day twenty three: a living eulogy

Back in April I discovered Time's 100 Most Influential People in 2018 and was honest to god brought to tears by some of them. Like Judd Apatow's piece on Kumail Nanjiani and John Mayer's on Shawn Mendes.

As Kelsey and I were going back and forth via email, squealing about our favs writing about our other favs, she said she would write a living eulogy for me if I managed to blog everyday in May.

Well, I did. And so, she did.

Here it is.

I recently listened to an interview of two comedians (who work together regularly) and one of them referred to the other as his 'comedic security blanket'. The moment I heard him say that, Alissa's name popped into my head.

Not only would I consider Alissa my comedic security blanket, but I would also consider her both my emotional and social security blanket.  She makes me feel comfortable, understood, and appreciated in situations where I normally wouldn't feel that way.

Nine times out of ten, I make a complete ass out of myself when faced with any kind of unfamiliar social situation. I have never related to someone so much as when Michael Scott said  "...sometimes I'll start a sentence, and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way."  When I get myself into these humiliating social spirals, Alissa always finds a way to swoop in and help me make sense of what I am trying to say, and then gently guide me away from said conversation before it gets any worse.

It is a total pro move, and no one does it better than she does.

She is a person who in one breath will talk me off of a ledge, but in the next breath lure me out onto that same ledge, because the view is good and if she gets a photo of the skyline at just the right angle, she has the perfect Instagram caption planned to go along with it. She will tell me to take a beat / sleep on it / not make any rash decisions, and then fifteen minutes later inform me that we are going to Washington state for a long weekend in September, and here is her flight information so I know which one to book.

I am a more confident, socially secure, and happy person when Alissa is around. My friendship with her has brought so much adventure, experience, and deep, soul-shaking laughter into my life, and I can't thank her enough for that. I would thank her for it in person, but as she once told me when I tried to hug her goodbye at a party, "we don't do that".



JK. This totally reads like an obituary, though, doesn't it? 


day twenty two: favorites

And away we go...

  1. Nature's Bounty Hair, Skin & Nails Gummies: I want to believe these work. I want to believe these work. I WANT TO BELIEVE THIS WORK. I've been taking them for about a month and my nails feel stronger. Does my skin glow? Yes, because it's hot and I'm sweating. Does my hair have a shine? Actually, I just had it highlighted and tbh, it looks dull. But I want to believe these work. Oh, and they taste awful. Buy them!
  2. Big ass sunglasses: My friend Robin was always wearing these in her Snapchats/Marco Polos and I finally asked her where she bought them and she said, "Target. I ordered you some. They will be at your house in 3-5 days." I'm lucky to have Robin and also these sunglasses.
  3. John Frieda Frizz Ease Dream Curls: I haven't straightened my hair since July of last year. Yes, that's a brag. Yes, that's all I'm going to say about this.
  4. Greetabl: Shopping for gifts is stressful (for me). This makes it fun and easy.
  5. Taylor Swift's reputation stadium tour: Did extreme FOMO sparked by Instagram and YT videos lead Kelsey and I to purchase tickets to see Taylor in July at Gillette Stadium? Yes. But let it be known-- we would've done it regardless.

day twenty + twenty one

day 20: what my current self wants for my future self

I'm one of those people who believes you can Secret the shit out of your life, so here's a list of things I want for my future self. Hopefully by putting them out into the Universe, and continually reaching for them, they'll work themselves out:

A sick wardrobe full of items that fit me flawlessly.

Long, healthy hair I don't dream of cutting off.

The ability to take a compliment.

A trip to Europe that results in me falling in love with an international DJ and maybe that's the plot line of the movie Ibiza but who's to say.

Bravery... at work, in life and in love.

A successful podcast!

To live somewhere that's warm and sunny for more than three months out of the year.

And lord help me, a new car.

day 21: a playlist

I make monthly playlists on Spotify. Here's the one I made for May.

day nineteen: top three worst traits

  1. I procrastinate - everything. Even fun things like getting my nails done or going shopping for vacation. Every post I've done in May was written in under 20 minutes the day I needed to post it. I've always been like this and I don't see it ever changing.
  2. I bottle stress, anxiety, frustration and anger to the point the extreme. My mood won't show on my face, but it will show on my body in the form of hives and eczema.
  3. I can't say no. And when I do, I feel horrible. So this leads to me over committing and not having enough time to do the things I need to do for myself.


Happy Friday!

day eighteen: things i've learned that school didn't teach me

Let's be real here: there's not much from school that I a) remember and b) found useful. I know we all joke about learning math but never having to use it, except that's not a joke and I almost graduated without a Regents diploma because of it.

ANYWAY, enough about my poor math skills.

