12-15T22:01:00.007-06:00

With a recent appearance on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart, which set my heart a-flutter, I have decided to once again share my love letter to the incomparable Hall and Oates (previously posted on I Could Kill Her).

Dear Hall and Oates-
Wow. What else can I say to you, Daryl and John? You really cranked out those hits that defined the 80s, didn't you?
I mean, wow.
As I sit here, in my cube, with forty minutes left of my "workday" I thought I would write you to let you know that I believe your music must be totally underrated. THIS IS SOME GOOD SHIT!

People out there in the internets, do yourself a solid and click on these links and take. it. in!

Here's Rich Girl:

Get DOWN with your bad self.
This is quite possibly one of the most perfectly arranged pop songs of all time. Notice, how it begins so simple and pure then crescendos until it reaches an incredible climax of instruments and power. I could belt out this song every.single.day. I FEEL it that much. At that moment around the 2:06 mark with a pause into the "And you say..." BRILLIANT!

Private Eyes:
I mean, COME ON! What's NOT to like? Totally performance based. Costumed like private eyes (clevah, clevah). And flashing lights with the claps. So simple. Did I mention that synthesizer? Mmmmmm. Smells like 80s.

Maneater, The Orig:
The absolute epitome of what a great 80s video should be.
-80s Zoot Suits-check
-Shadows-Check
-saxaphone-check
-saxaphone player wearing shades-check
-that great 80s dance move, really made famous in Footloose, where you bounce side to side and then occassionally getting elbows involved- check yes
-COUGAR!!!!!-check say WHAT?!
-Prositute-check
-John Oates perm/fro bouncing while he dances-check and check
-Jumping in shot to sing "whoa-oa here she comes" every single time, against a corner-checkity check check
-intense staring into the camera-oh yeah check
-slight scat of "womaniswild whooooaaa" by Daryl- chizzeck
-once again, very performance based-nice check

I've watched this video three times now and it could quite possibly be one of my favorite things of all time. It is genius, nostalgic and fucking great. Words do not truly encompass the magnitude of beauty this video and song posses.

You Make My Dreams Come True:
Daryl and John, John and Daryl. You DO make my dreams come true. You are clearly having the times of your lives in this video and you know what? It makes me want to do the same. I want to bounce around the city listening to this song. I would be such a happier person. And maybe that's the point. You made music that made people better.

Yes, I am leaving out other seminal works such as "She's Gone" and "I Can't Go For That", both outstanding in their own rights. But with given this sampling, I guess what I'm trying to say is that although you're not cranking out hits anymore, you did good work and that's the gift that keeps giving.
Do Work Hall and Oates, Do. Work.

Hugs, kisses and Real Talk-
Miss Maneater Ava

P.S.-Dear John Oates' Moustache-
You deserve a letter of your own. You are powerful, potent and rich. You put many-a moustache to shame. You are full of life and vigor. You make the 80s proud. Word on the street is that the moustache is making a come-back, well if that's the case, you are the ideal of what a good, nay, great moustache should be. Although in 2008, it should be noted, you no longer exist, which is a crime. John, give 'Stache a chance.

Moustaches and Rides-
Lady Ava

ain't NO shame!

2008-12-14T16:51:00.001-06:00

The walk of shame, without the shame…
The walk of shame, minus the shame…
The walk of shame, sans shame…

Yup. Each line is funny. And true.

A ten block walk home on a rather mild December day at 9 am can kinda clear the head.
Typically, I would have jumped in a cab and high-tailed it back to the coziness of my home and most important, bed. But today, that wind, the quiet streets and the air told me to pound the pavement the ten blocks home.

I pass windows and catch a glimpse of myself. I don’t look totally like a ho on her way home from a one night stand. No. I prefer to think I’m on way to brunch. Yeah, brunch, assholes. But I do look like a fierce ninja, dressed head to toe black. Or a secret agent. Both are badass and not to be messed with.

For a few steps, it smells like New York. I am suddenly transported there and wonder what it would be like to live there. I really need to get back there.

There is definitely one specific spot in Chicago that reminds me of The Last Guy. And it pisses me off. Sharing a spot in your city with someone and then they make it their own spot in their own unique way can just make a girl want to do a ninja kick in a fit of rage. Alas, energy and fading memories keep this ninja chick at bay.

Pass by a great little card shop. Begin counting the number of cards I will need to buy and the awesome people who will be receiving one filled with my loving words for Christmas. How is it almost Christmas already?

