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Send My Babies To College! And Other Random Thoughts

29 Mar


I’ve started to wash my hair with this all-natural detergent-free wash thing. I can’t call it a shampoo because the makers are clear. This is not shampoo. Shampoo hurts your hair and forces you to compensate with conditioner. Why not skip the hurting part?

When I was in high school I had to do a science fair project, which seems kind of weird looking back at it. Aren’t those for elementary school students and volcanoes?

My friend and I chose to do a project on how shampoo acidity affected hair. We put clumps of virgin hair into Ziploc bags along with a jolt of shampoo from the various bathrooms in our homes and let them sit for a few weeks. You should have SEEN the damage done by Pert Plus.

The science fair participants certainly did!

I don’t know where all this is going. I sat down to write as I usually do—to work through my thoughts from the day. And these aren’t even the thoughts I’ve been having.

But I did just wash my hair with natural…wash.

I think the next step in this wholesome journey of mine is making my own cleaning supplies. Eventually I’ll get to making my own laundry detergent and I can lord it over everyone and secretly (and openly) think I’m better than other people. That will be a fun day.

Who have I become?

Or rather, who am I on track to become?

Who I am now is a girl who has washed her hair twice with an all-natural wash and is already talking about her homemade laundry detergent. Perhaps that’s who I’ll always be.

How are these for thoughts of the day?

A few months ago I ordered a yellow frame for a painting in my room. I decided that that was what my life was missing. Something bright canary yellow, popping and squawking and Polly Want a Cracker.

Wait, that’s a parrot.

What arrived, instead, was some sort of a picture liner. I don’t know what to call it. It’s like the owners of the Amazon shop cut out yellow cardboard in the shape of a frame and shipped it in this enormous box to me.

I took a look at it and thought of all the other things in my life in front of this picture frame. My passenger seat car with melted chocolate on it. Those arm weights I really keep meaning to get out of storage.

I took a look at it and then I got some tape and stuck the yellow cardboard over the existing frame.

It’s puckered and weird.

But it squawks.

I was making a mental list today of my favorite SNL skits.

If I had one of those magazine-y blogs, I could write 150 words about don’t we all love SNL here are some of my favorite skits and then get 300 comments on it and send my babies to college.

But alas. I’m just me.

Squawking and making my own laundry detergent (one day!)

The skits I came up with are as follows:

Tina Fey/Justin Bieber “Lonely Teacher

Cameron Diaz “Back Home Ballers

Tina Fey/Amy Poehler “Meet Your Second Wife

Don’t we all just love SNL?

What are your favorite skits? Tell me in the comments below!

(Now my babies will go to college.)

My Sleep Routine

28 Feb


I recently read this blog post about sleep routines and have not stopped thinking about it since.

Seriously. Read it.

Do you feel terrible/intimidated/shocked?

Me too.

While I admire this woman and her dedication/complete control of her life, I thought I would write out the reality of my bedtime routine. It’s a bit different.

First step is usually checking the clock. Hmm…should have gone to bed an hour ago? Well that means it’s time for a TV show! I’m not tired anyway, so I might as well be watching something instead of just laying in bed, wishing I were watching something.

Next up: unsurprisingly, debate whether or not I should wear my mouth guard. I know I should wear my mouth guard but also if I go to bed before I’m tired then my mouth guard just sits there, suffocating me for an hour and I inevitably take it out anyway.

Once I get in bed…

Oh excuse me, I’ve been in bed from the moment I ripped off my clothes walking in the door.

Once I get in bed, it’s hard for me to leave. Usually around now I do, though. Three times in fact. First to boil water. Second to add the noodles. Third to finish the mac and cheese.

What? I ate dinner like five hours ago, OK.

I’m starving.

In very unsexy things, I find my mouth guard during one of my trips out of bed. It’s on the floor next to the fluff from my down comforter. It’s pretty gross, actually.

I need to sanitize that.

No mouth guard for me tonight, I guess.

Most nights I decide that taking off my makeup isn’t worth it. I barely wear makeup, anyway, see. And, well, I would have to get out the makeup remover. And also leave bed.

Random things that I keep on my nightstand: the empty mac and cheese bowl and gross mouth guard. Also Buddhist prayer beads. None of these things I use during the night.

