Lessons in Letting Go.

I’ve always been a control freak. I’m not sure why that is, but i’ve always just enjoyed having complete control over as many things that go on in my life as possible. Maybe it all began with my deep love of making lists as a child. Or maybe it was when I began to run my life obsessively with a scheduler/organizer in high school. Holidays, parties, club meetings and activities, exams, birthdays. It all got jotted down. And when things didn’t go to plan, as would often happen, I would have to scratch things out with my pen, leaving a big ugly stain on the paper and a bad taste in my mouth as a result. Like I said – control freak.

The funny thing is that some of the greatest moments of my life, some of the most fantastic things that have happened to me, were completely and totally unexpected. It seems that more often than not, when I let go, I allow the universe to throw me some awesome bones. My most memorable adventures came about at times when I decided not to plan ahead, and to just say fuck it and go with the flow. And then there’s my life now – wife and mom-to-be, roles I would have never written down into any $15 planner, and yet these are some of the coolest things i’ve gotten to be yet.

Back in ’05 when I first began practicing yoga, my instructor had a saying she would always end class with: Let Go and Let God. She always made sure to remind us she didn’t mean that toward any particular denomination. It had nothing to do with a specific religious belief. It was more about letting go and giving in to whatever forces might exist. Whether you believe in a god or goddess, or maybe you’re pantheistic, or an atheist, or a satisfied agnostic like myself, it just means that in order to live a good life, you should submit yourself to the random bits of chaos and the possibility of something other than ourselves controlling what happens next.

I was watching a movie with JB today and it reminded me of how much I love him and how grateful I am about everything that’s happened and everything that will happen. It reminded me about how far i’ve gotten when i’ve finally learned to relax and let go. It’s not always easy and I’ve been holding on tight lately to any control I have over my life. But it felt good to relax again, good to give in, good to let myself think less and feel more. So good to let go.


5 Things to Love and Loathe About Living on South Beach

Note: This was written shortly before I moved off of SoBe. Opinions still stand and I think if/when I return to Miami, i’ll be opting to live a bit further inland – say, Coconut Grove?

This building was down the road from me. I saw it every day. (Yanked from flickr.com/photos/mrclean/)

I’ve been an unintentional, sometimes unwilling, unofficial resident of South Beach for the past 5 months. The first of those 4.75 months were spent living inside a cramped hotel room with my soon-to-be husband and his cat – but more on that later. As a lifelong Miamian, i’ve had the opportunity of living and hanging out in several of our city’s fine (and not so great) neighborhoods, including Sweetwater, Kendall, Pinecrest, and Coconut Grove. In younger years, I often dreamt of packing my things, getting a room mate, and testing out some beach front living, but it never really panned out – until now. South Beach, a conglomeration of too much bass, khaki shorted tourists, and sun tans in every possible shade of bronze, wooed me for a few weeks and has subsequently left a foul taste in my mouth. Like the salt water that burns your nostrils after a dip in the Atlantic, i’ve learned that perhaps I, too, am not a fish. Still, sometimes it has its’ moments…

5 Things to Love

24 Hour Eateries

Coming from the suburbs, there’s nothing quite like moving to a place where your midnight craving for falafel can be (fairly) easily fulfilled. SoBe is the closest thing Miami has to NYC eating habits. There are plenty of bodegas open late, lots of 24 hour pharmacies, and you can basically find a pizza or a burger well into the evening. I discovered one of my favorite pizza joints, Primo’s, when I was starved for a slice at 2am, and my god is it phenomenal pizza. There’s also Crazy Mexican for when you’ve got the taco itch, 8oz Burger Bar when you need some meat (they also have 2 vegetarian patty options!) with a craft beer, and Chow Down Grill if you’re drunk and not very picky about your fried rice.


I wouldn’t exactly say that South Beach is pedestrian friendly, because we’ve got more drunken asshole driving around per square mile than the majority of Dade County. What I would say, though, is that walking the streets of SoBe is much more entertaining than attempting to hike around in most other parts of Miami. From my current apartment, I can very easily walk to a number of gas stations and pharmacies and bodegas, 2 laundromats, a yoga studio, a bank, a few restaurants, and oh yeah, the ocean. My old place in Kendall would have me walking for at least 35 minutes until I reached any center of commerce. Plus, walking around here, you’re sure to see something at least remotely interesting.


