Updated: SOS! Judy Albertson Is Having An Acne Flare Up!




While awaiting your help, bunnies, Judy found time to share the greatest love story of our generation:


I had the most beautiful moment of my life recently. It’s a story of love, heartbreak, and love-after-heartbreak. I wrote it down for me, but am sharing it with you in the event you like love stories.

In 2010, I met a woman named Jordan, which required changing my opinion on the possibility of love at first sight. We moved in together within a few weeks of starting to date. For the subsequent five years, we dove full force into the depths of intimacy. Of all the love songs I’ve heard, none have felt like they give justice to the feelings I experienced in her presence. Over and over, the relationship redefined my understanding of love and of myself. It was at once tender and epic. We built a life, a home (Agape), and a community. We explored the nature of reality, and, hand in hand, spelunked through the corners of our consciousness. If there are souls, ours mated, and gave birth to something much bigger than either of us.

Our mutual radical acceptance gave us the strength to follow our passions boldly. As part of that, Jordan found herself called deeply toward a spiritual path based on Peruvian shamanism. I cheered her on as she dove into study, even as it ultimately led her to be away from me for months at a time, practicing in the Amazon under the guidance of multigenerational traditional healers, primarily by sitting in solitude in an open-air hut, meditating from morning til night. After years of study, the calling increased until she was compelled to devote her life to the path of healing, helping bring the wisdom of this tradition to those needing psychological healing. To pursue this path fully, she felt called to take a nearly monastic devotion, one incompatible with our sexual relationship and shared lifestyle. (If your reaction reading this is “WTF?”, you can only imagine mine.) In parallel, I was also feeling increasingly called toward lifestyle choices that were incompatible with her desires, and, suddenly, the partnership that we had assumed would lead to children and growing old together was coming to an end.
Still madly in love, the devastation was enormous for us both. I went to great lengths — sweeping romantic gestures, offers of radical compromise — to make it work, but ultimately came to honor and admire the depth of her dedication, and the sacrifice she was making to serve the world as a healer.

She returned from another six-month stint in the jungle with a gift for me. While sitting alone in her hut, she had written an entire album (which she’d recorded quickly upon her return), titled “Songs of Love & Despair for the Universe & Justin.” Jordan has no formal music-composition training, but shamanism has been known to engender spontaneous musical ability, and these sounded like gorgeous medicine songs. I listened and cried as her music told the story of sitting alone in her hut, longing to return to our shared bed, knowing in her heart that that chapter of our lives had come to a sudden unfair close, but that our Love would never die.

Over this last year, we tried being friends, but would keep making out and then crying, so a few months ago I suggested that we take some space for a while. We saw each other again for the first time a few weeks ago. She said she was considering going to Burning Man (the home of many epic romantic adventures for us) for a few days, and I asked if she’d like to hang out a bit on playa if she did make it. She said that sounded really intense and probably not a good idea, and I said I understood. But on the night before the Man burned, she showed up at my camp, and we set out on a 2-person adventure for the evening.

It had been years since we’d raced around Burning Man together, but it was deeply familiar and magical. We stumbled on strange objects in deep playa, danced together near small art cars, laughed ourselves silly at the trash fence next to deformed aliens and freedom-fighting catstronauts. We entertained each other with snarky remarks about art, shared insights on mysticism that we’d unearthed during our time apart, laughed and cried as we remembered our past with our private idiolect. She told me I would always be her soulmate.

She led the adventure, and I followed her wherever her whims took us, until we found ourselves at a magnificent giant heart that emanated rainbows, atop a double helix / healer’s staff / two interwoven vines. We sat at its base, staring up in wonder, discussing love & beauty.

I asked her if she wanted to climb up the helix and sit inside the heart, which was clearly both possible and difficult. She was down for the adventure, and an adventure it was. It was so beautiful inside, held in a rainbow waterfall womb. In the center of the heart was a flat wooden heart, into which had been laser-cut a poem. Every line spoke to us, culminating with “They didn’t fall in love. They ascended to it.”

