Writer’s Block and How Sand is the Worst

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I can’t think of anything funny to embarrass myself with on the internet. I often find that writing about my lack of inspiration/motivation usually gives me something…

I got nothing.

I was going to write about how sand is the worst – which is really is – but I couldn’t think of how to start.

The towel made no difference.

I wanted to write this long visual about how you’re on the beach in your favorite chair (navy blue, canvas, from the 1970’s never fails me – except sometimes gives me heat rash on my back but YOLO). Anyway you’re on the beach juicy girl chillin’ in your chair and you tip your head back and sink a little deeper into relaxation. You close your eyes and alert the rest of your senses. You start to notice a cool breeze awakening your skin, making your hair stand on end. The warm sunlight on your face and in your hair. The sounds of the gentle waves rolling up the beach and the seagulls hovering in the sky above you. And finally, the sand on your feet. And as you rub your feet back and forth in the sand and dig a little deeper into the coolness of the grains that have yet to be warmed by the sun, you realize…

It’s. All. Over you.

A boy covered in sand on Bamburi beach, Mombasa, Kenya

It’s forever trapped underneath your toe nails.

All that sand is still stuck to my feet

All that sand is still stuck to my feet

It’s wrapped in the one day old leg stubble that’s grown in because the breeze is freezing. Its in the crease behind your knees sticking to the sweat from the beating heat of the sun. It’s in your belly button somehow, even though you have yet to lay down in it and be completely consumed by its wrath (yet somehow you already are). It’s under your fingernails and in between your fingers where it will sit until the end of time.

It’s in your armpits and elbow creases, again sticking to the sweat from this desert heat. It’s climbed it’s way up your body and sits in the sand-bowl perfectly engraved into your stupid collarbone. It sticks to the sun tan lotion on your face and worst of all it’s in your mouth.

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Somehow, it’s found it’s way into your once refreshing lemonade that you ever so gingerly placed in the cup holder of your retro recliner 48 feet above sea level so this would stop happening. But it won’t.

The ice cubes are melting and turning into sand that you are now drinking; and the next time you close your mouth you will find the most unpleasant, out-of-nowhere, shutter-inspiring crack and slide and crumble between your teeth. And once it happens, you’re doomed. No matter how many time you swish and spit, brush your teeth, shower, eat, swallow, this feeling will never escape you. You now have sand in your mouth for the rest of your vacation even if the first day at the beach with the sand was so traumatizing and you don’t go back the whole time – there will still be sand in places you now know you have, and there will still be sand in your mouth.

Forever.

I can only hope that beverage companies start making screens to go over your drinks – but I’m sure the sand will find it’s way through the minuscule spaces in the screens, or just sit on top to give you the same effect. Although, it doesn’t even matter if you have a drink on the beach, you still will wind up with sand in your mouth and no solution.

*sigh*

*crack, slide, crumble*

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UsTrendy and the Return of the T-shirt

Sam Sisakhti, Founder & CEO of UsTrendy

Sam Sisakhti, Founder & CEO of UsTrendy

I recently sat down with Sam Sisakhti the founder of UsTendy, a local fashion e commerce start up. Sam could not have fit the entrepreneur role better if he was molded out of clay. He was unconventional in that he quit his first job out of college after only 4 days. I don’t know about you, but if I tried to do that my parents would sit me down and talk about the downward spiral I was on and how the next thing they’d know I’d come home covered in tattoos with a baby.

Not Sam – he came home with a company that had experienced exponential growth in the last three years and a damn near household name. I asked Sam how he acquired connections such as London Fashion Week and his answer was among the best I’ve ever heard: “I just asked. I reached out on Twitter and people got back to me.”

Sam having had so much success in getting people to give him a chance was equally as helpful in giving me one. I guess successful people see success when they look it in the  beautiful blue eyes.

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The second I told him I had a blog an opportunity arose (pun): “We can send you some clothes and help promote The Rose if you’re interested.”

Uh – yeah!

Thanks Sam!!

Upon this offer, I immediately set up a photo shoot with my brilliant director friend.

Stylist: UsTrendy & Skinny Bitch Apparel

Stylist: UsTrendy & Skinny Bitch Apparel

Which brings me to my next topic:

The Return of the T-shirt

UsTrendy Product Number: 50775

UsTrendy Product Number: 50775

Ever since I went to LA I’ve been getting deeply in touch with my inner glam rockstar; and nothing says rocker chic like the right T-shirt and an office-inappropriate shade of nail polish.

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The first time I sported a T-shirt for anything other than gym-going was just two short months ago when I had an appearance to make in WeHo (that’s what all the cool kids call West Hollywood.) I borrowed a friend’s muscle T and felt like the biggest badass on the planet. Everyone there sports the T-shirt; it’s so LA to show up somewhere underdressed and over-fabulous.

Now I know why all the girls that rock boyfriend-jeans are so magnificent. It’s not that they’re hot it’s that being able to rock the care-free dude style creates the illusion and swagger of hotness.

So to glam up my muscle T I added a bright turquoise, layered statement necklace and I was good to go. I fit right in with all the beautiful people.

But now that I’m home, I think it’s even better… No one here rocks the T like they do in LA – so I’m the only one. And thanks to Mr. Sisakhti and Skinny Bitch Apparel – I’m bringing sexy back.

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Ever Since Graduation, I’ve Been Slowly Dying…

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With graduation season in full swing a lot has been on my mind. Partly, that I’ve been a big sassy real-worlder for a whole wide year already; but mostly, that with that year came a level of softness I thought I could never attain.

Thirsty Thursday used to mean high heels, short skirts and Long Island ice tea specials at Monkey bar, followed by a Celeste pizza for one in bed (10 for $10 at the local supermarket YOLO) and a truly sinister Friday morning. Now I lose my balance in my heels when I’m sober and all Thirsty Thursday means is that I’m dehydrated from hot yoga and I’m shopping online for clothes I could only afford if someone was paying me to blog.

Oh how the mighty hath fallen.

A caramel macchiato does now what a 20mg a day Adderall prescription did just 12 short months ago. I don’t even know what would happen if I popped one of those suckers in this condition. I think my heart would explode. Is this what old people feel like when they reminisce about how it used to be easy to walk? If this is to continue my future looks very, very grim.

“Dying is a very dull, dreary affair. And my advice to you is to have nothing to do with it.” – W. Somerset Maugham

Easy for you to say W. I’m 23 and I have lower back pain.

Peter Pan said it was supposed to be an adventure. Idiot. What are we doing listening to him anyway? He also thought he could be a kid forever.

Thanks a lot Peter.