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January, 2016
Archive

  • You’re Better Than Me!

    My kid and I don’t really have a lot of the same interests. We have some things in common. We both really enjoy loud music, cookies, and fart jokes. We also both think it’s hilarious when you’re spitting phlegm out the car window, and said phlegm flies right back into your face. But in terms of things we like to do to pass the time, we’re very different.

    The Munch for one loves to play “hide and seek.” Maybe that would be fun if I was on acid, in a mansion, and the walls were made of Playdough. But playing “hide and seek” in my house where I know every possible hiding space isn’t exactly mentally stimulating. Especially because half the time I can obviously see her – because she SUCKS at “hide and seek!” So then I have to walk past her, PRETENDING I can’t find her like a fool. That game is really more of a time for me to look at my phone while crouched in the closet.

    Then there are the “make believe” games The Munch LOVES to play. There is something so inspiring about watching your kid lose themselves in a world of their own creation. I find myself awestruck by her authenticity – as she plays pretend with her toys, and explores her imagination. The Munch gets really into it too. She uses different voices for each of the characters, and develops incredibly intricate plotlines. Nothing is more peaceful than relaxing in the living room while eavesdropping as The Munch plays sweetly. I can just sit back and listen to her deepest thoughts as one of her character says, “my mom killed my sister Becka, but that’s okay because she didn’t even know her letters.”

    Like I would ever name my kid Becka!?

    But I can’t play pretend with The Munch! I don’t have that capacity any more. I am a grown up, and I use my imagination to stress out about my future and have anxiety about my past.

    Finding things to do together that we BOTH enjoy equally isn’t always easy. She is not that interested in talking about Donald Trump’s ties to the lizard Elite, and I don’t give a flying fuck in a rolling doughnut about My Little Pony.

    Munch: I’m bored! I wanna play with you!
    Toni: Do you want to play the Congress is corrupt?
    Munch: NO! Too predictable! Can we play kittens on a pirate ship?
    Toni: How about we draw together instead?

    Now let’s be clear about something. I cannot draw. I cannot create a depth of field. I can’t draw people. I can’t shade. I have no ability to draw anything beyond two-dimensional shapes. So I decided I would just do that – and color them in pretty.

    At first everything was going fine. My friend Natalya came over, and drew with us for a while as well. It was kind of an adorable scene – us all drawing together and drinking tea. After Natalya left The Munch and I continued to draw – sure it had been almost 3 hours at this point, but I was pretty OCD and NEEDED to finish my picture.

    Munch: You’re star is better than mine.
    Toni: Drawing a star is tricky. Do you want me to show you how?
    Munch: Okay.
    Toni: This is how I learned. You draw an upside down “v” like this. Then you bring one line over here, the other over there, and then you connect them!

    The Munch practiced with me, drawing a star with lines that ran through the center.

    Munch: But your star doesn’t have lines through it.
    Toni: That’s true. But it took me a long time to draw a star with no lines through it. I started with the lines until I got better.
    Munch: I wanna draw my star with NO LINES!
    Toni: Okay… give it a try.

    The Munch tried, and was having an increasingly difficult time.

    Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHH! I CAN’T DRAW A STAR WITH NO LINES!!!!!
    Toni: Munch, you don’t need to get so worked up. The way you get better at something is to practice! You just have to keep trying. You will get it!
    Munch: BUT YOUR STAR IS BETTER THAN MINE!!!!!!!!
    Toni: That is because I have been practicing drawing stars for 30 years.
    Munch: YOU DRAW BETTER THAN ME!!!!
    Toni: Dude, if I didn’t draw better than a five-year old, you should be seriously worried about me.
    Munch: BUT I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRAW A STAR AND I CAN’T AND YOU DRAW BETTER THAN ME!
    Toni: Munch, Natalya draws better than me.
    Munch: NO she doesn’t! Her “space cat” doesn’t even look like a cat!
    Toni: That’s because it’s a “space cat” with boobs! Not a regular cat! And she is a wayyyyyyyy better at drawing than me. Do you want to know why?
    Munch: Why?
    Toni: Because she practices! She works hard and drawing, and that’s how she got to be so talented.
    Munch: BUT I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRAW A STAR AS GOOD AS YOU!
    Toni: Dude, this is the thing. How I draw a star has nothing to do with you. We have to be able to happy for other people and their accomplishments, even when we are struggling with our own feelings of insecurity. I can think Natalya is a better drawer than me, feel jealous about her skills, but at the same STILL be happy for her! In fact, my feeling happy for Natalya for working so hard means that I don’t even feel jealous anymore. My feelings of happiness for her are more pronounced than my feelings of jealousy. So I can instead focus on working hard and practicing, while being happy for my friend that I love.
    Munch: BUT I DON’T WANT TO PRACTICE! I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DRAW A STAR JUST LIKE YOU NOW!!!
    Toni: Munch, you can’t be so goal oriented about your art. That’s not the point of creating! You have to enjoy the process.
    Munch: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