  1. Under no circumstances should you ever put a bra in the dryer.
  2. You can do everything right and still come up empty.
  3. Your cover letter is more important that your resume.
  4. Thin Mints are better if they are kept in the freezer.
  5. Your period is only going to get worse with age - hooray!
  6. Don't let other people make you feel bad for not living your life the way they live theirs.
  7. Don't take shit about things you like - a particular band, a movie, a TV show, yellow Starburst. Unless you like The Big Bang Theory, in which case, do you know what real comedy is?
  8. You can (and should) say no to people. You know your limits better than anyone else.
  9. Listen to your friends and family, but rarely take anyone's advice.
  10. Happy tears are a thing. Sad tears are obviously a thing. Drunk tears are definitely a thing. But the I'm so fucking frustrated all I can do is cry tears are by far the most surprising thing I've learned about in the fourteen (14) years I've been out of school.

I told you mine, now tell me yours.

day seventeen: a rant

In my post from 2013, I ranted about weddings.

And ohhhh man, do I still have a lot to say about them. Like, I could do a 2,000 word think piece on why I believe they are a waste of money and why, even if I did want a wedding, I would never have a bridal party. I love my friends ...why would I put them through that?

But I'm going to keep my trap shut for now, and instead do a stream of consciousness rant.


Real adult humans know you're supposed to turn your directional on AND THEN hit the breaks, right?


A couple weeks ago I went to a concert in Philly where I stood behind what I can only assume was a newly ~together~ couple, and the guy would not stop pretending his fist was a microphone and was putting it in front of the girl's face for her to sing into for THE. ENTIRE. SHOW. All I could think was: she has to have sex with that guy.

They also talked a lot. Don't do that, don't hold a conversation during the middle of a concert.


My hair dresser told me last week that she wanted to get a new pair of glasses but her husband told her they made her look like an angry feminist, so she didn't buy them. I told her I own 7 pairs of glasses because no one tells me what I can or cannot buy with my own fucking money.

But she's better at talking than listening so my comment didn't even phase her.


White men, am I right?


So, when I was 18 and didn't know any better, I registered as a Republican. Clearly, I am not. But because it takes me approximately a decade to do anything, I finally got around to changing my party this past March.

I wanted to change it so I can vote in the Democratic primaries; mainly in the upcoming one for Governor of New York State because my kween Cynthia Nixon is running.

I got my official paperwork in the mail a couple weeks ago and plot twist: I'm not considered a Democrat until AFTER the mid-term elections in November, so I can't vote for Cynthia in the primaries in September.

Let's just say my dad thought this was HI-LARIOUS and my brother scoffed at my wanting to be a Democrat to begin with.

Petition to be emancipated from my family at the age of 31.

day sixteen: links to good reads

An ode to modern dating. Have you always considered yourself one of the guys and think you're better off because of it? Here's why female friendships are important. The blog post I've read so many times, I can almost recite it word for word. And the post I have framed in my house. It's not about finding our other half, it's about having a witness. This next one is political, so if that's not your jam, keep walking. Let's talk about white women, shall we? A great use of satire to explain what it's like for millennials who work with baby boomers. Stop feeling bad for me and Jennifer Aniston.

day fifteen: what i'm struggling with

Should I keep this blog or delete it?

Should I start a podcast? Or two?

Should I cut my hair?

What car should I buy?

How do I kindly tell someone in my life I need space from them?

Would moving to a different city/state/country change anything?

How do I make my mother understand that she does not need to pray for me to find a man, that I'm not destitute?

Will I ever be able to have a conversation with friends that doesn't involve discussing weddings?


Okay, I think that's enough for now.

day fourteen: a story from my childhood (sort of?)

My memory is actual human garbage. So there are pieces of this that are missing and probably pieces I made up over the years to fill the holes. But know that, much like my favorite movies, it’s based on a true story.


I had a sleepover in 7th grade. There were maybe five or six of us and if you were also a teenage girl (which I’m assuming you were) (I truly don’t think males read this and if so, they are only here to see if I vague blog them), you know what middle school sleepovers were like.

Did we talk about boys? Yes. Did we prank call said boys using a phone that was in the actual shape of a motorcycle? Also yes. Do I now wonder why we had that phone since no one in my family owned a motorcycle? You bet.

But what I remember most, other than taping sleeping girls the floor in my basement and yelling FIRE, is telling them about my creepy neighbor.

He kept to myself. Didn’t have a wife or kids or any family, or even friends. Funny enough he had a motorcycle, but that was really it. 

I was truly only going off of the weird vibe I felt about him when I told my friends he buried bodies in his backyard because he was, in fact, a serial killer.


If you know me, or have been following along for a while, you know the house I live in was my great-grandparents’ house. And my parents’ house is right next door. Who lives on the other side of my house, you might be asking yourself? None other than the maybe serial killer.

He goes by a different name now, which is aggressively suspicious, but he still lives alone and recently put a massive camera outside the front of his house that is MOTION SENSORED and ROTATES.

Who’s to stay what he’s really up to inside of that house, but this true crime murderino loves speculating.