No good deed.

I spent my evening last night handing out coffee and donuts to students taking and/or studying for finals. It was greatly appreciated by most of the students who stopped by my table, and I felt good doing something nice for them. I mean, I know first-hand how essential carbs are to academic success (that's why I gained so much weight in college). But, then, some "law school student" showed up and quickly ruined my night.

It started out okay. He and the woman he was with talked about how excited they were for commencement. I was excited for them, too. Then, they starting talking about how they went to a masquerade ball hosted by the university and everything went down hill from there. Law Bro quickly whipped out his phone to show us pictures of himself and his three dates... because he is so amazing that he carries three women around with him. This reminded him of his experience "representing" playboy bunnies, which he proved by showing us pictures of himself with more women. Isn't he so cool, you guys?

I very rapidly and instinctively looked away and started a conversation with someone else while my male coworker jumped in to talk to Law Bro. This offended Law Bro. Oh, you're not impressed? Well I don't want to talk to you anyway.

At that point I tried very hard to ignore him but he got louder and louder, name dropping all the people he's "represented" including, but not limited to, Mark Wahlberg and Slash. I probably don't know who Slash is, though, because I probably just watch Desperate Housewives. Or maybe he said Real Housewives. Either way, I continued to ignore him while screaming in my head.  Little do you know, I don't even have cable, mother fucker, so suck on that. 

Overall, it was a pretty horrific display of insecurity thinly masked by aggressive pomposity, and I was just a bitch for not being impressed by it. In fact, I was "just like every other woman" he knows. I can't imagine why that would be.

On living alone.

Truly, living alone is the best thing I've ever done for myself. I wake up [almost] every morning feeling ~too blessed to be stressed~. However, there are some occasional moments when I really wish I had a roommate, friendly neighbor, boyfriend (???) to help me live. These moments include:

• When the smoke alarm goes off at 5 in the morning because I have to change the batteries for the THIRD TIME in less than a year. This is not normal, right? 
• When the smoke alarm is too high to reach, even when I stand on a chair.
• When I fall off that chair, and acquire a bruise that has lasted over 1 week and makes me look like TRAILER TRASH.
• When I make myself a casual bacon and blueberry pancake-for-one breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning and set off the M-F smoke alarm that I STILL CAN'T REACH AND WAVING A BROOM DOESN'T HELP EITHER AND I'M REALLY SORRY, NEIGHBORS, BUT YOU SHOULD GET SOME EARPLUGS.
• Fuck smoke alarms*, for real.
• When it suddenly becomes 97 degrees in Boston and I can't put my air conditioner in on my own without killing myself and/or whomever may be standing below my window, most likely one of the drunk homeless people who spend all day smoking cigarettes in my courtyard.
• Basically whenever I have to reach or lift things. 
• After I get off the phone with AT&T "customer support" and sink into a deep, rage-filled depression.
• And, of course, all those times I'm feeling wicked sexy:

Amen.

*Editor's note: In college, I owned a cell phone that required me to name all my alarms. In other words, whenever my alarm went off, a message also appeared on the screen. I'll never forget the time I went on vacation with my friend's family and her dad woke up to my phone ringing and flashing the words "FUCK ALARMS". 

Miss me?

Oh hey, you guys. Here I am.

You may or may not have noticed that I haven't blogged in a while. It's not that I haven't had experiences worth writing about; it's just that I am increasingly more lazy every day. I've channeled the little energy I have into writing jokes that I keep to myself, hidden on the Notepad app on my iPhone. Occasionally, I share those jokes with small groups of strangers, in small spaces, late at night, usually on Wednesdays.

Here are some other things I've done over the past few months:

• Ran into Robert Kraft in DC:

• Practiced magic:

• Sat on the beach:

• Sat in my apartment (a lot).
• Read books:

• Ate donuts every Friday.
• Tried to stay away from facebook because it's full of shit like this:

What the actual fuck?

• Played games at Improv Boston:

• Nearly threw up from laughing at North Coast:

• Basked in the glory of Spring in Boston

• Went on the scariest date of my life.
• Quit dating for the 1 millionth time.
• Took selfies with my cat:

• Assembled furniture, while drunk, at midnight.
• Fell off a chair at 5 in the morning trying to fix my smoke alarm.
• Recognized that I could literally die alone.

Maybe I'll write about one of these things in more detail sometime soon. Maybe I wont. Maybe I should officially retire from blogging. You tell me. 

Hunger Games

I just said to my boss, "I gotta go see about a cookie."

I didn't intentionally quote Good Will Hunting - I really had to go see about a cookie because I wasn't sure if a cookie even existed at the dining hall, which is where I was going. It did, and it was peanut butter, and it was amazing, for the record.

