This. This is why I do what I do. Just got these two es in a row, and I wanted to share, because it’s uplifting for me, and I hope I can encourage and inspire you to do your own best work…so you can get your inbox flooded with these things, too. It feels AMAZING. Amazing as in the light-headed, luscious feeling you used to get when you had that crush on that neighborhood boy. Or girl. Or your best
Why Sucky People Get More Clients Than You
Your ability to get clients has nothing to do with the quality of your work. There, I said it. Bold statement. I brought this up the other day in my Behind Closed Doors group, and I want to bring it up here, too. :: A lot of your future and continued success depends on your ability to perform, yes, but not initially. Initially your success depends on your ability to be perceived as someone who can perform. :: And there’s a difference.
How Being Unapologetic Helps Me–And You–Win At Biz
First of all, if you want teddy bears, get off this blog. Teddy bears and hand holding is for other people. Here, we’re about fresh ones right across the face. I don’t have time for bullshit, and neither do you.– Second, if you aren’t going to take the quality of your life seriously, get off this blog. I’m not interested in debating the merits of why you should or shouldn’t start your own projects and pursue financial and creative freedom.
The ABC’s of Self Love: D is for Determination.
You know you can choose, right? I’m not sure if we’ve forgotten this, or if it’s just too scary. Or maybe, just maybe, because it’s too scary, we prefer to forget. CHOICE. It’s scary because it implies pressure–the pressure to make the right choice. It’s scary because it implies consequence–the consequences that will happen if you don’t. But most of all, it’s scary because it implies control–control over our lives and what the hell happens next. But despite what they
Sit Down, Shut Up + Screw Jesus: What Would the Best Version of YOU Do?
First of all, can we talk about the fact that this photo exists? Lo at that smugness, like I’m runnin’ the whole damn airport. Pilots, report to me! Yes, yes. Precisely what I’d say. Ridiculous stuff like this is probably what inspired my mom to write me a card once, when I was in middle school, that said: Mommy and Ashie sittin’ in a tree Ashie said, “Mommy, what will I be?” Mommy said, “Ashie, you’ll be a real winner…
Is This Simple Thing Preventing You From Getting More Clients?
So once upon a time I dated a guy with lots of tattoos who worshiped his mom. Wait. Wait a minute. That has nothing to do with the story. Rewind. Back up. Let’s start again. *clears throat*– Once upon a time, my official job title was “Director of Business Development.” There. That’s better. Right story. As Director of Business Development, I flaunted my ass all over Philaphia, flashing biz cards left and right with that ridiculously long title ed all
Don’t Stand Out – Stand the Fuck Up.
So. If you recall, in the last post, I made up a ridiculous scenario where you were headed to your fake neighbor’s house for dinner, whose guts you may or may not have secretly hated. She was serving you quiche, at which point you made a face that slightly resembled this—> ?!?!?!?!!!!!. As a result, you hesitatingly asked her to pass the salt. And then…we stopped the post there, leaving you with the question of…what does this have to do
A Scenario You Should Pay Attention To
So let’s say your annoying neighbor invites you over for dinner. Huge bitch. But you decide to go, anyway, because you don’t want to feel like an asshole every time you see her backing her brand new Lexus out of the driveway at the same exact time you and your ’98 Toyota are pulling out. Which, conveniently, happens way than you’d like. On the night of THE DINNER, you head over with a bottle of wine–secretly hoping she spills
Sales Tip of The Year: Don’t Masturbate.
So since I’m in the United States for a hot minute, I have recently acquired a smart phone. I have three things to say about this:– Apparently, I’m better at coding HTML than I am at texting. Considering I have no fucking idea how to code HTML, you can imagine what kind of interesting text conversations I’ve been having. Particularly when so-called “smart phone” decides to change my texts from, “We’ll be there soon” to “We’ll be there vomiting.” Obviously
I Want You. Now.
