the time i accidentally went on a date with a 40-year-old

I know what you’re thinking; how does one “accidentally” go on a date with a 40-year-old? Well, children, I’m about to tell you. So grab your popcorn and gather ’round while I spin this sordid tale…

(Side note: It wasn’t actually that sordid, a word which means, as defined by the dictionary, “involving ignoble actions and motives; arousing moral distaste and contempt” or “dirty or squalid,” depending on context; “sordid tale” just has a nice ring to it.)

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an open letter to my former classmates

Dear classmates,

I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time. Yet, somehow, despite my love of angry words and yelling at and about men, I just couldn’t bring myself to put fingers to keyboard. And now, in no small part thanks to the bravery of fellow blogger and Abbey Park High School alum, Brianna Wodabek (which occurred ages ago now but, you know, chronic procrastination makes writing things real hard), I’ve finally decided to throw caution to the wind. Brianna, thank you for breaking the silence I and everyone else were too afraid to breach. Read her piece here. Especially in our post-Weinstein world, this conversation has never felt so necessary. So, as scared as I am to pen (pixelify?) these words, there’s no better time than the present to burn some high school bridges. Let’s dive right into the fire.

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an open letter to the random old man i passed on the street-corner one morning

Dear random old man I passed on the street-corner one morning,

The morning began like many others: I woke up, ruing the three glasses of wine and four gin and sodas I’d consumed the night before, not to mention the chicken nuggets I’d subsequently drunkenly shame-eaten in my bed. The empty ripped-apart McDonald’s bag lay on the floor, eliciting as much regret as a used condom beside a college girl’s bed the morning after a questionable Tinder date. I pulled myself together best I could and mentally prepared myself for the long day of peddling mediocre vegan food that lay ahead.

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an open letter to the human embodiment of a yeast infection

Dear human embodiment of a yeast infection,

Coming home after a long day at work to a party that isn’t yours is rarely ideal, and this particular Friday evening was no exception.  I arrived home from my shift selling mediocre vegan food to find my house filled with strangers.  I’d had enough interacting with strangers for one evening, so I promptly shut myself in my bedroom, ready to enjoy a wild night of folding laundry.

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the most awkward date ever

About a year ago, while hanging out with a friend of a friend, I was complaining about how emotionally exhausted I was by online dating and seeking romance in general.  She mentioned how she’d been speaking to a couple guys herself, and that she’d be happy to pass one along to me.  She gave me the guy’s number and let him know someone would be contacting him.  Thus began one of the most confusing experiences of my life.

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letters to my younger selves

Sometimes even I need a break from feminist rants and the horrors of the world.  Shocking, I know.  So, in light of this, I thought I’d copy the idea of a much greater blogger than I: Allie of Hyperbole and a Half.  In her 2013 book of the same name, one of the segments consists of her writing letters to her past selves of various ages to question their decisions and to offer advice.  It is hilarious.  Go read it now.

In the same vein, I thought I would also write letters to Past Sam, because Past Sam was pretty dumb and I question her motivations every day.  Not to say that Present Sam isn’t also kind of dumb, but I digress…

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in re: “trump won because leftist political correctness inspired terrifying backlash”

In the days since the Earth-shattering victory of sentient Cheeto Donald Trump in this year’s US presidential election, the swirl of, well…things happening has been constant.  Thinkpieces galore, Facebook and IRL friendships crumbling, protests, and the rise of hate crimes against racial minorities.  Overwhelming media and celebrity support made it seem like Hillary was a shoo-in for Prez.  Thus, many of us were left devastated and reeling from the results, leading us to all collectively shout, what the fuck happened?

Really, there’s a million and one reasons why Hillary missed the long overdue title of First Female President.  Sexism, racism, general bigotry, a (misguided, IMO) desire for someone outside the system to enter the system, the DNC shut-out of Bernie Sanders (side note: remember when we had an inkling of hope that Bernie might be our next president? Ah, the follies of early 2016), media that misled us to believe Hillary was going to win regardless so not voting or voting third party wouldn’t doom us to a Trump presidency…the list goes on.  But in the process of trying to untangle this very complicated web, one man places the blame almost solely on one thing: Political Correctness. Continue reading “in re: “trump won because leftist political correctness inspired terrifying backlash””