Anyway, this all made me think about how, if my life were ever turned into a romantic comedy, it would be a long, drawn-out tale of my dramatic love affair with food, and the final scene would be me running through Chicago O'Hare airport to get a bag of Garretts Popcorn right before my flight departed. JUST IN THE NICK OF TIME.

I'm hungry, you guys. I'm sort of always hungry, actually. I started making smoothies for breakfast recently and everyone I have told has been like, "Don't they keep you full for so long?!" And I'm like, "What is 'full'?"

I always thought smoothies were kind of bullshit because I like to chew my food. Because I'm only 28 and I still have all my teeth and one day I will be forced to drink all my nutrients but today is not that day, so hand over a cookie! But for real, smoothies are actually pretty good. When followed by real food, at least.

So, yeah, hunger. Whenever I'm out with someone and they say, "Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?" I'm like, Yes, of course. I always want to eat. Who would say no to that? I guess people who, like, don't always feel hungry(???). Or people who think not eating is cool. I remember in college when I'd go out with a bunch of girl friends and they wouldn't order food because they, quote, "weren't hungry" and then when my meal arrived, they'd be like "mm can I just, like, have a bite?" Nope, fuck you, you're not hungry. That's what I would say.

I didn't bring enough food for lunch.  That's what this post is about.

50 Shades of Starving

Confession: I saw 50 Shades of Grey... and it was precisely how I thought it would be. In fact, my preemptive review was spot on, so I don't have any more to say about it on the feminist front (you're welcome). I will say that it was entirely too long, but I feel that way about almost every movie. In general, the only reason I go to the movies is because someone asks me to, or because I want an excuse to drink a gallon of Diet Coke.

YOU'RE ALL JUDGING ME ABOUT EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW. WHATEVER.

Anyway, overall, the sex was pretty tame, which could be because they wanted to be able to show the movie in mainstream theaters; but, nevertheless, if that's all I have to do to get someone to buy me a car and a laptop [and pay my student loans], then by all means, I'll sign a contract! Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding. Sort of.

When Anastasia revealed that she was a virgin, I exclaimed "jackpot!" because I couldn't hold back, because I had to combat that cliche somehow, because I came here to be entertained, god damn it. What the movie lacked (substance, plot, character development, quality), I made up for with my internal monologue: 

• Why aren't they ever eating anything? So many delicious items gone to waste -- that perfect-looking muffin, surprise business meeting sushi. You guys are selfish and ungrateful and I'm starving!
• Her laptop is broken, so he buys her a new one. Her car is old, so he buys her a new one. BUT SHE'S STILL USING A FUCKING FLIP PHONE, YOU GUYS.
• If this was my fantasy put on film, Christian would be a lot hotter and probably more manly. Then  again, I guess he is only 27. 27 and a billionaire. WTF am I doing with my life?
• What's happening to his accent? Is he Irish now? Is that part of the mystery? Are we going to find out his true nationality in part 3?
• This dude is so boring, though. You're so rich, and you mostly just sit at home, listening to opera, pouring expensive wine AND NOT DRINKING IT? Next. 
• The worst thing he'd ever do is not that bad, but that might be because they removed "anal fisting" from the contract. But wait a minute...  she never signed the contract! And he's still not fisting! I  guess Christian Grey is just a nice guy deep down. A nice guy with a dark past! What happened Christian? Just kidding, don't tell us. This movie is too long as it is. 
• You guys, but why don't they eat anything? I guess you're never hungry if you're getting all your satisfaction in the red room. Next month's Cosmo's dieting tip will surely be, "Replace one meal a day with light bondage."
• I didn't buy a big enough bag of popcorn for this.

Jokes aside, it really is a story about an abusive relationship, not even considering the sex parts. But on the bright side, the movie doesn't glorify this kind of relationship because it is so SO bad that the only thing one could take away from it is that it is so so bad. It's like the soft-core porn version of Sharknado. You watch it to laugh. And post on twitter.

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The Winter of Discontent

Everyone in Boston is outrageously pissed about the weather. If you want to know how they feel, just stand in their general vicinity. Strangers will start complaining to you in the locker room about how terrible their lives are as the result of snow. Please, please stop talking to me A) because I don't care, B) because I don't know you, and C) because you're literally naked right now. Put on some clothes and go away from me.

I'm having an OK time this winter since I keep getting days off from work, have a pound of bacon in my fridge, and don't own a single thing of value that I would have to shovel out.  Enjoy your homes and cars, people! I'm sitting pretty in my managed apartment in rat city. Loves ya.

