Saturday Side Note is when I take a break from testing out products and other beauty musings to talk about something else – something typically not beauty-industry related, at least not on the surface – that I love and that inspires me.

So, after that depressing last Saturday Side Note, that was basically my giving the world one giant side-eye, let’s get back to the pure fucking joy of it all, shall we?  Yeah, I think so.

Today we are officially post-Thanksgiving AND post-Black Friday, but are probably present-In-Our-Childhood-Bedrooms, surrounded by stuffed animals, old yearbooks, and our snow globe collections.

Today’s Saturday Side Note was actually going to be on a much different topic, but I realized that this was, given the most likely surroundings of my readers, the perfect Saturday to talk about a new favorite TV show, Netflix’s Big Mouth.

I want to get two Very Important Things out of the way before I continue this discussion:

1.) I hate cartoons.

2.) I hate vulgarity.

This show is both a cartoon and has a shit-ton of vulgarity, including a scene involving a cartoon Garrison Keillor that I’m going to think about every single day of my life until I die, when it will inevitably pop into my head one last time at the very moment I slip into the after life.

However, I had been hearing about Big Mouth for awhile, because I follow probably at least half of the cast on some form of social media.  It consists of, basically, a Who’s Who of modern, cool-as-hell, talented-as-fuck comedians.

Like this queen . . .

Whom I love in these . . .

And this sick queen . . .

Who’s been killin’ it for awhile and wrote a phenomenal book I read earlier this year . . .

And, holy fucking shit, I’ve loved her for so long what can I say . . .

And last but not least, this fair maestro . . .

Who’s created so many characters for another one of my favorite show, Kroll Show, that you legit might have seen him a thousand times and not even have known:

Nick Kroll not only spoofed my favorite group of people ever, ghost hunters (aka my dream job, don’t @ me), he is also responsible for a series of sketches near and dear to my heart, “Pawnsylvania.”  (I’m from Pittsburgh, and I legit just bought an art piece illustrating Pittsburgh bridges as a Christmas present for a relative – you could say I know a lot about bridges.)

So, there it is.  At least four – boom! boom! boom! boom! – people I’d watch in anything, even a cartoon, only they’re all together.  And I can’t lie: I still thought that, at best, I’d think it was only okay, and I’d be the “Actually . . .” girl at the party that no one wants to talk to because they’re all talking about a hip, new, innovative cartoon show and I have to be all, “Yeah, it’s not really my thing . . .” until it devolves into me explaining why I really don’t like it because it’s “probably sexist” or something.

I didn’t even like cartoons as a kid!  That’s how snotty I am!  Or puppets – every time Mr. Rogers pulled out Daniel Tiger and his menagerie of weirdos I’d change the channel to VH1, where inevitably there’d be yet another showing of that the video for that live version of “Hotel California.”

Obviously, since you’re reading about it now in the context of a Saturday Side Note, I can honestly say that I will not, in fact, be the snotty girl at the party pretending she’s too good for something she really just doesn’t get, and instead I will be the snotty girl at the party who knows she has better taste than everyone else, cause she gets it.

Here’s the thing.  Big Mouth is a cartoon – duh – and it is, indeed, pretty vulgar.  But it also made me cry-laugh, and literally nothing has made me do that for years.  It’s no secret I’m going through a bummer of a time right now, and stuff like this is such an utter relief.  Centered around the various puberties (word?  It is now!) of a group of sixth graders outside of NYC (Westchester, the Best Chester!), it’s so gross but so full of heart and love and joy, it took everything I had to not binge watch it.

You read that right: I actively made myself turn it off so that I could save some for when I knew I would be in my childhood bedroom, the Scene of the Crime when it came to my own hormonal tectonic shifts, because I knew it’d somehow be even better.  And, also, it gave me something to watch alone in my room when the dryer broke and my dad stomped around the house in a huff trying to fix it, because legit that happened and this show might be a time machine???

