The Top 10 Most Bitchin’ Stuff From 2014.

10:30am, New Year’s Day, 2015. I’ve been up for three hours.



The husband is still asleep with a head cold—not bitchin’. It’s our 2nd wedding anniversay—definitely bitchin’. And it’s an unbelievably beautiful day in L.A., sunny, warm and hopefully not missed by funky party people who are sleeping in ’til noon. All I can say is I hope y’all Uber’d it last night.

So hey, get up, fools! It’s New Year’s Day! C’mon, there must be a cheesy parade or two somewhere in the world you can watch…

If not, I whipped up a Top 10 list.

10. I took like, a thousand selfies of my husband and me. Mauro hates it, but I just kept saying, “c’mon, baby, you’ll be happy one day!” Sure enough, he had to admit I was right. When it came time to meet with the immigration attorney, I’m quite sure all the kissing pictures freaked the guy out. But hey, that’s real love for ya, not fake I-just-need-my-green-card love.

9. Two or three months ago, I got a random check in the mail from an insurance company from some escrow account my parents never closed. Have you ever heard of this?  “Dear (you), We think we owe you money…” Well, my brother and I have. It wasn’t a million dollars, but it was enough to buy some crap I probably didn’t need. A week after that all happened, I got letter from another company. “Dear (you), We think we owe you money…” True story.

Sabina & Shamus McDog (on the left)

8. At the of 2013, we had to put our dog to sleep—not bitchin’. I think I became an atheist that day. My boxer Shamus McDog had just turned nine, and we knew it was his time, but in the months after I just couldn’t shake a strange, heavy preoccupation with death. We spread his ashes in Balboa Bay, in the water a few houses down from our summer home on the island (which was sold like 15 years ago—sad face). I felt like I had killed my dog.

7. In June, I wrote “Everyone Dies” for elephant journal:

According to the Terror Management Theory, when human beings begin to contemplate one’s mortality and their vulnerability to death, feelings of terror emerge because of the simple fact that humans want to avoid the inevitable death.

“It’s happening, friends. Life is now terrorizing us. Pull up to the bumper, baby, Mr. Death might be right behind you. I know it all sounds pretty dismal; you might even be in a panic. Here’s an idea—let’s all blow everything off, meet up and go dancin at the cemetery with our long lost friends.”

6. July 17th. 25 years. No drinky-poos.


5. I went to two weddings, both at vinyards. I taught new yoga classes, and I dropped other yoga classes. I fell in love with my husband more every day. I made a yoga video with my good friend Justine. I have Shamus’ silver bone-shaped name tag around my neck. And I decided my new lucky number is four.

4. About a month or to ago, I sent my husband to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for me. He came home with an extra bottle of pills, which ended up being someone’s Oxycontin. 100 of them.  When I called the pharmacy, it took like five minutes to explain the situation, probably because it was so freakin’ outrageous they just couldn’t figure out what the hell I was trying to tell them.

“You guys gave me the wrong prescription.”

“OK, let me look at your order.”

“No, I have Jake Someone’s Oxycontin…”

“That’s not yours!”

“Yes, I know! I’m calling to let you know someone made a mistake and I got them by accident.”

“I don’t understand.”

And on and on. They ended up sending a messenger, and gave me a $50 credit for my honesty.

3. I read this:

“You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don’t need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights belong to us. Everything we do is secret. Nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. It will be the stuff of legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. It’s you and me in this room, on this floor. Beyond life, beyond morality. We are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. Our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection. I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence. Now you’re here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.” ~Henry Rollins

photo-44-22. I went to the “Breaking Bad” series finale at the cemetary Hollywood Forever, and watched it with the cast and a thousand other people. including Jesse Pinkman. Bitch.

1. I quit my bar job after 12 years. 12 years, baby. 12 years I stood behind that bar. I wonder how much black eyeliner I went through… Weddings. Meltdowns. Fist fights. Divorces. Jail. People drinking/sober/drinking/sober/drinking… Old Hollywood soldiers still prowling around would slink in, hold a glass of Jameson in the air and say things like, “Damn, this place will never die!” 

And there was love. Sweet, pure, authentic, honey soaked love. Tons of it. ❤ ❤ ❤

Written by Anne Clendening
Anne Clendening was born and raised in L.A. She's a yoga teacher, a writer and occasionally slings cocktails in a Hollywood bar. She could eat chocolate cake for every meal of the day. She has a huge fear of heights and flying. And fire. She wishes she could speak French, play her guitar better and make cannoli. She's probably listening to The Dark Side Of The Moon right now, kickin’ it with her boxer dog and her hot Australian husband ★