Around the giant heart were embedded smaller wooden hearts, with sweet little laser-cut quotes about love. I followed her attention, until she read one that made her stop. It read, “Love changes forms; it has no end.” She stared at it, bewildered, before stuttering, “That’s… that’s a line, from a song I wrote you. I… I promise I didn’t trick you into coming up here, I didn’t put that there.” Eventually I told her, “I did.” “No, you’re fucking with me.” “I’m not,” I convinced her, “I helped fund this art piece on Kickstarter, in exchange for being able to choose what one of the hearts would say, so we could have this moment.”

We had only one handkerchief between us, which proved grossly insufficient for our tears and snot as we sobbed and held each other for the next few hours. We mourned the greatest tragedy of our lives, that our love had changed forms. We shared gratitude for the greatest gift of our lives, our love that has no end. I told her that our romantic partnership was the first major person or thing in my life to have died, and it was my favorite thing. She told me this was the best lovemaking of her life, and we celebrated that we could enjoy our most romantic experience together ever, a full year after breaking up. We stared at the line from her song, sitting in what for us was (literally) the heart of the heart of the heart of civilization.

Appropriately, climbing out of the heart proved more difficult than climbing into it. Lying together in the Temple, watching the sun rise to bring a new day, we shared fantasies for a new epic friendship between us, and plotted ways to enjoy the eros and agape of co-creation, without the sexual. Later, we held hands as we watched that temple burn.

Thank you to Jeremy Richardson and the entire Ascension crew. And thank you to Jordana Grader for the love of a lifetime.

Love changes forms. It has no end.

Justin would like to thank The Academy … Epic, Judy, epic, if one is a high school sophomore. Jaysus.


Update: Whew! After Donkey’s grueling day, getting up at noon and skimming articles online, she sure could use a break:


11. Make time to play. Focus on ways you can have fun and get re-energized. Whether it’s a solitary hike or dinner and a movie with friends, enjoy yourself.


Bottom Picture: You & Kitty Kittay will be the belles of the Camp Septic Orgy Tent in your new Ali Shanti Porn Star Lashes(TM)!



  1. As if she’s someone who will ever have original thought or even drive to follow a path that isn’t perverted by epic vanity and obsessive rage.

    There’s nothing charming or incredible about Donkey aside from the astounding capacity to murder any good will and trust in those who unwittingly gets in her way.

  2. A tube of Clean n Clear persa gel would probably clear up her acne but no, go find a natural dermatologist. Idiot.

  3. WHY is she so consistently stupid? “The Marin area of SF” is like “the San Diego area of Los Angeles.” THEY ARE 2 DIFFERENT CITIES AND COUNTIES. She doesn’t even know where she lives.

    Also, “natural.” Because Greg forbid anything unnatural touches her plastic eyelashes, plastic teeth, plastic nose, plastic lips…

    Looking skyward is the new kissy face, and just as gross.

  4. “More tender and beautiful than most marriage vows.” She really is mental. There is something wrong with her brain and her heart and her soul.

    Attention, billions of married couples throughout the world: your love isn’t real because you didn’t bray about tears and snot and agape on Facebook!

  5. How does the average Joe (or Josephine, as the case may be) afford to study shamanism in the Amazon for months or years? I’m genuinely curious.

    • It is clearly described in the cute story as meditating in isolation for hours every day in the vicinity of a shaman. I think it is probably epic trips on ayahuasca.

    • As I read this guys dribble I stared to wonder “Why is this chick stringing him along?”. Then you guys supplied the details about google and Facebook. So I’m guessing his wallet is paying for her life as a “shaman” and she swoops in for a f*ck whenever she gets the notion he may be moving on and the wallet may close.

      • Also woos are terminally allergic to making direct statements, such as “I’d rather you not fuck everyone we know as well as a bunch of strangers, all without protection” and “I really like you and know you like me, but our life goals are diametrically opposed.”
        Or, “we’re really good friends and maybe we can still have sex, but you can’t emotionally manipulate me into taking the condom off anymore.”

