taraknowsnothing

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Feeling TOO pretty? The answer is finally here!

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Crushes, Go Home.

Is there anything worse than having a crush!? They are SO exhausting. Mentally. Emotionally. And yes physically as well because you start going to the gym for them and twist your fucking ankle in pigeon pose.

There’s that sweet, sweet, naive time in your life called B.C.- Before Crush- where everything was fine. You were PERFECTLY happy. STAY IN THIS ZONE. LOCK YOURSELF UP IN YOUR BASEMENT AND NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN. YOU’LL BE HAPPIER IF YOU STAY HERE FOREVER AND DON’T FALL FOR ANYONE EVER. CRUSHES! UGH!

So there you are floating through life like a happy little bumblebee soaring through the air then BOOM. A beautiful flower appears directly in your line of sight and you go FLYING towards it, full speed ahead! This majestic creature just saunters into your life, twisting and twirling and laughing and looking so perfect and you’re left with your jaw on the floor right next to your stomach and heart.

So you play the game, you attempt to be coy, you try to read their mind. And you think you’re sooo smart. And guess what!? YOU’RE NOT! YOU END UP ROTTING AWAY IN THIS MIND GAME TRAP FOR THE REST OF THE DURATION OF YOUR CRUSHING! You drive yourself INSANE trying to decipher every single word of their text, the fact that they liked your photo on BOTH instagram AND facebook, and you’re all like, “does that mean they actually like, like me?”

BUZZER PLEASE! SPOILER ALERT! THIS JUST IN! PROBABLY NOT. Because they’re GOOD if not better at mind games than you! That’s right. They’re off in their own little la la land not giving a goddamn care about a goddamn thing because they don’t KNOW you’re even crushing on them so everything they’re doing in their head is fine and normal and THEY HAVE NO CLUE THEY ARE DRIVING YOU NUTS.

AND GUESS WHAT! IT’S ABOUT TO GET WORSE. Cuz when you have a crush, there are only a handful of things you can do about it.

Either A you never say a fucking word to them cuz you’re too much of a pussy and anytime you WANT to say something your throat closes and you break out in hives. From here on out for the rest of your dumb life the only other person that knows of your dumb crush is your dumb diary, but you don’t call it a diary you call it a journal because dairies around for preteens, and you are certainly much more MATUUUURE than that.

OR B. You wait and wait and wait and wait and wait and think ‘well maybe they’ll make a move if I just keep acting cute and flipping my hair and batting my eyes and telepathically let them know I’m into them?’  and then OH! SHOCKER! Nothing happens at all and they go ahead and sleep with someone else.

THEN, THE FUN OPTION! C! You’ve tried to say something, you’ve waited soooo long you’ve now aged a full lifetime and finally grow some balls and get drunk enough to attempt to make a move and-- WHAT THE HELL HOW CAN YOU EVEN DO THAT! All that nasty negativity and the “what IFs” swirl in your brain and if you make a move you could either get completely rejected and be embarrassed forever and unable to ever talk to them ever again ORRRR or, or there is a possible, ever-so-tiny,itty bitty BABY chance that maybe, just MAYYYYYYYYBE you weren’t completely insane, and you did read SOME signs right and you make a move, and you’re not rejected, and they kiss you back, and your whole nervous body just EXPLODES with joy and your heart melts and you try to suck the sweat back into your palms and you play it cool like never before and wow. What do you know? You did it. *SLOW CLAPS*

OR DID YOU.

Because the very next day you wake up with a text saying “that was fun, but I think we’d be better as friends.”

Now THAT is the painful beauty of having a crush. NO THANKS. NOPE. GOODBYE EMOTION. DON’T NEED YA. I’ll be just fine over here spooning my body pillow who cannot speak the words “I don’t like you back.”

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The Perks Of Dating Myself

Hello, it’s me I’m looking for. I can’t believe I’ve been right here, under my own nose this entire time.

I’ve found the one, and it’s me. It’s such a relief to finally come to. To see the light.

I’ve experienced mad love. Devastating breakups. I’ve crushed on guys and girls. I’ve been through some wild sexual experiences. Weird-as-hell first dates. And even weirder second dates.

But after going through it all, it’s time to admit something vital. There are more perks that come with dating myself than dating anyone else. Also, not to brag, but my body pillow is a far superior spooner than any snoring, sweaty human I’ve ever encountered. That is a genuine fact.

I always pay for my dinner. I laugh at my own jokes. I open the door for me. I get myself home in one piece after four too many rosé spritzers and passionately rip my bra off faster than anybody else. I am so romantic.  

There’s a recurring pattern in the last few people I’ve dated. I’m usually the one making the first bold move which sets things into motion. It’s rather exhausting, but what can I say? I’m impatient. When I see something I want, I want it now. The thrill of the chase is all too real, and going after the ones who don’t want me back is standard.

Of recent months, I’m starting to believe this whole “attempting to date” journey has been some form of distraction. You know how they say “the one you’re destined to be with is usually right under your nose, and you’re just too frightened to admit it”? Has anyone said that? Well, I’m saying it. And you know what I mean, right? That whole rom-com mentality? Whatever. What I mean is that I’m thinking I’M THE ONE. I’m that person. All these years I’ve been too afraid to seduce myself. I should have been going after me! But now that I am chasing me, I feel the strongest I’ve ever felt. And not because I did a push-up last week.  