    The Munch stormed off and left me to my coloring. Which I of course continued because I was ALMOST DONE! I had to finish it okay!?

    Since then we’ve had a few meltdowns about drawing – always the same theme. The Munch eventually gets upset because she can’t do something perfectly – then traveling down a rage spiral while comparing herself to me and feeling inadequate. But that doesn’t mean I am going to not draw my best because I have coloring to accomplish okay!!?

    But I realized that everything I said to The Munch about her drawing, I could apply to myself. I am SUPER goal oriented when it comes to my art. I have expectations of how I want things to be received, or turn out – and when they don’t I feel just like her. I get disappointed, frustrated, insecure, and yell belligerently at the wall.

    It made me think that maybe The Munch’s angst about her art is merely a reflection of my own. That she is just picking up on my vibes, and reflecting them back to me. It made me wonder how much of my energy is unconsciously infiltrating her consciousness, and perhaps most of her psychosis is really just my own stress being mirrored back to me.

    Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some coloring to get back to.

    The famous “star picture”

    toni star drawing

    Natalya’s “space cat”

    space cat

    This only took me 5 hours

    toni drawing

  • It Turns Out My Vagina is Not More Important Than Social Justice

    Do you ever have those moments where you are doing something mundane, like washing dishes, and suddenly a memory pops into your head that you hadn’t thought of in a long time? It’s almost like an assault of your unconscious. Your brain suddenly insisting, “Hey! You did this! Remember it!!!”

    That happened to me the other day when I was chatting with my friend Grace. We were having a perfectly average, everyday conversation about chakras. You know… one of those totally run-of-the-mill dialogues about your spirit body being fractured because of an esoteric violation in the cosmic stratosphere. We’ve ALL been there right? But then suddenly I had a memory of an event in my past that I had totally forgotten had ever taken place.

    Toni: I just had this crazy memory of when I was in the 8th grade. It was the night before the last day of school, and I was hanging out with my friends drinking and smoking pot. At some point everyone had to go home, I guess because we were 14 and it was a school night.

    Grace: These things happen.

    Toni: But for whatever reason, I didn’t go home. And neither did these two boys I was friends with. We all went to the Boston garden to keep drinking and smoking weed. It was a warm outside, so we ended up staying there the entire night! I think my mom was out of town, so my dad wouldn’t have really noticed if I had come home or not.

    Grace: Coming home can be remarkably unnoticeable.

    Toni: One of the guys was the dude I had lost my virginity to. I took his v-card too might I add. And the other dude was his best friend. So… I’m not quite sure how exactly I finagled this, but I remember distinctly that I would make out with one guy for a while, while the other one went for a walk or did whatever. Then when I got bored of that guy, I would leave to go find the other dude and make out with him for a while.

    Grace: That’s pretty gangster.

    Toni: Right? Especially for an 8th grader? I mean that is kind of sexually aggressive, and psychologically manipulative. I’m pretty sure they both assumed I was just making out with them, and had no idea what I was doing when I was gone.

    Grace: That is some pretty impressive slight of hand! You were like the David Blain of Making out!

    Toni: They were both pretty hot so I had to do something. But then the next day, things kind of went to shit. One of the dudes was dating my friend, and the other dude my other friend had a super crush on. The boys and I were all keeping our mouths shut about what happened, but I had these hickies all over my neck that everyone wanted an explanation for.

