The Horrible Beauty

Easy, Sleazy, (Horribly) Beautiful.

Fri, 07 Oct 2011 15:44:36 -0400

Listen up, Beauties, for some hot steamy facts (which is much more appealing than cold hard truth, don’t you think?) Earth girls are easy. There’s a reason there’s a movie about it. Everything in the movies (or on the internet) is true. But really, there’s a reason girls always complain about guys who “just say all the right things to get you in bed.” It’s because it’s THAT EASY! Sheesh. I apparently am NOT from this planet, which we’ve all probably suspected for a while, because I’ve put great thought into this matter and come to the conclusion: I’m not easy, I’m fast.

There is very little about me that anyone would call easy. I’m pet-peevey. I’m indecisive. I’m loud. I’m opinionated. And I’m particular and picky. That being said, if I do happen to actually be interested in somebody, I definitely take the gold in the Panty Drop Olympics.

However, in addition to all of those other above mentioned character attributes, or “flaws” if you prefer.. (and this might be the most dangerous one of all), I’m also a writer. And as such I feel that it is my artistic right to title my thoughts the way I see fit, even if I then go on to contradict myself. I’m Horribella, what do you people expect?

Once upon a time, I used to have those things that people refer to as “standards.” I’d have to “love” you before I’d sleep with you. Then, it evolved to I had to be your “girlfriend,” which soon became we had to be “dating” or at least “seeing each other.” That quickly turned into you had to take me out at least once. Then, it was you had to buy me a few drinks. Eventually, you just had to be there while I had a few drinks. After a while, I realized my main qualification for a tumble was to be a walking male, which nearly instantaneously shifted to just being a walking human (oh - we haven’t discussed THAT yet, have we? Stay tuned…). I’m pretty sure paraplegics are the next logical point in the devolution of my sexual prerequisites.

I told you in the past that I felt I needed to be more open-minded. As you can see, I’ve accomplished that goal. And also the goal of being more open-legged. I think I’ve managed to hook up with more people in the 8 months I’ve been in NY than probably my last three years in Boston combined. They do say that New York is home to the most beautiful people in the world. So the way I see it, I’ve accrued not just quantity, but quality.

But none of this makes me feel “easy.” I’ve accepted, a long time ago, that I’m a difficult person. And I make my own decisions (and mistakes). I just do them… fast.

The way I see it, there are LOTS of reasons to be “easy” or “fast” which seem to be the words tossed around whenever a lady admits she loves to bang. I plan to explore some of these. I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories, so please submit them here! You can also always feel free to use these links to e-mail me (Horribella[at]TheHorribleBeauty.com) or ask me anything (even anonymously).

Until then, stay Easy, Sleazy, (Horribly) Beautiful, Covergirls (and Boys).

For the record, this is my idea of a glamor shot:

The Game of Life (in which our Horrible Heroine unapologetically discusses jail time and domestic bliss).

Tue, 13 Sep 2011 19:11:41 -0400

Okay, I’m not going to apologize for my absence again.

Look, Beauties, you knew what you were in for when we got together. A leopard can’t change its spots, right? I’ve been telling you from the get-go that I’m completely scatterbrained and suffer from a severe case of relationship ADD and commitment phobia. So why would you think our relationship would be any different? You walked right into this. I’m nothing if not honest, especially about my faults… and I only hit you cause I love you, baby.

Anyway, I’ve been adjusting to my life in NY, and time - as it has a habit of doing - just wandered right away from me. I’m an extremist, for sure, so I managed to dive in head first and find plenty of projects to get involved with, people to hang out with, and inappropriate places to take off my pants.

As summer (tragically) fades, and we return to jobs and hoodies, I’ve found that I’m finally at a place again where I can look at myself honestly and translate the scattered images in my brain into coherent thoughts for you to read and live vicariously through. Granted, I should have been doing this all along, but why dwell on the coula shoulda wouldas?

Completely uprooting your life and starting from scratch certainly tells you a lot about yourself, especially if you’re willing to take off the rose colored glasses (I lost mine in the moving process). I’ve realized that I am not at all where or who I thought I’d be, and maybe not even who I think I am on a daily basis. I am constantly changing, contradicting myself, evolving, devolving, revolving. And that’s where all the fun is.

