Category: List

Food Diary

So I guess you’ve heard. Hot young lady founders of trendy up-and-coming companies have started posting their food diaries for the likes of Elle, and Elle. Being a hot young lady founder myself, I thought I’d give you guys a little peek at my daily food journey.


I make every effort to wake up as close as physically possible to when I have to leave the house at 8am because I find that the heart-pounding excitement of showering in three minutes or less while largely unconscious is as good a morning work-out as any.


Occasionally, I’ll drink ardent gulps of water straight out of the detachable shower-head while I rinse the sleep gunk out of my eyelashes. Because I’m a multi-tasker.



Most days, breakfast is chewing gum and regurgitated stomach acid. A tradition lovingly passed down to me by my father, who learned it from his mother, and probably her mother before her, but we don’t know who that is. However, a rare excursion to far away Beaverton and a quaint little market Bazar the locals called “Kost-Co” had me coming home with two industrial-sized boxes of Nature Valley Protein Bars and Stretch Island Fruit Leathers, which I tend to slap back to back and devour in as few bites as possible while negotiating morning traffic and breathing at the same time. It’s this unique daily oxidizing process that keeps me looking youthful and feeling positive as I power-fuck the rest of my day.


On gum days, I stagger out of the office in a caffeine-induced haze. At this point I have about 27 seconds to shove a drive-through burger in my face before all that cold coffee I drank between meetings comes flying back into the world with such a violence that it adds yet another reason on the very long and exhaustively researched list of why I won’t be having my own biological children. What I’m trying to say here is that everything that comes out of me does so at the relative speed of a Spring Break t-shirt cannon these days.

I know the right answer would be to chew the food while I eat it, but that is just not going to happen with me ever.



If I’m fortunate enough to be driving from meeting to meeting, I chew another piece of gum while I drive. This helps with road rage. I keep the bag of partially eaten McDonald’s from lunch on the passenger side floor so that I can spit my gum into it while I’m parking at my client’s office. It’s really easy to do and it keeps your carpets from getting covered in gross gum.


I usually text back and forth with my partner regarding who has time to drive by Taco Bell, or whether or not Nut-Thins can go bad. Sometimes I get lucky and whatever work-thing I’m headed to at dinner time has free appetizers.


Multiple times between when we get home at 10pm and when we go to sleep at 1am, our 5-year old rat terrier, Pepper Martinez will demand to be let outside and then make us stand in the cold while she doesn’t potty because she is silently punishing us for not walking her enough. A fate we completely embrace because we deserve it. We are terrible dog parents.


At our house, togetherness is important, so we like to silently chew handfuls of gummy bears while watching Drunk History before falling asleep side by side on the couch.


Listerine is basically a sleep aid.

What does a feminist wedding look like?

No really. I’m asking.

So far I have:

  • No weird “taking cow to market” isle walking
  • No pronouncing “man and wife”
  • The less money given to the wedding industry the better
  • Pot Luck
  • Home made cake
  • Cheap dress
  • Bonus points if it’s a dress I already own
  • This is not “my day”
  • Because every day is my day
  • Because I run my own life
  • Because I’m a real person
  • With mostly equal rights

In lieu of gifts, guests can donate to Planned Parenthood.

I’m still going around in my head about the ring. Do I want a ring? The answer to that question is always yes. I like rings. Do I want to pay for a ring, or even know what I’d want such a ring to look like? The answer is no.

I have one ring that we call the vagina ring because it looks a little like an abstract vagina. It may be the most feminist option.

I don’t know about wearing it everywhere though. The little clitoris part looks kind of precarious.

Also, the whole ring as a marker of ownership bit is a pretty huge boner killer for me.

UPDATE: Ben still wants gifts. Back to the drawing board I guess.

Cute Boys from the Internet

Which Disney Princess Are You?

You are Stitch!


You’re a monster specially engineered for destruction, but there are times when you wonder if there’s more to life.


Friends describe you as “high energy.”


Some days you can’t imagine where they might get that idea.


You tend to have a lot of confidence about your body.


But you’ve dealt with criticism in other areas.



You have weird taste in friends.


But you’ll do anything for your family.


And that’s what matters.


Mother’s Day Gifts for Your Bad *Butch* Mom

Diamonds? Blech. Flowers? God Damnit.

Having trouble figuring out what to get your butch-as-fuck mama this Mother’s Day holiday?

Don’t worry, baby, I will take care of you. Welcome to your Mother’s Day shopping phantasmagoria, gurl.

Tie of the Month Club
Tie bar will send your mommy one tie a month for $199.

Classic Lesbian Fiction
Beebo Brinker, the iconic 1962 lesbian pulp novel can be delivered to your door in two days child.

A Model Car Kit
Every bad ass butch was once a little girl who was not allowed to play with model cars.

Pregnant Butch
Remember the good, if awkward times of your birth! Or, if you’re adopted, this can be a fascinating window into what if feels like to contribute to overpopulation.

The difference between being a child and being an adult is the difference between being sad to get socks as a gift and being fucking ecstatic. Sock dreams has an epic selection, free shipping anywhere in the US, and gift cards from $10 to $100.

Bad Bitch Mother’s Day Gifts for Your Bad Bitch Mom

Mother’s Day is no time to be vague, bitch.

If you happen to be the only person in our generation with money, this uterus necklace is a cool $440.

Make sure that a world of hurt comes down on any other fucker who tries to hug your fucking mom. Siblings included. Fuck those guys.

“Oh, thank you. My daughter bought me this shirt.”

Two words: Vulva. Mug.