Now let's play a game:

Kill: Cupid... because he aint done shit for me.

Marry: Mother Nature... because it will literally shower you with attention.

F: The MBTA... because I always go for men who are unreliable and distant.

Your turn. 

Nature's pocket, etc.

Hey guys, I exist! I just haven't really cared about writing, or anything that requires much effort, lately. Living alone is wonderful, but it is also severely demotivating. All I ever want to do is lay around and watch TV and maybe sometimes read (but mostly watch TV). Comedy Central now has a Chromecast app, so that's taken up most of my free time. On that note, if you' don't watch Broad City, we can't be friends.

Speaking of comedy, I've been spending a lot more time on it these days. I started taking an improv class earlier this month and it is so fucking fun. I don't envision myself becoming an improv actor (?) in the future, but spending 2 hours a week laughing with strangers is a pretty good use of time. Especially when you consider that the rest of my time is spent alone, eating with my cat.

Just kidding, you guys, I have friends, I swear!

I have some really great friends, in fact. A number of them came out to see me do stand-up at my very first open mic night last week. It was a pretty terrifying experience, or at least, the time leading up to going on stage was. I basically just sat there and panicked and sweated (?) until they called my name. This particular open mic was "lottery style", which means you are selected at random to go on stage, so you can see how that would be nerve-racking. 

So flattering. So visible.

Also, the gender gap at this open mic night was REAL. Out of 20+ comics, only 2.5 of us were women. No, there was not a hermaphrodite comedian (as far as I know), but the 3rd female comic only got through half of her bit. More on that later...

Of course, the other female comic goes up before me and starts talking about feminism. I start panicking even harder because, like, that's all I ever talk about, you know? I mean, I probably should have expected that, since feminism is cool now, but I didn't, so I worried that everyone there would think I was copying her, or worse, that they'd think every female comedian is the same. I expressed this fear to Meredith who accurately responded, "Every male comedian is the same. Every guy here has gone up and talked about his dick." So. That happened. But don't worry, I balanced it out by talking endlessly about my VAGINA. 

Anyway, I thought I did pretty well. People laughed. People laughed at me and my period. Did you know my period could be funny? Did you WANT to know that? Now you do.

Later in the night, the other female comedian got up. She started out fine, but then she never got to her punch line. Instead, she yelled at everyone about how she's NOT A FEMINIST, OKAY?! SHE HAS HER OWN OPINIONS, OKAY?! WHATEVER, YOU ALL SUCK, OKAY?!?!?!  I was actually scared for a while. 

Comedy aside, I hope she later reconsidered her thoughts and decided to join our cause. We're here for you, girl!

Beyonce SOTU

Last night, I live tweeted the State Of The Union using only Beyonce quotes. In case you missed it, here is what the president said:

When he talked about paid maternity leave:

When he talked about equal pay for women:

When he talked about raising wages in general:

When he talked about making community college cost zero dollars:

When he mentioned Instagram:

When he talked about fighting terrorism:

When he talked about sanctions: 

When he talked about global warming:

When he talked about closing Gitmo:

When he said something about Americans being good people or whatever:

When he talked about making America better:

When he said something about equality again:

When he said, "I know, I won both of them":

Things I learned one night a few weeks ago.

2015.

2014 was kind of stupid, considering all the awful things that happened nationally and, more importantly, how I missed half of the Beyonce show this summer. Good riddance, is what I have to say to 2014. It was a pretty good year for a lot of my friends, though, so that's nice. My Facebook year-in-review or whatever was mostly just pictures of me at other people's weddings. I basically spent the year celebrating other people's achievements. Good job, guys!  I am genuinely happy for you. But, I'm going to try to make 2015 more about me, which should come easily since I'm self-absorbed. I'll let you know how it goes, of course. 

My new year's eve was supremely interesting and also fantastic, and I hope it's an omen for the rest of the year. I performed stand up at my friend's party for the first time in my life and it felt pretty good and I didn't throw up at all. It made me want to do it again and soon. And maybe when that happens I'll actually tell people about it ahead of time, but probably not because I care way more about what my friends think about me than what strangers do. 

Why stand up when you can sit down? 

On that note, one of my new years resolutions is to not make any more friends. Sorry. I have so many friends, great friends, and I don't need any more. Especially male friends. Literally aint got time for that. Like, don't talk to me unless you're going to date me. I can watch football alone and prefer to, actually. 

I do need at least one of my friends, male or female, to go to Iceland with me. That's my other resolution - take the Game of Thrones tour in Iceland and see where Jon Snow lost his virginity.

$99 flights starting in March. Just saying.