In Which Uncle Murphy Paid a Visit to the Girl Who Won’t Stop Bragging About Vacation…Which Starts Tomorrow.
And by Uncle Murphy, I mean the writer of Murphy’s Law. The bastard. So yesterday, I started the morning with my usual dash to the
And by Uncle Murphy, I mean the writer of Murphy’s Law. The bastard. So yesterday, I started the morning with my usual dash to the
After my run-ins with The Bloggess, Dr Travis Stork, and other semi-famous people who I’ve made an ass out of myself in front of…you’d think
I’m an OCD type A creative with a tendency to become stressed out about…well…anything. If you were creative and had that pesky type A need
Happy Monday, Blog friends! OK. I revoke my statement. I’m exhausted. And you probably are too. Weekends just sort of…take it out of us, don’t
Last week, I gave you a basic recap of BlogHer; then I whined; and then I whined some more. But I like to leave things
As you may know are obviously aware, I was at BlogHer this weekend. As you may also know, I am. The world’s. Biggest. Flake. Shit
Yes. Yes I did say beers. Not bears. Beers. Saturday night was my goodbye to beer party. OK, really it was Living Social’s Beerfest at
Caution: This post may make you cry. But it may not. It made me cry writing it. So read at your own risk that you
OK, so y’all are PROBABLY going to think I’m crazy (if you don’t already…and if you really don’t, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?) after
A conversation/interaction between me and B before getting on the train home. Me: Did you bring me snacks? Brian: Maaaaybe. I don’t remember. Maybe not.
Dear Lyssa of Psychobabble, Recently, you announced your online wedding to Shirtless Ryan Gosling (henceforth in this post and future posts as SRG). I am
I know that in yoga, you’re supposed to meditate and find your inner chi or peace or something… Instead, my mind starts to wander and