A Thief is Among Us

Today I learned that someone stole packages from my front door. New hiking boots for me and a much coveted dress for my roommate. ¬†The only other time that I have every been wronged in the form of petty theft¬†was when I was in the 5th grade and took an after school pottery class. There was another girl name Lauren in the class so I was riddled with as much anxiety a 10-year-old could be riddled with in regards to our pieces getting mixed up. I’d write in huge letters “LAUREN C. 5th GRADE” and yet Lauren from the 6th grade would always take my coil bowls by accident. Thankfully, my kind, loving, art teacher would right the wrong and I’d go home with the brown little dung¬†bowl I made my mother.

HOWEVER, in the case of the hiking boot/dress dilemma, the wrongs have not been righted, YET.

Despite the kooky¬†things I post online, I’m very mild mannered in person. I do get riled up and it all comes pouring out with lots of hand gestures and weird noises, but normally I’m shy and quiet due to being an habitual¬†over-observer. I’m sure when I’m doing this the other people in the room imagine¬†tumble weeds blowing around in the desert landscape of my mind but c’est faux, you bimbo. ¬†I also do not get angered easily. I’ve somehow gotten to the point in my life (thankfully) that I understand¬†the situations¬†that would make me angry in the past simply do not matter.¬†The last time I was truly angry was almost four years ago, if that gives you any indication of my calmness. I may act fired up, concerned, or perturbed, but it’s never been angry.With that being said,¬†¬†hell hath no fury like a nice-former-pottery-making-calm-girl scorned.


On Friday before noon, our packages were delivered to our building. Our LOVELY neighbor tends to bring our packages in so they aren’t sitting out in the open. She did so around 5pm. That means they were locked inside our building. I didn’t get home until midnight. Hm, no packages. WEIRD. I thought maybe she took them to her house figuring we left for a weekend (again, she’s a DOLL). The next morning came but we were out and about and again, came home to no packages. ALRIGHT FINE.

Sunday morning, we get up and we hear our lovely doll neighbor outside. I rip our door off its hinges to inquire about the packages. Sure enough, she confirms she left them there. I don’t remember anything in between us making and posting signs on every single door in the building but I do recall at one point chasing one of my neighbors into their apartment interrogating them and also stopping to say hello to their nice kitties. Mind you, I’ve never met this person or these nice kitties. All boundaries were lost. It’s like when you get broken up with via text but you’re in the middle of class and you go into zombie tunnel vision and stand up, palm the face of your teacher when he asks what you are doing, and walk out without any of your things and withdraw from school and never return again.


After meeting the kitties, nice neighbor doll lady came down and offered to help us, MEANING going through the trash to look for evidence. We tipped all the recycle bins looking for boxes while she literally fucking CLIMBED INTO THE DUMPSTER WITH A BROOM AND GARDENING GLOVES FOR PROTECTION. She’s what people a year ago would’ve referred to¬†as “a bad bitch.”

No luck though.

We’ve had leads from other neighbors saying they saw the boxes at our door around 7pm. The time frame narrows.¬†

I’ve been checking eBay and craigslist for possible leads in the meantime.

I don’t even care about the boots (alright maybe a smoocheroo worth because they were ADORABLE AND PRACTICAL) but I think I’m more sad that this is something that a human being did. I know the atrocities of the world but I still find it unfathomable that someone walking by saw a package and thought¬†“hm, mine now!” I felt guilty for taking a dime off the ground of an office that wasn’t mine. I found a few dollar bills dropped underneath a table at a bar and stuck it in the tip cup because IT WASN’T MINE. This is coming from a girl who brought her Lion King pop-up book into kindergarten show and tell and found all the animals ripped out when she got it back from the Share Bin after recess. ¬†It’s as if I’ve never learned what the X-Files has been preaching this whole time.


But, I don’t believe that. If this is a spectrum then I’m on the “I’m sure they will materialize in front of our door soon” end. Sigh.

