I Can Haz Hammburger?

I Can Haz Hammburger?

So it looks like this week is Jon Hamm Week. Monday’s post was dedicated to him and now this musing is also stemming from that time when his face forever altered my life. (Sidenote: The general everythingness of Jon Hamm aside, if you can get tickets to The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, Do. It. The online ticketing process is a test of strength & character and you will spend more time standing in lines to get in than you will sitting in the audience, but it’s totes worth it.)

Anyway, after the taping was over, as we were walking to the subway and recapping the experience, the topic of Jon Hamm’s extreme handsomeness came up (obviously) and I said to my friend (and the universe), “Why can’t I have something like that?” and my friend looked dead into my soul and said:

“Because you’re asking questions like that.”

**Pause for effect**

“Stop saying what you can’t have and just say what you want.”


That was some real talk that I was not expecting. And it forced me to start re-configuring everything right there on West 50th Street between 6th and 7th Ave. Because who said I can’t have something like Jon Hamm?

No one. Except me.

I just automatically counted myself out.  And why? Well obviously because someone like him would be out of my league. Right? Well again, says who? I still haven’t gotten an official membership letter from any league, so how do I even know which one I’m in?

I realized that I’ve been basing it on who’s been trying to recruit me – the homeless, the shiftless, the toothless, all the less’s basically. And with that loop of “like attracts like” playing in the back of my mind, it is constant torment. Because according to what I’m attracting, I am a boxcar hobo. And I am 100 years old.

But here’s the thing – why do I only look at it from the direction I don’t want? Why not flip it and look at it from the other side? Why don’t I look at what I’m actually attracted to and liken myself more to that? Instead of looking at what is attracted to me and letting it pull me down – why don’t I start looking at what I’m attracted to and let it lift me?

You know that saying about “aiming for the stars and getting the earth thrown in as well”? Well everyone can see the stars, right? Well maybe all the “lesses” keep aiming for us, because why not? What do they have to lose? We are stars.

So I have to stop letting the office mailman and the 17-old-year thug on my block affect my self-esteem. And stop apologizing for what I am attracted to. It’s not too good for me.  I don’t know why it doesn’t love me back yet, but maybe it will once I stop approaching it like it shouldn’t.

We’ll see.

Open Letter To Jon Hamm

Open Letter To Jon Hamm

Dear Jon Hamm,

You are ruining my life.

Here’s the thing, I never paid much attention to you before. I’ve never seen an episode of “Mad Men” so my primary frame of reference for you was as the douche in “Bridesmaids” and even seeing that, I distinctly remember thinking – “Okay, he’s good-looking, but he’s not THAT good-looking.” (No offense.) I just didn’t get what all the fuss was about. Some of it, sure. But all of it? Nah.

And maybe a year ago, a friend of mine sent me a text saying that she had seen you on the street. And I could not be bothered to care. (Again, no offense. I feel that way about all celebrities that are not Tina Fey or Celine Dion).

But then last week I happened to get tickets to a taping of Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight Show and you happened to be the first guest. And life as I know it happened to end.

jon hamm

You came out in that suit. With that beard. On that face. With that hair. And that height. And you ruined my life. All of it. And you need to answer for that.

You need to explain to me how I’m supposed to function now? How am I supposed to go on, Jon Hamm? Knowing that men like you actually exist. Not just on covers and screens brought to us by the magic of makeup, lighting and filters, but in actual life.  I mean, you actually look better in real life than on camera. How is that even a thing? Are you an evil wizard, Jon Hamm? And are you taking pleasure from the pain you’re causing?

Because I am in pain.

Looking at you in person was like staring at the sun. It was a mistake. A life destroying mistake. And I feel like I should have been warned. It is cruel and careless of you to just walk around looking the way you do. It causes legitimate hardship. For the women who have seen you and for all the men who would like to date those women, but are not you.

I just don’t know what to do now, Jon Hamm. Because all I want now is a you. Not you specifically, but something like you. And that want is causing a crisis of faith. I’ve seen you, so I know such a thing is possible, but is such a thing possible for me? I just don’t know. Does God really love me that much? I just don’t know. But I guess I’ll find out.

As if love wasn’t already impossible enough to find, you have made everything so much worse. And I can’t even be mad at you. You know, because of your face. Your stupid wonderful bearded face.

Anyway, I just thought you should know what you’re doing to the people around you. It’s already too late for me. My life is ruined and there’s no going back, but you seem like a nice guy (which doesn’t help things AT. ALL.) so maybe, for the sake of others, you could start taking some precautions before you go out in public. Wearing a brown paper bag is probably a bit extreme, but maybe you could wear a beret and a bluetooth earpiece. Or those Google glass glasses. Or a fanny pack. Something. Anything to keep you from shining so brightly.

It’s the least you could do to keep more lives from being ruined needlessly. So please, Jon Hamm. Just… please.


Trying to cope with the life you’ve left me.
All the best,


What I Wouldn’t Give…

What I Wouldn’t Give…

“So don’t go wishing or regretting, there’s no selective way to cull
You can’t change anything, without changing it all.”

I used to live a hypothetical life. I would be sitting at my desk and the sight of another Facebook photo of another wedding or engagement or new baby would usher me into a fugue state where I’d imagine all the ways my life would be different if I just hadn’t done what I did, said what I said, or gone where I did. And I’d kick myself for all the things I was missing out on. I’d tell myself “Look! Look how much better our life could have been.” As I pointed out a shadowy hunk of a husband and the most adorable (and well-behaved) children you ever did see. And look at that – I wasn’t a receptionist… I was everything I ever wanted to be! And successful. Very successful. And very happy. So stupidly happy that the Shadow-Man and I would sit around with my friends and just laugh. Toasting to sunsets and terraces and a life lived correctly.

I used to visit that life a lot, but I don’t let myself anymore. Not because it wasn’t real, but because of the parts of it that were.

I realized that I was building a perfect life by taking everything that I love about my life now – this city, my friends, my opportunities – and adding all the things I wish I had on top. But that math doesn’t work.

Ten years ago I was prepping to move to Australia, if I had gotten married ten years ago – that probably wouldn’t have happened (bye-bye Australian friends and experiences). Five years ago, I was prepping to move to New York, if I was married with kids that probably wouldn’t have happened (bye-bye New York friends and experiences). One year ago I was making videos that made Shonda Rhimes a fan of mine – if I was married with kids, that definitely wouldn’t have happened (bye-bye Scandal friends, experiences and opportunities). Everything about my life today is built on everything that has (and hasn’t) happened up until now. So for me to have any of those imagined things, I would have had to give up something real. So I ask myself: what would I trade? Which of my friends, strengths and dreams would I give up?

And it turned out that the list of what I wouldn’t give was pretty long.

So I try not to torture myself with hazy imaginings of my “if only” husband and children. They’re amazing, but they have no place here. Because if they did, I’d have no place here. I don’t know where I’d be or even who I’d be. Or what I’d be wishing for from there. Because no life is perfect. But mine is actually pretty good when I’m not focused on what I don’t have.