My parents were very against me getting a job or even an internship in college - I was never an A student, and they were worried about my grades suffering if I had a job, and I didn’t need to work but did need to get good grades, so the thinking went. And then I got out of college and nobody ever asked about my GPA…

It’s the people who don’t acknowledge or understand how much they’ve been helped that I just don’t understand. Do these people not have ANY friends of different economic backgrounds than themselves? I’ve seen friends struggle with crushing student loans, driving cars that cost more to repair than they would to…

It’s even hard for people who know what it’s like, who should have a frame of reference - I’ve had at least 2 major depressive episodes, and still, sometimes, when certain friends just seem incapable of getting their shit together, even when they’re incapable in the exact same ways that I, myself, was incapable, I…

This is why I’ve been to the Metropolitan Museum in NYC ~16 times, but have only once had the time to see anything outside their Egypt exhibit - they have EVERYTHING on display, and it takes me so long to look at and read everything that by the time I’m finished, anyone else I’m with is desperate to leave.

I remember listening to a podcast about a woman who was trying to get her first writing job in the 80’s, and she had read Ms. magazine, but she’d never heard “Ms.” said out loud by a human voice, even to refer to a person. So in an interview that happens to be with one of Ms.’s founding editors (unsure which one) but…

Today I learned something about myself: I’d be willing to put off having sex for someone who was asexual or only sporadically sexual, but if someone was abstaining from sex for religious reasons I would be like “Lol no, we have to break up immediately.”

Cokie Roberts was on NPR this morning, and she said “As we’ve seen, facts don’t matter” in absolutely the most even-handed tone ever, and I had to reflect on the fact that I can’t even think those words without wanting to scream. Which is why Ms. Roberts is a journalist and I am an internet commentator.

I usually just eat huge bowlfulls of single leftover items in order of most-to-least-favorite: Stuffing, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, turkey, green beans.

Besides a more generous severance package, or maybe a boss who’s not a power-mad despot, I can’t really think of what the staff writers could possibly want.

I was in London for 2 months. 1 month in, I was riding the train with two other girls from my cohort, and they started talking about how it was half over, soon they could go home.

It is, but it’s a gamble, whereas I already know I like myself.

I mean, coming out of one’s privileged lily-white ivory tower with a silver spoon firmly clenched between your teeth to talk shit about a city that’s six times as big, endlessly more diverse, generally poorer, and still manages to be a cool place that people like to visit, move to, and work in, is not markedly better…

But bro, that’s why you make friends! Friends who you can abandon to their own devices when they get annoying, unlike anyone you brought with you who you’re morally obligated to make sure they get home safely!

She’s definitely wrong, as anyone who lives in D.C. could tell you - there’s more than half a million of us.

One of my friends is kind of scraping by on the west side of Manhattan, and she’s obsessed with brunch (going to brunch every weekend, looking for the best brunch deal all week) in a way that I didn’t understand until I realized it was like, the one nice thing she could afford to do each week.

I’m 30, and I love creamed chipped beef. I don’t have it that often, but it’s amazingly tasty for as bad as it can look.

I’m seeing visions of him pulling a Palin and leaving the job he took an oath to do when, in the fullness of time, it becomes undeniable that he’s not going to get to play Tonka Trucks in the sandbox with America.

Really the biggest ongoing issue in my life is the thing where I have limited time and money to travel, and I want to spend those visiting new places but I’m also rabid to go back to my favorite places again and again.

Bottomless brunch exists primarily so that people living in non-picturesque New York can temporarily invade the spaces inhabited at all times by Pinterest New Yorkers, and vomit on their stoops.

Okay so. You know those watermelons that the Japanese grow in Pyrex boxes so that they come out as cubes? That’s me. I’m the cuboid watermelon, D.C. is my Pyrex box.