I saw the most beautiful woman today. She was tall and lean and wore bell-bottomed jeans and had long red hair. It looked like a wig or like she’d just left the beauty parlor it was so perfect but at the same time, the way she carried herself so effortlessly, I was convinced that it was simply the way she must look every day, down to her perfect strawberry colored features, doll-like soft face and enviable figure. She was carrying something down Melrose near Fairfax though I don’t remember what. I was so intrigued with her espadrilles and how her jeans covered them just the right amount and by the old white Jeep she packed that thing she was carrying into, I didn’t even notice. I really love living in a world where that kind of beauty exists even while you’re sitting in traffic after a shitty day at the office.
- 11th March
- 6th March
I’m feeling especially poor, especially tired, especially frustrated by having to wake up and go to a job that I completely despise, and especially lonely in these feelings lately because my support circle is more vastly spread out than it used to be and my life is lonelier in general.
Independence comes at a price. I work two jobs and like most women, I also need to find the time to clean my home, wash my clothes, care for family members, reach out to friends, maintain a love life, keep myself groomed and attractive and fit, prepare and cook meals, and maybe, just maybe, put away a little time for things that are solely mine, like writing, taking baths, reading books and making love. I painted my nails last week and felt like a princess for a whole day until the polish cracked and chipped from stress and work and washing dishes.
“How can I help?” he asks, “How can I make your life easier?” What a simple, impossible question.
I’m honest when I tell him, “I don’t know how to make my life easier.” Life is not something that can be or should be inherently easy, is it? Mine has never been easy. It’s been fun and great and rewarding and even a miracle at times but never, ever easy. Finally, it comes to me. “Can you cut a straight line? My hair looks terrible. It needs a trim.”
“Why don’t you just get a haircut?” I’m not sure. I’m not sure why I don’t just get a haircut.
When I was twelve years old my father took me to Supercuts to get my first haircut. I don’t remember it taking very long but I do remember the hairdresser sighing as she pulled out the blowdryer. My hair is long and thick and heavy. I could see that at 6pm on a Monday night, all she wanted to do was go home. I could see it in her eyes. Spending 30 minutes drying a pre-teen lion’s mane was apparently the last thing she wanted to do. My father stood next to me, arms crossed, looking up at the clock every few minutes. He wanted to go home too.
“My hair is naturally straight, ma’am. You don’t have to dry it.” I went home, dried my hair myself, and never ever again got excited about getting my hair “done”. What a funny foreshadowing to my life’s central theme. You don’t feel like doing it? That’s ok. I can do it myself. But I can’t reach the back of my head myself. What would make my life easier is for someone to comb my hair back and trim it two inches for me. Really. That’s all I need.
“Babe, I’ll buy you a haircut. You deserve it.” I put down the scissors.
“But love, understand that it costs twice as much to get my hair cut and colored as normal people because I have so much hair. It’s not worth it.”
“Is money the only issue? Don’t you want a haircut?” Of course I’d love to sit in a real salon and drink tea and have my head massaged and leave feeling and looking like the hair goddess I am, but in that moment all I could think of was an offer made earnestly, but apparently forgotten: How can I make your life easier? How? You can take these scissors and cut a straight line for me, trimming about two inches off the bottom. “That would make my life easier!” I thought, though I said nothing.
I ask for this, he offers that, and nothing was ever given. It’s been two weeks and I still need someone to trim my hair. I still need someone to make my life easier.
- 5th March
- 5th March
Asked by: doctorwhisky
I’M SO EMBARRASSED
- 5th March
Asked by: Anonymous
Wait, you can send YOURSELF messages? O_O
take a Valium, bb.
- 5th March
- 4th March
- 28th February
- 27th February
Asked by: Anonymous
Buddy, is that you?
Look, Buddy, we’ve gone through this a dozen times. I liked you, I really did. What we had was “special” and I know it was me who probably fucked it up. But sweetie, you’ve gotta move on. I have. See. I’m seeing this great person and I’m really happy and my friends and family are happy for me, too. I may have been an enthusiastically promiscuous girl a few years ago, and to a certain extent I will always be a raging slut, reformed or otherwise, but please, I’m not simply “fucking” anyone, anymore, ever.
I’m turning 30 soon and before you know it, we’ll be middle aged and all of this will seem so silly… who fucks who and FWB and drama and hurt feelings. See, what I learned after my last relationship, the one I was in for over two years that you seem to know nothing about, is that knowing what you want is where you need to start. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - I’ve never been a gal who knows what she wants but rather, I’ve always known what I don’t want. But I’m fixing to change that right now.
