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Listening to: “(It Goes Like) Nanana” by Peggy Gou. She is just the coolest, hottest person alive and I’m so happy to see this track go viral.
Feeling: Well, well, well, if it isn’t our bloodsucking friend covid crashing the party for the third time. I told myself I wouldn’t publish anything this week in favor of 1.) prioritizing rest and getting better, and 2.) granting myself the indulgent “why ME!!?”ness of it all. But the simple truth is I want to write! I can’t not write! Anyway, I’m pissed off, guys. And worse, I’m heartbroken. I’d been looking forward to this week for months. Myrtle Beach to Charleston to Nashville… then hosting a reading at my *favorite bar* in Philly, The Trestle Inn… then my bestie’s baby shower back home. It was supposed to be one of those weeks where you absolutely CRASH in bed every night deliriously exhausted, smiling, and the sleep is especially restful because your heart’s so full. But I got like, zero sleep. And it was deeply painful. And I powered through a lot of it.
I got to Myrtle last Wednesday where my girlfriend’s mom lives. We were welcomed with orange crushes and charcuterie. Spent the day floating down a lazy river drinking Twisted Teas, played mini golf at a dinosaur-themed course. Ate grouper bites and fried chicken. There are few things more appealing to me than being immersed in gimmicky southern charm.
The next day we hopped in the bride’s pick-up truck and slid down to Folly Beach and Charleston for her bachelorette weekend. Mind you, this is my first real bachelorette trip, and my first big girls’ trip in a while. So I’m wound up like a ballerina in a jewelry box. But day two, whilst up drinking and smoking on the porch of our beach house until 2 AM, I started getting really congested. Figured it was just the effects of drinking for three days straight at that point. (I mean, I was waking up and cracking a White Claw, which isn’t exactly an immune-boosting elixir.) But then came the aches and chills and sleeplessness. I didn’t think it was covid, but I knew I was down bad. Early diagnosis: the wook flu.
You’d be hard-pressed to find someone more committed to a debaucherous girls’ weekend than I. Ibuprofen, zyrtec, michelob ultra, seafood boil, 32 oz fresh-squeezed lemonade, michelob ultra, adderall, cigarette, repeat until numbish. There were 12 of us on this trip and I was not about to be the weak fucking link. I did everything I could until I couldn’t. I was supposed to fly to Nashville Sunday evening to visit friends, but it became very apparent Saturday night that I would not be traveling anywhere but my own bed. $400 later (ouch), I was on an 8 AM flight to Philly. And what are the odds I had a mask on me!? In 2023? Vintage! The pandemic genuinely taught me to be more mindful as a sick person in public (and to just stay the hell home if you can help it). I got home and immediately tested positive.
I don’t know what makes any one person more susceptible to covid than another, or what genetic predisposition makes it feel like your brain’s on fire versus the “cold” or “allergies” others experience. But I have that shit. I feel a lot better today than I did two days ago and for that I am grateful. But I’m being a total baby drama queen about this special week getting wiped out and I’ll be damned if I let anyone stop me!
While we’re here, though, let’s talk about partying and the immune system. We’ve all known some drunk who exists in a perpetual state of “having a cold.” We’ve also all known some drunk whose body is indestructible (s/o to my mom). Now, I’m no drunk, but I am privy to the immune response to fuzzy nights. It’s partly why I seldom party these days. However, this bachelorette reminded me that I am someone who, when the occasion strikes, can forgo my cozy bedtime, my running schedule, fruits and vegetables, you name it, and welcome the wook flu as part of the journey. Getting down does not put me off from the get-down. I say this as a sober-curious person. As a 32-year-old with degenerative party stamina. No matter my physical state, when the beers are flowing and the girlies are laughing, I shall rally.
What I Wore: This outfit I wore in Charleston feels very me. One of my girlfriends asked me where these socks are from, so in case anyone needs some good crew socks to scrunch with your little sundress before fall arrives, here they are. Shirt is from a vintage store, shorts are Paige, bag is The Sak via TJ Maxx.
Just Watched: As a Sick Person, you know I’m catching up on all the stuff I never watched but “should have” by social contract. One day I will write an entire piece on season 1 of True Detective. I could actually cry thinking about how good it was, how we’ll never experience the esoteric cop/yokel cop dichotomy quite like McConaughey/Harrelson ever again. UGH! I also started Ozark finally which is decent. And lastly, this video of No Doubt performing “Just a Girl” in Anaheim in 1997. I feel *so* lucky that I was old enough when Tragic Kingdom came out to remember Gwen Stefani precisely this way. What a commanding performance and a perfect 90s vignette. If you’re an obsessive like me, here’s the full concert.
