I live in Hollywood. On Hollywood Blvd. Kind of smack dab in-between a lot of fancy houses, in a low-key 1 BR apartment on the bus line. When strangers ask where I live, I usually give them the cross streets for the nearest Rite Aid, because *smart*, and also I'm there most of the time…
*I never thought I could feel so miserable, sitting so close to peanut M&Ms. I recently shot a campaign for Bellafill, the injectable filler that lasts 5 years, and prompts your own collagen to kick into high gear. But when I got the audition notice, I was like....whaaaaaaa? I don't need fillers! I'm thirty-uh...yeah! I don't…
There will be screaming, crying, laughing, total confusion, and the phrase "Why do they do this to kids!!" at Disneyland. But first...there was BBQ. I knew my parents were coming to visit me to celebrate my birthday (*totally ruining my plans for a depressing birthday weekend sad sesh — I'll forgive them this one time).…
Going up against the best in the biz. A kid.
Are you feeling the rush? They're at every grocery store, every street corner, and street-wise cookie bosses wait outside L.A.'s marijuana dispensaries. It's Girl Scout cookie season. And America's got the fever. I used to be a Thin Mints girl. Then I fully leaned into Samoas. Ok, and I did some Do-si-dos for a hot second.…
It's my birthday this month. And I hate it already. I've tried to rally myself into being a birthday party person, but I can't. I can't bring myself to invite people to a party who's theme is...me. Like, people have shit to do. Groceries. Walking the dog. There are like a hundred million Netflix originals…
Slow and steady wins the race. Maybe.
