Magic Mike

Oh, you know I saw it. A while ago, actually. I was sorely tempted to see the midnight showing on Thursday, but decided to be a grown up about it (hi this bitch has a job) and went on the weekend.

Let’s be real, that shit was terrible. The plotline and the dialogue and Alex Pettyfer’s facial hair. And lolz at Mike’s “custom furniture.” BUT. DEM BODIES. Yeah, hearty thumbs up.



I’m late to the party, but let me just throw it out there: I’M SAD THEY’RE OVER. I really thought those two would make it. They were so wrong it was RIGHT. I’m sure Suri’s fashions and Tom’s hotness (dude’s aged in reverse and looks fuckin’ FINE don’t even try to deny) had a hand in their increased likeability. Still. In mourning over here.

A Visit from the Goon Squad

Once in a while I come across a book or an essay or a poem or a sprawl of graffiti on an abandoned building that reminds me of why I love words. Why reading stories and writing stories and sharing stories is so fulfilling.

A Visit from the Goon Squad. Read this book. It’s kind of a hybrid novel/short story collection. I don’t know what the hell it is. All I know is it made me FEEL SHIT.

There’s nothing I can say that can equate to the experience of reading it, so just go and do it and then we’ll talk.

Time’s a goon.


Double standards. They exist everywhere. For everyone. Life’s not fair. Get the fuck over it. Yes. But.
I’ve been all over the weight spectrum. Growing up, I was always smaller than my classmates. Not necessarily skinny, just small. I didn’t break five feet until like the eighth grade. I hated it. HATED. I shed many a tear over my child size 10’s hanging in my closet through middle school. Then that bitch puberty came and all of a sudden I wasn’t the tiniest one in school anymore. NOPE. I gained approximately 20 pounds in the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. And then I gained the dreaded freshman fifteen (twice). At my heaviest, I was a wreck. Emotionally and physically. I was disgusted with myself and developed a mean obsession with my weight. I binged like I’d never binged before. And kept gaining.
But then I lost it. I guess we can get to that story later, because it wasn’t really that simple. I did a lot of…finding myself (oh dear God I know, gag me with a fucking SPOON). It wasn’t just eating less and moving more. It was mental. I became more comfortable with who I was as a person. Focused on things besides my weight.
Over time, my weight has settled on the low end of normal. But still. NORMAL. I am at a healthy weight for my frame. This doesn’t stop people from telling me I’m too skinny. I need to eat a sandwich. I must be anorexic. Oh, excuse? Would you say such things to someone who is on the slightly chubby end of the spectrum? METHINKS NOT.
Honestly, I love my body. I can wear whatever the hell I want and I don’t have to struggle to maintain my weight. I eat what I want. And a lot of it. Granted, I eat mostly (very) healthy foods, but still. I’m not slavishly counting calories or nibbling rice cakes
So why should I be made to feel like my body is somehow less than?
I don’t know where I’m going with this, really. Maybe it’s this: my body is my own. I am comfortable where I am. And I should be allowed to take pride in a body that has allowed me to do so much. It’s climbed mountains and swam in oceans and built an entire apartment’s worth of IKEA furniture and sprinted to catch the last Metro home. I guess sometimes I just need to remind myself of that.

And Now This is My Life

I’ve been an official DC resident for over a month. I have my own apartment. New responsibilities at work. A steady income (!!!). Friends. A DC library card. A life?

It’s all just strange. This is the first time I’ve lived on my own. Actually on my own. I love having my own place. I get to decorate how I want. I don’t have to worry about other people leaving their dishes in the sink for days on end. Everything is always right where I left it.

BUT. I don’t have my parents around to pick me up if I miss the last train home. No roommates to vent to after a truly heinous day at the office. No one to wake up in the middle of the night when the bathroom ceiling starts gushing water (unless you count emergency maintenance, but they’ll just tell you to calm the fuck down because there’s no way they’re coming all the way from Maryland unless someone’s life is on the line).

At first I missed everything. And I still miss a lot of things. My family. My best friends are strewn across the country, and it sucks that I can’t share every aspect of my life with them. I’ll say it–it’s kind of lonely.

Intimidating, this whole growing up thing. I have to put myself out there. Get out of my comfort zone. And I have. I mean, I’ve tried, at the very least. It has paid off, for the most part. Meeting new people, learning new things. But I’m making a lot of mistakes. Yes, this is part of growing up. Becoming who I am, finding out who my true friends are, blah blah blah. It’s hard though, you know? I don’t know when the fuck I’ll have things figured out. I’m trying to learn to be okay with that. It’ll happen eventually. Or it won’t. Whatever.

I meant for this to be my triumphant return to “regular” (LOLZ) blogging. But DEAR GOD, it’s become borderline depressing. I’ll be more fun soon, I promise. It has been A DAY. Wine helps. Always.

Something I Wish I Would Have Realized Two Months Ago

Before landing my new job in Alexandria, I was unemployed for three months. Looking back, my situation wasn’t bad. I was able to live with my parents, and my expenses were minimal. But I felt like I was falling behind every second. Like I would never find a job and never get my shit together.

Now that I have a job secured, I realize how absolutely ridiculous that was. People don’t have everything figured out at 22 years old. It’s just not possible. Sure, I have a source of income. One less thing to worry about. But did finding a job make everything else in my life fall into place? Nope. It’s going to be a long fucking time before I get my shit together. And that’s okay.


When I started considering colleges in my junior year of high school, my only real criteria was an urban campus. I thought I’d wind up at NYU, but the visit was traumatizing. New York was not for me. Let’s state the obvious here: that city is fucking enormous. I wanted something in a city, but, as a girl from the suburbs, I wasn’t ready for something quite so different. D.C. was my next stop, and it was kind of perfect. I mean, sure, it’s a city, but it’s a pretty small one. It just felt so much more comfortable than New York.

