Why is Snowflake an Insult and Other Questions from 2012

I’ve been blogging again for about three weeks (yay!), and while I’m so excited to be back on my favorite place--the internet--I’d be lying if I didn’t say I have some concerns about the condition it’s been left in during my absence. 

For those of you that don’t know (because why would you?) I used to blog pretty regularly in the earlier part of the decade. It was a simpler time—mainly just Lindsay Lohan doing a ton of blow and Nyan Cat.

However, some time in the past few years, there's been a noticeable shift.

What happened? Why is everyone on vacation, selling shit to me through Facebook, or an ACTUAL nazi? Fine. Maybe not everyone, but far more than I’m comfortable with. 

Did broader access to high-speed internet really fuck us up as a country, because I’m thinking maybe it did. It’s like everyone’s really racist uncle ditched dial-up and decided to start sharing his opinions about “race mixing” on social media.

But it’s more than just blatant racism that’s spiked in numbers.

Why is every conventionally attractive girl I went to high school with just back from Cannes and really thinks this tea she’s selling will get me off sugar. Get 10% off with the code *HowTheFuckCanYouAffordThisLifestyle*

More questions: Why is everyone so good at applying makeup now? When did the succulent become the preferred plant of Instagram. WHY ARE THERE SO MANY NAZIS? Are we really just watching fetish videos of miniature food, pimple popping, and slime?

Did everyone get together and wear sweatpants outside and call it “streetwear”? FANTASTIC. That was actually a really GREAT CALL, guys!




The fact that people take pictures of their food now gives me life. I love an aesthetically pleasing plate of fancy-ass grub. But we have to stop pretending that all food is equal. Do not take a photo of your Lean Cuisine pizza and tag it #foodporn. I DON'T WANT YOUR CO-WORKERS MAKING FUN OF YOU.

If you want to document the time you made avocado toast on 75-grain artisanally-crafted bread baked by monks, then by all means, take that picture. In fact, let me step out of your natural light. You have some art to create.

BUT—I swear if I see one more of y’all take time out of your day to photograph your Beef Stroganoff Hamburger Helper on a paper plate talking about HOMECHEF OR WIFE ME UP, I’m going to start being mean as shit. You did not create that meal, a handless glove with a face did.

Learn healthy shame.



I could get my doctorate in Russian Literature for the amount of time I spend watching makeup gurus expertly apply a liquid line.

I could read books. Socialize with friends. Spend time with my family. Better myself.

But instead I choose to watch Nicole Guerriero beat her face for 3 solid hours. I'm not particularly good at makeup application. In fact, no matter how hard I try to give myself a crisp, winged eye, I always just end up looking like I've been day drinking. 

However, that's not the issue. The issue is that y'all have third-graders out here looking better on a Tuesday than I did on my wedding day. How are you six with a expertly blended contour?  Like, slay bitch, but you know this is not going to turn out well.


As a society, we need all of God's creatures to go through that ugly, awkward phase to prevent them from becoming attractive ass super-villians when they get older. Having yearbook photos taken while rocking an at-home bang and 17 coats of Great Lash mascara teaches people compassion. We need these years, so it doesn't become Gotham City around here.

Although, I’m willing to reconsider my opinion if one of you flawless toddlers is willing to teach me how to execute a perfectly symmetrical, classic cat-eye. Thanks a bunch, you little psychos.



When did going on vacation become a career choice? I don't remember any of my college advisors even mentioning it as an option. I feel bamboozled, AF.

My IG feed is filled with happy, tan bitches on beaches, who do not seem the least concerned with student loans. The posts are always captioned with things like, "Waking up is easy when your life is a dream." AND I HATE THEM SO MUCH, but it's the kind of hate that comes from admiration.

I need answers.

How did you do this? Will I have to sell detox tea? That's fine. I sell coffee now and mainly just get talked down to. Do you have a 401(k)? What is your relationship like with you father? What about the future? Are you eventually just going to get engulfed by the sea like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic?

I understand that wanderlust is a powerful affliction, but I also understand not wanting to suck dick to pay my rent, so I guess I'm out. Unless someone has the detox-tea hookup, in which case, I want y'all to ignore everything I said and just be happy for me.




Who let snowflake become a legitimate insult?

You just had to be like, "nope, that's weather." And move on. But now, it's everywhere and people are righteous in their belief that it's the BEST SHADE EVER THROWN. 

Some mouth-breather who boycotted Starbucks over a cup, thinks I'm unreasonable because I believe we shouldn't call every brown person a terrorist or be cool with wage inequality? 

Do you hear yourself? You're trying to insult someone for being a decent human being. GTFOH.

"Oh, I'm a snowflake for thinking everyone should have access to healthcare?" You got me, Jim, you silly son of a bitch. You got me.