Before I go to sleep, I always brush my teeth and I go to the bathroom. I can’t sleep unless I go to the bathroom immediately before I drift off, therefore if I’m in bed tossing and turning for 20 minutes, I’m also forced out of bed 4 times to empty my bladder which doesn’t need to be emptied.

It’s amazing that I will get out of bed four times in twenty minutes for this non-necessary task. Incredible, really.

Even though it takes time and discipline, I do think having this sleep routine really makes me the sort of person I am. The person who hates mornings and can quote The Office and just really has everything in control. Thriving, is how I would describe myself.

What’s your sleep routine? Any quirky things that help you fall asleep?

An Ode To Hot Fries // I Love This Snack

11 Jan


I am a proud alumnus of Piggott Elementary School in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Piggott was brand new when I attended and I had the honor of voting for the school mascot and school colors. I voted for the Piggott Piglets and “rainbow.” I was in first grade, please remember.

Also I stand by rainbow as a color.

Unfortunately, my peers weren’t ready for such pure ideas and we ended up being the Piggott Panthers with, get this, school colors of black and turquoise.

This was the 90s, please remember.

I have some memories of Piggott Elementary, vaguely. Playing flag football. My brother being elected school president with the slogan “I love this school” a la the Michael Jordan “I love this game” ads of the 90s. Intense Chinese jump rope sessions. And, of course, hot fries.

Piggott had a snack bar that was available after lunch, run by the upper grades. I have no idea what this snack bar was about or any other item there except for Hot Fries.

I remember the Hot Fries.

They weren’t always the Andy Capps brand. I know that, for sure. They used to be darker, more intense. I would eat them with my friends and beg my mom for $0.50 so I could buy them too.

I have memories of standing under the pavilion, hiding myself from the Vegas sun and eating Hot Fries, my fingers maroon and grimy.

When people ask me what Hot Fries taste like I usually don’t know what to say. “Here try them!” I thrust the bag in their faces. They balk at my caked, red hands and overeager attitude and soon it’s just me and my inadequate words again.

The ingredients label doesn’t offer much help.

There’s something called degermed yellow corn meal. I don’t know exactly what this is but it sounds like a yikes.

There are normal things like vegetable oil and spices.

Then the label gets really scary with things like “TBHQ, BHA, and BHT.” These seem like acronyms I would normally look up on Urban Dictionary. I mean TBHQ is like To Be Quite Honest, just with an autocorrect fail, right?

I’m getting off track.

Hot Fries taste like devil dust.

I was going to say fairy dust, but they are spicier than that. Maybe witch dust. I am reading a fantasy novel in my quest to branch out and I’m suddenly upset I’m not a practicing witch. I guess all girls go through this phase at some point, mine was just much later in life.

Hot Fries taste like witch dust.

They are thin, almost see-through, and I’ll be honest, a bit greasy. There’s a lot of spice, like probably too much spice, and they are hot. Not hot in the Hot Cheetos way (gross. I have standards) but hot in the way of whoa that’s a lot of chili powder in this chili, Jill, maybe too much?

Again, I don’t know what they taste like.

I’m not sure why I’m explaining this to you.

To me they don’t taste like ingredients they taste like the desert sun and the kickball pavement burning beneath me.

They taste like Mrs. Alvarez’s 4th/5th grade class and real life Battleship reenactments and that one bar on the playground that I used to do flips round and round.

They taste like my childhood.

Every few months or so I get a hankering to eat Hot Fries again. It hits suddenly and swiftly, this craving, and nothing else will do. (What could substitute?) Soon I’m on Amazon Prime trying to convince myself I really don’t need to buy 80 bags just to save a few dollars. That 10 will do. That really 1 would do, if only they sold in that quantity.

I wait impatiently for two days for them to be delivered, checking my app again and again.

And then they are here. Light as air and too spicy for their own good.

Then they are here and I am eating them and once again I’m 10 years old and my biggest problem is being taller than all the boys.

Hot Fries taste like witch dust, like the dust of my people.

I love this snack.

Roommates You’ll Have In Your Twenties — Part 4

18 Dec


PARTS 1, 2, and again created with the person who makes me laugh most– Hilary.