SoBe is home to Miami’s infamous Art Deco Historic District. On top of that, even the not-so-Deco structures here have a personality all their own. I mean, just look:

We could see this one from our bedroom.

The Goddamn Ocean

I mean, have you seen the beach?! I always took it for granted when I was younger until I wound up taking a trip to New York’s Rockaway Beach (I was having a bit of a Ramones moment last year). Although not the most beautiful beaches i’ve been to (that title belongs to Pochomil, Montelimar, and San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua), South Beach definitely has much to offer. (Relatively) clean, long stretches of sand and cool, blue waters to splash around in without so many waves that i’d be afraid to go in, it’s pretty fantastic. Plus, it’s where my husband proposed to me. I can’t really argue with that.

Not engaged (or pregnant) here yet, but certainly falling heavier in love on the beach.

5 Things to Loathe

Parking, Parking, PARKING!!!

Mother. Of. GOD. Parking is fucking terrible on South Beach. Unless you are an official resident (I.D. and all) and are willing to shell out near $100 a month for a parking pass, you will be fucked on South Beach. I’m fairly certain that the Miami Beach Parking Department are in bed with Tremont Towing and Beach Towing, who have their hands beyond full on any given day. Let’s see… Public parking garages are few and far between, and anyone staying more than, say, 5 hours is destined to pay $20 not to have their car impounded. As for street parking, you might be lucky enough to get to a metered space but this means paying over $1 an hour and hoping the meter doesn’t run out before a meter maid comes by and writes you up. And by god will they write you up. Over and over and over again. I left my car for a day once at an unfortunate meter (never park on Meridian south of 5th!) and got 4 parking tickets in under 12 hours. That’s practically $100 – more so if i’d waited over 30 days to pay it off. Oh, oh. But always MAKE SURE TO PAY YOUR PARKING TICKETS. JB and I had the misfortune of finding my car missing right before dinner on Father’s Day, only to find out that my 5 outstanding tickets had granted Tremont Towing a free pass to hunt down and take my car and then rape me with a $300 fine (on top of the practically $400 I owed from overdue tickets). Lesson learned.

However, there are ways around the parking fiasco. When we lived on Ocean Drive, we came to realize that we would only get ticketed on weekends, and only once in a while. We cut our losses and decided not to pay meters, and still wound up only paying maybe $40-$60 a month on either car. Additionally, living on 5th street, we found certain meters don’t appear to EVER get ticketed – not even on weekends! If you can find one of these golden locations (and sorry, I won’t be telling you on the off chance I move back to SoBe and need it myself), you’re pretty much set for life.

High Cost of Living

SoBe living ain’t cheap. I’ve never been to a more expensive Publix in all of Miami ($6 for a small pack of string cheese? You fuckin kidding me?!). You have to pay for parking always (see above – or again, I had to PAY to use the Publix parking garage if I were staying longer than 2 hours. Granted, who shops for that long? But you never know!) Although some entertainment (people watching, swimming in the ocean) is free or cheap, plenty of other stuff (concerts, comedy shows, festival entrances, night clubs, bar tabs) are much more expensive around here. Unless you know your way around to the cheap joints (like Las Olas Cafe for the $4 breakfast special or Club Deuce for you seedy bar flies out there), you’ll end up overspending within a few hours of visiting the island.

Some girlfriends and I before an afternoon at the Deuce, back in my own bar fly days.


Hello, police state! I’d never actually been to SoBe on Memorial Day Weekend (a.k.a. “Urban Week”) until this year, and I can see why. Absurdly long lines to get in and out of the island. Checkpoints as far as the eye can see. More obnoxious party-going tourists than you can shake a glow stick at. And cops everywhere. Everywhere. All up and down the street. In cars, on bikes, on foot. In the fucking SKY! Seriously, helicopters were flying above our apartment for days on end. Luckily we knew our way around some of the annoyances (taking the Venetian instead of the Macarthur helped at times, as did living/using the streets south of 5th). We didn’t even go out to explore that weekend. We were better off indoors until the craziness passed.