In all our sleuthing though, we  found out we have a really huge backyard to hang out in. Who knew?


In joyous news, I realized I’ve lost 30lbs in the past year and a half. I guess when you hit the back half of your twenties your metabolism¬†moves to a retirement community. It also didn’t help that my quality of life plummeted during the passing of one of my immediate family members. For anyone dealing with hardships and not feeling good, IT’S OKAY! Sometimes you have to eat a whole box of poptarts within 24 hours. ¬†I wouldn’t recommend it long term but then again goddammit those¬†babies are nice when you’re laying on the couch in the dark marathoning whatever show you’re addicted to.

Anyways, my secret to success? MOVING. As in, not sitting and having my muscles atrophy. Also, eating food that isn’t poptarts. Brussel sprouts are cool. I also use products on my body that don’t have chemicals in them because it makes me feel less shitty. I literally tasted¬†body scrub I bought because the ingredients were sugar, orange oil, and lemon oil. It was delicious and I don’t regret it. The¬†deodorant I have is cocoa butter, coconut oil, and peppermint so it¬†smells like a peppermint patty. I don’t eat that though. I do have standards and limitations, surprisingly.

                          OR DO I?



Hey, I’m Dumb and Here’s Why: A Moment on Suicide and My Stupidity*

*Please note this post discusses suicide and may be triggering for some. The National Suicide Hotline for those in need: 1-800-273-8255.


Today I watched the Virgin Suicides¬†for the first time. Not the most uplifting of movies, but who would’ve guessed¬†with that title?sdfsdfsdfsdfsdf

I know I’m about 15 years too late and I’m not sure if spoilers have a “statute of limitations” but to spare anyone who hasn’t seen it, I’ll make a vague statement by saying–they talk about suicides! One of them being “sticking your head in the oven.”


Now, for someone who was very sheltered in their life and was lucky enough to grow up without having to learn from such an experience, I did not know what the logistics were behind the “sticking your head in the oven” method. I’d heard it and almost found it humorous because I pictured someone’s nana having a fit over bad manners at the dinner table and using it as a threat¬†to get everyone to shut up,¬†behave and eat nicely.

Me and my roommate started getting upset over the thought of this horrific way to end a¬†life. “So do you just wait for it to heat up and you burn yourself?” and “Or do you just hit yourself with the door?” were some of the genius questions posed by these two. “How scary must it be to wait for it to preheat??”

We finally googled it out of sheer morbid curiosity.


That’s when we found out just how dumb we really are! ¬†Apparently, it was very easy to manipulate old GAS ovens and breathe in the toxic fumes. YEAH. No one was trying to have a Gremlins moment. Thankfully, this misuse of an appliance is not as easy to partake in now.

Oh yeah and then I peed my pants laughing about how serious we took ourselves in our plight to save non-existent people from not cooking their head meat A urine-soaked cycle of chumps and chump-related thoughts.


In any case,¬†I want to stress that I don’t find suicide itself¬†funny because it’s not. What I find funny is¬†how I am terribly naive and have a lot to learn about mostly everything in the world. ¬†For example, I am still not 100% sure on how to use a can opener. Suicide just happened to be the subject¬†of the day.

Have you ever done or thought anything so tremendously stupid, it was almost borderline adorable how much of a knucklehead you were? How did you find out that you were wrong and possibly irreversibly dumb? I NEED TO KNOW!

Stay safe! Breathe clean air! You are loved even if you don’t know how to use a can opener either. 143 123 xox pfffft.

My Arm Almost Came Off and I Lived to Tell the Tale

Hey childrens,

This week in Things I Have Done to Injure Myself in Dramatic and Stupid Ways, I nearly got my arm chopped off.

While I was trying to tuck my giant desk-sized coloring books behind the couch and the wall, I dropped them from too high up and the force made them slide a bit under the couch. I knelt on the couch and peered down the back, my forehead against the wall.

