I spent eight years of my life in Los Angeles going to college, falling in love, and enacting all of the insecure “what do I want to do with my life?!” agony that a young twenty-something faces. After college I went to school for make-up artistry in Burbank, and spent lots of days in a hot room with other girls who liked lipstick. We learned how to do makeup for every occasion, and then we learned how to make realistic bullet holes and third degree burns. I worked as a photographer, taking head-shots of other insecure twenty-somethings trying to make it in Hollywood. I worked as a teacher. That was my favorite job. Kids are never boring. Ever. […]
In an effort to make fall arrive here in California, I’ve been consuming pie as if it were some sort of fork to face rain-dance.
Really, it’s just something I’m trying out for the greater good. I will eat pie for breakfast in the name of chunky sweaters, and tall boots, and the California drought. I’ll happily open my pie hole for dessert, in the hopes of bringing a changing of the leaves, crisp fall air, hot toddies, and the right to stop sweating. Please, someone… anyone… turn off my armpit glands. I know this isn’t “healthy” to do, but since it’s divine intervention I’m asking for, I figure you can find a way to divinely redesign this girl’s pits so they’re no longer weeping under the weight of pie baking in summer temperatures. Speaking of my armpits– did you all catch episode seven of The So…Let’s Hang Out Podcast? It’s a doozy. […]
A few things are happening right now…
For starters, I heard this rumor that fall started. But, as we know from lengthy complaints in previous blog posts, IT’S STILL REALLY HOT OUTSIDE. Like, the sun is trying to kill the earth…or, at least the Californians.
I get it. We’re a bunch of smug farmer’s market-loving, yoga pants-wearing, can’t get enough green juice, drive like total dicks when it’s raining, flip-flops in winter sporting, yes-I-can-still-purchase-strawberries-in-September, “I’ll take my Double Double protein style” buttholes. We understand. But, I’m not going to stop complaining currently. Probably because I’m a participating member of said California Butthole Club. Also, because the hills around my house are so dry, it feels as if everything will turn to Grapes of Wrath in a hot second if a hiker sneezes. That small “atchoooo” might be all that stands between us and an epic Steinbeck-worthy dust bowl. I really don’t want to be around for the Steinbeck-appreciation sequel titled The Grapes Get Wrathier. I already had to use Cliff’s Notes on the first book. Don’t tell my high school English teacher. Even though, I think he knew. They always know. […]
You guys!! We’re back on the air this week, talking about all the things you probably don’t need to know, and maybe a a few things you do. But, before I dive into the notes, this is the part where I ask you oh so kindly if you’ll do us a solid and rate us or write us a quick review on iTunes. We’d be forever grateful. Seriously. Like, if we had one of those fancy walls where we write people’s names who are important, we’d write your name on it. […]