I am kinda loving the brief glances of slight judgment directed at me. I giggle to myself.

I do not have my ipod. Walking without it is bizarre, and yet refreshing.

Mind is feeling clear.

Holy crap. At every intersection, except the one I’m at, I’ve been able to just walk on through. Nice. That’s ninja.

The homestretch is upon me. It’s so nice to reach your neighborhood and to feel like you are a part of the street.

I send a brilliant text. Why must texts be so brief? I really cannot express my stunning wit within the confines of a damn text. Ah, yes. But it is these restrictions that beget greatness. Drink that one in. Drink. It. IN. On the house.

And my front door. And my staircase. And my home. Dorothy had it right, there’s no place like home. Even if it took a shameless walk to get there. No trip to Oz here!

To my hos and haters, much love. I hope you had a rocking weekend.

Lurves-
Ava

just another day

2008-12-12T23:46:00.002-06:00

1) Waking up blows. A daily battle.
2) Wearing my hair Carrie Bradshaw curly lately. The bigger the better. Ooooh! Or the Texan phrase, the bigger the hair, the closer to God. Amen.
3) Train to work totally uneventful. That’s rare. Especially for the Red Line.
4) Conference call first thing. I am uncaffeinated and DYING. Occasionally confused by the conversation. Productivity could be a problem.
5) STARBUCKS. At sweet last. Great anticipation for my grande vanilla soy latte (yeah, I went on the small side today).
a. Someone orders something with “6 pumps.” A grande espresso with 6 pumps. Whatthefuck? What does this mean? How do you reach a specific “6 pump” point? How much effort goes into figuring out that 5 pumps is too few and 7 is too much? Can you REALLY tell? REALLY? If it ever comes to that moment for me in my Starbucks ordering life, I’m going to have to re-evaluate some shit in my life.
6) Day progresses…slooooooowwwwllyyyyyy. How did anything ever get done before Gchat and Facebook stalking and blog reading? I mean, come ON.
7) I almost never know what to eat for lunch. Unless I think of it on the train to work. I will literally sit at my desk, starving and unable to decide what kind of nourishment to put in my body. Today, a sandwich from Cosi. That took roughly an hour and a half for me to decide. Yeah, I’m going places.
8) End this day, end this day, end this day, end this day, end this day, end this day, end this day…
9) Train ride home. Score a seat. Try not to stare at the Hotness standing by the door. Make up elaborate scenario of how he is my soulmate and we live happily ever after. He gets off at Armitage. Sexy. Goodbye, MY LOOOVE!
10) Long walk home in the fucking cold.
11) Arrive at home, change into yoga clothes. Awesome. It’s a motherfucking blizzard outside. You know what? I’m a champion and I WILL get my yoga on. I owe it to my mind, body and spirit.
12) Survive the blizzard and yoga class. Feeling good, feeling good.
13) And then my mind starts thinking and becoming angsty. I begin to ponder relationships. I wonder how and why people become involved in them. I feel like an alien studying this “re-la-tion-ship” thing that the humans do. Ugh, no matter. I’ve got better shit to do like watch “It’s Always Sunny” in Philadelphia and write to you beautiful people.
14) Pass out.

And there you have it, Sweetfaces. Just an average day in the life of little old me.
I’m Ava Worth, and thanks for stopping by.

oh the angst

2008-12-09T22:59:00.003-06:00

i find that there are times when it seems

like only billie holiday understands.

that's all for now.

but trust me, there's more going on in this brain of mine.

stay tuned and hopefully the ugh will pass.

fightin the good fight-

ave-dawg

all aloney on my owny

2008-12-05T16:07:00.003-06:00

I’m struggling with something. Deep breathe, because that was a lot to admit and I haven’t begun to explain myself. Another deep breath, here it goes.

For several months now, I have savored my single gal status. As a matter of fact, I fiercely defended it. Ok, maybe I held very strong feelings for someone who could seemingly not return the favor as I do deserve more, and who did not live in the same city. That made maintaining my single stature easy.