76. The roommate who thinks she knows your diagnosis

77. The roommate who suggests couples counseling for the two of you

78. The “this relationship peaked early on and now there’s nowhere to go but down” roommate (approx 90% of all roommates)

79. The roommate who lies about everything

80. The roommate who just got certified in massage therapy and would LOVE to give you a massage for a small fee that isn’t so small

81. The roommate who doesn’t recognize you a year later

82. The has a crush on your boyfriend roommate

83. The you have a crush on her boyfriend roommate

84. The roommate who actually takes you up on that empty offer to go running with her sometime

85. The roommate who doesn’t pick up her dog’s poop on your bed

86. The roommate who answers “Why is someone saving these dirty ziplock bags?” with “Oh, I don’t know, maybe so they don’t sit in a landfill forever.”

87. The roommate who is starting a compost heap in the living room

88. The roommate who just discovered The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and needs you to as well

89. The retired roommate who should really move back to the East Coast with her family

90. The roommate who high fives you for being a virgin

91. The roommate who high fives herself for not being a virgin

92. The roommate practicing 4 bars of music for a singing auditions 500,000 times

93. The engaged roommate

94. The about to be engaged roommate

95. The “just waiting on the ring” roommate

96. The “just waiting for him to realize I’m the one” roommate

97. The “goes to prom as an adult” roommate

98. The cries about her acne roommate

99. The Real Housewives roommate

100.  The roommate with a tragic backstory that you can’t ask about but you have to know the details of

101. The roommate who takes two hours to get ready

102. The roommate who defiantly doesn’t wear makeup and open judges you for putting on mascara

103. The roommate who thinks she can cook, but can’t

104.  The roommate who criticizes the way you put on your lotion


107 Roommates You’ll Have in Your Twenties–Part 3

30 Sep


I know what you’re thinking–will this list ever end?

My answer is, not if I have anything to do with it.


PARTS 1 and 2, again created with the marvelous Hilary, who unfortunately was never my roommate, but maybe fortunately, actually considering what this list is?


51. The heavily into online dating roommate

52. The always has fried chicken in the fridge roommate

53. The never throw anything out of the fridge roommate

54. The takes up the whole fridge roommate

55. The roommate laughing at YouTube videos at 7:00AM in the morning

56. The PS I just got a pet roommate

57. The PS I smoke weed but will never confirm this to you roommate

57b. The roommate who continually listens to “Wild and Free”

56. The odd noises coming from the room roommate

57. The too healthy roommate

58. The always making baked goods roommate

59. The always making beans roommate

60. The unemployed roommate

61. The roommate that loses her keys while picking sage on the mountain

62. The roommate that will tell you too much about her tampon habits

63. The “you were best friends before you moved in together and now everything will be shattered for life” roommate

64. The roommate/landlord living out of the garage

65. The always watching TV roommate

66. The” told someone where we live and now you have to deal with a drunk person and the cops” roommate

67. The out of town roommate who travels every weekend

68. The roommate always inviting you to her Native American church

69. The roommate who is going through a life revolution (CrossFit) and wants to take you with her (CrossFit)

70. The roommates who become best friends and you’re definitely never going to be that close

71. The roommate always leaving, erm, *hair* in the tub

72. The video game roommate who has to be home at a certain time for her guild

73. The roommate who is bad mouthing you to other roommates

74. The social media roommate who posts things of you without permission

75. The social media roommate who lies to you but then posts things while out when you weren’t invited

107 Roommates You’ll Have In Your Twenties – Part 1

7 Jun

Created with the lovely Hilary Miller

Roommates List 1.4

Roommates List 1.4

25 Habits To Break By 25

6 Dec


Recently HelloGiggles made a list:

25 habits to break by 25

I read it eagerly, wondering how I was doing.  Was I as good as a 25 year old?  How far behind am I?

Would I even pass 17 habits to break by 17?

Before I knew it, I was evaluating myself, my life, and my well being by this very list.

Then before I knew it again, I was publishing this post about it!

What is happening?


25 Habits to break by 25 (and how I’m doing on them)

YES = habit broken      NO = still trucking

25. Eating in bed

Nope.  I never plan on giving this one up and I have pretty strong feelings on the matter. I will never let go, Jack!  I will eat on the tray in my bed every single day and I will love the crumbs and so will you!

I’m getting too passionate about this.  We have 24 to go.

24. Too much takeout or Seamless

Hmm…if we include fast food in this then no I have not broken this habit.  I have finely honed my ordering skillz though.  In-N-Out fries animal style with chilis and a side of mustard and trust me.