        So I can’t help but feel for her, even though you’re right and she’s probably interested in his cash. All these adolescents, just flailing about and hiding from themselves via substances.

  6. Can we PLEASE fast track a constititional ammendment that requires swift and irrevocable deportation to siberia anyone who uses an adjective as a subject or object (the maculine, the sexual, etc.)


    • if we throw in female, like, “I met a female”… Then I will fund your super-PAC.

  7. However did she type that post with her hand so squarely on his wallet? Maybe we found her talent after all.

  8. Justin likes spelunking. No wonder Judy has targeted this particular wallet for epic adventures in her clam dungeon.

  9. The most EPIC of all ~*EPIC*~ love stories! Highlighted version/transbraytion:

    Guy with tech job and girl with woo aspirations are dating. She decides to become a devotee to psychedelics and he decides to fuck a lot of people (not necessarily in that order). For whatever reason, rather than either of them using their words to confront the situation directly, it instead escalates to the point where woo girlfriend must deny sex to tech dude by completely becoming a nun to Greg/Source/ayahuasca. Dude reacts badly because he can’t imagine spending time with her, excuse me, cannot visualize or manifest and exploration of their epic love, without dicking her (something which as a juvenile who cannot frankly speaking about anything, he refers to as “the sexual”).

    Then he pays a lot of money to make something at the druggie, faux-spiritual dirt festival they both pay lots of $$ attend, and forces her to look at it. Whether overcome by her old feelings or finally realizing she can never escape him or a combo of the two, she burst into tears. He is super stoked and crows on Facebook about his win.

    Did I miss anything? The dude is no Didion and my eyes kind of glazed over.

    • Please, too, excuse my voice-to-text editing errors. That one sentence, calling him a juvenile who cannot make direct statements, is a mess.

    • I think this epic love story needs to have a Corey Felldman soundtrack and “Corey-ography”.

        • I hate using that word but she literally looks retarded. It’s like the cheapest “hippie” costume you can cobble together. Stupid dance skirt, stripper bikini top, awful cheap festival flower headband (fucking basics) and don’t forget BALLET SHOES CUZ BALLERINA THAT ONE TIME WHEN SHE WAS 5.

          • It’s like she raids a Claire’s and Wal Mart before any event.

            Money =/= taste

          • That would have been a fair criticism, say, 7 years ago, when she could afford to wear nice things but had no taste. Nowadays, it’s clear that no money is an equal part of the problem.

          • I’ve said it before: it’s like the Gilligan’s Island episode where the rock band The Mosquitoes comes to the island and the women put together a girl group called The Honeybees and Mrs Howell tries to be cool but she still just Mrs Howell in a wig and polyester “mod” turtleneck.

          • Tngolayo brilliant analogy, i remember that episode clear as day.

            I believe the women got on stage as a group and sang a song called ‘you need us’ that basically said that men cannot live without womem

            It was of course part of a plan to get the mosquitos to take them off the island when they left for home

    • Well done

      He could have saved a lot of time and money by just naming a star after her

      • But a star might actually be something nice, and would require him to be aware of something outside of his own asshole for a moment.

  10. What does Jules actually *do* in Marin?
    Seriously, there are 24 hrs in the day, woo-ing it up can only fill so many of them.

      • She doesn’t leave the house much, she’s busy “reading” and scheming or probably harassing a new mark/room mate that works from home and gab incessantly about how much work she is getting done changing the world one woo grift seminar at a time.

        • Also why she constantly writes scoldy posts about being “lonely”. Most people have jobs and can’t wait to get away from people. Seek real employment outside your home donkey.

    • Should we ask her “many” clients? Remember, Bunny, Julie insists she’s a big time social media consultant but can’t let anyone know of her illustrious, mysterious gigs because of online “haters.”

      • The Magical Imaginary Consulting Corp.