In an effort to keep the flame burnin’, I’ve started texting myself flirtatious messages such as, “You want me to pick you up one of those expensive juices you can’t afford?” Aw, you don’t have to, but I’d love you forever if you did! “You want to go drinking with the girls on Tuesday and see where the night takes you?” Gee, I thought you’d never ask!

I am a woman after my own heart. How could I ever experience loneliness when I’m constantly coming up with innovative ways to impress myself? Single people of the Earth, I invite you over to this side of the grass. Not only is it green, but it has a slip ‘n’ slide, a sprinkler, and a flower patch perfect for dancing on my own.

Will the spark ever fade? Ha. Will these butterflies I feel in the pit of my stomach every time I catch a reflection of myself in the store window ever go away? Doubtful. Will I make enough money to become the breadwinner of the family? A girl can only dream.

Could there be someone who comes along (or who’s already been along) and offers (*gasp*) better things than I can offer myself? Perhaps. Perhaps one day I’ll use these persuasion tactics on someone else. Lucky them! Because it’s not like the dating door is shut, as I go on approximately one date per quarter. But as for now, I’m perfectly content with hearing the words, “Tara, party of one. Your unaccompanied life is now ready.”

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One woman’s flatulence changes her entire life. 

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Oklahoma loves me.

Finals Week: Day Four

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This Is How Dreams Die.

Today I innocently attempted to show my co-workers how to use this “simple avocado slicer,” as seen on Amazon. But then, this massacre happened. I am embarrassed. I am ashamed. I will never be on QVC. 

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Just Another Quiet Night Alone In My Room.

Minding my business, getting ready for bed. Shirt comes off. As it does, I notice something on my ceiling. A mother fucking centipede little shit bug. Oh hell no. I sprint topless to my kitchen, praying the roomies are fast asleep. 

I grab the Raid, a hammer...? And a chair. This could go wrong in so many ways.

I stand my ground and slowly reach the hammer towards the miniature asshole intruder and smash the hammer into the ceiling. I fucking miss. The centipede falls and crawls UNDER MY BED. No. I will never sleep again. 

I spray ferociously under my bed. 

He's nowhere. Then he's there. Running at me! Why are the things I don’t want always come towards me? Like the all the psycho girls. And centipedes. I wonder.  At this point I’m beside myself, too panicked to spray because everything is happening so fast. And there I am: half naked and hammering at away my floor.  This little piece of shit is fast. Like, really fast. Wait WHY am I not spraying!? I fumble for the bottle, but's too late. He's buried his sick five thousand legged body into my rug. Okay, buddy. Let the battle begin.  Perhaps he didn't get the memo that I don't do sleepovers with strangers. 

I completely smother my rug with Raid. You’d think I was spray painting a mural. 

I shakes the rug out. He's gone. Did he escape the rug? Did I blink at some point? I cannot be sure. But for now, it's a tie score until I find his body, dead or alive. And nothing will stop me. Just like Tom Cruise in all of the Mission Impossibles. (A true hero). 

As I attempt to fall asleep, I wonder how much Raid I’ve inhaled. l can only hope that if I pass in my sleep, no one will read my diary. 

[taraknowsnothing]

Just Another Afternoon in New York City.

I walk through Union Square. 

A short Indian man, missing one tooth, approaches me. “Excuse me miss, you're so beautiful I had to say something.” “Okay, thanks.” He introduces himself. Instantly annoyed. “Alright, I have to go meet my friend at the movies now.” “What movie?” He's no quitter. Just stop.  “Mission Impossible. I love Tom Cruise.” ���You know what, I have to tell you something about Tom Cruise which will change the way you look at him.” Impossible. 

“I highly doubt that.”  “You see, his teeth are actually slanted. You can tell when you look closely,” he informs me as I glare through his missing tooth hole into a dark abyss. “That's nice, but love knows no boundaries.” I start to step away. “Oh wait, one more thing, miss.” 

Here we go. 

“Mmhmm?” “Since I've stopped you, I have to ask you out for a date. How about coffee or dinner? You’re a girl who deserves a nice dinner.” “I'm all set, thanks.” The amount of eye contact he gives me is cruel. “Why? You don't like brown men?” He rudely accuses, all too quickly. “No, I date girls.” He stutters. “Well then. I have nothing to say to top that.” “Great, have a good night.” I strut away in my Hi-Top Vans. 

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Just Another Night In New York City.

Waiting for the train. 

Blasting my fave song of the moment. 

Train arrives, I step on. 

A girl is checking me out. 

Flattered, I stand up taller. 

She’s staring at the back of me. My nonexistent ass?

Suddenly she’s yelling something at me and points to my ass. 

Remove my headphones, “what?”

“You have a gigantic moth on you!” 

As I frantically wipe my back, others have turned their attention to the commotion. 

A moth the size of a bald eagle flies about the train. 

“Thank you,” I say politely.

I walk to the opposite end of the train, find a seat, and bury my head inside of my own neck.  

[taraknowsnothing]

We’re so excited for the Oscars that we’re already reporting live from the Red Carpet!!

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The weekend is over which means we have a new video for you! Erica did a fantastic job editing our Bean Bin trailer!!

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"I wish they had nachos that got you drunk."

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WHAT!? CHRISTMAS IS OVER!? Can I get another? 

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A brand new Christmas CD, just in time for the holidays! Get your copy today!

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THIS IS MY DOG HIS NAME IS TOBY!!!!!

this is toby. mostly he is a worried soul, but here he is settling down for a nice afternoon read.

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Thanks to the Convenience Carpet, now you can pee anytime, anywhere! 

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I made it all by myself. I don't really know how. I blacked it all out.