The other day on TV, I saw a commercial for a contraption that launches dog bacon cookies into the air and all the actor dogs were so happy catching them in their mouths, so a half hour ago I tossed my dog’s bacon cookie at him and it bounced off his head and went very far under the fridge.

“..slowly, and then all at once.”

what torments her? i love this music video.


 It was odd being able to touch the ceiling. I had already slid my pointer finger across it, drew invisible letters that spelled out my name. Around me, unfamiliar, blanketed figures filled the other bunks. Their outlines rose and fell gently, their breaths deep and steady, like the sound you listen for to see if someone’s faking.

 I laid timidly for a few minutes that first morning. I think I felt weird because the bed was squeaky. My plan was to climb down the ladder like a ninja without making any noise and irritating the others. But what I really wanted was to just jump off and rush out to see everything I could before the cosmos realized this opportunity wasn’t meant for me, that there had been a giant mix-up. I thought traveling was for the luckier ones, but somehow, it was I who was sitting there, glancing over at my Reebok shorts, my sports-bra, my tank top, all hanging from a bed post 8,000 miles away from the white, wooden one at home. 

For me, running’s a divine mystery. It’s an unexplainable means to a broader perspective, refueled rationale, a glorious, badass surge of assurance, which I adore. In a couple hours, my friend would wake up with an agenda of fascinating tours planned, visits to exquisite shrines of Kings, sacred grounds, palaces of the royals , and I’d be quite happy to join, but I’ve always been most charmed by those who are, like myself, sort of unremarkable. So on that first morning in Siem Reap, I padded down the pavement, panting, dying, baking, envisioning their storylines from behind tinted lenses.

Blue, rectangular street signs marked each block. Their use of the French word, “rue” offered a glimpse into Cambodia’s history. Children addressed me as, “Madame,” stretched their arms and cupped their hands together. Some easy-going guys, all kicked back in their tuk-tuks, popped up their heads and a few fingers to see what my deal was, but I didn’t need a ride then.

 I was nervous in that new place, and nervous to cross the street, so I waited until I could shadow a local to the other side.  I saw girls my age weaving their scooters through the road with kids on their hips. I thought about them learning to drive one of those things, maybe during their eleventh year, I supposed. I wondered if we’d be friends, if I’d be confident zigzagging through the road, had I grown up there. I wished that I could ask them questions, that I could communicate with sentences, a gracious exchange, my timely wit.

I wanted to peel back the layers of every lovely, intricate individual around me, and understand their reality in an instant. I wanted to be immediately braver, more involved, all-knowing, multilingual. But I was only a curious girl at the beginning of her trip, buying water from a family at a tiny outdoor shop, speculating about the mattress and TV lying just beyond their cooler.

A few feet away from my hostel, a group of adolescent monks stood chatting and I couldn’t even believe it, so I held back from snapping a picture.They were glancing at me, then back at each other, then back at me. These kids were robed in orange, whispering, roughhousing, giggling and then I knew why.

 I pulled off my sunglasses and the smallest one shouted, “Where are you from?” then ran away victoriously. This caused the others to turn around and give him a bunch of shit, and me to walk away knowing I’d go on to discover some more of  the delightful similarities, maybe rooted in human nature, that prove how lives from opposite sides of the planet can parallel in some adorable, underlying ways, but I just hadn’t realized it before.image

"How is it possible that his first name is worse than his last?"

- Jimmy Kimmel 

“Oh, that grace. Oh, that body. Oh that face makes me wanna party.”

Lena Del Rey

you guys watch 20/20 last night?

Last night I watched 20/20 with my dog and it was about two people getting conned by fortune tellers. So one lady was told by the fortune teller that she should write a check for 30,000 dollars and give it to said fortune teller, who claimed she would give it back in a month.  So, victim number 1 did that (again, “that” being, write a check for 30,000 dollars and give it to a stranger).  Shockingly, the fortune teller was fibbing and unable to be contacted after their meeting. I can’t believe it.

The other victim was also told by his fortune teller to hand over a bunch of money, but this guy didn’t have any money. So, he followed the fortune teller’s directions and made up stories to his mother in order to get some money. His lies worked, and his mother lent him money from her retirement savings, which he then gave to the fortune teller, who said she’d give it back. Right, so, okay, at this point it’s still painful to hear, but maybe understandable. Then we learned that this guy continued lying to his mother for two years, (that’s like 730 days or something), wiping out all of her savings, which was over 900,000 dollars, and all of which he gave to the fortune teller, who hadn’t given him anything back over the course of 2 years, but was still insisting that she would.  Come on, guy. Like, no way. Are you kidding me?

