30 Small Things That Are Literally The Best Things Ever

They say it’s the little things, because it really is the little things. Big things are few and far between, and often times are too built up, leaving you feel empty inside. That’s why the little things are so great; you can almost always put stock in the little things and know they’re not gonna let you down because they will be that great every single time.

As a society, we tend to get caught up in the big things: big headline news, big national events, big general ruckuses. So, next time the big shit is getting you down, refer back to this list I’m about to bestow upon you to remind yourself that, for every mediocre big thing, there are like 2,000 amazing little things.

1. The perfect hair day. You don’t know how it happened or how you got so lucky, but it’s so good, you try to think of any excuse to post at least two selfies because, goddammit PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW.

2. When you turn the sink faucet on to the exact right pressure-level. It’s not spraying all over the place like a toddler’s weiner, but it’s also not soft and timid like a prude who isn’t quite sure what he’s doing yet. It’s just right.

3. Finding that totally obscure, deeply hidden online shopping coupon on some random ass coupon website and getting even $1 off your purchase. It takes everything in you not to stand up and scream “SUCK IT!” (since you’re very most likely at work while ordering clothes offline)

4. Figuring out what type of music you’re in the mood for the day. It’s like finding the (pardon this) clit within the music-centric portion of your brain. “Beyoncé? Nah. Sia? Eh. AMY WINEHOUSE? YES. YES. OMG. YES. DON’T STOP.”

5. Opening the cereal box PERFECTLY. No rips. No awkward tears in the plastic. It happens maybe once every 10 boxes, and it should be celebrated.

6. Getting a last-minute cancellation notification for a meeting you were absolutely dreading. Words cannot describe the joy, relief, and ecstasy. You want to go hug whoever cancelled it and not let go for an awkward amount of time.

7. Cooking chicken at home exactly right. Again, this happens maybe once every 10 attempts. It’s juicy, it’s not burned, and it actually has flavor. Of course, you can never remember what it is you did differently to get it right this time, but all that matters is that you did it.

8. A peanut butter sandwich when you’re really in the mood for one. O.M.F.G.

9. Your handwriting being ON POINT (even though you have nowhere to show it off except in your personal planner, sigh).

10. An empty laundry hamper/washing machine/dryer. IT’S ALL CLEAN AND IT’S ALL IN ITS RIGHT PLACE.

11. A glass of wine at home from a decently priced bottle that’s just been opened and doesn’t taste like anything but smooth, fruity gulps of heaven.

12. When an outfit you’ve been piecing together in your mind actually works out. All that mental shopping you did all day long paid off, and you’ve successfully avoided a last minute anxiety attack re: what to wear. 

13. Having and getting to pop the type of zit they only draw in cartoons. 

14. Watching the guy who was trying to cut you off earlier get stuck behind even more traffic while you forge ahead, laughing manically in your car. 

15. French fries when you haven’t had them in a while* (*a week or two).

16. When your errands map themselves out in a perfectly flawless, almost linear execution. Or, better yet: when all your errands can be done within the same strip mall. #ORGASM.

17. The moment you slide into your car after getting it cleaned and vacuumed out. You never knew that something so old could feel so new again. Is this what they mean when they say you should fall in love with your soulmate over and over?

18. When you tweet something hilarious with no expectations and get two or more favorites. Like, should I just quit my day job since I’m famous now?

19. When your returns hit your credit card the day before you owe a payment on it. 

20. The perfect pizza to crust to tomato sauce to ranch ratio in one single bite. Sometimes when this happens, you pause and hold it in your mouth to savor the moment. 

21. When you randomly decide to check out your daily horoscope, and you’re like “OMG. DID THEY BIG BROTHER MY LIFE?” as you copy and paste it in a mass email to your friends and family. It’s kinda fun when it’s so dead-on (unless it’s dead-on re: all the negative aspects of your life. In that case, you’re like “horoscopes are so dumb” and ignore it).

22. Being told the wait will be about an hour and getting seated in 20 minutes.

23. Getting a prime AF parking spot, almost directly in front of wherever you’re going, in an incredibly crowded area in which parking spots are rarely available. These situations (and these ones only) call for sitting and relishing. Let people cast evil spells upon your unborn children for faking them out over the availability of your spot by pulling in and not turning your car off. TOO BAD.

24. Packing a lunch for work you actually don’t hate.

25. Being completely stocked up on cleaning products for your home: swiffer duster refills, wet swiffer pads, trash bags, windex, even Mr. Clean Magic Erasers (side note: if you don’t own these, you are doing life wrong. They fix everything. Even your personal baggage. Just take one and rub it all over your head to erase painful memories. See box for further directions).

26. Your clothing drawers shutting properly without the added effort of you slamming your thigh or foot into them. You’re doing something right when this happens (or you need to do some laundry).

27. Clean breaks in the bathroom.

28. Finding the last in your size and preferred color in a clothing item you’ve been obsessing over for three days. These instances are ones I label as “meant to be” and “clearly, I need to buy this” moments.

