Happy New Year, my little stackers.

Here’s to another trip around the sun with you :)

Every month, I try to write you a substack about how I am flopping. I began flopping in July. Now it’s January and look! Still flopping. Flopping is in, I’ve decided. I have to decide that otherwise it makes it worse.

We’ve reached that precious time of year where I must, under duress, bestow my opinions on what’s hot and what’s not for the months ahead. As always, these predictions are written swiftly and with minimal forethought. Should I have something more profound to say in a year as pivotal as 2025? Probably. Oh well! Without further ado, here’s the list:

in !!

forbidden crushes

If you think yearning is a relic of the past, think again. Work friend? Classic. Gay guy? Charming. But a work friend who’s a gay guy? Now we’re talking. Get pining, people. There’s no thrill quite like stretching your heart toward someone just out of reach. Forbidden crushes are the zest of life.

balls-to-the-wall fall (& winter, spring, etc)

This was Walker’s proclamation to me and Sila at the housewarming in Crown Heights (yes, my life is meta-referential and brimming with talented stackers). “It’s Balls-to-the-Wall Fall!” they declared, listing their menagerie of creative projects with the verve of any psycho mad-genius.

I think a season is the perfect amount of time to buckle down, buckle up or buckle in. Go full out, maximum effort, no breaks for three months straight and see what goes right. Finish writing your manuscript, go on thirty-five first dates, hunt rare twelfth century coinage—I do not care. It’s Balls-to-the-Wall Fall. It’s Full Swing Spring. It’s—okay wait I hate myself and I have to stop.

It’s 100M Sprinter Winter!

I deserve to be burned at the stake.

cvs 40% off coupon

In New York, a singular household item will set you back $25. There are ways around this—Amazon, shoplifting, moving deeper into Brooklyn—but I’m trying to abstain from all of these things in 2025 (jk ily Brooklyn!). If you’re in a pickle and searching for magic, rip a page out of the Shelby’s Dad Handbook and create an ExtraCare account at CVS.

Here’s how it’s gonna go: Most of the time, the $2 purchase of a Clio yogurt bar will earn you a 40% off coupon on a single item. The bigger thing you need—toothpaste, laundry detergent, Maybelline Skin Tint (wink)—is now well within your reach.

This has become my sacred practice. I simply visualize the thing I want most, then I get it 40% off.

CVS is no match for me, a woman mastered in the art of the deal.

social climbing

I’m not good at social climbing because I’m not good at social anything.

Oh, that couldn’t possibly be true! You’re so socially graceful—you’re a social ballerina! Thou spews naught but lies!

Thanks, but you’ve never see me return home from a party and reenact my every syllable of social intercourse to myself in the mirror.

I am sick of people being like: “I hate them. They’re such a social climber.” Literally, so what? Let people make friends in high places. People usually know when they’re being climbed on—it’s their choice whether to hold the ladder steady or kick it out from under the person below. I WISH I was cool enough for someone to social climb over me. Social climbing is in. Here’s my permission slip.

MUNA live at the greek album

I’m single, but for three months in the fall I had a gnawing feeling in my subconscious that I had a girlfriend. Turns out, I was just listening to the MUNA Live at The Greek Theatre album on repeat. Something about the live recording makes me feel like I’ve got someone I’d better get home to. I’d be all, “I can’t get dinner tonight, I think my girlfriend is making penne a la v-! Wait…”

This record kills whether you’re gay or not, so you have no excuse. I’m sorry, but like, does this not speak to your wounded soul??

If I see my old friends, we'll go out dancing
If we go out dancing, then we'll go to the bar
If we go to the bar, then there's gonna be drinking
If I drink, I wanna see where you are
So I don't see my old friends, I don't go dancing
I don't do most things I used to do
Actually, now that I'm thinking about it
I did most things to get to you

letting me pet your dog

No one in New York lets me pet their goddamn dog. Pet owners: why even have a furry friend if you’re not going to peacock it around, passing it off to adoring fans? Your French bulldog loves me. I swear! I’ll prove it.

If you have a great dane in Manhattan, it’s rude of you not to let me admire it up close. Sure, you have “places to be” and “people to see.” And yes, if you let one person pet your dog, you will have to allow the masses. But I am not talking about the masses—I am talking about ME! Let ME pet your mother freaking dane. Please! I need this.

genuine heartbreak

I’ve never experienced the savagery of true heartbreak. I doubt I could survive it—I can barely handle the mild stuff. Lately, I have seen a few friends bludgeoned by this pain and it reifies my deepest fears. I don’t envy this, except for sometimes when I do. Better to have loved and lost.

Do not seek a broken heart, but to those who are still gluing back the shards this new year, good things are coming for you. To have something broken meant you once had something whole. Not everyone can say that. I do think there is meaning in this.

precious time

Wait… guys… time is low key money.

I recently spoke with a role model who kind of lovingly yelled at me on the phone.

You have a 9-5 and are pursuing an entire creative career on top of it. Starting at 5:01, every single minute matters. You cannot spend time doing things that don’t feel authentic to you. You cannot waste hours on people who aren’t worth it. Your time is particularly important. It is particularly precious.

Damn. I needed that.

The theme of the Year 2025? Time itself. Damn again!

low rise pant

The millennial cusper in me has finally accepted the truth: high-rise pants are pretzeling my organs. Dropping my waistband to the hipbone has been a welcome relief. I’m late to this trend, but nothing is officially in until I declare it so! Low rise for one, low rise for all. When they go high, we go low rise - Michelle Obama.

the analog (especially the calendar)

Paper calendars have been in since 2023, but I wasn’t making lists back then. If you and I make plans, they’re going on my material calendar on my physical real-life wall. Handwritten letters, board games & paper maps are also in. Send me on a quest.