23. Chasing after unworthy dating prospects

Yes!  I got one!

22. Overusing your debit/credit card

In progress.  Oh, ever in progress. I do go to Starbucks and get hot water sometimes now so that’s something.  I tell myself that’s something.

21. Staying up late to watch TV/Netflix

I am an old woman and I do not stay up late anymore this is my truth.

20.  Leaving your tab open at the bar

Never an issue.

19.  Feeling bad every time a new FB friend gets engaged/married or has a baby

Luckily I’ve never felt bad about this or my life would be a terrible nightmare at this point.  Hi!  From Utah!  BUT, I do still struggle seeing people’s careers I want.  That is a near-constant battle.

18. Failing to floss

Let’s say 50% of the time and call it a day.

It’s probably more like 14% of the time.

14% is very  specific.

I don’t know what’s going on.

17. 24-hour hangovers

Never an issue.

16. Drinking too much at work

Umm…didn’t know this was a thing, honestly.

15. Too many conversations via text

Feels subjective as though because I text a lot I’m a terrible friend.  I have loads of text conversations, almost anyone who has ever become my friend announces at some point “I have never texted as much as I have with you!”  I like to text.  I think I’m pretty good as far as texting goes.  I also like to see people in real life. I don’t know, I’m an introvert who wants to be alone in my room texting the people I love a lot of the time, is that so wrong?

14. Sleeping until noon on weekends

I don’t go to bed late, I don’t sleep in.  I do read a lot in the mornings.  Who knows.

13. Gossiping at work

Hmm I have a weird work situation.  Almost impossible to say.

 12. Getting too comfortable at work


11. Letting the trash bin pile up

Fun story!  Once at college my roommates and I kept our trash bags by the door so any time someone visited we could creep around a corner and say, “Hi so will you take that trash on your way out?”

I’ve come a long way.

 10.  Revealing too much online, in any capacity

Well dear.  I do have a blog.  I am careful on my blog.  Or at least somewhat careful. Oh I don’t know.

9. Leaving passive aggssive notes for roommates

Hahaha I once had a roommate who left a Post-it note on my phone asking me only to set my alarm for when I really wanted to wake up.

I’ve never done this in my life.

8. Stealing or borrowing without permission other people’s stuff

I feel like I did this recently and I can’t remember what it was.  Maybe a roll of toilet paper from my roommate?  Though we share the rolls of the toilets papers.  I don’t know is this TMI?  Am I breaking rule 10?

7. Chasing after trains for your morning commute

I have no morning commute SUCKAS.

 6. Being worked by strangers on the street

I rarely leave my car/room.  I rarely leave my bed, see rule 25.

5. Facebook stalking old flames

Oh this still happens occasionally. Particularly when telling an important story where only visuals will do.  This question actually inspired me to read a blog of an old flame and I don’t feel any guilt.  Did I read it to torture myself? No.  Did I sob quietly after? No.  Did I feel anything? Nah.  I don’t even know why I did it.  Wait, I do know why.

This list is ruining my life!!

4. Grocery shopping while hungry

Oh dear.  Let’s just say if 1 is never having grocery shopped in your life and 100 is Ina Garten, I’m at a 2.  Really.  Every time I go to the store they ask if I’m throwing a party and I carry two carts home.  The “once a quarter” grocery shopping thing is terrible and yes.  I’m a 2.

3. Being too nervous to ask for help

Never really an issue.  I’m very loud about my problems and about what help I need and I ask for a whole bunch of things. Like you!  Tell me something nice about my blog! Now!  And if it’s rude I’ll cry so be careful!

2. Leaving your umbrella at home before work

Los Angeles Los Angeles Los Angles

1. Forgetting to say thank you

Habit broken!!  Call me 25!!

In Which I Attend The Live Premiere Of The Bachelor

12 Jan



Shall we start with how I made The Bachelor Ellen-ripoff selfie?

There I am in the back looking…angry?  Odd?  Annoyed?

I should have posed.  No one informed me of the picture, shockingly.

I should have posed.

All right, all right, what’s next?  Maybe a creepy screenshot?

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I’ll be honest, I imagined if I was ever on The Bachelor, the world would stop, Twitter would break, memes would be made of my face.  ”That girl in the audience,” people would say in incredulous tones, “Did you see that fabulous girl in the audience expressing with her face what we have all felt but never before been able to convey?”