I let myself take a break from working “full-time” during the past 8 months. Now, don’t take this to mean that I did absolutely nothing for approximately 240 days. Sure, there were plenty of those days, but I also managed to take on tons of freelance work and projects and keep myself busy in waves. And you know what not working taught me? Working is really overrated.

Now, I’m potentially going to offend a lot of people with this next statement (shocking), so let me just get it out of the way. I used to have no respect for people (typically women) who were “homemakers.” That sounded like “quitter” to me. I’d see these girls who finished or left school, shacked up, maybe popped out a few kids… “But what about YOU?” I’d mentally scream. “Where are YOUR priorities? YOUR dreams? Where are YOU?” Slowly, I began to realize that it wasn’t that they gave up their dreams, their dreams just changed. Or were different than mine. But I still couldn’t picture myself being that person. I always just thought I’d be a career woman.

After many failed attempts, I realized I simply don’t function well in the big-girl, real-job world. I now have nothing but respect for store managers and cafe owners, accountants and dentists. Thank god for people like that. Or I’d be trying to buy my coffee with Monopoly money (which would be completely unaccounted for) while my teeth rotted out of my head. Because I’m certainly not qualified to do any of those things.

However, modern society still requires me to pay bills and settle my bar tabs with American Currency. As such, I have come up with two possible plans for Horribella’s Grown Up Life, while avoiding reality as much as possible:

1.) Go to White Collar Jail for tax evasion.

Look, I’m not talking real jail with hardened criminals. I’m talking Martha Stewart jail. Lindsay Lohan jail, except possibly more sober (although I won’t be stoked about that part). I’d get a free roof over my head, three square meals a day, and all the time in the world to work out and write. Sure, I might have to put out for protection, but I’ve put out for less valid reasons in the past. I don’t see the downside, aside from the thread-count, I’d assume.

2) Become a Kept Woman.

This is, essentially, a variation on the above. I’ve always thought I could never be this type of Stepford whore because I’m so completely undomestic. BUT maybe the reason I’m that way is completely circumstantial. Who wants to work 10 hours and come home and cook for one person? Spend all the time preparing, all the time cleaning up, for like 15 minutes of delicious pleasure? Thanks, I call that a date. I don’t need that song and dance in my “me-time” as well. But shit, if I had nothing else to do all day, I’d absolutely greet you at the door with a martini in hand - and even make one for you too! - while aromas of bliss waft from the kitchen. Okay, okay, I’d at least make sure to order from a variety of delivering restaurants and serve the food on actual flatware as opposed to out of the cardboard containers. In addition to uncovering hidden talents for decorating and cooking, I could go to museums, read, catch up on my correspondence! I don’t even know if I have correspondence, but if I do, I’m pretty sure I’m not caught up on it!

I mean, I’m not saying I don’t want to do ANYTHING. I don’t do well with boredom. I find way too much trouble and burn through far too many Duracels. And I do really enjoy having things to do. I just don’t want a soul-sucking, all-consuming, same thing every day type job. Can’t I contribute to my living situation, and subsequently society, in some way that isn’t straight up financial? Isn’t my sparkling personality enough?

I’m going to continue to explore these possibilities. And perhaps buy a stack of scratch tickets while I’m at it… at least it will give me something to do with these idle hands.

A gentleman's agreement. Huzzah!

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 20:31:26 -0400

Bella: Is there wine at your house?
Mom: There's a bottle.
Bella: Can I have it?
Mom: Sure, of course you can have some.
Bella: No. Can I have it? The whole bottle?
Mom: If you can actually drink the whole bottle, you can have the whole bottle.
Bella: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

This "blog" has turned into nothing but a list of conversations. I'm okay with that.

Mon, 27 Jun 2011 21:03:26 -0400

Bella: I feel so sick.
Mom: Then why are you going to the bar?
Bella: Because I have priorities. Also, this "sickness" is probably just the DTs.

Exactly.

Wed, 25 May 2011 12:00:06 -0400

Exactly.

My friends like me for me, not because I sing like Pavarotti, or because I'm such a hottie...

Wed, 25 May 2011 01:24:00 -0400

Bella: What time are you going to the bar tonight?
Brian: Not sure, after band practice. You?
Bella: Not sure either. I have to shower. I think there's vodka in my hair.
Brian: I love you.
Bella: I know. How could you not?

My friends know me far too well...

Fri, 20 May 2011 11:03:38 -0400

Bella: I got home at 8 AM the morning after my birthday.
Liz: Why, because you're a drunk or a dirty stay out?
Bella: [pause] A little bit of Column A, a little bit of Column B?

