Sundays Are For Suckers

Hey! This was a fun Sunday. My house got flooded, my car air conditioning went out in 112 degrees and I got broken up with, via email. There is a giant gaping hole in the middle of my living room floor and I’m beginning to think that the depths of Hell are calling me. I keep sending them to voicemail but the calls are becoming more and more frequent.

Will Someone Please Get This Woman High

Will Someone Please Get This Woman High- You will never meet people who love their jobs more than the folks who work at dispensaries. Rightly so. And it begs the question, maybe we should all be high. All the time.

Everything Hurts

As a child I used to like to brag about how many injuries I had acquired. Each open wound, scar, allergy, and bump signified notches on my ladder of life accomplishments. As my injury count rose, so did my tier of badassery.

More Things To Worry About

I love using paper towels. I feel like it’s the most baller thing I do. How decadent is it to get a clean opportunity to wipe away my dirty problems. But yet, I feel guilty with every towel I tear off that poofy roll. Yes, I buy recycled, and yes it is probably the repurposed […]

March Madness

I don’t profess to know anything about anything in this world: not computers, not the proper way to cook pasta, not the correct way to pronounce the word, “niche”. But I do wonder, about “sneaking” up on a crook with giant a helicopter in flight.

How To Win Friends & Influence People -Part II

When my family moved from a quaint mountain town to the big, mean city of Los Angeles, my days of eating wax off the mouths of strangers promptly ended.

They’re All Gonna Laugh At You (Part II)

Not all traumatic events lead to financial gain. Some just make for another typical Tuesday.

A Lonely Person’s Guide To The Holidays

I keep thinking about all those who don’t have families or friends or plants to hang out with this time of year. What does their holiday photo experience look like? There’s that guy sitting alone on one side of a teeter-totter, despondent, possibly crying.

Learning To Curse When You’re 8.

Let’s discuss the phrase, “shit from shinola”. This is one of those phrases I grew up hearing amidst casual grown-up parent talk. “Forget working with Bob. He doesn’t know shit from shinola.” I’d overhear my dad saying on the phone, as 7-year-old me would be rolling around on the floor, mastering my breakdancing moves. I remember […]

Faceplant

Last night I fell in love with an imaginary gay man. For the second time.

But that’s not the most important part of the story. What is, is that in 107-degree weather, I peeled my sweat-soaked thighs off of my couch and rallied to look more like a fancy lady woman rather than a breathing flesh sweat pocket.