An Open Letter to People Who Hold Up Their Middle Finger in Instagram Photos
Did something happen between us? Did I wrong you? And if so, why bring that energy into your vacation photos?
Tag: Life
The Abyss Stared Back, and It Likes What It Saw
I know I'm just a little ol' abyss, but your attention has given me quite the pick-me-up. Not a lot of people notice me.
As Your Fortune Teller, I Will Tell You, a Dewy Young Thing, Who You’ll Be In Forty or Fifty Years
You will be a person who, needing more room for books, never once thinks the words “bricks” or “boards.”
My Only Regret in Life Is Not Petting More Dogs
I would pet little dogs, big dogs, toy dogs, and dogs that don’t even look like dogs. Boring dogs. Cool dogs. Hot dogs. All the dogs.
What Writers Are Like, Based on Stock Photos of Writers
A scribe’s only acceptable wardrobe is a good collared shirt or sensible cardigan, or a collared shirt under a sensible cardigan.
You Gotta Dance like Nobody’s Watching from the Narrow Slits of the Closet Door
Recite a mantra of personal affirmation loudly so that if someone were in the linen closet, they could hear you, but they’re not, so don’t worry.
Auto Reply: OUT OF OFFICE: For the Rest of Eternity
I can’t and I can’t even. Whatever phrase works best for you to understand that I can’t help you.
12 Books You Must Read Before You Can Die
Reading the author's Wikipedia page may have sailed you through book club, but it will not sail you across the river of souls.
Young Wives’ Tales
If you break up with a man, you'll get a text message. If you break up with a woman, you'll get an Edible Arrangement and a Babeland gift card.
Your Personal Branding Focus Group Report
Everyone agreed that you are fatally lacking any brand whatsoever. The days of "hanging loose," and "taking it as it comes," are long, long gone.
Rules for Enjoying Edith Peckhurst Memorial Park
Use of this park is at your own risk. Such risk will not be assessed, even though this neighborhood has the highest population of actuaries in the city.
I’m the Pinch Pot You Made in Third Grade—Why Won’t Your Mother Let Me Die?
I looked around: Pristine bowls, with smooth edges, not a pinch in sight. My exterior sports at least seven visible fingerprints and a hole that slowly leaks.