As a side note, friends are starting to propose dates instead of weekdays to hang and I’m into it. We can’t plan for Wednesday anymore—Wednesday was booked three Thursdays ago. Tell me you’re available on 1/15 after 8pm. I can make that work. Wait yup I’m penciling you in on the wall calendar…right…now…

writing down your friend’s address

I thought of this two days ago so now it’s extremely important to me. I’m embarrassed by how few addresses and apartment numbers I remember, even for my closest friends. I am always sending a wait sorry what is your address again text and tbh it’s uncouth.

When someone sends you their address, update their contact information with their apartment info in the Notes section. Genius!

ordering dessert

This is simply one of the most fun things you can do with people. It is a gleeful activity. It is mirth-pilled. Four forks neck-deep in a slice of chocolate cake? What more is life about?

feeling sexy hot

I forget how you do this but I also think it’s all we have to live for rn.

out !!

LANY cap

You own a baseball hat that says NY or LA.

We GET it—you’re coastal! You reside in or have once visited one of our nation’s flagship megalopolises. And what better way to signal that than at the very top of your skull—an asymmetrical sun protectant that symbolizes your elite offshore status?

I’m not saying the hats aren’t suave. I’m not saying they aren’t sexy. I’m just saying they’re out. New York and LA are over, and so the hats go with it.

Show me a hat that says Chattanooga, Tennessee or Burlington, Vermont. Show me you know about any other city. I don’t, and I would literally never live anywhere except New York or Los Angeles, but show me you’ve had an original thought. PLEASE.

friend groups

Adult friend groups have always been a subject of interest to me. I’ve never been a member of one, at least not one that held its shape for more than a year, but I linger on the margins of a few (for which I am eternally grateful. Thank you for inviting me to your big dinners and please do not stop just because of what I’m about to say).

It just seems to me like…I don’t know…most of you don’t really like each other? There’s always drama or quiet resentment brewing beneath the surface. I’ve hung out with friend groups where I swear to god everyone downright hated the person across from them. Plus, planning for 5+ is a logistical nightmare and someone always ends up upset. Aren’t we a little old to travel in packs?

stifling tears

Crying is in. Holding back tears is out.

This started for shallow reasons: I wanted to cry in a short film but couldn’t get there. Years of honing emotional control have left me teetering on the edge of numbness. It never occurred to me that, in practicing emotional strength, I was neglecting the part of me that feels?? To summon tears poses a physical challenge—it’s hard to cry when we’re told all our lives to keep it in. Crying = weakness. But, why? What is so wrong with feeling? What is so wrong with weakness?

My actor friend, Hattie, pointed out that our bodies have an automatic emergency break in response to the welling of tears. “Instead of restraining, what if you practice allowing them to pass through?” She suggested setting aside time each week to cry. Oh, Hattie—a girl after my own heart. A scheduled, regimented emotional exercise? I’m turned on. If I only knew I could Type-A my way to tears!

Lately, I’ve been setting aside time and letting it rip. It’s painful but cathartic. Mostly, I cry about work. It’s hard to hate my new job when I loved my old one. I’m honestly a mess, but at the same time I’m like, wow this is going to make me amazing at scene study!

Yes, this is a cry for help 🤠

My ballet teacher used to say crying is the only way to relieve “emotional constipation.” I think she only said that so that she could make us cry and write it off as a good deed, but I do think there has been value in unblocking myself.

Life is but a laxative :)

military time

You went abroad to France how many years ago?? Change your freaking phone back.

Fine. You insist on meeting me for dinner at 19:30? Then answer me this: How many kilometers away is the restaurant? What is the temperature outside in Celsius? How many grams is the salmon filet? Come on, tell me! If you’re going metric, you better go all the way. Unless… you’re scared?

If you time-check me at 17:50 but you don’t speak in liters and joules, I have nothing to say to you.

being singular

Singularity is out. Hive mind is in.

Enough curating your personal brand. Enough fetishizing individuality! Let’s wear matching leggings and join an MLM. Bring back groupthink, conformity, and blending in. Why be exceptional when you can be acceptable? I’m sick of being one-of-a-kind!

apologizing

Every year, my New Year’s resolution is to stop apologizing and every year, I fail. But this time, oh, this time, I’m serious! I’m a serial apologist, but I am healing :)

Apologize when it’s the right thing to do and when you mean it. But stop apologizing for who you are. And stop apologizing so much to people who have no intention of forgiving you. You can only do so much.

sex

Sex is soo derivative am I right? It’s just the same thing over and over. Where’s the imagination? It’s uninspired.

I’m not having sex, if that’s not obvious. I get reports from people who do have sex and they say it remains awesome. Feels like propaganda. Bad journalism it may be, but I think you should just take my word on this.

leaving bad letterboxed reviews

Honey, do you want to work in Hollywood or not? Save your biting critiques for childhood favorites and films where the director’s been dead long enough to become an aesthetic. If it premiered post-2007, it’s a solid 4 stars (minimum). Unless, of course, you’re okay with Yórgos Lánthimos ghosting your Hanukkah party invite.

my crushes having girlfriends

I’m on a losing streak here. On the one hand, it’s a bummer. On the other, I’m so happy my crushes have love :’) Most (all) of my crushes are parasocial, soooo this doesn’t really affect anything…

That’s the round-up. I’m trying really hard to seem normal—did it work?

I think 2025 is bound to be a wonky year but could also be a great one too. I’m excited for it!!!! Wooohoooo!!

I wish you good fortune, cute pants, and DMs from a crush.

XOXO,

Shelby