Both these people said they were experiencing vulnerable times in their life, so I wanted to be open minded and I tried, but I kept coming back to thinking, like—-No, wait, you really did that?—-But they were likable people on TV and by the middle of the episode had all my sympathy. Anyway, some private investigator or lawyer or something worked really hard and got them back their money and I was relieved to hear it. Then at the end of the episode, someone sort of like, warned the audience against ever getting conned this way, and I totally seriously thought to myself how thankful most viewers must have been for the advice because otherwise we’d probably all be giving our paychecks to psychics. 

20 Promises to my Best Friend


So this morning I went to Starbucks to get a cup of the most glorious form of liquid to ever be a real thing and I read this article on Thought Catalog called, “27 Promises to my Best Friend” and it was definitely cute. I liked it, but I decided to write my own, and base it loosely on that article. Only because I loved the idea and it sounded super fun for a little morning proj, but I wanted to make a list that was really true, like so honest. I mean, without the cheesy “I’ll always hold your hair back when you’re throwing up” type stuff. Cause when people are sick, really they’re just like, get the fuck away from me and close the door. But I did keep a few of the same points, like my first one, which I thought was so brilliantly true.

1. I am the greatest version of myself when I am laughing in the passenger’s seat of your car.

This is my favorite type of statement. It’s so simple. That seat’s comfortable as hell cause you can say whatever you want and you laugh so hard there. You order iced coffees at a drive through and take a gander inside the glove compartment to see if there’s some car manual in there, like how there is in yours. You put the windows down or up or talk about the shape of a cloud or a decision that affects your entire future and you fucking try on glasses or something to decide together if they suit you. I don’t know, I just fucking love that spot.


2. I will babysit your future children if I have a job that allows me time for that, but I imagine I may be doing something that takes up a great deal of time, so you may need a babysitter. I’ll help you interview them (if I have time).

3. If you choose not to have children, I will never let you feel that the decision which made you happiest and is right for you, has deemed you any bit inferior, in any way, now or ever.

4. I will continue sending you selfies for help picking an outfit.

5. I’ll continue to tell you really personal shit and I will continue to sometimes do this in sketchy ways. So maybe I’ll be really serious when I’m revealing something really serious. Other times, it’ll be through a text followed by you calling and me not answering, and sometimes I’ll be sitting across from you, leaning back in my seat without so much as a change of tone, as if we’re discussing Pretty Little Liars or whatever.

6. I won’t ever expect a certain, correct reaction or perfectly arranged words from you after anything I say. Promise promise promise.

7. If you get arrested, that would be really fucking weird dude because I feel like we’re way too old for that. But, I’ll bail you out and then expect repayment ASAP, unless I have somehow become really rich by this point, and depending on how much bail would cost me. Also, I’d want to know who you were with and I promise I will never let you hang out with those tacky fuckers ever again.

8. You can continue explaining to me your personal stuff, without ever having to remind me not to tell anyone cause that shit is for seventh graders.

9. Discussing/ googling strange terms at an awkward age is not cute and is not meant for the interwebs, so I won’t write about it, or even bring it up in real life because we don’t want to reminisce about that.  

9. I’d die if I saw you post an ambiguous, revengeful facebook status or a cheesy quote on instragram or something.

10. Distance will never matter so (insert really overused but very true sentences about how distance doesn’t matter) and let’s get ready for Friday nights with wine over skype if we’re in the same time zone.

11. I’ll continue to ask you questions and have wonderful conversations about the topics that mean a lot to you, but I will never pretend to be passionate about something just because you are, and I expect the same in return. Let’s continue being genuine regarding the causes that we care about, and never being showy about topics just to please other people, cause I think that’s how we know ourselves so well and I think that’s a big part of why we’re so happy all the time.

12. Usually I’ll come early to your get-togethers.

13. I don’t know what I’d do if you became one of those people who are too proud to ask questions when she has one or too cool to become excited about something that seems like old news to other people. Yes I do, I would die. I’d die. I wouldn’t even know you. Don’t let that happen and I promise I won’t either.

14. I’ll never be preachy or condescending to you because oh my god, there’s maybe nothing worse than that and you’d probably start avoiding me, and that would be TERRIBLE, but still not worse than preachy and condescending.

15. If you were planning on getting a really ugly haircut or something, I’d try to steer you away from the idea in the beginning, but if your heart was still set on it, I’d just be like, fuck it, whatever, yeah go for it, but still knowing that it will look shitty, cause there’s really only so much I’m gonna do in that situation, ya know.

