If you missed it, you can watch our episode of How To Live With Your Parents for the Rest of Your Life Here!!! xo
I hope the tackiness of me posting this is offset by the goofiness of how awful this squatting, blurry Sarah Chalke screen grab is. And if it’s not, hey whatever! It’s my first onscreen written by credit! I’m taking a free pass on this one. Thank you in advance!
On January 15, 2009, I started a blog with my friend Dave about all the reasons not to date someone. On September 28, 2010, Dealbreaker: The Definitive List of Dating Offenses was released. On March 30, 2013, I got married.
Now, for our readers, with whom I have so carefully curated an anti-love arsenal, I owe you a story. A happy ending. And perhaps some perspective on the whole dating thing. It’s bleak, I know. I was single for like four years (and cheated on for two years prior) before meeting my husband. I had every reason to be cynical, as I’m sure you do. It’s rough out there, it’s really fucking rough. Dealbreakers feel empowering. Instead of worrying about why you might not choose to date me, I’m going to not choose you first. And I had a list long enough to fill a blog and a book about why I wouldn’t want to be with you.
I met my husband in March of 2009. He wore (and still wears) athletic sneakers with jeans. His headboard was (and still is) a mirrored panther that he found on the street. He was (and still is) a very skilled rollerblader. On paper, or more ironically, the paper that filled the book I wrote about people I don’t want to date, he was all wrong. He had a beach towel of three thong’d butts hanging over his couch for christ’s sake! It’s like something out of a bad sitcom (or a very good sitcom that Dave and I wrote). But for some reason, and nobody was surprised more than me, I didn’t care. And then I started to realize some dealbreakers about myself.
I ate chocolate chips for dinner and didn’t do my taxes. My power would get shut off because I hated to check my mail and never paid the bills. I love the Real Housewives franchise and I’ve thrown dishes away instead of washing them. More than once. These aren’t great qualities in a potential wife, and I’m not petite enough to play the manic pixie dream girl card. It dawned one me: I was undateable and I didn’t even know it. And I didn’t know it because neither of us cared. We enjoyed each others flaws, and we liked that we made each other better.
So I scrubbed his dirty bathtub and he took my car in for it’s first oil change in years. I got him a new couch and he made me eat vegetables. He listed the headboard on craigslist (“PRICE 250 FIRM”), and it’s still in our bedroom. I still watch Real Housewives; he watches them with me.
I didn’t do anything special to find my happy ending, and a lot of it probably has to do with luck. But if you’re single and don’t want to be, I know it’s easy to get caught up on the superficial stuff. Don’t let those little things (like how he cuts his own hair and puts the hair in the toilet but then doesn’t want to flush it because he doesn’t want to waste water so it looks like a pube monster) distract you from someone’s character, or authenticity, or good heart, or sense of humor. We could probably have boiled down the whole blog to “Dealmaker: You’re Awesome.” That’s all that matters. Someone who is awesome, even with their flaws, who doesn’t pay too much attention to yours.
And if anyone is looking to buy a mirrored panther headboard, the price is $250 firm.
We finished the third and final draft of our new pilot, so here’s a sample featuring a shout out to inspirational Tumblr gifs.
Dave and Marisa
Los Angeles! The Best Dog Ever Needs A Home!
Recently, a friend of mine found this guy. He was dirty and had no tags and half a torn leash. He was wandering around a part of Highland Park where dogs are frequently dropped. She cleaned him up, took him to a vet, and found that he wasn’t chipped. He also wasn’t fixed. She put up found signs but no one called/wrote. After a few days he began to eat again and get his energy back and we all realized that he was the best dog ever. He’s by no means a puppy but he’s very small and has surprising/hilarious bursts of energy. He doesn’t have a name but he’s been going by Gregory, Michael Jordan (because his tongue is always hanging out a little), Donnie, Mr. Wiggles, Cheeseburger Jr, and most recently Grandpa. If you or anyone you know is looking for a dog, this guy needs a home and he’s the greatest.
Contact Chelseaotter@gmail.com if you’re interested, and even if you’re not, please share this so we can get him a home soon! Thank you!
LA! Spread the word! Get this goober a permanent residence!
Lady Sybil (named after Downtown Abby) is in need of a good home in Los Angeles!
It is very last minute as her foster mom can’t keep any longer. They are going to take her to a shelter this weekend. Whoever meets this lady-pup will fall immediately in love!!! She is so sweet and so lovable..She was found downtown stuck in a fence wagging her tail at people who walked by!
Here is some info on her:
Australian Shepard mix of some sort
She is between 8-9 months old. 33 pounds. She won’t get much bigger but will fill out a bit.
She has had her first round of shots and just got micro-chiped. She needs to be spayed but if someone wants to adopt her- this will be taken care of by me (Linnea).
She loves car rides, hikes, dog toys, loves other dogs. (She has never met a stranger!)She loves the beach and water.
When on walks, she walks right beside you and sits on command.
She is simply going to be a great dog/companion.
And even if you can’t take her, spread the word! Thanks!
Best contact: Linnea at firstname.lastname@example.org or323-395-6815
We’re writing an episode of television!!!!!!
Summer of What? - A Mix For Butts/Etc.
I made this for a friend and decided I wanted to share it with other people, because I think it’s fun. Have some fun, huh?
