Meaning that Louisa May Alcott, Janet Reno, Jane Austen, Coco Chanel and Oprah, all of whom never married, are losers. Queen Elizabeth the First. You’re a loser. Joan of Arc. Loser. Maureen Dowd. BIG FUCKING FIRECROTCH LOSER. Who has even heard of the New York Times, anyway?


you can’t be a queen if there is a king in the picture.


eros is bullshit: a poem

the theory that people

are always searching for

their other half is


don’t let anyone, not

even a god, tell you

you are anything less

than whole.

If you are reading this, you have survived your entire life up until this point.

You have survived traumas, heartbreak, devastation, the elements, different phases of life. And here you are.

You go, motherfucker. You’re awesome.


1. Party moderately, until moderation doesn’t suffice.

2. Party heavily until you can’t take it. 

3. Party a little more.

4. Somehow find your way back the next day.

5. Repeat.

When I was crying originally about nick bringing up the whole “ending things after Christmas” thing, McCall asked me a great question. If things work out down the road, would I consider moving somewhere solely because of him? I honestly think I would. Assuming nothing crazy or big happens between then and now, I feel like I am confident enough in us that we would work it out if given the right time and place. I guess after this week I will hopefully know more, but from this side, I would like to think that it works out.