    Grace: You’re a WASP, didn’t you have turtleneck you could wear!?

    Toni: I know! My one friend thought it was her boyfriend that gave me the hickies, but I admitted nothing. Especially because I had a boyfriend too! When my boyfriend saw my neck, I told him that I had fallen in a bush.

    Grace: Hickies do look like bush scrapes…never.

    Toni: I panicked! I hadn’t noticed them because I never went home, and was still wearing the same clothes from the day before! We slept in the Boston Gardens and then went straight to school. In reality I should have just gone home. But we were going on a class trip to the amusement park, and I didn’t want to miss out on that – because I was still a child who liked roller coasters more than worrying about getting caught cheating!

    Grace: We all have our priorities.

    Toni: I was so tired that when my boyfriend confronted me, falling in a bush was the first thing that came to my mind. I fell in a bush! That’s what’s all over my neck! Bush! At first he believed me. Or maybe he just wanted to believe me. But whatever the case, he stopped asking questions. I had almost gotten away with it, but then I told one of my best friends what really happened. You know, because half the fun of making out with people is talking about it.

    Grace: Of course.

    Toni: But my best friend ended up telling my boyfriend!!! And when I asked her why she did that, she explained that she felt like she had too – that because they were both black, it was her racial duty to tell him what happened.

    Grace: So the racial solidarity superseded the girl code.

    Toni: Exactly! It wasn’t like she hadn’t kept secrets of mine before or after that. In fact she kept a lot of them. But this secret she couldn’t keep.

    Grace: Race vs. gender loyalty is tricky.

    Toni: It is! I think by the end of the day, the entire school knew about my sexcapade moment in the park. My friends were really pissed at me for my making out with their boyfriends, the dudes were upset I was making out with both of them, and my boyfriend was SUPER upset I cheated and lied to him. But I totally understood why my friend told on me. Even at that young age I knew that ultimately, my vagina wasn’t more important than social justice. And besides, at least I got to ride the roller coaster.

    toni modeling 2

    January 25, 2016 • Old School Stories, Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 1386

  • How To Win the Mind Fuck

    1) When they are trying to pick a fight with you, tell them “you’re boring me.” There is nothing quite as offending or demeaning than being told, “you’re boring.”

    2) When they insult you, or try to blame you for the dysfunction of the relationship, laugh. Laugh long and hard and then say, “you’re funny.”

    3) When they text you shitty things trying to get a rise out of you, respond only in non sequitur emojis. Like Chinese food, dragons, and a chicken poking his head out of a shell.

    4) Blow off relationship conversations completely, then change the topic and get really passionate talking about what you’re going to get your cousin for their birthday.

    5) Every so often, practice random radio silence. Don’t respond to anything for a few days. Then simply text a funny Youtube video – like of Snoop Dog narrating Planet Earth… WITH NO EXPLANATION!

    6) When having sex, comment about how their body isn’t how your remember it being.

    7) Have plans to hang out. Break those plans 3 hours before you’re supposed to meet with no explanation. Then 2 hours later, say you want to hang out after all, but bring some friends and pay most of your attention to them.

    8) Walk away from the relationship entirely.

    You many not get laid with these strategies, but you will win the mind fuck.

    See Kourtney Kardashian gets it…

    kourtney US weekly

    January 20, 2016 • Relationships, Sex Stuff • Views: 4098

  • Whatever Doesn’t Kill You… Puts You in a Really Bad Mood

    You can’t avoid pain. It’s an inevitable part of life. The only thing you can do when you experience pain is to wallow in it dramatically and complain incessantly to anyone within a 10 -mile radius. Or you can try to learn from it. Whatever, who cares?

    Last Monday I got home from dance and had a bad feeling about my back. I woke up in the middle of the night, and it had gone into spasm. My entire lower back had seized up, and even sitting up was incredibly challenging.

    This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. If I were to trace my lower back pain, it started when I was in the 5th grade. Maybe it was the super intense stress I was under at school making dioramas, or maybe it was the trampoline I spent 10 hours a day on. Who knows?