16. You can ask me how your outfits look and I will be honest in the best way. By this I mean that I can tell you when something isn’t working and leave you feeling like a supermodel It’s a gift. I do this all the time, and I’m really good at it. Actually, always ask me how your clothes look because answering that question should be my profession. That is how perfectly I answer. And you can borrow my stuff if you want.

17. I usually won’t ask you to share drinks, because germs.

18. I will borrow your make up as much as possible because mine sucks.

19. I’ll be the person who tries really hard to stop your inevitable negative body talk and together we will try to remember how studies/important people say those conversations are totally bad for us, and we will try to redirect it.  

20. When I come over to visit, I’ll secretly hope that you have lots of extra pillows because I sleep with so many, but I won’t be like, devastated, if you don’t.


by Brittany Bulens
LC!!! LC!!!

If you could spend a night with any three public figures…

My friends were talking about this on Facebook: if you could spend a night with any three public figures. 

I’d drink a little before meeting up with them, but not too much because I have lots of questions and stuff. We’d go to a restaurant. I picture it being just a normal place, like nothing fancy and expensive. No tablecloths or anything. We’d sit at a booth.

It would have a really long bar and lots of beer on tap. I think that for this occasion, I’d drink a really delicious beer, like black & tan, or the kind with floating blueberries, or anything dark, maybe a cinnamon rim. I know I’d be too excited to eat. Actually, I wouldn’t even want the night to be labeled “going out for dinner.” It’d be more like one of those times when you call your friends about ‘”getting drinks later.”

I know that I’d want to wear my favorite dress and headband and stuff, but I wouldn’t even pretend to know a lot about wine, and cocktails and all that, because I’d just really want to be genuinely enjoying the experience. Since we’d only have one night, I’d make sure that every single thing I did or said was to make those fleeting moments the most delightful for me as possible, and not an attempt to appear some certain way in front of three famous people. That would be really important to me, but I think I’d have to remind myself of it a few times because I imagine that in that situation, your natural instinct is to try to fit in.

But you know that idea everyone has about the way girls treat each other, being kind of spiteful and backhanded, sort of driven by jealousy? It’s not something I’ve learned to be true. Maybe it’s a theory that makes movies and books more interesting, but doesn’t tend to happen all that often in real life. That’s why I think all of us would have so much fun on this night.  

I have no idea how our personalities compare, but four girls sitting in a booth, drinking their own personal favorite choice of beverage, wearing their best headbands will talk and talk and laugh and accidentally become way too loud, then realize it, and laugh and talk and talk until last call.  I’d probably do the most question asking. Who knows though because I’d bet we’d all have curiosities about one another’s lives. I think girls love girls. They especially love highlighting each other’s finest qualities in really honest ways. They love hushing their voices to tell stories that probably wouldn’t be appropriate in another setting. And I think the three I chose would end up loving my company.




Two Tickets to See Louis C.K.


There’s a song called “Short Skirt/Long Jacket”. I changed the lyrics. My version is called “Two Tickets to see Louis C.K.”

I want a guy with a mind stunning like bioluminescent phytoplankton
I want a guy who knows how to drive a stick
I want a guy with extra sweats for me to spend the night in
And eyes so familiar that from a large crowd, he I can right away pick

I want a guy with one tangible thing in his top drawer that’s sentimental
Who’s fast and furtively gentle
And candid as a sailor
He’s playing pickup games on unofficial pavement
He’s absorbing my vulnerable statements
He’s joking with our waiter

I want a guy with two tickets to see Louis C.K.

I want a guy who likes talking over the crickets when it’s almost dark in July
I want a guy who I can lay beside when his plans have gone awry
I want a guy with playlists for the highway, the brains to appreciate innocence
Who uses heady words from the driver’s seat to corrupt me in an instance

With laughter that’s refreshing like when waves wash away
And a voice that’s warm when the sky starts tinting blue, early on a winter day

He is faster than I am and he is forgiving
And sometimes he doodles on a leaflet
I put my face really close to his during a commercial
And explain to him a secret

I want a guy with two tickets to see Louis C.K.

I want a guy who will get up to turn off the light when we ought to get some shut eye
I want a guy who will pipe down during CSI
At a cab stand we will meet, of which city I’m not sure
We’ll start to talk when he believes a comment on the Pats game will help him score

He wears a white t-shirt when he sleeps, talks about visiting San Francisco
He wants a ride that will get him there
He’s into video games, says he’s experienced a silent disco
He’s the type to play fair

I want a guy with two tickets to see Louis C.K.