One more time...

Thu, 19 May 2011 13:54:05 -0400

Effy: Hit me.
Freddie: What?
Effy: Hit me. I'm not afraid anymore. And I just want to feel... something.

What a coincidence, that was my minor as well!

Wed, 04 May 2011 19:18:43 -0400

Mary: Nobody knows what anybody minored in in college. Marshall, do you know what I minored in in college?
Marshall: Jagermeister?
Mary: I stand corrected.

You don't need yet another blogger telling you what's on the news right now.

Sun, 01 May 2011 23:50:00 -0400

You don't need yet another blogger telling you what's on the news right now.:

Really though, WTF HAS Obama done for you lately? Anything? Wait… what?

"I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that is the best..."

Fri, 22 Apr 2011 20:55:51 -0400

““I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that is the best they’re going to feel all day.””

- Frank Sinatra

"You’re like a little kid and an old lady all rolled into one."

Fri, 08 Apr 2011 11:00:07 -0400

“You’re like a little kid and an old lady all rolled into one.”

- Nico’s diagnosis of my various personality disorders.

“I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked”...

Thu, 07 Apr 2011 11:33:00 -0400

“I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked” - Ida Maria

This song has Horribella written all over it.

Oh, the clever
things I should say to you
They got stuck somewhere
Stuck between me and you

Oh, I’m nervous
I don’t know what to do
Light a cigarette
I only smoke when I’m with you

What the hell do I do this for?
You’re just another guy
OK, you’re kind of sexy
But you’re not really special

But I won’t mind
If you take me home
Come on, take me home

I won’t mind
If you take off all your clothes
Come on, take them off

‘Cause I like you so much better when you’re naked
I like me so much better when you’re naked
I like you so much better when you’re naked
I like me so much better when you’re naked…

"If the key to forgetting a man is really to wash him right out of your hair, I’m beginning to..."

Wed, 06 Apr 2011 11:00:07 -0400

“If the key to forgetting a man is really to wash him right out of your hair, I’m beginning to have a theory on why it is so hard for me to get over people.”

And for 24 hours, it’s socially acceptable! Happy day,...

Fri, 01 Apr 2011 11:00:07 -0400

And for 24 hours, it’s socially acceptable!

Happy day, Fools!

Realizing I have a conscience is like being diagnosed with a terminal disease.

Tue, 29 Mar 2011 18:44:00 -0400

A while back, I went out with a friend who I hadn’t seen in a while, and who was visiting our hometown for the weekend. She brought along a guy friend who ended up expressing interest in me. “Sure, give him my #,” I told my friend. I still, stupidly, try to keep my “What’s the worst that can happen?” attitude around me. Which is odd, because I’m pretty sure I’ve witnessed some of the answers to that question.

So, friend gives friend-of-friend number, and I hear from him pretty soon thereafter. He - Ben - really wants to go out. Really wants to get to know me. Really would like to get together. Really. Okay, I can understand being smitten and trying to come off as interested and accidentally coming off as a stalker. Lord knows I’ve stumbled down that rabbit hole on more than a few occasions. However, my life was - as it usual is - in a state of turmoil. I was crazy busy, trying to get ready a vacation, and working a bunch to make up for the time I’d be taking off for that trip. I explained it would probably have to be after my trip. He continued to be quite persistent. Text conversations would just go on too long, I got the impression that if I said jump, he’d reply with “How high?”

I’ll be honest. I am not a good person to put in that position. I have no impulse control. I like to push buttons and test boundaries. I can’t help it. I’m not bad - I’m just drawn that way.

I came home from vacation with a weeklong hangover that turned out to be actual sickness. Even though he texted me the day I got home, I said I’d have to put off hanging out a while longer. After a few more days, I still wasn’t feeling well, and he still REALLY wanted to hang out. There’s such a fine line between charmer and creeper.

I know a lot of people are thinking, Bella, what is your damage? A guy really likes you and wants to take you out, what are you bitching about? Part of it is that I don’t know what I want. I suppose I’d settle down someday, with the right person, but the right person won’t make me feel so caged. And if I was feeling that way BEFORE going out, what would happen after?