This is just me being a snob, but after a while, being around tourists just gets old. I figure this is what NYC people must feel like hanging out in most of Manhattan. Too many teenagers looking to “party” and trash my town and if it isn’t them, it’s old folks with too much sunblock, scared to cross the damn street and taking too long once they do to look up at the pretty buildings. If only life were more like Grand Theft Auto…

It Smells

Yeah, I said it. It’s possibly not the worst smelling part of town, but it is pretty funky. The mixture of sunblock and tanning oil sizzling off people’s sweaty bodies, homeless dudes in every possible state of cleanliness (fun fact: during “Hurricane” Isaac, JB caught a naked bum showering next to our trash bin), and more sweaty but probably not homeless folks walking around without caring about their personal B.O. (you’ve never been to a worse smelling Whole Foods – or maybe that’s just the overcrowded hot food bar – and I normally love WF!) makes the streets of SoBe the wild west of odors. But hey, it could always be worse!

All that being said, I miss the damn beach. Being landlocked in a town where you can’t walk to anything is insanely frustrating. I got spoiled having a 24 Hour CVS across the street as well as a variety of open-late amenities a few blocks away. South Beach, you will always have a place in my heart – you crazy fucking bitch, you.

Starting Off On The Right Foot.

Wouldn’t it be great if every morning could be like this?

There’s nothing particularly special about this morning, except for the incredibly zen state I’m in. So I guess that’s pretty special. Some mornings are hellish. The alarm clock rings like nails on a chalkboard. Your body aches and you wonder if you’ve been pro-wrestling in your sleep. It feels like there just aren’t enough hours in the night ever.

But some mornings are just right. I rolled over in bed and smiled at my husband who was smiling right back. Saying “I love you” in the mornings is definitely a great way to begin a day. I had a dream in the early AM about giving birth. I told JB about it and how I know I need to begin getting serious about preparing for the big event. “It’s like preparing for a marathon,” I said. And it’s true. This is going to be the single most exhausting and challenging physical experience of my life. I like being able to tell JB my dreams.

“I have to get ready for work,” he said, shortly after the alarm rang. I kissed him and nodded. Off he went to let Hobbes (the cat) in and into the shower next. My aching back told me I should do a little stretching. Some cat cow stretches and a few minutes in child’s pose got the blood circulating. Hunger pangs got me out of the room and I served myself some cereal and milk while Hobbes darted in between my legs, vying for my attention. Spoiled little brat. Pet, pet, pet.

And then, I wound up here. Like I said – nothing special. Except that i’m writing, and even if it’s not life altering prose, it’s still something. Sometimes writers get caught up in perfection, in wanting to produce this grand and epic work because everything else seems so mundane. But we forget that sometimes it’s just about working out. You don’t need to run the marathon every day, and you most certainly don’t need to win it each time. Before you ever get there, you just need to stretch, to move around, and get started off on the right foot.

Good morning to you all.

Find Some Magic.

My new apartment is a quiet mess. Cardboard boxes and plastic bags full of clutter are strewn about on the beige wall-to-wall carpeted floors. The air conditioner hums rhythmically and sometimes you can hear the patter of the vertical blinds softly crashing into one another. Our cat, Hobbes, adjusts himself into another curled position beside me on the futon. Outside, I hear nothing. So very different from the loud engines and horns and chatter of tourists below when we lived in our little South Beach sublet.

The first week here was an adjustment. I’d been spending every waking hour of the past almost 3 weeks with JB as he’d been on vacation, and then again as we moved. But then it was time for him to work again and for me to stay at home, within the confines of a city I know next to nothing about. We had yet to get our internet connected, so it was even quieter than usual. No chatting with friends. No checking of e-mail. No updating of blog. No reading up on other people’s lives. I couldn’t so much as look up where the local library was. Frustrating and lonely. It only made me realize how incredibly spoiled I am by technology and by my husband.

I’ve always lived in the city – even when I was so convinced I lived in the suburbs. It was not as suburban as this. It’s not the kind of small-town magical life that I envy from shows like Gilmore Girls. At least, I have yet to find the real magic here. But maybe magic is something created rather than found. Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong. Or at the very least, it might be that it’s something that needs to be sought out. I might never find any magic sitting still in my living room. But maybe i’ll find something if I go for a walk. Or a drive. Or get lost.

Today’s assignment: find some magic. Because I want my daughter to live in a magical world, not a boring one. I don’t want her to look around and see the negatives like I sometimes do. I don’t want her to become so easily disillusioned. I can’t stand the thought of her in a world that’s less than wonderful and beautiful and special and perfect. So today, I will seek out just a little bit of magic so that I can have something to show her once she’s here.

The Hurricane

“The hurricane came and went.”