        “Randi, you look great! When are you going back to Broadway? They need you!”

    • Don’t be silly.

      Googling yourself is hard work, and now, poor Julie, the “natural” dermatologist (as opposed to an artificial dermatologist, i.e. a robot-dermatologist) appointment has thrown her busy schedule off.

      Girl can’t catch a break!

    • Roll out of bed at the crack of noon.

      Stare at fridge. Remember you’re supposed to be vegan, gluten-free, and sugar-free. Drink a Blue Print Cleanse and eat your roommate’s left over pizza.

      Sit on YOUR back deck and post on FB about how much you love nature and hate cities. Why are people homeless? Why do families live in the suburbs? Why are families so awful arrgggghhhhhhh…

      Drive SUV to WalMart to pick up some pink, plastic, made-in -China storage bins. Post to FB re: the evils of pollution, the evils of plastic, the evils of sweat shops, and the evils of unwalkable suburbs.

      Decide to go for a walk “in nature”. Get hair done professionally; get makeup done professionally; get gel nails done professionally. Curate authenticity costume of dungarees, childish t-shirt, and pink cowboy boots. Change the cowboy boots for new Converse tennis shoes that you heard about from a suburban fashion blogger who called them “fun” and “kicky.”

      Realize you can’t walk in your coochie cutters, and you don’t want to mess up your makeup. Drive instead.

      Post photos of yourself “in nature.” Tag them “I’m so healthy! I’m so happy! I love nature! I hate cities! Society is bad!” Your woo pals reply “You’re so brave! You’re amazing! You inspire me! (deep bow)”

      Come home to piddle on the beige carpet; remember you have a dog. Post on FB: “Urgent! Need an AWESOME housecleaner in the Marin area of SF, starting now! Will pay in hugs and used magazines!”

      Text your woo pal: “Babe, do you remember my mantra?” *Crickets*

      Google yourself until 3:00 am. You’re exhausted! Book a flight to surprise your parents in Chicago Wilmette, with a side trip to a resort in Costa Rica. You’ve worked hard! You deserve it!

      Post on FB about the evils of jet pollution. Wonder how people who are trapped in “jobs” manage to accomplish anything of value. Smugly congratulate yourself for being such a homebody. Fall asleep with false eyelashes on.

    • And too that ‘burn sage’ post before it (’cause she can get online & find out how to clean bacteria from the air but on her own she can’t find a dermatologist to clean bacteria from her face), from a sight / site / cite where this is asked, probably in all sincerity:

      ‘So I have a problem. Sometime when I think of people, people with whom Ive made a good impression I often times get nervous and lose my touch. Sometimes I get a little anxious with hot girls and guys with bigger personalities. Now im not one social butterfly but i do enjoy my friends and their company. So I get acne and boils in my nose around people who i cannot share love with sorta or in a way. I dont know, people make me break out, how do i deal with it? any help?’

      • At first, I thought that was a name that’s been mentioned here … then I thought she’d created a fake follower … NO idea. Maybe someone told her she looked like Donk & now she’s following the cautionary tale?

  11. On a semi-related note, and please disregard this if it’s idiocy: while we’re at it, does the basement have any good acne remedies?

    Previous skin care advice has been spot on. You made a Garnier BB cream devotee out of me, for one. And surely “‘people’ ‘make'” a lot of us “break out.”

    • Mother of a tween

      Clarisonic / MIA — breakin period, then everything is awesome

      Old-school sulfur ointment; get it online or at the bodega

      Old-school sulfur soap; get it online or at the bodega

      Neutrogena acne scrub


      Stridex pads

      • This. I have aging, hormonal-acned skin and I love this product more than anything else I’ve ever put on my skin. I need spironolactone as a boost because my acne just won’t quit, but this product makes my skin look clearer and at least 5 years younger.

    • This sounds woo but six months ago I stopped EVERYTHING – retina A, everything – and just used micellar water. (Bioderma or Avene, morning and night).

      My skin has cleared the fuck up.

