It took a while for me to get used to posting pictures of myself, but I quickly learned that people will scroll past blocks of text. I’m a writer. I don’t exist if you don’t read me.
Soon a girl’s menstruation party will include gift certificates for Botox along with her first tampons. You’re never too young to fear aging.
I’d like to see a nightly news program performed by the Sesame Street characters. Having plush puppets deliver the news could reduce my anxiety.
I assumed the word cupidity had something to do with Cupid, that plump little angel who pierces our hearts arrows of love. But Cupid has a dark side.
Why would I want to live to be 165 in a world where my iPhone doesn’t work and all my friends are dead?
There weren’t enough hours in the day to process my life story, and it spills over into the dark when my dreams should be power washing my brain.
I should have chum controls on my browser with a pop-up box that warns, “Don’t You Have Something Better To Do?”