Why do I love my singleness so much? Well, for me it’s not a matter of whoring around and such. (Although random makeouts rock, right?) No, my single power comes from being alone and doing whatever I want whenever I want. Since I was a little girl playing Barbies in the basement, I have never really had a problem with being alone. My mind and the activities that I enjoy keep me plenty occupied. As an adult, (and I use the term loosely) I have discovered that this alone time is what re-charges me, centers me and keeps me sane. That isn’t to say that loneliness doesn’t occasionally set in and really sting, but it’s in those almost scary moments of loneliness that I seem to embrace and find some kind of strength. Hey, it’s what I tell myself and it helps. I’m really not a social butterfly although I do thrive when receiving attention.

Oh yeah. I'm a full on contradiction. Now comes the conflict.

How long can I really maintain this single/alone lady thing? What’s it going to take for me to compromise my alone time and my agenda? How much will I have to really compromise? Who will want to put up with all of this (read: ME)?!

The past month has been a bit brutal for me. At some point, I threw up my hands and the white flag saying, “I CAN’T TO THIS ALONE ANYMORE! I WANT SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF ME, DAMNIT!” As I stated in my previous post, I have recently discovered that I am not really alone. I have an abundance of support and love, which constantly stuns and delights me. But I think I am coming to realize that perhaps I desire another kind of support. The kind that mostly a (gulp) “boyfriend” provides.

I might be a bit lightheaded after writing that last sentence and using the word boyfriend. Huh.

Well, maybe I am ok on my own. No need to rush anything. I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m ok.

shout out to G

2008-12-01T21:44:00.002-06:00

Galatea is my rock, my love and one of the best friends a gal could have.

That just needed to be addressed.

Thank you and goodnight.

Snowflakes and boots-

ava

i want my sweet home chicago....like, now

2008-11-29T22:27:00.002-06:00

Ah, the holidays. A time for being home with family. I have been looking forward to a long and restful holiday with my family due to my dear cousin’s wedding and Thanksgiving. Sometimes, the city can beat a young single girl, and all she wants is to be taken care of. I was looking for a whole lot of down time and even more food with the amazing and supportive family of mine.
I am going on Day 8 and GOING CRAZY.

I miss Chicago. I miss my friends. I miss my life. I miss my apartment. I miss authentic Mexican taco joints. I miss Thai food (delivered). I miss cabs. I miss a Starbucks on every corner. And dare I even say it, I miss the CTA (gasps). All of this is normal to me. All part of being the City-Gal I always knew I was supposed to be and the one I have become.

Like I said before, I love my family. They are the most incredible support system and hilarious people. My parents, younger brother and I could be a sitcom of awesome. And in light of recent dramatic events while I have been home (which, no, I do NOT care to mention on here) they continue to astound me with their undying love and affection.

And yet just today, my mom started to drive. me. insane. In the membrane. Because that’s what mom’s do sooner or later, right? Sigh.

More importantly with all of this and all the drama I have sadly found myself in, I realize that the unconditional support I have with my family at home, I have in Chicago, too. For the first time, I can feel that it isn’t just the people who are related to me that I can lean on and I miss them desperately. Sometimes this single girl can feel lonely, can feel like she really is battling this big, bad world all by herself. It’s nice to have that reality check that just really isn’t the case.

So, although I am restless and have one more full day at home con mi familia, I will make the most of it and savor the love and insanity they can dish out. And then I shall return to the big, bad world just a bit stronger and ready to hit the street running and armed with a posse of awesome chicks.

Can’t wait to see you hos (especially Galatea, the Rock of all hos).

Much Love for the City-
ava

PS: I have become obsessed with Duffy. Anyone else? Seriously, diggin what she’s throwin down in that “I HEAR YOU GIRL!” kinda way.

it's all happening

2008-11-28T17:04:00.002-06:00

A warm welcome and holla playa to anyone reading this!

Well, here it is. At long last, my little corner of the Internet. For quite some time now, I have found that the events in my life, whether profound or mundane, find a way of playing with my brain. Moments and ideas I find inspiring, challenging, and frustrating are fueling me to FINALLY unleash upon the world my modest but earnest point of view.

It is amazing how often the smallest things I notice during my day-to-day routine will spark me. Something I read, something I see, someone I overheard or talk to, a song I listen to, the weather, or a memory find a way of resonating with me. There is so much to take in around us, so much to feel and be curious about. So that is what I wish to do: play and respond to these resonating inspirations.

These musings. It’s all pretty amusing, isn’t it?

I encourage comments. It will probably make my day. So, have at it, Homeys. Once again, welcome and thanks for stopping by. I hope to hear from your crazy asses soon!

Peace, Love and Awesomeness-
ava