Excited for: The next edition of my advice column, Bootleg Therapy. One of my international readers wrote in about dating a sex worker, and wondering how to share that with his family. I think responding to this will be a good learning opportunity for me.
Recent Eats: 1.) I don’t have a photo because frankly, breakfast sandwiches aren’t the most photogenic foods. But I’ve been making this a lot and it’s divine: English muffin toasted and lightly buttered (Kerrygold ofc), a fried egg with s&p, two pieces of prosciutto. Finish with a cloud of freshly grated parmesan. Something about grating it yourself and watching the pile accumulate is especially luxurious and satisfying.
2.) Despite being sick himself, Andrew had planned all week to make his mom’s chicken marsala. Boy did he deliver. It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Very humbling, too, as the person who does 99% of the cooking in this house, to be so shown up! A lot of people have asked me for the recipe since posting the photo to my IG story. I will try at some point, but it’s like, a recipe and a very specific process. Stay tuned.
Quote of the Week: “It’s funny how our goals are only as elastic as our sense of self—of who we are, and what we think we can accomplish.”— David Goggins, Never Finished
Indeed, I have opened my heart to grindset manifestos in order to push past my own bullshit, mainly in running. Getting yelled at by this ultrarunning Navy Seal who overcame a life of abuse felt like the right prescription for mental weakness. I’m listening to Never Finished on audiobook right now and it’s been surprisingly fun and moving. Like, last week I was running mile repeats on the treadmill and wanted to hold a sub-7-minute pace, and I legitimately imagined Goggins berating me, and it worked!
I grew up with a blue collar, survivalist sense of discipline that’s shapeshifted over time into something more passion-oriented—a muscle I flex out of love for what I’m doing or how I feel versus downright necessity. Never Finished is a tough love reminder that we can’t rely on motivation to achieve our dreams, because motivation dries up. Discipline keeps the wheels greased. (But don’t forget to rest, ok? Like, generously and guiltlessly.)
Thinking: 1.) I haven’t gotten Botox in nine months. It’s also been a year and a half since I last got lip filler. (For reference, Botox lasts three months if you’re lucky, and lip filler lasts six months to a year.) Could this be the end? No. Definitely not. But letting these products run their course and then some, just having this pause of looking pliant, more like my naturally aging self, is refreshing. Which is funny to say, because “refreshed” is often the word industry folks use to describe how you look with all your wrinkles smoothed, sags lifted, and hollows filled.
People are always shocked when I tell them my age. This Ukrainian girl I met at a party the other week literally jumped and screamed. She was 26 and thought I was younger than her. This sounds like such a brag (Leo-heavy birth chart, let me live) but really, it’s because I have youthful energy and an aesthetic people overwhelmingly ascribe to younger women: long hair, long nails painted in crazy colors, tattoos, fun outfits. Not because I’m “aging well,” because I’m technically not, and any astute injector will tell you. But I’ve started to care less? Like, the biggest draw of Botox right now is that the inability to squint saves me a lot of headaches. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll start laundering money for the cartel, steal some, and they’ll cut my face off and mail it to my loved ones. Problem solved! Sorry, I’ve been watching too much Ozark and haven’t left my house in days.
2.) I let a stranger make me feel bad about myself today. Translation: I let some highfalutin, glorified self-help piece of internet babble momentarily control my emotions this morning. I hate that for me. But I’m also no stranger to it. It’s why, after logging off Twitter on July 14th with the intention of returning in 10 days, I can’t bring myself to log back on. I’m a sensitive creature—even, if not especially, to the words of total strangers whom I admire, who will never know I exist. And while I believe diversity of thought/opinion a mark of healthy discourse, I also think some people are just haters in white robes—i.e., a lot of writers and creators in the wellness and spirituality spaces are in the business of doling out shame. They profit off of making you feel bad about yourself just as much as beauty influencers! And though I fell for it this morning, I’m kind of glad I did. Because it reminds me exactly how I don’t want to be online. There’s a difference between thoughtful, compassionate criticism of human behavior/the systems we uphold/whatever, or even humorously shitting on things (It’s fun. It’s healthy.)… and just straight up finger wagging. What’s with the grown adult urge to teach other grown adults a lesson? That shit is corny. Let it be known. You see that shit? Go get yourself an iced coffee and a blueberry muffin and move on with your gorgeous day.
Omg I was literally just listening to Tragic Kingdom for the first time in a decade. Also please write about True Detective because I agree it’s top show of all time
I just like reading the words “finger wagging.”