It’s the first line to a story I once wrote shortly after Hurricane Frances. It was 2004 and I had just broken up with my boyfriend at the time- a pot head Pakistani whose answer to our relationship problems was to take more MDMA, and who wouldn’t listen to me when I continuously told him that it was over. It was one of the most life changing hurricanes of my life. I had just returned from my first ever trip abroad, to Nicaragua, the land of my ancestors. In three weeks, I met a ton of new family members and learned how differently people live in other countries. I also met a man who made me realize how desperately I needed to get out of the relationship I was in. A man who we hired to drive us around the country. A man who happened to be in an unhappy marriage. I was 20.

That summer changed my life. I can’t say that Hurricane Andrew changed my life quite as much. I was only 7 years old that August of 1992 when the relentless 100+ mph gusts of wind knocked over my favorite tree in the front yard. But I still remember that night pretty vividly, considering it was twenty years ago. My parents hid my brother and I in the tiny closet of our one bedroom duplex. I had a lunchbox full of snacks. Fruit by the foot, gushers, possibly even a Lunchables. I read Archie comics with a flash light and my father stood guard in the room, walking out the front door every so oft to see what was going on outside. When the sky finally cleared up, it was beautiful outside. Blue skies everywhere. And we were without power for two weeks – which meant camping in our living room with no a/c and having cook outs with the neighbors on a daily basis. It changed my life too. It taught me not to fear nature. It taught me to care for my neighbors. And I started a new school that September and my life changed yet again.

I’m writing this sitting in my living room in a small apartment on South Beach, Miami, and my life is much different from those first two hurricanes. I’ll be 28 in another week and a half, and i’m pregnant with my first child – a statement and a reality I still don’t quite believe. My husband (surprise number two!) is contentedly slumbering in our bedroom. He is tall and freckly and has gorgeous eyes and a deep voice but an incredibly kind smile. He loves me more than i’ve ever known was possible. I still don’t know where he came from, but I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I accept his love and reciprocate it as best I can. My life is very, very different these days.

This is our first hurricane together and we’re as prepared as is necessary for a Category 1 storm. We’re not scared or worried. We have bigger concerns right now – like where we’re going to be living past August 31st. Our lease will be up and we haven’t found a new place to sublet. We were supposed to move away, but things are moving a bit slower than expected so we don’t know quite when we’ll be leaving. It’s strange to have “adult responsibilities” and “adult problems” and to, well, be an adult.

I’d heard tell from other “adults” that it would just sneak up on you but that you’d never really accept it. I guess that’s just how it is. I don’t even really know if being pregnant and married and living on our own and all that makes us adults. Maybe it has more to do with how other people perceive us. You start getting treated differently once you’re married and pregnant. Maybe that’s what being an adult is.

But that’s besides the point. The point is there’s a hurricane a-brewin right outside my window. I hear the gusts slowly picking up and then waning again. The rain drops sprinkle on our window and then pour down and then dry out. Life is changing. The hurricane brings with it new chapters, unavoidable rites of passage, place markers we can go back to when recounting our lives. Andrew, Frances, and now Isaac. I’m looking forward to it.

Some Advice for the First Day of School

Ah, school. It’s been about 2 years since I last had a “first day of,” and while I miss shopping for supplies and getting my things ready (and reading my syllabi over and over – in my college years), I can safely say that I’m pretty happy to be skipping out on this one. I can still remember the anxiety deep in the pit of my stomach as I got ready the previous night for what would be the longest day of the yea, never knowing quite what to expect on a first day.

My first day of kindergarten I went in blindly, and naively, as I had been dying to start school already. My mother took me to school that first morning at Charles R. Hadley Elementary School and dropped me off inside of Mrs. Santamaria’s class. I had a book bag and a lunch box full of home made goodies and a combined feeling of excitement and nerves that I would grow to loathe far past adolescence. When my mom told me she was leaving, I think I started to cry. But then I calmed down and she left and I sat at this enormous round table, silently waiting to see what would happen next. I remember a little boy with straight black hair wound up sitting at the table with me. He became my first male friend ever – Briegle Leiva, and his mom and my mom would end up being friends for many years after. Mrs. Santamaria was a large, pale woman with black hair and glasses not unlike those my grandmother wore – thick and squared. She had a serious face, and from what I recall, she was a very serious kindergarten teacher. I wish then that I had known how quickly time would pass, so I wouldn’t have been such a nervous little wreck.

