We’re Gonna Talk About Miley Cyrus’s VMA Performance

Before I start this post, I just want to say that I have 2 posts planned, WITH HANDWRITTEN NOTES I TOOK JUST FOR THE PURPOSE OF WRITING THEM WITH ALL MY THOUGHTS IN ORDER that I’m skipping in lieu of writing about the most currently pressing issue on the internet as of last night: Miley Cyrus and the 2013 VMAs.

Yeah. So let’s talk about that, shall we?

First, I would like to say that every year at the VMAs, there is always at least one moment in which I feel secondhand embarrassment due to someone saying or doing something stupid. This year’s was this moment right here:

While everyone has been going on and on about Miley during this moment, I would just like to point out that Robin Thicke’s LEG IS TWITCHING . And that makes this whole scene even more awkward and hilarious.

I would also like to point out that the stupid pink bears that everyone keeps saying look “bored” or “unenthused” ARE JUST FUCKING HIGH. THAT’S WHY THEIR FACES LOOK LIKE THAT. HELLO, INTERNET FULL OF STONERS. How hasn’t anyone else caught on to that?

Rick Diamond, Getty Images

Overall, I found this performance to be surpassing the realm of “trying too hard” and going beyond that. If Miley was trying to do something that was going to be talked about for a while, she succeeded. She also succeeded and some of the best reactions from the audience ever. I can’t get over Rihanna’s “bitch….you didn’t” face or Jaden Smith’s “WHAT ARE MY EYES SEEING!?” look of terror.  Although upon searching the picture of the Smiths, apparently their appalled faces were for Lady Gaga and not Miley.

Lastly, I wish she would’ve put that tongue away because it was literally out all night and it was giving me sentient nightmares.

And now that I’ve discussed Miley, I’d just like to say that I was TOTALLY EXCITED to see Iggy Azalea on national television in all her gorgeous Aussie glory and was saddened that she didn’t win the award for up and coming.

Iggy and Rita Ora

I also basically pissed my pantaloons when THERE WAS REALLY AN NSYNC REUNION even if it was only for 118 seconds. I had to suppress a real scream and let out a barely breathing squeal of excitement.

Also, let us not leave tonight without mentioning Gaga’s ass. I don’t know why, but I really approve of her wearing nothing but a couple of clamshells and a g-string the rest of the night after her performance. I also appreciate the fact that she mooned everyone at least once during the performance in that ensemble. Yo go Gaga, you put that fabulously toned ass on display!

Lastly, Taylor Swift was such a fucking bitch that it just gave me more reason to passionately dislike her and her shitty “music”. This is a gif from when One Direction accepted their award.

Her acceptance speech really annoyed me, mostly due to the fact that she said “I also want to the thank the person who inspired this song who knows exactly who he is because now I got one of these.” Apparently this is about Harry Styles, although I personally think the guy in the video looks like Jared Leto.

And that’s about all that matters.

Oh, and this.

Sorry not sorry.

Giant Spiders and Sore Butts

Ever since I’ve come back from vacation on Sunday, I’ve been inclined to go to bed earlier and earlier. I seriously considered nodding off at 9:30 today and I think I might actually go to bed after I finish this post.

So vacation was pretty nice. I was secluded out past Lexington, right on the beach on Lake Huron for a week and I apparently got really tan. I spent as much time alone reading on the beach as I could for the latter half of the week, but I only brought one book and I was flying through it, so I had to pace myself. I spent a lot of time thinking. And not even thinking about the problems that I think about while I’m at home, but just thinking. About life, about relationships and how humans interact, about kids (because there were SO. MANY. CHILDREN.), and about how much I wanted to be home.

Not to say I didn’t enjoy myself. But I only knew two people the entire time, while everyone else there had known each other their entire lives. Family camp, as I learned, is something that this group of people look forward to every year. It really is “family camp”. It’s like a large extended family reunion for a week. With a lot of campfires, alcohol, and volleyball. And a lot of sitting around. I was really unprepared for the amount of sitting around, especially on hard surfaces, that there was to be had. I kid you all not my ass was sore all week long. I took precautions later on in the week by bringing a lawn chair to the campfires every night because I couldn’t stand to sit for 6 hours straight on hard wooden benches.