I have the gift of facial expressions, it’s handed down from my mother.  I wear my heart on my face, my emotions in my eyes,  my annoyances on my chin, and while none of this makes sense, you get it.

And yet I was on The Bachelor and there aren’t any memes.


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It’s a terrible, lazy meme!

Screen Shot 2015-01-12 at 4.43.42 PM

Two terrible, lazy memes!

Three french hens!

All right, I’m getting off course.

I learned a lot from my 9 hours with reality TV for the live premiere of The Bachelor.

I learned that in order to look good on screen you need to wear an inordinate amount of makeup, and that if you aren’t you will look shiny and odd.

I learned that wearing an inordinate amount of makeup makes you look rather alarming in person.  The Bachelor people?  A bit alarming.

But great on screen.

I learned you should bring an extra phone charger, lest your iPhone die in the middle of your (brilliant) live tweets.

I also learned about jewel tones.

You have to wear jewel tones on camera, you know.  Well, if you’re not part of the “talent” you do.  It’s probably another conspiracy to keep the audience looking gross so the talent looks better in comparison.  That and making us stand on a red carpet in boiling heat without hydration, faux enthusiastically cheering for everyone.

Would you belive I did not own a jewel toned outfit before this event?  That I had to go to H&M and find their “weirdos” rack and buy a fuzzy pink sweater because it was the only jewel tone thing in the store that I felt I might reuse?  You probably would believe it.

OK, OK.  What next.

Here’s me and Cait taking a selfie in the bright, bright sun.


Maybe this selfie?


Probably not.

But!  That’s Dolly Parton’s favorite lipstick and Michelle Money did tell me she liked it.  We also talked about Utah high schools, because that’s what you do with Michelle Money.

With Courtney you talk about Ben.  (Only a little.)

The whole experience of standing on a red carpet cheering for these people was so odd.

I think even “the stars” know it’s odd.  These are regular people.  The only thing they’ve done of note is appear on a reality TV show.  Some of them are also notably beautiful, but not all of them.  And we’re supposed to pretend they are some celebrity?  I’m supposed to cry as though I’m meeting a role model who has really changed my life?


I didn’t get starstruck except for when I met Neil Lane and boomed, “I LOVE WHAT YOU DID WITH MILEY’S RING.”  He seemed a bit…overwhelmed…I knew his work so well.  ”Oh really?” he said while I giggled uncontrollably.


Will you look at that happiness?  My face cannot contain my happiness.  Cait’s either, for that matter.

I should meme that one.



I got tickets to the First Ever Most Romantic And Dramatic Season Yet live premiere of The Bachelor because of Twitter.  That’s how the world works now, you follow Elan Gale and then somehow you end up sitting behind Courtney and Graham at the premiere.

My prime location had to do with Caitlin’s loudness/love of attention and the two farmer wives we fell in with early in the day.  Farmer wives make for a good storyline in the season of Prince Farming and so we were placed at the front to answer Chris Harrison’s questions.  ”Idaho wives, with me!” the producer said, and Cait and I scampered along with our newfound John Deere friends.

Unfortunately we were not asked any onscreen questions.

I was ready for them, though.

Chris Harrison: Why do people love Farmer Chris so much?

Me: Farmers are the new doctors

When I told Cait my secret plan, the pithy sentence I would just throw out at Chris instead of the typical “He’s sweet/genuine/hot” she laughed and laughed.

“You weirdo,” she said.  ”I’ll respond with ‘corn is the new black.’”

And so we sat, armed with great answers and not enough makeup.

We didn’t ever get to use our lines.

We did, however, get free Subway sandwiches, so the whole, crazy  9-hour experience was probably worth it in the end.

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These Days

21 Nov


There’s this group of men who eat breakfast at Lily’s every morning.  They’re older, definitely retired, with white hair and grandpa pants and shoes to accommodate their slower pace.  They sit in the table at the back, the one by the window.  And they laugh.

When I come in around 8:30 one of them stands up and opens the door for me.  The others continue their loud conversation.

There’s probably 10 of them, these best friends.  I like to imagine they were all firefighters back in the day.  Or perhaps they served in the army together.  Maybe they were barbers?  One of them was a barber and he cut everyone else’s hair?

So many exciting possibilities.

So many relationship goals.