Fast forward to my first day of high school, where I spent half of my lunch period wandering around looking for ANY friendly face, and the 2nd half hiding in a bathroom stall thinking “Why the hell am I here?!”, and I wish then that i’d known that the first day truly does not always dictate how the rest of your time in this new school will go. And when I think back to my first day of college, where I was completely enamored by the ability to select (at least a few) classes I sincerely had an interest in, and where I was actually feeling engaged for once in classroom discussions, all I wish I could tell myself is – hold on to that feeling! Hold on to it, or you’ll really fuck up after a while and slacking won’t get you anywhere.

So much learning goes on in that first day, but it’s rarely about what you’ll be learning the rest of the year. The first day of school prepares you for the first day of everything else in your life: first day of camp, first day on the job, first dates, first day of being a parent (at least I hope that last one is right – i’ll be finding out myself come early next year!) Here’s what two decades of “first days of school” have taught me:

Try and get a good night’s sleep, or at least mentally prepare yourself for being utterly exhausted. You’ll need this energy (or imagined energy) to make it through your whole day because it will very likely feel eternal. You don’t want to look like shit on your first day (you never know who you might meet and you want to make a decent first impression), and more importantly – you want to be on point. This means being prepared to answer questions when asked, even if you have to pull an answer out of your ass. This means being prepared to problem solve: did you forget lunch money and are wondering how you’ll be eating today? Or maybe you tore your jeans somehow and have to figure out how to hide it from the world? Did you lose your schedule and have no idea where to go next? Making sure your brain is at least mildly alert will air in your ability to figure this stuff out and simplify your life. Plus, you don’t want to be the kid passed out on their desk waking up covered in drool. Never a pretty sight.

Be prepared! It’s never good to leave your house without your books, without paper and pencil (or pen, as you get older). Make sure to copy your schedule down onto another place in case you misplace the first copy. Have your P.E. uniform if you’re going to need it so you don’t get stuck doing laps in a skirt on a windy day. Bring some cash with you for anything and everything. Charge all your batteries (cellphone, laptop – for those in higher learning) so you’re not battling 3 other people for the seats closest to the wall jack. Bring a sweater or jacket (in case you get cold easily). Bring a snack (you never know when hunger will strike and your grumbling stomach will catch the attention of those around you). Bring whatever you think will ease your way into the day. Always a good rule of thumb.

Pick a spot, or two, or three – and never too far from the action. For whatever reason, humans are definitely creatures of habit. You want to make sure you pick spots to sit in, eat at, and hang out at that you’re going to enjoy. Some prefer sitting at the front of the class, others like to blend in, and then others prefer the back. Honestly, don’t sit at the back of the class. Even if you think you have incredible discipline, you’re going to miss out on things. You won’t hear as well or see as well and you’ll be more prone to distraction. Worse still, you’ll be in the company of others who want to constantly be distracted, and they’ll take you down with them. If you really want to learn, and even if you think you already know everything, you’ll do better if you’re in the thick of it. Class is much more boring when you don’t participate. Save the back of the class of a special occasion – you have a terrible headache that day and can’t focus or your significant other broke your heart and you need a day off from the world. That’s completely fine. Just don’t make it a habit, because it’s a hard one to break. Additionally, try to pick social areas to eat lunch at and hang out in. You never know what friendships might form over time. Sitting all alone in a corner might get you piece of mind, but it will make life much lonelier and in this world, it often boils down to “who you know” to get ahead. But don’t fret if you don’t find your spot on the first day, sometimes it takes a couple of tries before an area sticks.

Push yourself to be social. The first day is the absolute best day to meet people. You think you’re freaked out and nervous? Think about how everyone else around you must feel! Even when people exude a calm and collected demeanor, oftentimes it just means they’re better at hiding their anxieties. The first day, many people are just looking for someone friendly to talk to. Most of my friendships throughout school were formedĀ  on the first day. It’s the best time to just make general chit chat: What do you think of this class so far? What other classes are you taking? Are you new to this school? Hell, sometimes it’s even good to lie: Do you have a pen I can borrow? can always lead to more sentences being exchanged, and perhaps eventually a smile, and an exchange of names. (But of course, since you remembered to Be Prepared, you probably don’t really need that pen. On the flip side, being prepared might lead to someone else asking you and you’ll get to be the supplier and hero of the first day!) And like I said before, much of your life will be dictated by “who you know,” so use your best judgement and get to socializing!

