Is there anything worse than Tinder conversing? Well, other than dying alone? Or worse, Bumble, where the woman has to send a witty message to a complete stranger while there’s a ticking clock? Dying alone doesn’t sound that bad after all.Read More
Sometimes I’ll get sad, and I won’t exactly know why. Is it important for me to figure out anyway? Because holy shitting dick nipples is there a lot of sadness to draw from these days. From the school shootings, to the much needed but very loaded #METOO movement, Trump saying...well, anything, never having a mother, being raised by a shitty dad, a reminder from a friend that- no my ex, whom I loved, was truly a misogynistic asshole, all the money that I’ve thrown at acting teachers who have feasted off my insecurities, growing out of friendships, being rejected over and over in this industry, almost 35 years old and still not knowing how to apply blush, how easy it is to gain 5 pounds all within a week but losing it takes months or never, everything being so goddamn expensive, a pimple appearing on my butt…the list goes on and on.Read More
My earliest memory is probably of when I was around two years old, I was unabashedly chasing a cockroach down our pumpkin-orange linoleum kitchen floor. I must have been barefoot, wearing only a diaper and ecstatically giggling while doing so. Then, out of nowhere, the cockroach decided to stop, turn towards me and dart my way. My laughter turned into a scream of panic. I started running away from the cockroach, crying hysterically and afraid for my life.Read More
I don’t feel like doing shiiiiiiiiiit. I guess that’s the real holiday spirit. I’m expecting blood to gush out of my vag any minute. Well, more like a sporadic drip. I’m not ready for the holidays, yet I’m fine with just throwing up my hands and calling it a year. The days are short. Nights are long. And I want to exist somewhere in between.Read More
I’m pretty laid back… and possibly lazy. Sometimes I blame my laziness on being from the South. There’s something about the humidity and the deep roots of racism that weigh on people there. I’ve also had a dead-beat dad that wasn’t a good role model. I’ve never had a mother so there wasn’t anyone to tell me to do chores. I could go and on, but in honor of this blog, I won’t.
First of all, can we change the word “blog?” There’s something humiliating about that word. I’m embarrassed to admit I have a blog. I confess to people about this like I have an STD. Not that there is anything wrong with having an STD. I read that Jennifer Garner has herpes. Anyway, this blog isn’t about herpes or Jennifer Garner unless Jennifer Garner gives me herpes. Then yeah, of course, I will be dedicating my blog to that. But that hasn’t happened…yet.