A Very Stabby Birthday

Shiny birthday balloons in the number 30

I don’t remember much about my dad. I know that all the stories my mom tells me about their time together end with “…and then your dad stabbed him so we had to get the hell out of there.”

Practice Stabbing GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

My most vivid memory of my dad was his knife coming through the roof of the van we lived in. I can still hear my mom screaming, “Run for your life!” while I tried to super-speed activate my stubby toddler legs. It turned out my great escape wasn’t necessary; they reconciled and went on to have more children. It’s the rom-com you never knew would scare you.

They did eventually part ways. My dad got out of the van to take a leak one hot summer night and my mom just sped away. She traded the van for a trailer, the alcoholic schizophrenic for a heroin addict, and we never heard from my dad again.

Until this month. A few days before my 30th birthday.

Continue reading “A Very Stabby Birthday”

How to Be All Classy and Shit

Woman at the beach with a sun hat

I have been thinking a lot about class lately. My thirtieth birthday is right around the corner and I have really been trying to hone my style. I’ve always been horrified by my mother’s butterfly bedazzled bell bottoms and the ever presence of “big gulps, tractors, and pink camo” in my sordid memory bank. But what makes someone classy? The internet has nearly convinced me that the whole of classiness is kept in the human cuticles and if they aren’t on point, I should just hang myself with a length of the Confederate flag while standing on a crate of Pabst.

Not one to believe everything the internet tells me, I thought about real life. Who was the classiest person I know?

For me, that person is my dear friend Betty. Betty is a landscaper and ironically has the most mangled cuticles I have ever seen. When she comes by my place, covered in dirt, cursing up a storm, she brings with her an armload of dahlia bulbs or a length of hose for my yard. She clasps my face with both of her hands and tells me how beautiful I look that day. She tells me that my orchid is too dark green and will be happier in a sunny spot. She exudes a level of class that I strive for. Intelligence, warmth, openness. She is just so damn classy.

So put away your wallets and, cuticles be damned, today we are talking about the dos and don’ts of how to be all classy and shit.
Continue reading “How to Be All Classy and Shit”

Putting Your Pet to Sleep

Sleeping gray cat

What can I say about Leo, mi amore? He is the best bad cat ever. That’s not to be confused with the best cat ever. There is a very important distinction.

The best cat ever might not tip over their litter box, kick all the litter into the space between the washer and dryer, then crap in the empty box.

The best cat ever might not tear the shower caddy off the wall and eat ¾ of a bar of oatmeal soap and throw up bubbles for two days.

The best cat ever might not knock over a $30 canister of leg wax , step in it, become adhered to the carpet, and then howl like a crazy person at 4 o’clock in the morning, not because he is stuck, but because he was planning on getting stuck in the cords to the blinds like some horrifying cat-marionette and wasn’t planning on getting stuck to the carpet till next week.

But the best bad cat ever totally would.

Leo the cat
Leo, the best bad cat ever

Leo, the bunny king, the pleasure pig, the bad little cat man… he cracks me up every single day.

I say that Leo is the best bad cat ever because he is still alive in my heart. I should say that Leo was the best bad cat ever. He died this week.

My heart aches. My home feels strange and empty. I keep going to feed him and have to stifle calling for him. Creatures of habit and all…

I have to believe there is a lesson of great value to learn with all heartaches, with all pains. And as blurry-eyed, as I am, I want to do the most loving thing I can for you and yours. And for me, because I am really writing this one for myself.

I felt so guilty putting my beloved bad kitty down. There was the pressure from the vet and an entire lack of support to be found anywhere, not in real life, not online. So today, I wanted to give you something I didn’t get:

Today, I am giving you permission to put your pet to sleep.

Here are five obstacles you may be trying to overcome:

Continue reading “Putting Your Pet to Sleep”

Putting the “Ho” in “Home Decor”

Rose in a vase with faux fur rug

I think we all have those things we really want in our lives and appreciate while simultaneously having no interest in learning how to make them happen. Maybe it’s how to do a classic updo, how to rock an Instagram eyeshadow look, change a tire, or cook a souffle. For me, that thing is interior design.