…yeah, you. Not so much in the, take-me-to-bed-tiger kind of way (that’s tomorrow. really. just wait.), but in a I-want-to-know-what-you-think kind of way. Not about the ozone. Or how much profanity I use. Or the fact that I apparently suck at responding to es. (Shhhhhhhhh. I’m getting better!) I want to know what you think about… *bongo roll* …the evil… …icky… …topic… …otherwise… …known as… SALES PAGES. *cue all hell breaking loose* *cue slow girl who loses shoe amongst chaos*
How to Fuck Up a Sale in 27 Minutes Flat (But Still Score a Date)
The Scene: The United States of America. 9:57 am: Walk into L.A. Fitness. 9:58: Meet stunningly fit individual named Alberto. 10:00: Decide there is some fucked up pheromones wandering around body that insist on me + Latino men. 10:01: Wonder if Alberto’s name really is Alberto. Consider how unsexy it would be to call him Al. 10:02: Make mental note to call him Al in an attempt to become less attracted to him. 10:03: Wonder if he’s related to Vin
The Day The Cash Register Became Obsolete (WTF?)
Note: This post contains adult language. It’s so adult, you might swear you’ve just been transported to a seedy, sme-laced Las Vegas strip club filled with large Italian men. The good news is that you haven’t. The bad news is that somebody let me have my own blog. And…so we begin. What I want to talk about is some weird shit. Weird shit always makes its way into my day, so why not talk about it here? You see this
$100,222.37 (Yes, That Is the Title of This Post.) (Also: Fake Russian Accents Are Ridiculous.)
[The scene: She apathetically releases a puff of sme from a pair of fiery red lips, before she stands up, yanks at her fishnets, props herself clumsily upon the bar, leans just a little bit too much (so you can kinddaaa see her boobs)…and makes an announcement…] Note: You should probably click below to listen to me reading this post partly in a ridiculous fake Russian Accent. Yes, that’s right. I actually did that. You’re welcome. You will either hate
How to Sell More In 2012, Featuring Pier One Imports + Hot Dogs. Yeah, Hot Dogs.
Holy disco ball, it’s 2012. I’ve (just now) decided that this year is going to be all about less vodka, water. …Maybe. It’s also going to be about silk sheets, billiards, baseball hats, and . Yeah, that’s right. Luh-uh-ve. I’m going to fall madly in this year. And that person is going to fall madly in with me back. I just know it. He better be hot. Anyway, while I was performing all of this high-level brainstorming, it
Lewd(ER) Life Lessons From 2011. To Be Read With a Fake Italian Accent.
When it comes to running your own business, business can be pleasure. Whoever’s telling you different is clearly in the wrong of work. Speaking of work, when you work for money and nothing else, that’s exactly what you’ll end up with: Money, and nothing else. Do it for the right reasons. Don’t be shortsighted. You know better. Think of sex as a business activity with an ROI. It *will* help your productivity (and profitability) in the long-run. Ditto for naps, massages, dirty
Lewd Life Lessons from 2011 (Hey, That Rhymed.)
It might be true that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. But the successful baller shot caller says, “Playa please!” and finds another avenue that naturally comes easier. Trust in nature. And anything made with vodka. You should probably have a good cry, already. And then another. And then another. But…use waterproof mascara. Never tell yourself you shouldn’t feel a certain way. If you feel it, that’s all you need to know. Don’t fight battles you weren’t meant to.
Your Panties Are In a Bunch. And It’s Preventing You From Making Money.
You have your panties in a bunch. That’s not an assumption–that’s a fact. The reason why I know you have your panties in a bunch is because instead of creating–doing–progressing–experimenting–trying–you froze up, kid. You didn’t move forward on that idea you had (because what if it doesn’t WORK OUT?) You didn’t write that bo you wanted to write (because what if it isn’t GOOD ENOUGH?) You didn’t get that website up and running (because that’ll mean you’re really COMMITTED) You
List Your Prices (THE RIGHT WAY) (Calling All Photographers.) (Hedgehogs Welcome, Too.)
As an entrepreneur, sometimes you fall flat on your face. Figuratively–and, apparently, literally–namely when you’re traveling in the South of Chile pretending to be in better shape than you actually are while attempting to jump over pathetically small streams that you really should be able to fucking clear, but somehow, don’t, and manage to fall flat on your face, ripping your pants, embedding annoyingly small rocks in your hands, and making a goddamn fool of yourself. It happens. Behold. Thank you, Kyle
Why You SHOULD Sweat the Small Stuff. (Free Puma Included.)