Ah! I’ll just stick my arm down there and pull them back up so they are standing!

Well, when I stuck my left arm down the back of the couch, I must’ve pushed my body weight against the back of the couch, pinning my arm between the wall and the wood frame. I knew something was wrong when my hand began immediately began to pulse and the blood rushed to my fingers.

Wow, this a lot of pain for a coloring book rescue mission.

I tried to pull my arm out but with every tug it felt more and more like my arm was in  a vice-grip or like when the doctor takes your blood pressure and tries to pump your arm until it explodes.

I tried to to use my right arm and pull the back of the couch quickly enough to free the other. Unfortunately, this couch has had a real sour attitude ever since we accidentally dropped it down a flight of stairs while moving in.

After about of minute of panic and wondering if my roommate would find my dead body hanging over the couch, I tried to use my body weight and shift the couch opposite of how I body slammed it against one of my extremities. Too bad the two front feet of the couch were firmly placed on our short haired carpet. Sure, I could push the couch and the back legs would slide on the tile but pulling it against the carpet was not happening. I was defeated.

Here I am sawing my arm out of from behind my couch.

So, did a super hunk hear my cries for help and kick down my door and ripped the couch from underneath me?

Obviously not, you big dummy!

But I did rip a generous amount of skin off while pulling it out. I tried to manipulate the ever-so-delicate, non-muscle parts of my arm (read: squished my arm fat around) but it just felt like my bone was snapping in half when I moved it. I did have a nice little dry heave and .03 second black out BUT I MADE IT! And I guess now I have a scar I can make up cool stories about.

Do you have any scars with interesting and possibly not true stories? Did you really just drop your coloring books down the back of your couch?


K I love you and also brownies. GOODNIGHT!

Do Not Microwave Your Dirty Sponge or You Will be a Sad Person

Are you a sad person? Is it because you microwaved your sponge?

I know most of you cried out with¬†¬†resounding “YES!” to both those questions, so I’ll just cut to the chase.

If for by some reason you answered “no” to the second question, which I know is highly unlikely, then I’m going to dispense some Baz Luhrmann advice on you. Also, Luhrmann autocorrected when I spelt it wrong and that frightens and delights me. Anyways, DO NOT MICROWAVE YOUR SPONGE. But yes, wear sunscreen.

If this seal can do it, then you can do it too!

After seeing a post about cleaning your kitchen, I read some of the tips listed–one of which was “microwave your sponge to kill bacteria!” Good idea in theory BUT what is not mentioned is the fact that although the germs may be dead, they also die a fucking wretched, butt-smelling death. You know when your sponge has worn down and it has gross dirty dishwater smell? Yeah, it’s like that but only HOT and like someone wiped the sponge up their asshole.

Here we are in the Pit of Eternal Stench.

Don’t do it, unless your into a buttonhole smelling sponge thing. I’m sure there’s a section of the internet that caters to that. So, I bet you are looking for a solution now that I’ve busted that myth? Well, I don’t have one because I’ve lost all sense of smell after that experiment and won’t be able to conduct any further tests. Please send clean sponges in lieu of flowers.

Have you ever tried a dumb hack and found out that it was really dumb? Tell me in the comments so I can avoid doing those dumb things! I should show you my cream cheese Oreo truffles I tried to make. They were as gross as that sounds.

Okay! I love you! Go buy some nice fresh sponges and don’t stick them up your butt unless they are the feminine sponges but then again those don’t go up your butt either OKAY BYE DON’T BE A SAD PERSON!

‚ÄúYes And‚ÄĚ Your Way to a Promotion*‚Ć!

Boss got you down with his latest fribble-frabble nonsense boss talk?

‚ÄúYou‚Äôve been 20 minutes late every day to work but still put down your overtime when you work 5 minutes passed close.‚ÄĚ


Your boss will be so taken back by your leadership skills, he’ll blankly stare at you (obviously impressed) and never doubt your superiority again!

