An Open Letter to Ryan Gosling

Dear Ryan Gosling,

Let me be frank, I stalked you today and it was disappointing.  The only reason I went looking for you is because my friend Brooke, who is 40,000 weeks pregnant, was stuck at work and she couldn't stalk you. I was her proxy. My only lead was: The Facebook. And the fact that you had been in Criminal Records about 20 minutes before I arrived on scene.

I'm not built to be a Paparazzi, Ryan Gosling. But I did come up with a check list of what I needed to do to prepare, much like The Meisner Technique.

Evidently, I was either not incognito enough or you had left the locale before I got there. Either way, I was looking good and I was looking for a Hanukkah present.

Unfortunately, I did not really find what I needed: Neither you, nor gift.  But as the saying goes:  

It wasn't over. It still isn't over.

Perhaps, tomorrow I'll head Downtown, where you're shooting a movie. Plus, I hear there's great shops at The Underground.

Yours truly,

@mallofamanda

What did the bookcase say when she got an iPhone? Time for a shelfie.

I'm obsessed with my reflection. I'd like to say this was a problem I've had since childhood, but honestly I see it as a benefit. I've been posing in front of the mirror, since I first glanced at a looking glass and haven't stopped.  It's an art form really and a confidence booster.  A self-confidence booster and you cannot get that from anywhere else, see, because only yourSELF can give that to you, see. Like most girls, I've come up with a jillion justifications to need a picture of myself-- Facebook profile update, artistic prowess, lipstick application.  Judge me all you want. I'm judging myself. And I vote ADORABLE. You're looking pretty cute yourself. What's the most ridiculous selfie you've taken?