So far I’ve figured out that I want love, respect, and kindness in my life. I’ve also realized that I want a life partner, I want monogamy, and I want it with someone unafraid to plan a future with me. There are no more dudes to simply “fuck”. There is no list of candidates to consider. You may have had a chance with me at some point, but now, you don’t, no one does, and I’d prefer for these cryptic messages to stop. This will be the last one I engage. Hope you’re doing great, Buddy. I’m sure you’ll be world famous and fucking gals way hotter than me any old day now.
- 25th February
I enjoy my coffee with a little sex and I enjoy my sex with a little wine and I enjoy my wine with a little snack and I enjoy my snack with a little coffee and …
- 25th February
- 25th February
- 24th February
Asked by: Anonymous
It feels like my birthday
- 24th February
Am I losing my mind, maybe? Too much good and too much bad and never enough time to drink the amount of wine necessary to numb and cum regularly as prescribed by my mental health doctor but wait, insurance doesn’t cover Pinot Noir nor birth control and see, I’ve bought into Obamacare I drank the Kool Aid™ and paid the copay but I’m still unwilling to succumb to the demons who tease me and call me stupid maybe I should read more? Perhaps I should learn a new language? One that has a word for this feeling I’m stuck in it’s not a rut or a haze or a phase, unfortunately, and I think I need to smoke something and feel the burn, man.
- 21st February
jack: Sticky, first of all, thank you so much for allowing me the opportunity to interview you. It is a privilege and honor, thank you.
I’ve been following your blog for a while now and I’ll be honest, it was your URL and your beauty that initially drew me in (I know, typical male).
But then I started reading you (especially digging through your archives as of late) , and I fell in love with your openness and honesty. Now, as open as you are, I also get the feeling that you’re a private girl too. Because of that, you’ve made private a section of your blog.
How do you balance the two? How do you know what to share and what not to share, and where does that line get drawn?
Sticky: Thanks, Jack! Wow! What awesome things to say and great observations to boot. Though I’m not sure why I’m a good candidate for this interview. Do you know that right now I only have 150 active posts on my blog and I’ve been doing this for almost 4 years? In total I’ve made about 800 original posts which equate to hundreds of pages of written words but after a few months, I make things private, I take things down, I change the tone of my blog, I adjust my voice, I re-read things and grow embarrassed, I catch wind of negative feedback and shut it down, then I’m re-energized by positive feedback and I unhide things all over again. This place that I have created is always changing and it never looks the same from one month to another. My archives expand and contract. I write stories and post them, I take photos and share them, then I hide myself, my words, and my experiences all over again until I feel like opening up. It’s a virtual striptease and I’m the main attraction.
I think that plays heavily into how I maintain my privacy while at the same time sharing so much. I share a lot but only for a limited amount of time. That’s why, in my opinion, I do not gain new followers very easily. I used to when I had all of my stories available to everyone all of the time, but nowadays, people just don’t get me and this is not by accident. I like it, actually. Many of you reading this right now will think, shit, who is this slut? And then some will say, “Oh, it’s Nicky! Yeah, I know how she lost her virginity and that one story she wrote about her one-night stand in DC made me kinda horny!” And then others see “slut” and assume what you assume when you read the word slut.
I have a lot of pride. These are my words, my experiences, and it’s my choice as to when, how, and with whom I share them.
jack: You’re an LA Woman, in almost every sense of the phrase. I know you’ve had some pretty crazy experiences with “tourists”. Are there any that stick out in your mind that you’d like to share?
Sticky: Ha! Are you saying I’m an L.A. woman in the Jim Morrison, L.A Woman sort of way? Well, I suppose I do live in a sort of Hollywood bungalow. Or perhaps in a Led Zeppelin kind of Goin’ to California way? “Spent my days with a woman unkind, smoked my stuff and drank all my wine”? If that’s what you mean, then I 100% agree that I am an L.A gal through and through.
Tourists? Hmm. Is there a story that comes to your mind, Jack? They’re here, I suppose. I’ve seen them on Hollywood Boulevard and at the Santa Monica Pier. I feel like this is a loaded question, my friend. Would you like me to romanticize the idea of a stranger coming to Los Angeles, posting up at a bar and me, after walking in at the end of a long day, ready to let my hair down and have a glass of wine, seducing said “tourist” and engaging in a night of wild, steamy love making? There are stories. But you’ll have to buy me a drink first, dahling.
jack: How long have you been writing?