29. Leaving your phone, having no current parleys going on, and coming back to find a notification screen full of texts from your favorite friends.

30. The perfect listicle of 30 small things probably everyone can relate to on some level.





An Important Video Announcement

There’s really not much I can say that this video doesn’t. I just hope you guys won’t judge me, and that I’m right in assuming my blog is a safe place for me to divulge things about myself. It took a lot for me to get through this, and I thank you all in advance for taking the time to come with me on this journey. Also, my apologies for the shit quality in the first minute or so. Damn video had to compress itself and came out all pixelated, but it gets clearer. Trust me. Thanks, guys.




Birthday Calories Don’t Count and I Can’t

I don’t know if y’all knew this, but it was my birthday this weekend. JUST IN CASE I didn’t post enough birthday-related pictures on Instagram last week, I’m letting you all know that it was, in fact, MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY.


Everyone knows that with birthdays come a lot of calories — that is unless you’re a psychotic, type A control freak who enjoys denying themselves day-in and day-out, and has somehow convinced herself that she doesn’t deserve to “cheat” on her own birthday. This is the type of future mom who will cheerfully feed her kids broccoli lemon cookies and truly believe that an apple is dessert. For that, I award you no points and may God have mercy on your soul.

But back to what I was saying: I ate a lot over the weekend. Like, an embarrassingly disgusting amount of what the #fitspo culture would label “cheat” food, but what I label “OMGIALMOSTFORGOTWHATFATANDDELICIOUSNESSTASTESLIKE” food. I inhaled so much garbage this past Friday through Sunday, that I felt the need to document it somewhere as a reminder to myself to never forget. So.

I can’t…

that on Friday, I consumed: 1 sour cream cinnamon crueler, half of a strawberry-iced donut, 1/4 of a chocolate cake donut, 2 mini chicken biscuits from Chick-Fil-A, a frozen, flavorless Evol meal for lunch in an effort to punish myself, a sizeable piece of homemade rum cake, a funfetti cupcake, and a Negro Modelo — all within my 8-hour work day. But wait! There’s more. That Friday night, I ingested a glass of champagne, a frozen margarita made with Everclear, a not-all-close-to-portion-size serving of chips and salsa which wasn’t enough so flour tortillas with butter and salsa were also a part of that equation, fajitas with a deliberately ordered side of shredded cheese, a vodka cranberry, and two beers. Are you laughing yet? Because I am.

I can’t…

that on Saturday, I consumed: a skinny vanilla Flat White (also my nickname in college), an undetermined amount of mimosas, a small handful of nachos, two double-shelled breakfast tacos, a mini vanilla cupcake, two beers, probably 5? vodka cranberries, some french fries, a couple bites of someone else’s fried chicken, 1 hot wing someone else wasn’t going to eat, some of the working parts of a cheese/meat board that actually tasted like ass but that I ate anyway because I was starving, and — to top it all off — mac and cheese with slices of hanger steak cut up into it. 

I can’t…

that on Sunday, the last day of my birthday weekend extravaganza, I consumed: not 1 but 2 bagels (1 garlic, 1/2 of an everything and 1/2 of another garlic), a generous amount of hummus and dipping crackers, an ahi tuna burger that sounds healthy but probably isn’t at all, a fingerful or two of fries, and (drum roll please) an adult milkshake called “The Lebowski.” Yes, its contents are that of Kaluha and ice cream, and I’m unashamed to say I drank that shit like water.

And then had the farts.

And then was like, “All right. That’s that. Birthday weekend eating is OVA.” But fuck if it didn’t all taste like heaven in my mouth and feel like pregnancy with twins in my stomach.

Take this post as a reminder to spoil your cravings rotten on your birthday. After all, you only birthday once a year (YOBOAY), so you might as well let your diet go balls to the wall since you have the perfect scapegoat for it. AMIRIGHT? 

If nothing else, I hope this recap of my past weekend’s diet made you feel even a little better about your own. Whatevs. We’re still hot, guys.



I Can’t, Vol. 29

Is this really volume 29? My “I can’t”s are in their last year of their 20s??? That’s scary. But not really, because I can’t.

I can’t…

that, in a few short weeks, it’s May. Then Memorial Day. Then Watch Me Sweat And Probably Get Broken Up With Because Of My Excessive Amount Of Sweat (aka SUMMER). Where do days go? Oh, I know. To work. And the 2-3 hours after work you are gracefully given by America. Stop that, America. You’re too sweet!

I can’t…

but I would. So hard.


I can’t…

with how quickly delicious, fruity gum looses its flavor. Figure it out, Orbit (and Juicy Fruit :D). I’m trying to chew you in order to curb all my animalistic, estrogen-driven cravings, and if you can’t give me a solid 15 minutes, how can you expect me to continuously NOT cheat when cupcakes, donuts, or random chocolate waltzes by? I don’t like having to spit out your nasty flavorless ass in order to indulge. MAKE IT STOP.

