Carly's Into That

At the end of 2017, like many of us, my body was not my own. After a whole month of Friendsgivings, work Thanksgiving, regular Thanksgiving, holiday happy hours, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Years Eve, and New Years Day, I was trapped inside a meat prison of my own making. You know the old anecdote about a parent who catches their teen with a cigarette, and makes them smoke a whole pack of cigarettes to learn their lesson? That was me, except I was both parent and teen, and the cigarettes were imported cheeses.

Finally, after 27.5 years on the planet, I had finally eaten enough cheese and carbs, and drank enough champagne, that I was ready to commit to at least 45 years of just lettuce and tap water. But since the “president” is going to blow the whole planet to smithereens WAY before then, I decided on a more realistic short-term goal: one month of semi-paleo “clean eating,” via the Whole30 program. “Gotta make a change! This is rock bottom!,” I said to myself, as Karma rubbed its hands together gleefully. Read More

Last year, almost to the day, I predicted that Christmas 2016 would be our last, because the “president”-elect would have blown up the entire earth by Christmas 2017. Well, folks, there’s a first time for everything, including my being wrong! (Don’t get excited– it will probably never happen again.) But since the void has not yet embraced us all in its eternal grasp, another holiday season is upon us. Grab a glass (or mug, or bowl, or funnel…) and get thee to the liquor cabinet! It’s been a busy year, and we’ve all earned a drink.  Read More

This morning at the office, I heard a generally-inoffensive man ask one of my female coworkers, “Hey ________! Why aren’t you smiling? You look like someone just kicked your dog!”

UH OH! IT’S THE FACE POLICE! AND BEFORE I’VE EVEN HAD MY COFFEE!

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Last week, I was in a minor car accident because Florida drivers, including myself, are sent straight from whatever circle of hell involves flaming bees in your anus. Thankfully everyone involved is totally fine, but my poor Hyundai will be in the shop for almost 3 weeks. So this week, I rented a car to transport myself to and from work.

And by “car”, I obviously mean “2017 Dodge Caravan”, because what else would happen to me at this point? I made my reservation online, for the “smallest and cheapest car” and showed up to retrieve it. Read More

Something awful is happening, and for once, I’m not talking about fashion trends or Republicans.

Starbucks has released a brand new “limited time” amalgamation of sprinkle-infested cream, corn syrup, and shame. They are calling it… the Unicorn Frappuccino® Blended Crème.

My body is no temple– I once drank so much turquoise offbrand Four Loko that I peed blue for two days– but SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, LOOK AT THAT THING. Am I the odd man out here? Are other people excited by the idea of drinking 16 oz of frozen, teal-and-fuschia-dyed heavy cream?

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In these difficult times, where people you love and respect may have helped put a rotting lump of fascist orange Play-Doh in the White House, there are only a few things we can all still agree on:

1. It’s time to stop talking about man buns.
2. Okra is the worst vegetable.
3. Whoever invented Daylight Saving Time is a fucking demon.

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