Bored Monsters Inc GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

I really appreciate a well-appointed room. I find them comforting and luxurious and soothing and amazing. I think having a polished and beautiful home is totally worth having. But when I start to read articles about “layers” and “textures” and “complementary colors,” it makes me want to tear my own arm off and then use it as a conversational piece on my coffee table. “Oh yes, I made it myself,” I will tell my impressed house guests.

But here is the thing about “adulting:” you should learn how to bring the things you want into your life, regardless of whether you have a natural talent for it.

Home cooked meals are worth eating, being able to pull yourself together for a classy event or meeting is important, being able to change your tire is important and having your home serve and suit you is important.

So here are the DG tips for those of you who have no attention span for interior design:

Continue reading “Putting the “Ho” in “Home Decor””

Interview with DGGYST

Yaa Yaa over at Scribbles and Tostitos has got the scoop on Damn, Girl! So thrilled to do this interview about everything from my blogging advice, personal life, and the DG army. Give it a read if you want to know more and be sure to follow and support the wonderful girls behind thepagesofpaige.com and scribblesandtostitos.com!


Kick off your shoes and relax your feet. Read on below to hear from Tiara, the girl behind Damn Girl. Get Your Shit Together.

via Damn Girl. Get Your Shit Together —

“But I Don’t Like Other Women” and Other Immaterial Things

Group of women sitting on railroad tracks

“We are in the business of being women.”
-DGGYST

DGGYST has been pretty heavy on the girl power lately. With “The Power of Female Economy“, and “So, You Want a Blogging Tip…“, not to mention the sidebar featuring specifically female bloggers, I have to address something that comes up every time I (or any one else for that matter) discuss supporting female industry. This sentiment:

“But I don’t like other women.”

I notoriously love the women. I was a labrador retriever in my last four lives and just assume everyone is my friend and they want to feed me biscuits.
Not that I haven’t not liked some women. There’ve been a few where I’m like, “You are not my kind of lady. Now give me a biscuit and get the hell out of here, bark bark bark bark bark!” So I respect that you may have had bad experiences that are skewed to the female gender.

Shoshanna Shapiro Cray GIF by Girls on HBO - Find & Share on GIPHY

Perhaps you have found other women to be largely competitive, shallow, two-faced, and smelly. I would never tell you that I know your experiences better than you do, and this post is not about bashing women who don’t like women. But I will tell you that not liking other women shouldn’t matter when it comes to throwing your unbridled support at them.

Continue reading ““But I Don’t Like Other Women” and Other Immaterial Things”

Damn, Girl, Get Over It

Woman on the beach letting balloons go

“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.”
– Charles R. Swindoll

Charles is treading dangerously close to republican waters, which is actually a frozen lake where if you fall in, you are fucked. But Damn, Girl is going there.

The fact of the matter is it’s hard not to let the shit that happens to you and the shit that has happened to you affect your decisions for the worse.

There, there. Mama understands. Life is hard. We’re all getting beaten with shovels and felt up in cars and miss the semi annual sale at Victoria’s Secret. Life is just traumatizing AF. But this blog is about activating and harnessing your power, and to do that, there’s some shit you are going to have to let go.

Here are five things it’s time to get over: Continue reading “Damn, Girl, Get Over It”

My Apologies: Conquering the World One Sorry at a Time

Woman's hands holding a flower

The oldest thing I own is a piece of homework from 1st grade. It’s actually an entire booklet of paper bound in little plastic rings. “Tiara, Grade 1” is written in purple crayon across the construction paper cover.

God knows how I still have it. It has somehow weathered a hundred homes (and no home at all). I swear one day it will be archived as a religious script because of the shit it has endured. In the future, people will tell the miracle of how the little plastic-bound journal survived tornadoes, fire, and the summer my mom kept goats in the house.

There isn’t too much to report about the Holy Scripts. Mostly pictures of birds in the distance signified by “M”s, yellow sunshines and broccoli trees, but there is one very memorable entry:

My shit list. Well, my “shite” list. Apparently I was an Irish child.