I can’t…

accurately describe the flood of emotions that run through me when a meeting I’ve been dreading gets unexpectedly cancelled at the last minute. And, not only that, but when it’s then pushed to like, the following week? I CAN’T. I want to openly cheer and find some girl dressed in a 1940’s nurse outfit so I can dip and kiss her. 

I can’t…

usually ignore Instagram, but in the rare instances I completely forget about it or the fact that I posted a picture on it way earlier, then open the app to find a good amount of likes. Whew. That’s like… a happy little surprise for myself, really. #sosad. 

I can’t…

with Grandma’s Hummus. Earlier this week, I couldn’t so much with it that I posted this erratically insane status about it on my personal FB:

Screen Shot 2015-04-16 at 11.10.57 AM

I guess as a white girl who has eaten her fair share of expected and #basic hummus, I thought I had eaten it all. I had finally settled for the “pretty good” quality of Sabra, until they went and fucked everything up with Listeria. Idiots. So I had to rethink my chickpea-based game plan, and that’s when I remembered the delicious hummus I had tasted in Austin in February that should be available at Central Market here in Dallas. AND IT WAS. And it. is. DELICIOUS. I’m sorry if you don’t live in Dallas or Austin and have access to this stuff, but maybe if you trust me enough that this shit is magical, you can go here and order some? It’s perfect. Garlic, lemon, a little bit of kick. I CAN’T. But I can and have with about half the container in 3 days.

I can’t…


Let’s all gather at my house the night after it airs and discuss it in depth over popcorn and wine, shall we?

I can’t…

with anymore of these “But first coffee” or “The hours between coffee and wine really are pointless.” Like, SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. Yes, coffee’s great. It’s obviously part of any sane individual’s balanced daily routine. Everyone knows that. But like. Just stop with the silly phrases. Especially the latter. Oh — so, work doesn’t matter? You’re so miserable at your job, that you float through your 9-5 unmotivated and uninspired, bringing barely anything to the table and literally praying for the hours to go by as quickly as possible? That’s upsetting. Maybe find a job you care about? A job that makes getting coffee in the morning fun and getting to celebrate a hard day’s work afterwards with a nice of glass wine rewarding? I know what you’re thinking: “Why is this bitch so upset? I mean, it’s just a stupid phrase.” But there are so many stupid phrases, it was just a matter of time before I honed in on a specific category of them that I just CANNOT with any longer. The coffee/wine phrases won.

I can’t…

when people try to talk to me when I have headphones on. What do you think is going on in here? Like low-level whispers? No. If my headphones are on, I’m in the process of drowning out any outside noise while simultaneously destroying my ear drums. I don’t play around with volume levels. I have these on for a reason, which is to NOT be available to you or hear what you have to say unless you throw something at me to get my attention.

I can’t…

put too much stock into our country’s progression, because I have my doubts. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that a small part of me would think it’s cool as hell if Hillary took it home next year (please don’t break up with me, boyfriend. Please). You know who else would think it’s cool? This maddeningly adorable badass:


I can’t…

with this very real story I posted on my personal FB yesterday. As one girl commented, “ALL of your situations are so relatable…they really hit home and make me feel like my similar conundrums are NOT stupid.” I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it a thousand more times: I will always out-crazy your crazy. That’s what I’m here for. To make you feel way less crazy than you think you are. And, with that, here’s my story from yesterday:

“she knew running out to get her grocery shopping done during her lunch break was a risk with a 1pm client call, but it was one she was willing to take. for, you see, being a working adult with limited after-work hours to fully take advantage of, she had to find time to squeeze these sort of petty errands in wherever she could (that is, if you consider having fresh food at home “petty,” but that’s neither here nor there). so, the girl walked briskly to her car, drove the five minutes to the nearest grocery, and reminded herself she only had 20 minutes to spare. of course, in her state of zealousness, the girl had forgotten to take into account how excited grocery stores made her — how getting in and out in 20 minutes wasn’t feasible for an errand-lover like herself. sure enough, before she knew it her iPhone read 12:45. her blood started pumping. her heart pumped. in a race against time, she flew out of the store, somehow managed to separate her refrigerated goods from her “fine on the counter until they rot” goods, and began the illegal speed back to the office. BUT THEN, cops. sirens. an overturned car. no, not hers. a total stranger’s that had backed traffic up by a solid five minutes. “stuck at the light by the office, but I’ll be there!!!” she frantically emailed in all lowercase. once she had used every curse word combination known to man, she pulled safely into the parking lot, grabbed her bag of fridge goods, raced to the elevator, watched as an overweight man took it from floor 4 to floor 5, raced out, threw the bag in the communal fridge, and began power walking to the meeting room. turning the corner, she saw the meeting in process — the strategic planner in the midst of the setup before it would be this girl’s time to present the concepts. taking off like a toddler who was just promised Funfetti cake, the girl sprinted down the hall toward the meeting room, clad in her loud AF sandals, her newly-shortened curls flying behind her. she pulled up a chair to the table, wiped literal sweat from her brow, took several stifled breaths because I guess the gym doesn’t really work, and presented the concepts at 1:05pm. the end.”