Yesterday, I was certain I was going to die. Not just on one occasion, but two. The first instance was when I agreed to ride an ancient, rusty, rickety, RIDICULOUS ski lift up the side of a volcano. Vollll. Caaaaa. Noooo. Obviously that’s what you do when you’re in Patagonia with a group of friends–ride volcanoes. The south of Chile, apparently, is loaded with lava. My head, on the other hand, was loaded with WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF. It
Key to Money-Makin’ Bliss: Don’t Just Sell Your Stuff. STRUT Your Stuff.
We need to talk. (Did you just cringe a little?) Don’t worry. I’m not breaking up with you. What we need to talk about are your selling strategies. One of them in particular. The one where you kind of just throw something up for sale and hope like hell someone buys it. (We’ve all been there, but you can’t stay there.)– Scenario 1 :: You decide to create a new service that you’re really excited about offering to the world,
Seduce Me And I’m Yours. Your Customer, That Is.
So, I’m a huge salsa fan. The affair began nearly 10 years ago, when I first traveled to Costa Rica on an exchange program. His name was Alejandro, and he was the first boy to ever ask for my hand on the dance floor. He was golden tan with dark blue eyes, and long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. If there were a white stallion somewhere near by, it would have seemed perfectly normal for him to
The Gap Between Intention + Success. Your Mission: Ride ‘Er Buck Wild
Relax. I’m not going to start this post with, “Happy Thanksgiving–turkeys and corn and pilgrims blah blah blah.” That would be far too predictable. I’m also not going to talk about giving thanks, either, because you and I both know you’re reading about that on every blog ever made today, and I certainly don’t want to be the one responsible for you blowing your brains out during a family holiday. Or ever, really. <insert the voice of the most annoying
Male Prostitutes and Product Launches. Sort of Related. But Not Really.
Remember how yesterday I tortured you with a story about 21-year old me + a boy + Christmas, and then turned it into a marketing lesson? Well, with this Christmas drawing near, and no over-sized, bear-like, tattooed boyfriends to buy thoughtful gifts for, I already feel myself tensing up about the whole thing. Not because I’m single, but because holidays are always a weird time for me. Typically, I give myself the gift of travel, so that way it never
The Stupidest Marketing Advice EVER–Exposed Like a Naked Baby
When my mom died, I was 21 years old. By Christmas time of that year, I had met a boy. Not just any boy, but a boy whose mom had also died. So, like, we had stuff in common. Except he had a tattoo with her name. Talk about making me feel like an asshole. I mean–I certainly didn’t have a tattoo. Fuck, I barely knew where her ashes were in the midst of my year-long shock and haze. I
I don’t have a good title for this shit, but it’ll help you get clients. Rah. Rah.
Allow me to introduce you to Jose. Jose is my friend and Costa Rican empanada man who wakes up at 5am each morning, and then proceeds to make homemade empanadas with his wife, before loading them into coolers, and then spending the day from dusk ’til dawn hiking the beach and neighboring towns, selling his beef, chicken and cheese heaven (complete with homemade spicy sauce that will trump Frank’s, and you KNOW I don’t ever, ever diss Frank’s). I met
It’s Okay If You Suck At This. Otherwise Called, “Permission to Suck.” Otherwise Called, “Longest Blog Post Title Ever Because Obnoxiously Long Blog Post Titles Are Funny.”
It’s ay if…you’re drowning in self-doubt. It’s ay if…you don’t know where to start. It’s ay if…you started, but want to stop. It’s ay if…you sometimes mix up your priorities. It’s ay if…you didn’t say the right thing. It’s ay if…you really fucked up the first time around. It’s ay if…you fucked up the second time around, too. It’s ay if…you’re overwhelmed. It’s ay if…you get down on yourself. It’s ay if…you’re worried everyone knows than you. It’s ay if…you
If You’re Not Doing This, You’re Leaving Money On The Table
Editor’s Note: Please do not throw eggs at my house for referencing so many vulgarities. I am allergic. So, I’m in JFK airport, having a massage before my 11 hour flight back to Chile. If you’re sitting there judging me for getting a massage in an airport, first of all, you can go fuck yourself. (Love you!) Second of all, you should know that airport massages are just as good as fancy schmancy spa massages–especially when performed by an Asian