      • If nothing else you can use it to clean your skin and/or take off your makeup – it’s very gentle, which is why I suspect it’s been so good for me.

        • I can’t wait to try this! I’ve always felt those wipes I’ve been using are harsh and probably produce a backlash breakout.

          I had a laser facial the other day and I gotta tell you–I’m thrilled. Two more scheduled (you’re supposed to do a series), but I already see that I’ll be postponing my next filler injection (old, here).

    • The basement is a great place. I’ll have to try some of these out.

      I tried a black-soap, minimal washing, coconut oil routine during my feminist hippie phase and, nope. Am now using Trader Joe’s Spa face wash, avocado oil, aloe gel, a jojoba-based day serum, and some samples of John Masters night cream (not in that exact order) as my regimen. Of course an SPF 30 sunscreen if I go outside, and the Garnier BB cream to finish it off. Trader Joe’s micellar water wipes remove all that and are cheaper than the drugstore brand. My skin was never *that* bad before, but I still notice drastic improvements.
      The beauty store across from my house carries a rice collagen exfoliating gel that is kind of great for weekly use, and twice weekly I use bargain Korean sheet masks from the dollar store. Still get pimples, mostly on my jawline, so it’s a work in progress … but also I’m only 30 and understand this is to be expected.

  12. Donkey is too smart for your chit chat…

    “I hate small talk; Give me substance or give me silence!

    “The happiest [people] had roughly twice as many substantive talks as the unhappiest.”

    • This is the most hilarious self-characterization she’s come out with in years. Nonsociety? Oh, pure substance. Entertainment “reporter” for Fox? People are still talking about her insights! Her reality show amazed audiences with its depth and breadth, and never was there a more substantive technology column than the one she wrote for the Trib syndicate (until some jealous hater cruelly canceled it and deprived the world of true substance!). And don’t even mention her profound FW interviews for NBC! Her book was too deep for the publisher to grasp! She is truly the intellect of our darkening age, ain’t she.

    • She FINALLY made a funny joke.

    • She posted this “substantive talks” twaddle seven hours ago and hadn’t received a single response until very recently: one heart emoticon from Liyan Walee, AKA Wali Rahman. So fucking pathetic, but hire this social media maven today!

  13. My partner and I spent a day in bed together. We made furious love in both ends of the bed. It is important to taste all aspects of life.

    Every now and then, we farted under the sheets. After crying on her bosom, I let one rip. It was succulent, full-bodied. We took in the smell together.

    “Thank you for sharing this with me,” she said. I said nothing, only smiled as she farted too. The smells mingled, like two birds becoming one bodhildosattva. (I was given that word by the wind, because of my deep respect for other cultures.)

    When we got up, she pointed out there were some brown spots on the sheets. “Let these stains symbolize out love,” I replied.

    We bought holistic yoghurt from our holy man and local dairy entrepreneur, Dharma BangFinger. “I may have some great news,” I said, as we savored our deserved treats.

    She took my hand. “I don’t know what you’re going to say, but I am so happy” she said. I gripped her hand firmer. “I started a kickstarter,” I said. “I’m going to have sex with your sister and film it. It will show how much I love you. It will be beautiful.”

    My sacrifice made her so happy, she could find no words to express it. But her joyful tears said more than mere words ever could.

  14. Julia, you don’t need a dermatologist for your CandyDa, you can treat the itchy butt with over the counter Anusol.

    you’re welcome, Peter: I just saved you $150 for an office visit for an uninsured adult [chronologically speaking].

  15. Shady Shanti shared Justin’s laughable Oscar speech. Don’t worry, Ali, if Rosenstein is looking to bang a leathery old mule, he’ll put Boulder in his shamanistic travel plans.

    “I once asked here what love is. This is love. Letting go, lifting up, changing forms.
    Joe Muscatello, you have reminded me again and again to let love evolve. Here’s another example of the beauty of what it looks like when we do.”

    FYI: Muscatello is another woo “musician.”

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