Grade 1 and already making a shit list.

You see, there weren’t a lot of rules in my house. No curfews, no chores, no expectations of grades or school attendance, and the expletives were free to fly. Al Pacino and Eric Cartman screaming “God fucking damnit” echoed around my living room and Tony Montana himself might balk at the curse words that came out of my step dad’s mouth.

But there were two dirty words, so filthy that to speak them meant swift and violent retribution.

Those words were: “I’m sorry.”

Continue reading “My Apologies: Conquering the World One Sorry at a Time”

Cleaning Up With Damn, Girl

Woman climbing into a dryer

Growing up, cleanliness and order were never priorities in my house. My family of five lived in a van until I was about four, my siblings and I sharing a chest of drawers for a bed. As fucked up as that is, it’s still a little bit adorable, admit it.

Once we settled into a bit more space, that space was decorated in the classic “insane petting zoo from hell” style. At one point, I shared my bedroom with seven chickens.

With thirty-seven cats, three dogs, five screaming peacocks, two horses, an angry little pony, six goats, and a very energetic hoarder to manage them all, my childhood home could turn the strongest of stomachs.

I have fond memories of our unneutered male pygmy goat “Bill” rising proudly from the open trunk of one of our many broken down cars and chasing the school bus. Every morning, with his little goat beard full of urine and a stiff twelve-inch erection, he would charge the driver as the bus screeched out of the driveway. Needless to say, I wasn’t the fucking prom queen.

A goat in a mailbox

Keeping a house up properly was definitely a skill I had to learn. Today I wanted to tackle the mindset and habits that keep so many people’s homes in disarray.

Continue reading “Cleaning Up With Damn, Girl”

The Skinny Confidential

Lauryn Evarts, The Skinny Confidential

Here at Damn, Girl, I talk a lot about taking risks and asking others for the things that you need.

And I follow my own advice… mostly.

I get anxiety about pursuing the things that truly matter to me, just like every other creative.

While I am sure this is true for every person, I feel there is a larger stigma for women when it comes to pursuing their goals with the direct, relentless passion it takes to actually get shit done.

This is in part due to to the fact that in order to achieve our goals, we need to ask for support. We are made to feel that by asking for support, we are admitting our lives are not perfect. And there is nothing if not a great pressure to make our lives seem perfect.

Not just perfect, but completely self-achieved. Like we are some glorious island that has its own oil, the best mangos in the world, and a thriving, self-sustaining economy. We have entire platforms for this illusion: they’re called WordPress, Instagram, and Pinterest.

Don’t get me wrong; I love stalking celebrities’ sandwiches on Instagram as much as the next person, but the popularity of the “perfect life illusion” kept me from even considering blogging or talking about my experiences at all. They just weren’t that shiny.

That’s when I read The Skinny Confidential.

Lauryn Evarts was seemingly the same: perfectly blonde, fit, put together, drinking rosé in France and glowing for some damn reason (seriously, how the hell do you all just glow? Is there some switch I don’t know about? Is that what nipples are actually for? Have I been using them wrong?).

But then I came across a post of hers called “I Hate You Anxiety” and for the first time, I saw one of these perfect people talking about something real. I continued reading her blog. She dished on jaw swelling, constipation, all the nasty stuff that I thought never touched these people.

The more I read, the more I grew to love her voice. Lauryn was sweet, she loved and supported women, she talked about real things. It was The Skinny Confidential that inspired me to start this blog.

I knew that I wanted Lauryn in my corner, so I decided to take my own advice and reach out to her. To ask for the support that I needed.

Sure, I had some wine first. Psyched myself up. Waited for the inevitable “Please do not contact me, loser” message I was sure to get at any moment.

Turns out asking for the things that I needed turned out to be ok. Lauryn was sweet and supportive and was kind enough to pass on her blogging tips to the readers here at Damn, Girl. So tuck in, and enjoy some tips from the master:

Continue reading “The Skinny Confidential”