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Featured Post

A better life is one delusion away

“In for four, hold for four, out for four,” the girl at the checkout counter said, not even looking up from the cheekies she was scanning. It was both comforting and unsettling that someone having a panic attack in line at Victoria’s Secret seemed like just another Tuesday to her. I don’t know what burnout looks like for other people. For me, it looked like trying to pretend I wasn’t having a heart attack while buying underwear. It meant sobbing uncontrollably when a sparrow collided with the...

Redheaded woman on a throne, holding a scepter

When my best friend was 10 years old, his mom washed his mouth out with soap. It's not the act itself that made a lasting impression, though. It's the fact that in the middle of his punishment, the phone rang. With a stern warning to my bestie not to move a muscle, she went to answer it. My friend waited obediently, drool coursing down his chin onto his t-shirt, crying silent tears for five minutes. Then ten. Then twenty. It took her other son tugging at her sleeve, eyes wide with pity for...

Redheaded woman in a steampunk light blue dress, laughing

I know what you're thinking, Reader. Who's this stranger in my house? And by house, I mean inbox. And by stranger, I mean someone who looks a lot like an old friend who's "had some work done." And you wouldn't be wrong; there's been a major overhaul in this corner of the Internet. Only it didn't require a scalpel and six month's salary. My brand, Jennie O'Connor Creative, got a facelift. From the rebranded newsletter you see above 👆🏼👆🏼👆🏼 To the retired podcast, the best episodes of which will...

I just booked a trip to NOLA, and this time I will not: Drink hot vodka out of a flask at two in the afternoon. Fall in love with a psychopath and move cross-country to be his girlfriend. Lose my wallet and scramble to board a plane without ID. Old me didn't listen too well to my hunches. My mantra back then was apparently: If you're not experiencing cognitive dissonance, are you even living? Six years later, my inner compass has stopped doing me dirty, though. These days, my spidey senses...

I'm the kind of girl, Reader, who's up for anything. A haunted house where they kidnap you and tie you up? I'm so in. Heard a strange noise out in the dark forest and need someone to investigate? I'm your girl. Move across the country to pursue a relationship with somebody I've known for five minutes who may or may not be a psychopath? I was born for this. But the one thing in life that turns me into a pile of terrified mush? Dolls. I hate them with the passion of 1,000 burning suns. I know...

The day I got my Roomba was one of the best days of my life. I was instantly gifted HOURS a week of my time back. The task of emptying a metric fuckton of dusty cat hair from a 4-inch box became a bizarrely satisfying ritual. A rite of passage into adulthood, you might say. But the shiny new vacuum smell has worn off. Maybe it's because Roombas are like iPhones and self-destruct after two years. Maybe, like me, when they hit middle age, they no longer move as well and sometimes leak fluid....

I heard a movie quote the other night that made me cackle.* "I never had children. Sometimes I wonder if I wish I should have." It reminded me of the time I was chatting with Rosalba, the gal who cleaned the cooking studio at which I used to work, about the fact that I had no plans to be a mom. "Oh? You're very selfish, aren't you?" she asked, seemingly unaware that maybe she shouldn't say every thought she has out loud. I blinked at her for a few moments before replying, "Yes. Yes, I am."...

I'll never forget the Hanukkah I spent with my college boyfriend. His family was a colorful cast of characters on a normal day, so wine-fueled, they were . . . extra. That's why it isn't surprising that before dinner even started, my bf's step-dad Steve, a sharp-tongued know-it-all, had jumped onto the bench we were sitting on, the better to bellow in his daughter's face about how animated Disney films should not be nominated for Oscars! I snickered behind my napkin because this was amazing....

Not to be an alarmist, Reader, but it's happening. The holiday mania has already begun melting our minds and turning us into Karens. 🤦🏻♀️ We've barely crossed the threshold into December, and I have already waited in a 25-minute line to purchase . . . get this . . . cookie cutter twinkle lights. 25 minutes for shit I don't even need to simply because it brings me a disproportionate amount of joy. But what a refreshing perspective, remembering that I was buying something for no purpose other...

Once upon a time, I thought witches were make-believe. If, on the off chance, they were real and secretly existed in a hidden enclave somewhere in the world, they were certainly diabolical. That's what happens when you don't question the things you're told growing up. So imagine my surprise when I met my first witch - a lovely young Swiss woman named Fabia, who loved French fries and cried when she read poetry out loud - at a Buddhist retreat center. Between sessions, she and I got to talking...