    But this particular back spasm episode was the worst it has ever been. I called my acupuncturist and made an appointment. She couldn’t see me until 3:30, which was a REALLY LONG TIME TO WAIT! I called my friend Grace hoping that she would have some maxa, which are Chinese herbs you light on fire to smoke your hurt body as it draws out the bad chi. I needed her help because I couldn’t reach my back or butt, which was where all the tightness was.

    Toni: Can you come over smoke my ass?
    Grace: I sure can.

    Even after a good ass smoking I was still a wreck. I laid on the floor helpless.

    Grace: Do you want a blanket?
    Toni: No I hate blankets?
    Grace: How can you hate blankets?
    Toni: I hate seeing people under blankets. I hate being under blankets. It’s too vulnerable.
    Grace: You look cold.
    Toni: Just grab some of the sweaters over there, and throw them on top of me.
    Grace: Oooookayyyyy.

    I lay under sweaters, WHICH ARE NOTE THE SAME AS BLANETS, until it was finally 3pm. I then pathetically got in my car, in hopes that some needles would help. Now my acupuncturist isn’t just any acupuncturist. She’s a 5th generation acupuncturist / Chinese herbalist, and she’s a goddamn sorceress. But she’s also not fucking around. She doesn’t just put needles in, but she turns them in farther the entire time – tuning me like an instrument. She is about as large as Thumbelina, and as strong a linebacker. She seriously scares me.

    She jammed a bunch of needles in me, pressed my pressure points, gave me some herbs, and sent me on my way. The next morning I woke up, and I was worse. I knew this would be a possibility because sometimes acupuncture draws the pain to the surface. I couldn’t move so I asked if she could come to my house. She said she could be there at 3:30… which is A GODDAMN LONG TIME TO WAIT!

    My mom called so I complained to her.

    My Mom: Why don’t you come here and I will put castor oil on your back. You can sit in the sauna so you don’t get castor oil everywhere and make a huge mess. I will sit with you. It will be cute.

    I hobbled over and my mom greeted my in her Anne of Green Gables nightgown.

    My Mom: I wore this so I wouldn’t worry if I got castor oil on my nightgown.

    It took me about 10 minutes to take off my clothes and lay down in her sauna. I couldn’t fit because my stupid body is too tall, so I squeezed myself in so my feet and head were pressing up against the walls. My mom put the castor oil on me, added a heat pack, took off her nightgown, and sat her naked bum inches from my face as she chatted away.

    My Mom: This is fun!
    Toni: Uh huh….
    My Mom: Good thing you are too weak to get your camera and write about this.
    Toni: There’s still time mom….

    After an hour I extricated myself from the sauna and still felt terrible.

    My Mom: Why don’t you get in the shower?
    Toni: I really can’t. I wanna die.
    My Mom: Well, you are going to get castor oil everywhere if you don’t so….
    Toni: Okay… okay.

    MY MOM OBVIOUSLY HAS A REAL FEAR OF CASTOR OIL MESS!

    I leaned against the shower wall, and let the castor oil spread all over my legs. Not really sure if that’s what my mom had in mind, I took my slicked body and got dressed. I staggered home and waited for the acupuncturist. When she arrived she had a bag full of different healing remedies. She pulled out a giant brown stick.

    My acupuncturist: Do you have this?
    Toni: Tree branches?
    My acupuncturist: Cinnamon.
    Toni: I don’t know anyone who has this.

    She gave me the massive cinnamon stick and showed my how to make tea. Then she heated up some herbs to maxa me. She worked on me for a few hours, but still the spasm persisted.

    That night I did something I never thought I would.

    I took the white man’s medicine.

    For the first time in 15 years, Toni Nagy took an “Aleve.”

    I woke up the next morning and the spasm was over. (uhhh thanks Western medicine)? The tightness had remained however, and it was still really hard to move.

    I will spare you the details of the rest of my week, but it was pretty dismal. I had to have my back smoked every day – a half hour process that is NOT exciting for the other person I was dependent on. I’m pretty sure that I’m the only human who has ever has been maxad by someone watching the Patriots game. Although I have to say, having burning hot coals over your body as someone is swearing at the TV isn’t as relaxing as you would think. I also took over 90 Chinese pills a day, and forced anyone who was kind enough to visit me to also massage my back/ass. By the time it was Sunday, I must have the loosest ass this side of the Mississippi.