So I chose to go to GW based mostly on the location. Yes, it’s a great university that has other things to offer, but I didn’t really care about those things. As long as it had decent academics and was in the D.C. area, I was good.

I came to school incredibly sheltered. Suburbia will do that to you. I grew up in D.C., and I left a different person. GW played a big part in that. So did my friends. And my professors. But, mostly? It was living in that city. On my own. For the first time ever.

I moved back home after I graduated, and had no intention of going back to D.C. Really. I loved the city, but after four years I thought I’d soaked up all I could.

Well, I changed my mind. I found myself strangely nostalgic. Being back home was different. I didn’t want to live with my parents for the rest of my life (for obvious reasons), and, as much as I like Philly, I was craving something else. Plus, it was springtime, aka cherry blossom season. No, I’m serious, that was kind of the impetus for this whole thing. I added D.C. Craigslist to my job search rotation, and applied for (and received) a position that sounded amazing.

So, yeah, long story short, I’m going back to my old stomping grounds. It’ll be fun to experience the city in a completely different situation. And if I do eventually decide that D.C isn’t for me after all, that’s fine too. Nothing’s permanent. If this doesn’t work out, so what? I’m young, I can do whatever and try whatever I want. And I’m so excited to see what happens.

A (Very Exciting) List

1. I accepted a job offer

2. In Alexandria, Virginia

3. I have two weeks to wrap up my life in Philly and move to D.C.

4. I’m making banana pudding for Easter tomorrow

Irish Soda Bread


It’s St. Patrick’s Day. I am neither Irish nor religious, but I do love to make food with a theme. And, of course, I am completely on board with a holiday that is synonymous with boozing.

Now, I’m no expert (as I base my definition on the contents of a car bomb), but I generally do not care for Irish booze. Jameson? I’d rather not. Guinness? Just can’t do it. Bailey’s is an exception, but there is no way I could consume enough spiked cream to get a good buzz happening. Ew.

And about the food. I’ve never really had authentic Irish food. This is especially sad considering I visited Dublin for a week during my semester in London. But what can I say? Food is expensive in Dublin! We made do with our free hostel breakfast (toast and cereal; not exactly a full Irish) and pb&j sandwiches. That was a fun week for my colon.

I wanted to make Guinness stew and Irish soda bread, but I absolutely refuse to buy an entire case of beer I cannot stand to drink. So…I just went with the soda bread. I don’t bake a lot of bread, mostly because of that whole yeast nonsense. But soda bread just uses baking soda (kind of obvious given the name, but I didn’t really put two and two together, so there’s that). I used this recipe, figuring Ina Garten would never let me down. She may not be Irish, but she is a goddess AND she has an MBA from my alma mater, so we’re basically bff and I trust her with my life.

Ina’s recipe calls for currants, but do you know how hard currants are to find in a regular grocery store? Ok, I didn’t really look that hard, but, yeah I couldn’t find them. I used raisins instead.

I wasn’t really sure how to score the top of the bread, but I think it came out looking alright. Shall we call this rustic? Also, I learned after slicing that you’re supposed to break the loaf up into four chunks along those score marks. Whatever. I’m not Irish, remember?

Right out of the oven, this bread was, um, not great. It was extremely dry and borderline tasteless. Again, I’m a complete newb, so that might be normal. I don’t know. Maybe it just needed some Guinness stew for dipping?

I did, however, have some for breakfast the next day, and it was so much better. The crust wasn’t so mouth-shreddingly crunchy, and the interior was dense and moist and vaguely scone-like. Maybe I just like my bread a little stale, but If I make this again I’ll be sure to bake it off the day before I plan on eating it. And I will most certainly be serving it with Bailey’s-spiked coffee. Obviously.

Friends With Kids

As an avid Parks and Recreation watcher (and a warm-blooded female…), it follows that I have a huge crush on Ben Wyatt, aka Adam Scott. I mean, how cute is he? Very. I’m not saying I saw the movie Friends With Kids solely because he plays the main male character, but it certainly helped get me to the theater. Unfortunately, that Ben Wyatt let me down in a big way.

The gist. Ben Wyatt and Jennifer Westfeldt play Jason and Julie, who are bff. Totes platonic, of course. All of their married friends start poppin’ out dem babies and fighting with each other and not having time to hang out anymore. WHAT? People with babies are busy? Thank you, Friends With Kids, for opening up my eyes!

And, although they don’t even seem to like their friends’ children all that much, Jason and Julie decide they want babies too, but they don’t want all the messy marriage dramz that comes with it. They decide to do the only logical thing and have a baby together without actually becoming a couple. Brilliant. What could go wrong? Nothing, not ever!

Ugh. Besides being predictable, this movie was just not funny. I wasn’t expecting anything amazing, but considering the cast is basically Bridesmaids revisited, I thought I’d at least laugh once or twice. But no. I was completely distracted by the dearth of chemistry between Ben Wyatt and Jennifer Westfeldt. As much as I love him on Parks and Rec, I really think he was miscast in this role. His character was supposed to be kind of a dick, but I didn’t buy it. He’s just so lil’ and…Ben Wyatt! The douchebaggery did not compute.


Friends With Kids: Miscellaneous Notes


  • Bridesmaids cast
  • Jon Hamm (and Ben Wyatt and Ed Burns)
  • Jason and Julie’s baby is unfairly adorable


  • Megan Fox as Megan Fox, essentially


  • Script is nonsensical (plot line is mediocre at best, but what really bothered me is the fact that Jason kept calling Julie “doll.” I cannot.)
  • Jon Hamm’s BEARD
  • Overuse of phrase “cavernous vagina”
  • Obligatory baby diarrhea

Overall: No. Save those dolla billz.