Much like weight gain, adult acne, and blunt bangs, my on-again/off-again relationship with online dating has been somewhat of a sore subject. A mix of self-loathing, vanity and the increasing realization that each day is one step closer to worm food has forced me into the vicious cycle of downloading, deleting, and re-downloading the same apps.
I’m not totally against the idea of online dating. I get the attraction. It’s hard to meet people as adults, especially given the year we’ve had. …
Whenever the subject of dating comes up, my mother is quick to remind me that she has kept my American Girl® doll, Samantha, in close to pristine condition for over 20 years.
God, I hated that doll.
To be fair, I hated most dolls when I was a kid. The absolute carnage of Barbie heads and limbs scattered across my bedroom floor made that pretty clear. Thus why Samantha, much like the Princess Diana Beanie Baby®, was to be admired from a distance. …
I work for a telephony company.
If you just read that word like you would “telephone” but then put a “y” at the end of it, welcome to my first day working at a telephony company.
“It’s pronounced tel-eph-ony” snipped my onboarding manager. And then he rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes! Like I had Alexander Graham Bell’s blood running through my veins. Like I had some nerve to not know how to pronounce a word I had just learned a mere second before being scolded.
Working at a telephony company means you will think about the telephone more than…
This Friday, my company made the call to force a mandatory WFH (work from home) policy across all our offices in response to COVID-19.
And while I appreciate the decision to put the safety of our team above anything else, I can’t help but be bothered. Not just because I didn’t get a chance to smuggle snacks out of the office (the avocados!!) but because I keep seeing the same WFH tips floating around the internet:
A little over two years ago, I made a decision to leave my 1,000 sq. foot, one-bedroom apartment with a screened-in porch, brand new appliances, in-ground pool, fitness center, and dedicated parking spot to share a two-bedroom apartment with a 40-year old woman that hung 13 eyeball paintings on the wall and told me that she once “accidentally” smoked crack.
That’s how much I wanted to live in SF.
Don’t get me wrong — I knew what I was signing up for (well, okay, not the crack story but everything else). I just needed to be here. When I would…
I’m 10, I’m hungry, and I’m alone in the kitchen. With the second shelf literally and figuratively out of my reach, I’m left with two options: peanut butter or tuna fish. And then it hits me.
If you like both separately, wouldn’t it stand to reason that combining them would only double your pleasure?
And without realizing it, I had just learned my very first lesson in Product Marketing:
To be fair, it’s so tempting to just go on your gut instincts. They’re your instincts. Trusting them is kinda the whole point.
But take my example above. Hey, peanut butter…
It occurred to me the other day that a pattern was emerging. Every single man I’ve ever met, dated, stalked, and sent to therapy seemed to harbor certain habits and/or belongings.
It was uncanny — like my impression of Britney Spears ordering a burrito from Chipotle.
The road trip had started innocently enough.
Just me and my friend driving across Pennsylvania to visit a local college. If you’ve never driven across Pennsylvania, I doubt this story is going to inspire you.
You’ll pass a river at some point, which you’ll confidently identify as the Susquehanna (not super confidently but…good enough), a few cows, and a lot of winding, curving roads.
So driving that green Taurus off the road really perked up the drive.
Okay so that’s not entirely true. I think the Taurus was closer to teal. Or turquoise. …
I exist as I am, that is enough. Also 🍕