So apparently Facebook now allows you to designate what happens to your account after you die. You can either have it deleted forever in the ultimate act of “shhh… this never happened,” or you can delegate someone to be your “Legacy Contact”– meaning they can pin a post to your account, accept friend requests, and change your profile photo. Just like Highlander of the 90s, there can be only one so you shouldn’t ask your current shite boyfriend unless he’s a keeper. [Read more…]
Are there really people out there who care about bullshite awards? I’m honestly not sure. Maybe I’m just jaded because I’m so often the person who is weeding through the mediocre nominations to try and determine whose paltry efforts at achieving the bare minimum should be celebrated. All I know is that where I work, it’s pretty much a curse for you to receive any sort of public accolade. Within months you’ll be enmeshed in some sort of scandal, crime, or humiliation. [Read more…]
To be employed is to be sexually harassed. It doesn’t matter how much money they pour into work trainings and seminars, you’re going to spend 40 hours of your week hearing about who banged who in the back of a patrol car or sitting in meetings with a guy who claims to know the various shades of South American hookers’ tatas. [Read more…]
Alex and I have been engaging in a very volatile practice known as “pre-marital counseling.” Prior to beginning, we had to fill out a very long list of questions about our communication style, family background, etc. Alex took a look at it then texted me:
“You’re going to have fun with some of these questions. LOL.” [Read more…]
When I was 23 years old– just a few months before I caught a one way flight to China– I got a tattoo on my hand. I intentionally chose my hand because I knew I would never be able to conceal it. I wanted to see it every single day, to remember what it means but also as a sort of guarantee that I’d never find myself stuck in a humdrum, soul-sucking professional career.
Oh 23 year old Aussa, you were so cute and stupid. [Read more…]
She told me to go to therapy.
It wasn’t immediate—she listened as I detailed our plans for the venue, the date, and the honeymoon. It was when I mentioned my four older brothers would walk me down the aisle that her face twisted in shock, hurt, and outrage. [Read more…]
One of the most important pieces of advice for a writer is to “write what you know.” While this is a relatively short list for someone of my incompetence, I can truthfully say the experience of infidelity is one I’m all too familiar with. The knowledge before you was born from my experience with guys who had secret fiancés, decade-long girlfriends they failed to mention, and a revolving door of bedmates just waiting to pounce. Don’t worry– Alex is not on the list. I just don’t want you guys to think I’ve gone soft. [Read more…]
My coworker Mandi is on medical leave for the next few weeks and its completely disrupting my flow. It’s impossible to tell what might happen from day to day in this Godforsaken hell hole—Nurses threatening to kill each other, the exploration of underground tunnels, or the perhaps public meltdown of someone who doesn’t know how glove compartments work. But there is one thing I can always count on, and that’s my mandatory morning meeting. Every day from 9:01AM to whenever I have to pee, I am in Mandi’s office. [Read more…]
I’ve received many a comment, message, or email regarding the danger of blogging about certain things a bit too much—some of my stories about work can be a bit revealing. Then again, they don’t exactly violate HIPPA or identify the people in question. I imagine the day they sit me down to talk about my blog going something like this:
“You have a blog and you blogged about us and it is bad, BAD.” [Read more…]
Actually—I’d say it’s almost always beneficial to be creepy. Following this most innate of behaviors has led to many a happy ending and/or blog fodder. Last weekend Alex and I went shopping for his wedding band—which is to say we spent a max of about 20 minutes at Zales before I said “yep that works” and handed them my debit card. I then made him “quickly stop in” every other store that struck my fancy for the next hour and a half. [Read more…]
There’s snow on the ground, which I find unspeakably oppressive. Winter is terrible—I know it has something to do with bugs dying or Greek myths about kidnapping women, but I’ve had enough. My only comfort is getting to watch everyone freak out about the impending snowpocalypse as they fight to the death over the last loaf of gluten-free quinoa buns. Speaking of fighting to the death, there are a few things on the horizon that warm me with hope: [Read more…]