This nonsense had me ready to quit the internet for good, but then I found all of these troll definitions for "Snowflake" on Urban Dictionary.


I take it all back. Internet you're amazing. I'll never leave again.

I'm Old and I Blame Kylie Jenner

I'm Old AF, y'all.

Well, let me rephrase that, I'm young enough to know what "AF" means, but old enough to know that if I use it in front of a group of teenagers they'll probably make fun of me. Good luck buying your own beer, you ungrateful little a-holes.

Being in your early 30s is weird, man. Especially when you work with people who were born after TRL was a thing. The average age of my co-workers is at max 20 and nothing makes you feel screaming "GET OFF MY LAWN" like working with 20 year olds. Don't get me wrong, there's benefits. I now know who Lil Uzi Vert is--so that's something.

They also taught me how to use Snapchat, and now I spend exactly three hours a day putting different filters on my face to see which one makes me look like the most attractive/unrecognizable version of myself. I want to go to Sephora and find out what it would take to make me look as good as when I have a dog face, but it probably involves drinking water and taking care of my body--so yolo. Is that still a thing, Drake?

Now before you say it, I know my pre-menopausal ass should not be on Snapchat. I have zero business being on an app that at one time was solely used by middle-schoolers sending disappearing pictures of their genitals, but I can't help it. Snapchat makes me feel young again.

I've turned into my mother when she created her first--of five--Facebook profiles. (She makes a new one every time FB deletes her page, i.e. she forgets the password.) She was so excited. Her days were spent finding friends from high school and sending me posts about angels, who seem to have a vested personal interest in me liking and sharing posts about them. Go figure.

But it also didn't help that the New York Times was out here writing actual articles in their newspaper about how Snapchat was the new king of social media and Mark Zuckerberg could eat a bag of dicks or something. I was minding my own business, trying to ignore every block of text that included the words Donald and Trump and President (because I was flying through valium like candy), when they basically called me a nerd and forced me to download the app. 

Let me be honest for a moment, my biggest fear in life, aside from everything that is actually happening on this planet, is that one day I will not know what the aforementioned preteens I work with are talking about. And while you could not force me to watch the whole season of "13 Reasons Why". Cassettes, seriously? Even after death you're a pain in the ass or that Ludacris, the artist responsible for every time I got felt up in high school, is now hosting a remake of Fear Factor. What was that sound? Ohh, just my hip breaking. But I can't NOT know about these things. Because what would that mean? I'm actually in my 30s, and it's time for me to move on to the next chapter of my life.

Fuck you! I'm not ready for the next chapter!

What does it even entail? Do I have to start selling leggings on Facebook or even worse, have a kid. What else do people do in their 30s? Buy houses? With what money? You know we buy too much avocado toast. I actually started looking at houses with the dude that I live with, aka my husband, and literally had a panic attack after every single viewing. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. I'm aware this is unhealthy and probably something I should be discussing with a therapist instead of the internet, but mental well-being is hella expensive and last time I checked shrinks don't take monopoly money or cuddles, so now I'm just looking for a scapegoat. Someone that I can target all of my age-related frustration towards.

I think that someone is Kylie Jenner.

It's like one day I was young and no one was ever concerned about the viability of my eggs, and then the less conventionally attractive Jenner girl started over-lining her lips in the color DogShitBrown and made people pretend she was always racially ambiguous. We have pictures, Kylie! And then everyone lost their fucking mind and started wearing those stretchy tattoo chokers again. I wore those as a sexually-confident 13 year old, who had recently received a pair of gifts from boob Jesus. IT'S NOT TIME FOR THEM TO BE BACK YET!

Why is this happening to me?

Who can I blame for this? I swear on everything holy, Kylie, if this was your doing, I'm will beat you with a sock full of pennies--preferably one from your brother's sock line.

I may be overreacting, but It's a stressful time for some of us aging millennials. On one hand we're not following the the same script that was set in place by the generations before us, because they set the script on fire and are mad we aren't trying harder to put it out. I'm sorry we're killing off napkins and TGI Fridays, Linda. I wasn't too happy that you ruined the housing market or elected a reality star president.

So a lot of us are out here trying to figure it out for ourselves. Which explains why I'm a 31-year-old barista trying to be a writer--yes, I'm aware, I am the stereotype of all stereotypes.

But it's cool, because no matter what happens in the all the other aspects of my life, Snapchat is it for me. Whatever life-ruining garbage app comes after it, will not find its way onto my phone. Unless it's really cool, like an app that puts flower crowns on all unsolicited dick pics. However, if that doesn't happen, It'll just be me and my mom on Facebook, sharing posts about angels, and trying to figure out how to get past Kylie Jenner's security team.

 I'm coming for you, girl.