Kooky coworker questioning your choice to hang up on a client with no valid reason other than they were boring the fuck out of you?


If Suzy gets cute and tries to follow up with ‚Äú‚Ķand it‚Äôs incredibly inappropriate and not tolerated here‚ÄĚ simply place your hand over Suzy‚Äôs scrunchy little face and give a gentle love push. Just enough to show YOUR authority but just little enough so she doesn‚Äôt call THE authorities. If done correctly, she‚Äôll be overcome with how bold and charming you are and she‚Äôll be totally cool about it.

Tired of a hard mornings work and you‚Äôre trying to enjoy a nice sandwich in the breakroom when Tony from HR tries to kill your vibes? ‚ÄúBut you‚Äôre eating my sandwich‚ÄĒ‚Äú


Don‚Äôt mistakeTony‚Äôs horrified look for weakness. He‚Äôs a snake and snakes can only be killed by shoving sandwiches down their throats. Survival 101. You’re welcome.

*The author of this list cannot be held accountable for any jobs terminated from following the aforementioned instructions. Author must receive 10% of any promotion money earned if acquired.

‚ĆNot the be confused with the building block phrase ‚Äúyes and‚ÄĚ that nurtures a healthy and constructive improvisation environment.

Like these tips and want more? Check out our full list of tips from the hot book¬†‚ÄúYes And‚ÄĚ Your Way to a Promotion, now featured on Amazon Prime!

Ok Cupid 

I unintentionally joined a dating site and I already feel ashamed about it.

I signed up originally to look at the format first hand, so I made my profile picture Enrico Palazzo (aka Frank Drebin from The Naked Gun) and answered all the questions with “singing the Star Spangled Banner.”

Unfortunately, the admins quickly realized I was not a screenshot of an early 90s movie and removed my photo for me. 

I added a normal picture but left all the patriotic answers to ward off predators (turns out, it was more of a lure than deterrent). My inbox filled up with fifty plus, 50+ geezers  asking if I wanted to be treated like a princess, to which I replied with a delicate “no you fucking freak.”

Not really. I’m not that mean and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feeling so the block button became my best line of defense. Even still the messages kept coming from avatars of shirtless chumps commenting on how they liked how athletic I looked. If you’re wondering if I’m athletic is any capacity, here’s the resounding “no.” Also, my hair and forehead take up most of the photo.

I downloaded to app. Deleted the app. Downloaded the app again. Paid for premium content. Disabled my account. Deleted the app. Reactivated my account and now considering downloading the app again. I think I’m better off creating my own site “OkCoopid” and just post a bunch of pictures of hens. 

Anyways, I’m five minutes away from deleting my account again because I much rather meet someone while I’m kicking down the door of the men’s bathroom at Nordstrom because the cleaning crew blocked off the women’s room. Isn’t that how everyone wants it?

Anyways, I love you bye eat grapes they taste good preferably the purple no seeds.

Peanuts and Tomatoes

Hey clam sauces,

I was thinking today about my new phrase, “peanuts and tomatoes, amiright?!” 

It’s a great way to impress your friends with this hit phrase that means “same difference.”  The origin? I feel the same way about peanuts as I do tomatoes. I’m also an idiot. 

BUT hear me on this. I don’t like peanuts or tomatoes unless they are an ingredient for a larger, more delicious snack. Peanuts don’t nearly have as much num-power as pistachios, cashews, or even fricken almonds have on their own. And hear this– tomatoes are little flavorless acidic bombs. You heard me, acid lovers. I’ll take your Ragu and Pace but I don’t want to see them in their naked forms.

Peanuts and tomatoes, my friend. One in the same. Like bonehead and numbskull. Chump and punk. Moron and dummy. 

Alright little love shacks, go out and spread my message but feel free to also not. I understand. I LOVE YOU. Xo