So, when Ben told me again how much he really wanted to go out, I pointed out that he had mentioned it already. He said he realized that and apologized. I said it was okay, that I was flattered, but really overwhelmed and needed some space. I’d get in touch when things calmed down. I texted him a few days later and said I had some free time the following Monday evening. He told me that he had to work, but asked if I wanted him to get his shift covered. Just to get a drink. NO, I said. Just chill. We’ll hang another time.

The next day, my message alert went off and I sighed when I saw it was him. But I asked what was up. He wanted to know if I wanted to go to the Yankees home opener.

Of COURSE I wanted to go. Who wouldn’t? But I just couldn’t bring myself to say yes. I said I’d have to check my schedule I sat in the bathtub, knees pulled up to my chin, trying to figure out why I felt so sick over this. I mean, who doesn’t like free shit? I could live a lifetime off of swag I’ve collected. And sometimes I think getting things is girls’ reward for being pretty. We starve and slave off every extra pound, rip out every stray hair, make sure we always smell nice. Swag is the universe thanking us for that. Swag, and multiple orgasms.

But something was bothering me. That was when I realized it. I felt guilty. I had a conscience. There it was, festering like a tumor on my fun gland. I am supposed to be Horribella, Harbinger of Mischief and Mayhem, and here I was, stressing over the repercussions of my actions? About some dude’s feelings?

What. The. Fuck.

I was disturbed. But like so many situations, once I stepped back and looked at the situation with a bit more perspective, I realized it boiled down to honesty, as it always seems to with me. I did not want to enter into this with him having too high expectations. Just like you shouldn’t expect every rand-oh you bring home from the bar to end up in a serious relationship, I didn’t want him to take this as an afternoon delight lead on. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I’m interested. But I can’t know if I don’t at least give it a try.

Was this wooing, or stalking? I surveyed my friends. I am incapable of making a decision, whether it’s on a pair of shoes or if I should go to a baseball game. Oddly, most of the guys said to just go, where many of my girlfriends said they’d be running for the hills from the over-eagerness. Since I tend to believe that men are the more rational of the species (sorry ladies, but we all know it’s true), I decided to listen to them.

However, I had to be honest. It was the only way I’d be able to actually enjoy it. So, I put my big girl pants on, and I dialed the phone instead of tapping off a text. And I said I’d love to go, as long as it was a no-pressure fun afternoon hangout. He says he’s okay with that.

Now, if he’s not, that’s all on him. I did what I always want people to do - I was honest. So I get to feel good AND go to the game. The only concern I have left is how to remove this conscience. If anybody knows a specialist, send him/her my way.

ask. | submit. | recommend. | facebook.

That's one way to let him down gently.

Fri, 25 Mar 2011 13:00:00 -0400

Meghan: I was on this awful date, but I couldn't figure out how to end it. He wouldn't shut up!
Bella: I hate that.
Meghan: Seriously, I'm just not good at rejecting people.
Bella: Me neither. That's why I give so many blow jobs.

"9.) Preparedness is the key to survival in unknown territory. ie, Get a Brazilian wax before each..."

Wed, 23 Mar 2011 18:06:02 -0400

“

9.) Preparedness is the key to survival in unknown territory.

ie, Get a Brazilian wax before each and every vacation.

”

- Horribella’s Advice for The Children.

Click for more.

Thanks to Nico, for classing it up.

SXSW

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 11:40:51 -0400

I’m in Austin for the week for South By Southwest!

If you are too, e-mail me at horribella@thehorriblebeauty.com and let’s get together (yeah, yeah, yeah)!

I still wish we could have gone through the revenge scenario that night. Drink in the face? Me pretending I was his ex and that he gave herpes to? I'm sick of guys thinking they need to paint this story to get in our pants. Honesty is best. Well, now you're working up toward LA and leaving this loser in the dust.

Thu, 10 Mar 2011 14:37:00 -0500

Seriously, we were all set to B & Serena that twerp until he pussed out. (How many pop culture/TV references can I cram into this post?)

But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If you want to just bang, just say that… and bang. There is nothing wrong with it. We’re a lot more likely to say yes, and we have nobody but ourselves to blame if we enter into something knowingly. The lovely lady who posted this comment agrees, and she’s a way nicer girl than I am.

This is just another dude who proves that we have completely drained Boston of dates. There are no other fish in that sea, just bottom feeders. I’m glad I’ve got some untapped territory now. And they say NY is home to the most beautiful people in the world… I’ll just keep fishing my way west.

(Above image from -odd-person-.tumblr.com).