1. Kimbra - Limbo / 2. Zeus - Kindergarden / 3. Heems - Mike Finito Raps Too / 4. Fleetwood Mac - I know I’m Not Wrong / 5. The Teeth - You’re My Lover Now / 6. The National - So Far Around The Bend / 7. Twin Sister - Kimi In a Rice Field / 8. Flash Bang Grenada - Bernie / 9. Tennis - Traveling / 10. French Kicks - Carried Away / 11. Grimes - Crystal Ball / 12. Prefuse 73 - The End Of Biters International / 13. Lakutis (ft. Kool AD) - I’m Better Than Everybody / 14. The Rapture - Roller Coaster / 15. The Strokes (ft. Regina Spektor) - Modern Girls and Old Fashioned Men / 16. The Luyas - Too Beautiful To Work / 17. 1,2,3 - Scared But Not That Scared / 18. John Cale - Ship of Fools / 19. Spectral Display - It Takes a Muscle To Fall In Love
Dave made you this mix! He must really like you guys.
We did some math to explain why it can be hard to remember specific details about the weird and/or terrible people you sleep with. Presenting: the equation for Boner Amnesia.
I’ll forgive the typo because !!!!
We always thought Dave could use an extra O in his last name.
I used to answer a lot of relationship questions over at my other blog, the in-hibernation DEALBREAKER. Looking back, I find it really funny that anyone ever trusted me with love advice, because it’s not really a topic I’m that well versed in. I’ve dated successfully, messily, carelessly, carefully, and casually, and up to this point, they all end the same way: by ending.
Someone just started following me, and I clicked on their name and saw they only had two pages of posts. It starts a few days ago, with an entry about being broken up with and not knowing what to do or how to feel, so I thought I’d offer up some unsolicited little nuggets. They might not even see this, but on the off chance they do, maybe it’ll let them know that they’re not alone in the war against the Sads.
Much like eating a peanut butter cup (*let’s be honest, this applies to all PB cups, not just Reeces. Can’t discount store brand, or the weird ones from the 99 Cent Store), there’s no wrong way to get over someone. BUT, there’s also no right way. I think the getting over someone process can be split into a few phases.
Phase One is what I like to call “No One’s Ever Felt This Pain Before,” where you walk around in a haze, unable to comprehend what had happened. You ponder the BIG questions: Is this real? WIll I ever feel better? And most importantly, why don’t my friends seem excited to talk to me about this again and again for hours at a time? You’ll mope, you’ll drink more, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll snap at one of your writing partners in the middle of a meeting, go into your room, and eat some of the mushrooms you’d bought weeks earlier with the intention of doing them with your ex. (NOTE: THIS IS NOT PART OF THE PROCESS!! SKIP THIS PART AT ALL COSTS! IT’S NOT FUN! THE COLORS WILL ALL LOOK SAD!). This phase, while excruciating to all parties involved, is important. You will look back at this phase and laugh at yourself. The night where you got high and sat under your desk, leaving an ill advised, sad voicemail. The days spent debating whether to burn all those photos or leave them in a box. The afternoons spent driving around with a box and some matches, looking for an empty lot that isn’t close to any trees. This will all be fodder for Phase Two.
Phase Two is “The Void.” You will look back at your hilariously self destructive and downright annoying behavior in Phase One and long for those days, because all there is now is nothingness. Questions here include “did I really lay under my desk for an hour?” “Do I really like the first Death Cab album that much?” “When did I lose/gain 15 pounds?” Phase Two is like a stunned silence. It’s an eerily calm period where you contemplate actually getting something done that doesn’t involve wallowing. You will Facebook your ex and think, “wait, why was I scouring this page? They’re not a calculating, cold, emotional torture machine! They’re not controlling my happiness telepathically! They’re just posting pictures of Tapas, like everyone else!” This realization won’t make you feel better or worse, but it will wash over you slowly. Pretty soon you’ll regret burning those photos, or if you’re like me, wiping them from your hard drive(s). All of this is bolstering you for Phase Three.
EDITORS NOTE: This is usually where my favorite sub-phase comes in. It’s too tricky to count on its own, but Phase 2.5, “The Hail Mary,” deserves mentioning. This comes into play when you’re sure you’re over the person, but you’re not 100%, and the more you think of it, the less sure you are. The percentage drops rapidly to the point where you’re ready to load your D cell batteries into your boombox and “In Your Eyes” this bitch, Lloyd Dobler style (If you’re too young to know what this means, just pretend I referenced a One Direction lyric or something). Here you are, filled with purpose, hope, and reckless manic energy. You’re gonna win them back! You’ve got a gameplan, now put it into action! Did it work? GOOD JOB!!!! Oh wait, it didn’t? Well, nice try. I hope those tickets to Italy are refundable. Carry on, then. Onto Phase Three.
Phase Three is called “Oh Shit, I’m Supposed To Try And Talk To Other People?” This is the end of the road. There are a million sub-phases like the one mentioned above, but this is the one that matters. You’ve come out of self imposed hibernation, you shaved your breakup beard/armpits (I don’t know, maybe that’s a thing? Sorry ladies), and you’re considering rejoining the world. That’s GREAT. Your coworker is attractive and wants to discuss “work” (*boning you) over drinks. Your neighbor is attractive and wants to discuss “your community garden” (*boning you) over drinks. The confident Trader Joe’s clerk is attractive and wants to discuss “boning you” (*their new juicer) over drinks. GO FOR IT. Try your hardest not to let the debris of your last relationship wash ashore on the sandy beaches of this budding new situation. And try not to let that sloppy sentence conjure up images of sand in your bathing suit areas.
Clearly, this is a simplification. Just remember that your pain, while real, is not special and unique. You’re sharing this, however privately, with almost every one in the entire world. Don’t be afraid. If I could leave you with my own personal motto: Everyone is an idiot and no one knows anything. And if that doesn’t level the playing field post-breakup, I don’t know what will.