I dreamt I was Meg in the Paper Towns movie.

Meg is not a character in Paper Towns.

I’ve been following John Green and Cara Delevingne’s Instagrams perhaps a little too closely, it would seem.

Also, when I was in elementary school someone told me my gymnastics outfit made me “look like a Megan.”

I think it all comes back to this.

Also also, I think Cara as Margo is bloody effing brilliant.

I dreamt my roommate was taken captive by Brian David Mitchell.

I read Elizabeth Smart’s book recently.  I was her same age and living in Salt Lake when she was taken from her home at knifepoint in 2002.

I slept in my parents’ room for a week after her disappearance and had bars installed in my basement windows.

Ever since then I’ve had an irrational fear of being taken.

My brother says so do all girls my age from Utah.  He calls us the Elizabeth Smart Generation.

This week I woke up from my Brian David Mitchell dream shaking.

Over a decade later and I’m still shaking.

Finally, The Sexiest Man Alive Official Deputy Central Committee Of Delight got it right.

Chris Hemsworth.


I’m still a little miffed they haven’t given Ryan Gosling his time in the sun.  The man has a feminist book named after him for the love of everything holy and right.

But Chris.


Remember the dreadful year they put Liam but not Chris on the list?  Love me some Liam, but LET’S BE RATIONAL, PEOPLE.  We don’t have to choose Hemsworths.  Both Hemsworths exist.

(I feel like Anne Lamott would say here: God knows what She’s doing.)

Yesterday I went to find Jude Law’s SMA cover to tweet along with a classy #neverforget and realized that Jude became Sexiest Man Alive the year I turned 17.

It’s all coming together.

I am perpetually 17.  My sexiest man was officially sexiest when I was 17.

I’m a parody of a parody.


I showed this to my one hour drama class last year.  Jude’s son Rafferty was my ideal male lead in the teen soap I wrote.

Rafferty Law.

What a name.

Brooklyn Beckham was also cast in my teen soap, if you must know.

David Beckham, another of my true loves, has never been Sexiest Man Alive, and I fear it’s too late for him.

He probably peaked when I was 17, too.

Luke is perpetually 21.

One of my friend’s bachelorette parties is at a dance studio in Hollywood where a professional will teach us Beyonce moves and we will make a music video.

I am, without argument, the worst dancer in the world.

I recently went to Zumba and am trying to option my 40 minute experience into a Lifetime horror movie.


Isn’t this the coolest bachelorette party of all the bachelorette parties?

I always said I didn’t want a bachelorette party.

But now.

I saw Owen Wilson on Monday!

Luke was inside Lily’s getting us napkins, and it was all so quick it almost seems like a happy dream plopped in the middle of a very stressful week.

Owne’s hair was wet.

Clearly, he had been surfing.

He was wearing a baseball cap.

Clearly, he didn’t want to be recognized.

But his nose.

Owen’s nose.

He is recognizable.


My sophomore year of college I spilled a bag of carrots in my car and  decided I didn’t have the energy to pick them up.  A few days later I was left with moldy, distorted lumps of toxic waste littering my floor.

I sent my friends a rather dramatic email on the subject:

I realized I am a carrot.  Something went really wrong in my life and I spilled all over the car.  I couldn’t get myself to pick it up because I was having a string of bad days.  And now I’m moldy and gross, and, in fact, unrecognizable from my former self.  

(I’ve always been extremely profound.)

This week I had my second life carrot experience.

I washed my sheets on Thursday but didn’t get around to putting them back on my bed for a full seven days.  I went a whole week sleeping on a decaying mattress pad, telling myself I would “get to it.” “It’s OK.”  When I finally put the linens on my bed I had hair ties and makeup and empty Snapple bottles at my feet. I had a sports bra under my face and 12 books beside me.

Somehow in a week’s time I became moldy carrot girl again, and I can’t help but wonder why.

Why I couldn’t just put on the sheets?

Shouldn’t I be able to put on the sheets?

Why do some people just put on the sheets?

Bailey from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants teaches my pilates class.

I want to say something to her, but then I don’t.

I obviously don’t.

“Bailey, give me the goods on Blake Lively.  Were you at the wedding?  How uncomfortable/comfortable does Preserve make you?”

“And about Alexis.  Do you think she lives without a toilet now that Pete is in her life?”