I never really thought much about my own . . . changes.  I don’t think it was more or less traumatic than anyone else’s.  It helped that I was pretty late bloomer who liked reading and collecting snow globes.  But, that ties into what’s so great about Big Mouth: Every type of kid is represented, and it’s incredibly sweet.  I, for example, was probably a Missy if  had to pick.

Basically getting through the day assuming – knowing – that when I got boobs that they would be ravaged by the real-life Indiana Jones who would, of course, take me on all of his adventures and no, Mom, I can’t make it back for Christmas this year – Indy and I simply must rescue the Shroud of Turin from the Nazis and then fuck on a boat!

There’s that weird paradox of puberty: How utterly gross you feel and the utterly gross, perverse things you want, mixed with these beautifully precious and innocent hopes and dreams leftover from childhood.  You want to bang everything that looks at you twice, and you also still think you’re going to be a champion basketball player and a famous chef.  And Big Mouth captures the gross and the sweet so perfectly.

I think, unfortunately, that when we think of PuBeRtY and grossness, we automatically think of boys; there’s this weird expectation that girls will gracefully get through these changes (always ending up more subservient and pretty and delightful), but it’s okay for boys to get their fluids all over the place.  Meanwhile, of course we know that girls and boys are absolute nightmares during this stage, and for girls especially, the added social expectations can be especially awful.  Meaning: If all society tells you to be is sweet and accommodating, and you have your own personal Hormone Monster telling you to scream at your mom whilst also being attractive to boys who wipe Doritos powder onto their pants, this time is so extra unbearable.  The guilt mixed with the resentment mixed with the horniness, good God.  And I really respect Big Mouth for getting it right for girls too.

But getting back to what it’s all about, MEEEEEEEEEE, it’s pretty fun to watch a show about being a pre-teen/teenager when you’re 32 and going through a bummer of a time.  Because, see, there’s such helplessness when you’re a kid, and your body and life are completely out of control.  That’s how I’ve felt lately, but I’ve gotta say: Being reminded so well of how rough it was definitely put into clearer focus that being a grown-up is overall a huge relief.

Cause 13-year-old Katie wanted to go to NYU and live in New York City, and 32-year-old Katie does that.  And 13-year-old Katie wanted to kiss a boy sooooooo badly and 32-year-old Katie has done that (only the once though: Hi, Larry!)

32-year-old me gets to drop everything and go to DC to see her friends last minute; she knows the best route from Pittsburgh to Brooklyn and can stop as many or as little times as she wants; she gets to go to a few Broadway show after-parties; she gets to meet some “famous” people who ended up pretty fucking cool; more importantly, she got to meet some pretty awesome “non-famous” people (that honestly, are probably going to be famous one day, even if it’s for some sort of crime) who are more than pretty fucking cool, and her life would be a lot worse without them.

So, a show about stupid old awful puberty has made me feel a lot of relief about being a grown-up, as well as some nostalgia about being a kid. I mean . . . no one wants to hear about my snow globe collection now.

It’s important, I think, to pay homage to our younger selves, and sort of try to reach back in time and tell ’em everything’s okay.  And also, to take a little bit of that hope and naivete and put it in your grown-up pocket, because cynicism is dumb.

Before I finish completely talking about Big Mouth, I want to point out something I especially loved about it: The #PuberMe campaign to raise money for Puerto Rico.  Basically, celebs and non-celebs posted pics of themselves at 13 and each time, more money was donated.  So, I missed the whole #PuberMe thing when it was actually happening and therefore this is just an exercise in narcissism, but here it is!  Me, at 13ish, in my middle school yearbook.

Awwww.  I love that kid.  I really, really do.

Watch Big Mouth, it’s really fucking great.

More off topic: I started an email account just for this blog, and I think the link is around here somewhere, but I’ll start posting the address at the bottom of posts now.  It’s whatthehellisonmyface@gmail.com.  So, if one of the tens of people currently reading this have a product you want me to test, or even a book/movie/tv show you think I’d like, hit me up.