Also, the spiders up there are enormous. I was pretty grossed about by the palm-sized dandy long legs, but it was the quarter sized jumping spiders that were probably more disturbing. I was also told there were sand spiders on the beach that bit people, but thankfully I wasn’t exposed to them. Or I just didn’t see them.

I could probably do that week over again though. I just have to make sure to bring more books to read and maybe a butt cushion. And warmer bedsheets. One night, it was so cold, I slept with 2 hoodies and 2 pants on in addition to my winter pajamas. PLUS two blankets. It was still freezing.

I’m sad my second week of vacation is flying be so quickly though. Pretty soon I’ll have to return to the gloomy cage of jewelry and nasty customers, but I’m going to try not to think about that too much and focus on the now and enjoy it as much as I can.



As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that my brain has this tendency to unearth Romanian words in place of really simple ones like car trunk. Earlier, a group of four very tall siblings walked into my store and the first thing I thought wasn’t wow they’re giants, it was wow, they’re uriaș – the Romanian word for giants. I have no idea why this happens, but it happens quite often. It’s like I simply can’t remember the English word for whatever it is I’m trying to say, but then I automatically remember it in Romanian.

Anyway, I don’t remember how exactly I had planned on transitioning this post, but I recently altered my body in a permanent way. I’ve been oscillating between loving it and feeling a horrible sense of regret and guilt. So much so, that the day after was conveniently Sunday and I went to church seeking answers. Thankfully, I got them.

I think I’ve mentioned it before, but it’s very hard to hear at my church cause it echoes. However, what I did hear, I firmly believe I was meant to hear: that we all have our crosses to bear and that God forgives all sins. Honestly, this made me feel way better about my decision because I take it to mean God doesn’t really care what I do to my body.

Funny thing is, like I said, I keep oscillating between loving and kinda hating it. The next day, I was painting and thinking about life and my recent decisions while listening to traditional Romanian music. While I was in a “I can’t believe I did that, why did I do that” phase, the following lyrics played: “păcate sunt pe pământ” which translates to “sins are of the earth”. It’s not necessarily that I go seeking these messages, but that whoever is watching out for me is sending them to me to make me understand that what I did isn’t the end of the world and isn’t something worth being condemned over. And it is such a relief every time.

Earlier I was feeling negative about it again. I sat down and scrolled through my Tumblr dash and found this: ”
Our culture teaches us about shame—it dictates what is acceptable and what is not. We weren’t born craving perfect bodies. We weren’t born afraid to tell our stories. We weren’t born with a fear of getting too old to feel valuable. We weren’t born with a Pottery Barn catalog in one hand and heartbreaking debt in the other. Shame comes from outside of us—from the messages and expectations of our culture. What comes from the inside of us is a very human need to belong, to relate.”

I swear someone is looking out for me. I have to believe that because it can’t just be chance that these messages are hurtling themselves my way. Also, somewhat ironically, this recent body change has brought me closer to God. Or perhaps broaden my spirituality. I’m okay with that.

Justin Bieber is a Douchebag.

Let’s talk about Justin Bieber.

Remember over a year ago or so when I praised him and declared my adoration for this boy? It’s not that I want to rescind this, but rather reevaluate and reconsider those statements.

Things change. People change. This is a fundamental truth of life, whether you choose to recognize it or not. It’s really no surprise that Justin Bieber is not the same Biebs that I fell in love with a few years ago. He’s grown up, he’s gotten a lot of tattoos, he’s become a total douchebag.

Yeah, I said it. Most of you are probably not offended or surprised by this. Frankly, I’m not either. In the past year the Biebs has been doing and saying continuously outrageous things. And it only matters because he’s a celebrity in the spotlight, not some random. But that doesn’t magnify or diminish his newly found doucher status.

The most recent example of this is spitting on his fans from a balcony and then laughing about it with his stupid little group of friends. One of my friends posted a picture of it on my FB and I replied with I can’t respect that.

I mean, I don’t know how to feel about this one exactly other than remember the scene in Titanic with Jack teaches Rose to spit like a man. It mostly just makes me feel uncomfortable I guess. Because just…why? You are not 5. You are not mentally ill. You are not God. WTF?

I don’t feel like I can make excuses for liking him anymore. Because I don’t think I really like him anymore. Deplorable behaviour cannot always be saved by good music.