    Yet the pain persisted.

    I went through the usual psychological journey of trying to understand why I did this to myself. Even if we don’t want to admit it, we are the architects of our own suffering. No one else came up to me and hit me with a tire iron on the back. I hurt my back, me, for whatever reason.

    I journeyed deep into a philosophical questioning of self. I tried to deconstruct and reconstruct every part of my being. I meditated on my 3rd chakra, and chanted a variety of primal sounds to bring my inner core strength. I connected to my ancestors on the astral plane, and visited my original self on the quantum shelf. I repeated the mantra “life is wasted if we don’t appreciate every part of it,” and bowed my 3rd eye the eternal oneness of all beings.

    Yet the pain persisted.

    I was useless, cranky, and sad. I went to Munch’s best friend’s birthday party, and was so antisocial I spent the entire time making endless grilled cheese sandwiches and washing dishes. I think I have a pretty good career as a dishwasher if nothing else works out – or at least that’s what I was told.

    I left the party early in total despair. Then I did what any reasonable person would do who had been dealing with debilitating pain for 6 days. I smoked some pot and went for a walk. I thought about movies I want to make, and characters I want to create. Then I got home, smoked some more, and stretched while The Munch took her bath. While I was stoned stretching, it was almost as if I was accessing my spasms. I could feel the tremors, and I just breathed into it. I let the shivers and the intensity of the stretch feel like a massage. Then I got up, and felt almost fine.

    I guess in truth I did think a lot during this week. I realized I’m becoming sort of cynical and jaded. Taking a step back to look at my existence is never a bad thing. Maybe I will do it more often. Before my body goes into total mutiny. Or maybe I should just smoke pot and stretch more often.

    Do you guys have this kind of cinnamon at home???

    cinnamon

    January 18, 2016 • Health • Views: 1045

  • All My Mom Wants From Me

    Teenagers are intense people. Their emotional brains, and hormonal influxes rule their relationship to sanity. Every parent is going to have conflict with their teenage children because they are in such an intense state of growth, exploration, and questioning.

    As far as teenagers go, I wasn’t that bad. Fine… I may have had a LOT of parties behind my parents’ back, would go to raves to take crystal meth, got caught stealing, and maybe one New Years Eve I did a ton of ecstasy and called my mom at 3 am to tell her I was going to marry my 18-year old boyfriend. It’s possible I was once brought to the hospital with a police escort from public intoxication and running from the cops, and perhaps at 14 I spent a night “roof jumping” with some boys only to come home at 7am the next day really stoned.

    BUT I DID MY HOMEWORK!!

    I got along with my parents, but we also fought. Mainly because THEY SUCK!

    Over the holiday I was home in my childhood room, and I found this note I wrote to my mom. I think it was an effort to make up with her after an argument, and show I was listening to her “needs” in terms of our relationship.

    (PS my favorite is “no manipulating with tears.” As if I NEVER had an authentic reason to cry or be upset, and only wept to control my mom).

    Mom Needs from me note

    January 6, 2016 • Family Drama, Old School Stories, Parenting • Views: 1567

  • My Failed Modeling Career

    When I was a kid, my cousin was a child model. This made me think that maybe I should try it, because her smiling face in OshKosh adds looked so genuinely happy. I wanted to be complete like her. My mom brought me to an agency, and they sent me out on my first audition. It was for a Yoplait yogurt commercial, and I didn’t get the part. I think I felt pretty bad about myself, because it was my first experience with rejection. To comfort me, my mom said I didn’t get the role because “I was too pretty.” She was a good stage mom, but even I knew at 8-years old, that was a load of shit. I just didn’t have what it took to sell sour fruit flavored milk, and I knew it.

    The first time I ever got approached by someone who was interested in me as a model was when I was 14-years old, and on a flight to Paris. It was one of those life moments that you never forget – maybe something every girl dreams of. A strange man coming up to you on a plane and asking “when are you going to get your braces off?”

    I was 5ft 10 inches and skinny. So I had what it takes!!! All I needed was to get that torture apparatus off my teeth, and I was good to go! The modeling agent gave me his card, and my mom and I called as soon as my mouth was metal free.