This week someone in my life discovered she has lice.  Lice!

Mandee (rather distressingly) told me that she knew a girl with lice who had to cut off her hair, Julie Andrews-style.


Hilary suggested, if this were to happen, if my hair were lost to the lice monsters, I should chronicle my journey as a poor woman’s Julie Andrews in a new blog:

Your One True Beauty.


Louisa May!

In case you would like a picture of my hair pre poor-woman’s-Julie-Andrews cut, you can see it in my first article for Self Magazine:

This Milkmaid Braid Will Solve Weekday Hairdo Woes




(That was my postmodern way of conveying my excitement at seeing my article on Self!)


Get it?

Got it?


I do not have lice.

I am the queen of ordering bulk food products online and I need help.

This week it was 36 whatchamacallits.

I told myself not to be irrational.  To truly check every place in Malibu for these mediocre candy bars I happened to be craving one afternoon.

I checked.

They weren’t there.

I ordered.

My roommate found them at the gas station the next day.

It’s a sitcom episode trying to figure out what to do with the whatchamacallits.

(Because, of course, after the bulk order came in I discovered whatchamacallits aren’t as good as I once remembered.)

Should I donate them?

Use them in my next church lesson?

Eat them slowly over the next 36 years?

“He’s the most beautiful man who ever walked the earth – an absolutely perfect oil painting” — Naomi Watts on Jude Law.



Selfies: The Agony And The Ecstasy

17 Oct


I have a couple of items of important business for you on this fine Friday afternoon.

1. I only have one smelly armpit.  Lena Dunham mentioned this same condition in her book, and it made me feel a bit more normal, but it also made me wonder, do we all only have one smelly armpit?  Is this just something we never talk about because we are trying to be polite and appropriate? (Please check your pits and report back in the comments, thank you.)

2. Other things people don’t talk about: female facial hair.

3. Other things I want to talk about: Scandal.  Why am I only so-so about this show?  I enjoy it.  But I don’t ENJOY IT WANT TO SCREAM IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS ENJOY IT and it’s weird for me because what does enjoy it with a lowercase e even mean?  I’m not that person.

OK then.

Last thing.

Most important thing.

Self Magazine.

I’m working with Self Magazine this year!  Do you see that button to your right? The pink and black little banner thing that says Self Made Collective when you scrolllllll up? That banner proclaims to the world that I’m working with Self Magazine this year.

This means you’ll be seeing my articles on their website and various other fun things.  It also means you get this blog post with my selfie outtakes! And this Instagram with me talking about why I’m #SelfMade.  Let’s pull it up, shall we?


Hey! My first ever Instagram selfie and it’s all thanks to the new @selfmagazine. I am #SELFMade because I have crazy big dreams and I (rather dramatically) pursue them. Also because I made Rice Krispie Treats by myself today.

Whew.  Seeing that again brings up a lot of anxiety.  I don’t know how you do it, people who just take casual selfies, but the morning I took this selfie I had a panic attack, paced around my roommate’s bed, and questioned all of which I know in this world.  Why do people take selfies? Should I go with duck face?  Do I need professional acne help?


Is my discomfort taking selfies a feminist issue?

Why can other people just take easy, breezy, beautiful selfies?

It was agony, I tell you.

And then it was ecstasy.

Because after I posted the selfie people were kind.  And supportive.  And that was nice.

It was a very confusing time for me.

Almost as confusing as my armpit situation.

Armpit sitch.

So!  Bringing it back, bringing it back, SCREAMING IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS THAT I’M BRINGING IT BACK, here’s the deal. There’s an Instagram contest going on right now with Self.  Share how you’re #SELFMade on Instagram and you could win a trip to Hawaii from Self Magazine.  (More details here.)

(I’ve never been to Hawaii and this suddenly seems dreadfully unfair.)

(Do we think I will win the contest?)

(Unrelated but crucial, when is the appropriate time for me to reenact Olivia Pope’s monologue, “THAT IS WHAT I DO AND THERE IS NO ONE BETTER IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AT IT THAN I AM”?)

Questions, questions.

Thoughts, thoughts.

I’m signing off now and getting some pasta salad. I suggest you do the same.

May your weekend be bright and full of selfies (or not) and Scandal (or not).  Either way, I’m here for you.

PS: Girlfriend selfies, aka the only selfies I know how to take.