Sticky: I recall writing at the age of 6 or 7. I drafted plays and acted them out with my stuffed animals in the supporting roles and for an audience of zero (the plight of the only child). I did a lot of child theater in my community and always found the stories to be shallow and easy. Dumbed down. Yes, I was a child theater snob, and my bougie first grade self knew I could do better.
I distinctly remember being in the 4th grade and watching the kids around me experiment with relationships for the first time. Heather was dating John who broke up with Megan who was devastated but she didn’t know Owen had a crush on her etc etc and as I watched the drama unfold I told myself I would someday write a book. I knew I’d write about relationships. They’ve always fascinated me.
jack: What kind of recreational reading do you prefer?
Sticky: I am the worst reader. Seriously. I’m such a slow obnoxious reader who insists on sitting at her desk with reading glasses and a dictionary. I find novels beautiful yet tedious because I focus so hard on language and I fall in love with the characters and form unhealthy co-dependant relationships with them and then when they’re gone, I mourn. It’s for that reason that I seldom pick up a novel but rather, I spend my reading time lost in books about ethics, philosophy and various religions. I have a heart and mind that tend to stray away from what’s healthy for me so filling my head with ethical and religious theories and practices keeps my consciousness open and my hands from idling.
jack: Can you share with us what you’ve found to be the most influential piece of writing or perhaps author, that you have experienced so far?
Sticky: If I answer this question honestly, I’m going to sound like a crazy person. But shit, here we go. By and large the most influential thing that I’ve ever read is the Bible. It has poetry, murder, prostitution, heros, villains, and my all-time favorite thing to read: moral consideration. I am constantly thinking about right and wrong, good and evil, and how the definitions of these words vary among us. Other works? Waiting for Godot, As I Lay Dying, A Clockwork Orange, Tropic of Cancer, etc etc etc. One book I read three times because it was so honest and pure was Tommy Chong’s The I Chong. Ha! Maybe I was a child theater snob but I am certainly the most classless adult book reader ever.
jack: Do you think that a “wall” exists between new writers on tumblr, and perhaps a more seasoned writer like yourself?
Sticky: I do feel like there is a wall between myself and the “new” Tumblr writing community except I am on the outside looking in, hoping someone will notice that I want to come in and play, too! The oldies like me, but many of the newbies see “slut”, make their judgments and move on. It’s hard to get to know me at this point because I keep so much of my archive private. It requires reaching out to me. I like it this way. By weeding out the judgmental and the close minded and the perverts and the too-fucking-serious for their own good, I’ve been exposed to some great young writers.
jack: Do you feel unapproachable?
Sticky: Come on! I am the most approachable person online or otherwise. Jack, you’ve seen the things people share with me, ask me, confide in me. You have my freaking cell phone number! I’m an open book who likes to chat about your shit… now order me a glass of wine and tell me your life story already.
jack: What would you like your readers to know about you, that would make you even more “real” to them?
Sticky: I’d like people to know that I consider myself a story teller more than I consider myself a writer. I’d also like people to know that I will never accept a dinner invitation from an anonymous grey face and no, I will not answer questions about “butt stuff” (trust me, I get that a lot). That’s just too real.
jack: Who do you find to be an intimidating writer here on tumblr?
Sticky: Siren O’Brien (californoir). Man that woman is an amazing writer but her tongue is deadly.
jack: Who do you find to be an inspiring writer here on tumblr?
Sticky: Siren O’Brien. The folks who run Looked Like Laughing (Alan Hanson, Suburban Mike Adams, etc.). I find you to be very inspiring, Jack. I’m never not dumbfounded by the fiction of Mark Eagleton (thehollowpartofme) and Porter’s Notebook (is his name private? I won’t say it just in case it is). Plus, I can’t forget my OG love and life bloggers, The Frenemy and Date by Numbers. They’re writing books, people! Books!
jack: Is there anything else you’d like to talk about or say to the readers, to close this interview?
Sticky: Peace, love, and good sex for all. Now let’s make out.
jack: You heard her. Pucker up… Ok, maybe you just go check out her blog before she makes more of her posts private.
Visit sticky here.
You can also read about her advice and adventures here at the-gaggle.com.
She warns the faint of heart, but you can also follow her on twitter stickyisaslut