    We went down to Florida to get my “book” done. We were near Disney World, but didn’t have time to attend the magical kingdom because we were going to be too busy with the pictures. I remember this being a GENUINE BUMMER – which basically describes my maturity level at the time.

    At the studio there was a make-up artist, hairdresser, stylist, fancy photographer – and they were all equally horrified by my chipped nail polish and lack of waxed eyebrows. They were so appalled, it was almost as if I had raped a kitten in front of them. They were also none too impressed when I wanted more than water for lunch. Thank god they gave me that lemon.

    Once I was all dolled up, it was time to actually take the pictures. They would tell me things like “open your mouth slightly,” and “chin up – but face down.” I guess it was supposed to be fun to have all this attention, but it was actually a goddamn nightmare. The whole scenario felt contrived, and I couldn’t lose myself in the moment. I was way too self-conscious, and increasingly uncomfortable the more people stopped to watch. I didn’t want to pretend to want to fuck the camera, or the man behind it. I just wanted to play Super Mario Brothers.

    My mom and I got back from the trip, and I expressed my disinterest. I moved on with my life, started smoking pot, and my friend got a Nintendo 64.

    When I was 17, another modeling agent approached me. I was a little older and decided to give it another try. Maybe I would feel differently? Perhaps I would enjoy arching my back while getting really excited about lipstick shades. Anything is possible. Yeah… it turns out no. I couldn’t connect to the idea of trying to look sexy, and instead looked like I was constipated. They also told me I had to lose 10-20 pounds because I had “too much muscle” from playing sports.

    I decided to stick with the sports because I wanted to be strong and have arms like Madonna.

    When I was 24, I lived in NYC. Assuming my old age meant the end of any modeling career I could have had, I was surprised when a guy on the subway told me he owned a modeling agency, and that he wanted to represent me. We went through the same process, but much like before, I pretty much sucked. The idea of making my face look like I was ready to give a blow job to sell a leather coat made me feel like an idiot. Maybe if I was hawking dildos it would have made sense, but what does winter comfort have to do with my sticking my ass in the air? Again, I didn’t get very far, but I did get a coke dealer out of the experience.

    Here is the thing that is ultimately fucked up about modeling. If your identity is defined by your sex appeal, you are setting yourself up for disaster. There is no talent in looking like you are ready for anal. You shouldn’t feel proud of yourself for having a body type that looks somewhat skeletal. That isn’t an accomplishment. You didn’t do anything to achieve a symmetrical face. It is just a consequence of genes. It’s nothing to be proud of.

    When you overly identify with your looks, all your value is fleeting and superficial. It isn’t rooted in a deep yearning for existential growth, but the capacity to stick your tits out while still looking somewhat demure. It is a fine thing to do if you can get into it emotionally, but it isn’t going to feed your soul in any profound way. There is artistry to photography, and any muse for that is contributing to the creative process, but most times models are more vehicles for a corporate agenda. Maybe if I were modeling organic flax seed oil I could have gotten more into it. That stuff is really important for your digestive tract after all.

    So basically my modeling identity was a disaster, and it was probably because I wasn’t attractive enough, skinny enough, or sexy enough. Or maybe my mom was right and I was just TOO pretty. You know, not everyone has what it takes to have a failed modeling career.

    Here I am at 14 with not so much a “come fuck me” look, but more “I’m going to grow up to be a serial killer” kind of vibe.

    Toni Modeling about to kill

    My “comp card”

    Toni Modeling comp card

    I seriously wanna dry hump this tree.

    Toni Modeling hugging tree

    Fuck this jean jacket…

    Toni Modeling jean jacket

    My body language here pretty much says it all. A natural I know…

    Toni Modeling Pink pointing

    Everything is stupid.
    Toni Modeling pissy face and body

    Red dresses make me contemplative….
    Toni Modeling red dress NYC

    Here I am needing to lose 20 pounds…
    Toni Modeling RL shirt

    Can you believe I haven’t lost that weight yet? I mean look at how much extra flesh is on me!
    Toni Modeling when too fat

    January 4, 2016 • Old School Stories • Views: 2673