Recently, I attended a surprise birthday party for my friend Kaitlin, and had a great time. Birthday Girl Kaitlin: stylish and sassy, as per usual. My friends: major babes, as per usual. The party location at the Standard Biergarten: teeming with hella bros. Yes, this is to be expected at

First things first: I have never been a “wild child.”  During my teen years, I was a dedicated captain of my high school’s Quiz Bowl team– our post-match parties consisted of watching Team Member L do the “human pretzel” behind a dumpster in the Denny’s parking lot, and Team Member

When you’re trying to figure your life out and workin’ hard and struggling to Rise to the Top and all of that good stuff, things can get a little… desperate.  So desperate, in fact, that you might feel the need to seek out some spiritual guidance.  No, no, no.  I

These are my resort-themed Mom capris: They’re covered in colorful hibiscus-print, and have the names of exotic locales like “Martinique” and “St. Lucia” stamped all over them, in a font that can only can be described as “Tiki-esque.”  They’re high-waisted and saggy-legged and cut at the most unflattering part of

Listen, I’m a simple girl with simple needs.  As long as I can scour my local Salvation Army for ill-fitting ethnic print dresses and eat a burrito at least once a week, I am pretty much satisfied.  But lately, times have gotten tough.  This girl is horribly underemployed, and my–

Recently, I plopped down onto my couch to watch the Martin Scorcese documentary about vintage babe George Harrison, titled George Harrison: Living in the Material World.  I noticed two things, the first of which being that my dad looks scarily like Eric Clapton:              

My friend and I have this ongoing joke in which he always tells me that he’ll “never hire me for anything.”  Let me explain a little better.  I do the stupid/awkward/unlucky things that I always do– open a bag of Cheetos with a little too much force that causes them