Last Sunday morning, I zip-lined through a South American jungle, shot and killed several enemies, grabbed a fully loaded rocket launcher, and blew up a jeep filled with incoming hostiles. Once clear, I crept to an enemy occupied mansion that held the lost treasure I planned to steal. I climbed undetected up the side of the structure, pulled out my silencer, dispatched more enemies, grabbed the treasure, and bounced!
Thirty minutes later, I had a champagne brunch with my girlfriends.
Hi. My name is Tamara. I’m 36 years old … and I’m a gamer. Keep reading »
“Sit down, you forgot to act,” my teacher said, and my cheeks burned.
It was less than two minutes into my scene and he was already stopping it.
I was a 23-year-old acting student. The assignment was to come up with an imaginary circumstance and an activity to go along with it while improvising a scene with a partner who had created his or her own circumstance and activity. As always, I’d worked hard on my homework and spent hours preparing. So I was furious when my teacher cut me off so quickly.
“I’m not even going to bother critiquing that,” he said. “It wasn’t worth it.”
Blinking back tears, I shuffled to my seat with my head down and squeezed into my chair. Keep reading »
The holiday season can be a tricky time to be single, even if you’ve been that way for a while, even if you’re totally comfortable with it the other 11 months of the year. Some weird single holiday haze descends and makes the most well-adjusted among us feel like a lousy lumps of unwanted coal. Spending time with your family can, well, make you feel vulnerable and stressed. Sleeping in your childhood bed (or a pull out cot in my case while my brother and his wife take my bed) can, well, make you feel as bitter and lonely as the Grinch. The combination of Hallmark ephemera, sentimental Foldger’s commercials, and old black and white movies playing on a loop can make you, well, overly emotional and temporarily insane. All of the above may cause you do naughty things. Like think it’s a good idea to contact say, an ex that you know you shouldn’t. Don’t let this happen to you. Nowhere in the rules of Holiday does it say that you should extend kindness and good will to some not-good-for-you douche bag. The holidays are NOT a valid excuse for fraternizing with ghosts of relationships past. In fact, it will probably only make you feel worse. Once the haze has lifted all you’ll be left with is the lingering shame … and there’s no gift receipt for that. It’s not worth it. After the jump, some ways to keep this holiday season ex-free Keep reading »
My fairly new boyfriend Todd was a nice-enough looking guy with some questionable grooming habits. I tried to tell myself that these minor, easily fixable flaws shouldn’t influence how I felt about him.
But instead of gazing into Todd’s eyes, I found myself staring at his nose hair, fixated. Brownish-grey tufts looking like steel wool sprouted from his nostrils. An occasional bit of crust hung from his nose hairs like food caught in a beard.
Nothing says “I love you” like buying your man a nose hair trimmer. In retrospect, I realize that Todd could have gotten (justifiably) offended. But while he “didn’t see what the big deal was,” he reluctantly agreed to try the trimmer out. Todd examined the miniscule blades that didn’t appear sharp enough to cut the nose hairs of a squirrel. He turned on the trimmer and held it to the edge of his nostril as if afraid it would get sucked in too deep and shred his brain. Keep reading »
Last month, my husband Jason and I had our fiercest argument ever. In our six-year history, I have accepted that occasional spats are part and parcel of every couple’s attempt to weave two independent lives into one harmonious fabric of existence. Even marital vows oblige us to respect the glaring reality of love’s peaks and troughs, as we openly recite “through good times and in bad” like an ominous premonition.
However, this bad time was as explosive as a nuclear bomb. Jason made himself scarce and I refused to speak to him for almost three days. After our respective time-outs, our cooler selves regretted hurt feelings and longed to reclaim the sense of closeness forbidden by our passive aggressiveness. After a long deep and meaningful conversation, our mess was sorted, apologies were exchanged, and our issues were put to rest. Life has marched forward since, but my spiritual side insists that there is a life lesson to be learned. Do inevitable outbreaks of oral fireworks light up the relationship landscape or inescapably end in matrimonial discord? Likewise, is there an acceptable level or frequency of conflict all relationships should abide by, or should conflict be subjected to a zero-tolerance policy?
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