Be positive. Maybe that sounds a little hokey, but sometimes all you need is to reassure yourself that all will be well. No matter what happens, try to look on the bright side. Keeping a positive attitude under even the worst circumstances will speed up the time at least a little bit, and you might even rub off on those around you. Smiling (as long as you’re not being overly creepy about it) is always a good start.

Jot down notes throughout the day. Keep a little notebook or piece of paper on hand with important info that might save you for the rest of the year. In this day and age, maybe just “text it to yourself” works just as well. Maybe it’s knowing which lunch line always has the best cookies. Or writing down the name of the kid that let you borrow a sheet of paper (you can always return the favor later). Or maybe it’s the name of a book your professor mentioned might be helpful with the midterm (of course they tell you it’s not required reading, but every little bit helps!) If you’re bad with directions, remember to write down landmarks to help you get to your class (it’s in the building next to the library!), or write yourself a note reminding yourself to get a campus map. Anything that will help you later down the road is worth noting.

And finally – relax. It’s just the first day. Some of us get easy first days and others of us are bombarded with shit that makes us want to run for the hills never to want to return. But we still have to go back the next day. While the first day may dictate how some things will go for the rest of the year, it won’t really dictate all of it. Some of you will change classes. Others will make different friends down the line, working on group projects, or meeting friends of other friends. You might start off intimidated by the course load and later surprise yourself at how you rose to the challenge. Maybe you get lost on the first day but end up a tour guide for your campus to help out the newbs that come after you. The thing is – things change. They always do. So while you want to make the absolute best of your first day, don’t sweat it if you hit a couple of snags. It’s normal. Eventually you’ll reach a point where the first day just seems like a far and distant memory. You’ll graduate. You’ll move on. And maybe someday, you’ll write a list just like this one for the next generation.

Good luck to those of you battling it out in the trenches of the First Day of School! Learn lots and have fun!

I’m Not Dead Yet

Looking out the window, I can see the ocean and palm trees reflected on a sliding glass door, right across the parking lot. And there are waves crashing on the shore; I can see this and more. The sound of machinery in the distance; the fan spinning overhead; the low rumble of the wall’s air conditioning unit. I drink water from a red plastic cup I keep by the bed. I listen to a song by an artist I could never get enough of, and think about how nice it would be to see him perform. He calls it paradise and when he says it, I can’t really disagree.

There’s an hour and a half until I go back in to work. The drive over the causeway, breezing past the cruise ships and mansions, the bridges that keep us from coexisting. But it’s a goddamn beautiful drive, crisp air and bright blue waters.

And after that, i’ll be here again. Every morning, a smile on my face, and every night the same. I’m not sure from which direction any of this came. But it sure is nice…

Most of it is impossible to explain. I’ve learned to accept that. Sometimes I fear that i’ll allow myself to be consumed with a job and a relationship – two extremely time consuming activities. But there is just so much work that needs to be done.

I was supposed to leave on the 26th. I never know how to feel about this, except that it’s irrelevant. I’m happy with my life right now. I’ve never been in a better place than this.

Still, I can’t forget the work.

I’m not dead yet.


(Sexy) Song of the Day: Lit “Miserable”

I know, I know. We’re going total guilty pleasure here.

This is not a traditional sexy song in that it’s not the kind that necessarily makes me want to jump on someone’s lap. But it is about sex. It’s about the kind of sex that makes you do stupid things. Like “give up all of (your) plans” and forgetting all about your friends (“who needs them when you mean everything?” the singer bellows). Most if not all of us have been there at some point. We don’t mean to be such slaves to our hormones, but it just happens. And from what it seems, the singer knows that this isn’t necessarily a good thing. He’s in total lust over this person, but he’s also miserable realizing his entire life is now revolving around being “helpless” around this magical vagina (or penis, we don’t judge here). And it totally doesn’t hurt to have former sexkitten Pam Anderson enticing us in her undies throughout the video.

I think of this song every time I get addicted to someone(s body), as it does happen from time to time. This is definitely a song about incredible sex, the kind you’d contemplate chopping your arm off for if it was guaranteed you could fuck this person forever without getting bored. But I suppose that’s never a real guarantee, and so the arm stays put, ready for those lonely nights in, thinking about that bastard that makes you so goddamn Miserable. Sigh.


“You make me come, you make me complete, you make me completely miserable….”

Thank you Lit. I’m going to be hormonal the rest of the day thanks to you.