do you ever do the New York Times crossword puzzle with the auto check turned on and you get to that one word that’s missing that one letter and you go through the entire alphabet three times trying to figure out what the missing letter is because the word is something like “rondos” and sure your vocabulary is healthy but good god you have never heard of a rondo because apparently it’s a musical term and you’re deaf. Also, yes, the puzzle was 98% complete and I still couldn’t figure it out.

The realization of being able to apply self tanner with abandon because no one will see my streaky legs has me shook.

Frolicking in the fields of a secret commune is looking pretty good right about now.

Whispering to my overgrown monstera as I click buy on moss pole supplies: “we’re going to get through this together.”

Be - extra - B-E- BE - EXTRA.

How to succeed in business while smeezin.

puns akimbo.

today I learned about the Pouch of Douglas, which made me wonder how many other female body parts are named after men. This is as prime an opportunity as any to mansplain to me, guys.

I will grow velour french beans in my kitchen even if it kills me.

Does my braid make my nose look big. You may answer with only “yes”.

Googles “how to dye hair beige.”

Therapist note: overcompensates for hair with frames.

If May wants to be moody, it’s fine. I’ll dress for the occasion.

Upholstery trim is the new fetishwear.

feeling the tablecloth-as-dress vibe for a summer of less-than-plentiful social interaction which begs the question: if I wear the dress and the world only sees it in a tiny picture box, will the dress strangle me in my sleep because it didn’t get enough attention? Should I just burn everything? I can just wear bike shorts instead? I’d say share your thoughts on this gripping saga of anthropomorphized clothing but I’ve been vapid enough for all of us so don’t worry about it.

I’ll be my own male gaze, thank you very much.

When you have a headache and the world is supposed to know about it.

When my hair extensions are the closest thing to human contact I’ve had in a week.

Just checking to see if my off screen assistant (air) is still there.

that feeling when you prematurely cut open an avocado.

tahini makes emotions run wild.

That feeling when you’re prepared to dress for the blackout but you’ve run out of candles.

WWD declares Victorian rituals of mourning all the rage for fall 2020. Getting a head start on the summer with turn-of-the-century prostitute aesthetic.

The recipe calls for almond flour? What if I told you I used... cashew... flour?

Nothing comes between me and whatever-these-are-because-my-bum-is-too-round-for-Calvins.

And then the hay fever hit.

Isolation-induced delusional time travel starter pack aesthetic = photoshop noise filter/saturation x (joan baez + palo santo + reformation bridesmaid dress)

No, YOU’RE a spaghetti squash.

The art of letting yourself go- a memoir in isolation | chapter 1: ditch the razor.

Can I interest anyone in some roasted radishes?

Welcome to the wild wild west - I mean wednesday.

I hope I remember how to dress appropriately for work in the CV A.D. times.

Me: sweating through attempt #37 of hitting the shutter button on my laptop while jumping lightly and also pointing my toes which ended up out of frame anyway - neighbor looking in my window: oh good she didn’t see me looking and thereby justifying her need for attention.

With dignity and grace, I confirm that knitting an i-cord for ten hours straight today was a dumb idea.

Be your own Man, Ray.

Is it gonna be May, though?

why does paying $11/month for the criterion channel make me want to whine and writhe on the floor like an exhausted 2 year old.

Lord send me a sign that I may take a zumba class without causing my floor to cave in or make my downstairs neighbor want to murder me thank you amen (I’ll watch for doves but pigeons work too).

Happy Passover | if a Jew eats leavened bread in isolation does a soufflé collapse somewhere?

There once was a raven haired maiden

Who wanted a river to wade in.

She upturned her eyes

Shook her first at the skies;

For the dust where she stood wasn’t laden.

what if I moved to LA and became a cop.

That feeling when you finally get through the unemployment site.