Snowpocalypse 2018: A Reflection

Climate change is real, y’all.

Just gaze at this charming description of my region:

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It’s another Nor’Easter! My in-laws lost power but thankfully our old house (built in 1900) is somehow a bulwark never failing against storms (we nevah evah lose powah, kid). This week’s avalanche of death is being referred to as “Winter Storm Quinn,” which, honestly, for the 90s babies among us, is just kind of a bitchy move.


Because I am quite literally snowed in, here’s how I’ll be entertaining myself today:

fucking illegal this man should be. i’m going to have a stroke. i keep editing this caption because i have a palpitation every time i look down at this pic. see that chain? it’s dogtags. didn’t even know i had an army thing! but i guess, now that you mention it, milo as a vietnam vet in this is us
  • Catching up on The Resident. You have got to get into this show. Matt Czuchry is so hot in it that it should be a federal crime. He’s one of those Paul Rudd bastards that only gets hotter with age. It’s a travesty. He’s bringing Logan Huntzberger charm & daddy issues to the role, except, instead of a yuppie, he’s a fucking doctor who fought in Afghanistan and has tattoos. I rest my case. Also, apart from this insane digression about how much of a borderline unacceptable crush I have on the lead actor, the show is actually very good. Shaunette Renée Wilson from Black Panther is in the main cast, and she is a revelation.
  • Bingeing The Good Wife on Hulu because Czuchry is also in that, and I have no dignity or shame. Doctor Logan, Lawyer Logan.
  • HOW WAS YOUR WEEK IS BACK. This is not a drill. Jubees, Jimmy Jazz, and Ryan “Hot Lips” Houlihan are serving up the goods on a weekly basis. RIP Difficult People but Hallelujah to the return of the pod (sung like Mark Morrison).
  • Dis bitch be shoppin’. I can’t help but mindlessly window-shop to get the endorphins pumping. Madewell, Topshop, the usual suspects. The trick is just not hitting the checkout button, ya know?
  • A recent eppy of Throwing Shade, featuring Ronna Glickman (aka Jessica Chaffin) was absolutely incredible. Boston accents forever. I’m totally gonna buy Girl Scout Cookies from that woke-ass child.
  • It’s International Women’s Day, honey! I’m celebrating by building a shrine to this tweet from the incomparable Roxane Gay. If you don’t own/haven’t read everything she’s ever published, get the hell out of here and take care of that, will you?

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P.S. I just bought myself this jumpsuit as a consolation (Insiders, Muses, & Icons have a discount right now, nbd), so is it really all that bad? Also, think I snagged the last medium #sorrynotsorry.




October Musings

October’s arrival is the bell that tolls the reality of the fact that I’m getting married. In a year. And nothing is planned.

I may have mentioned this here before, but I’m not a “wedding-oriented” person. Or even an event-oriented person. I skip the company picnic and the school dance. I’ve always been more of a fringe character, someone who has delighted in observing rather than partaking.

This is different, though. Balancing social expectations with familial obligations with personal desires seems like a disaster in the making. How do I reconcile wanting a traditional bridal shower and getting all the gifts with NOT walking down the aisle, writing my own tear-inducing vows with potentially taking my husband’s last name? How do I reconcile my life-long passionate feminism with my legitimate desire for a life that enacts traditional gender roles?

My wedding has unofficially been dubbed “Indecision 2016” because it’s the only way I can describe it. I know what colors I want to incorporate into the décor, but I don’t know when the hell this event is even going to take place. September? November? Tomorrow? Never?

I’m so fortunate that every day, even in my worst moments, I can glance at my left hand and know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am loved, valued, and protected. All I want is an occasion that reflects the warmth and happiness I feel every day. The Wedding Industrial Complex doesn’t seem to promote the values that matter most to me.

My 8-year-old niece said, hilariously, tonight at dinner, “It’s her wedding, let her do whatever she wants!” As wonderful as that sounds, I wonder how authentic I can be to myself, when evil forces like “money” and “family” come into play.

I’m sure everything will work out. I’m determined not to get stressed out or become a Bridezilla.

How could anything that makes me this happy be bad?