High Alert On Amtrak


Here  I am, sitting on an Amtrak  from Los Angeles to San Diego jolting along like someone’s trying to get the last tic tac out of the container because I literally blew up the engine in my blue POS car Lil’ Tumbleweed by taking the advice to get an oil change in a timely manner as a mere opinion.  Blew the damn engine. On the freeway. Outside of Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. I guess pouring oil into your engine after it already starts to sound like robots are grinding on each other like two middle schoolers at a dance is too little too late. So I need an entire new engine and I cried when pepboys told me that, so they gave me a fat discount, but of course because it is a bigggg discount, they are taking their sweet glitter effing time and I have to take the train back and forth to get to my clients in San Diego. Gorgeous ride. Plus they have an alcohol car with snacks. bye?

Our country, actually, our entire world is on high alert because of the recent attacks in Paris, as well as Baghdad and Beirut, all on the same day. ISIS has decided to wield it’s crooked creepy ass dick on social media and the news, threatening to continue their reign of terror on the US after slaughtering over 100 people in Paris.

So, it is not my fault that I was a little on edge coming to the Amtrak station in downtown LA bright and early this morning.

First, the front of the station’s lobby is filled with at least 100 9th graders all flirting with each other’s acne. Why aren’t you in school right now in classes that don’t teach you about real life like not overdrafting your bank account so you can get 2 shots of tequila and a burrito at Panchos at 3 am?  You’ll be needing that sooner than you think.

Then, half of the massive station was without power.  Heavily armed sheriffs with german shepherds patrolled the lobby. Which means LA’s downtown crackheads were prowling in the dark corners on one end, and guns and dogs were on the other end. It’s fine, I’m safe here. There’s no cell service once in the station until you get to the platform for the train. I was assigned platform 9.

And yes, I did search for the 3/4’s.

No such luck.

I’m sitting on this train minding my own over-active imagination’s business. And then it went down.

10:14am- Some a-hole teenager popped a new bag of chips  and I pretty much flew out of my seat thinking it was a gun shot. My apocalypse emergency plan was about to go into immediate activation mode.  He and his little friend just sit there giggling. Laugh it up, PETER, laugh it up.

I move seats to the quiet car because it has bigger seats and you don’t actually have to be quiet because this is America. Also because the Amtrak guy said we it’s actually just a rumor that it’s a quiet car because it has massive relaxing seats in it.

10:34 am- I’m arguing with my best friend online about Candida and other really attractive things that girls talk about and flooding her facebook messenger with gigantic dick pics because she is annoying me with her righteousness (and her rightness) to the point where she can’t respond and I’ve stopped being annoyed. Best friendship saver, ever.

10:46 am- UMMM it is not at all comforting when the Amtrak stops and 2 Amtrak employees come running down the aisle and one screams to the other way down the train “DID HE GET OFF?!”

Ummm we are on high alert nowadays around here people, you cannot just scream that on mass transportation! I’m already on the emergency exit up to my thighs half out the window.

11:10 am- They disappear up the aisle, come back a few minutes later, having a convo about how the guy is hiding in the bathroom in one of the cars and they are going to force it open. If he has so much as a pen attached to his shirt I’m flailing off this train.  Just flinging myself the fuck off.

I am sitting by the fire extinguisher. I always do. This is why: 1. they are always by an exit/entrance 2. if a terrorist takes over, you blast that shit everywhere until it’s empty so he can’t see where he’s shooting and you just creep through that cloud and roll your ass down the steps. Hit him in the head with the heavy metal container if you’re confident in your reach because you may have long arms like me that turn long sleeve shirts for normal people into a 3/4 sleeve.  It’s called being a famous model okay.

11:26 am – Now they have a conductor involved and they keep searching and talking about him and how he is “somewhere on the train” and now a guy with a backpack just went running past me ducking along the seats lol I DONT WANT TO BE ON THE TRAIN ANYMORE

11:34 am – to add to the paranoia, the entire car now smells overwhelmingly like cooked broccoli which i am interpreting as a fire.

11:44 am- Amtrak guys act like nothing happened and are laughing it up with two guys sitting in their seats. WHERE DID THE FUGITIVE GO

HOPE YOURE HAVING A GREAT TIME WITH YOUR BESTIES, JERRY, while i’m sitting over here googling how to turn an extinguisher into a weapon to save us all.

11:46 am- Adderall is wearing down, I think i can open the tuna can of a bathroom door now and try to pee without twerking.

Young guy behind me listening to trap music and the old man next to him taps him on the shoulder and yells in his year ” I DONT KNOW WHAT YOURE LISTENING TO BUT I CAN GO ALONG WITH THE GROOVE!”


San Diego.

The End.

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Tinder Harassment Gone Wrong


Some men on Tinder (soft ass southern California boys I should say) say the most uncleverly vulgar things without warning- because they are looking for a negative reaction since nobody gives them attention or they are showing off to their equally sad scraggly friends.

I luckily stand up for myself well in these situations but as I get older I’d like to ignore them,  but I just keep thinking of the countless girls that look down at their phones thinking they are talking to someone great who immediately out of nowhere says something so violating to make her feel immediately gross, like he jumped through the phone. And so, I give these idiots the time of day they never deserve yet so desperately seek out with some simple messages back. I want them to know someone’s going to clap back.

You’re welcome, Bryan.



The Horrific Reality of Living with a Guy Roommate


Evidence!!!!! I am calling you out, Eric Kelley!!! This is what it looks like to live with a guy.  TOENAIL CLIPPINGS ON TH
E COFFEE TABLE!!!!!!!! oh this is war. I’m tying all my tampons to your shoe laces and hoarding leilas dog shit under your bed.


When Ticks Attack On An Innocent Monday Morning


When you’re scratching your head after working on things since 5:30 am and you feel a giant lump. Is it a tick? is this a tick?! and the more you feel it the bigger it is, and you’re having full on anxiety that you’re going to get lock jaw from Lyme’s Disease and never speak again and you’re having strange macabre fantasies of how this massive tick has spent all day, night, nights?! slowly sucking out your life force and possibly your intelligence, lowering your IQ with its inferior invasion of your skin. But then you realize it is merely your pearl earring ratted up into your messy bun and that you’ve been walking around like David Bowie with one damn earring in and nobody has said a word. It’s fine. It’s just Monday.

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Stop Referring To Your Kid’s Age In Months After 2

Stop Referring To Your Kid’s Age In Months After 2

Oh hell. Please do not refer to your child as “42 months old”. He’s 3 and a half. Your kid is 3 and a half years old. Jesus christ. I guess I’m 338 months old.

I am really not in the mood to do mental mathematical gymnastics to determine if showing him Pulp Fiction and Wild Things is age appropriate when you leave me in a room alone with him.

What if mothers get tired and they drop the “months” as we’ve come to drop the “years” when we tell people our ages??  42 months. So now your kid is just 42.

Are you 3 and a half, kid? Or are we going by dog years? in that case, you’d be 22 and a half. and that means you can watch bad things. What about bourbon? Is 42 months old enough for that? because 42 sounds old.  When you invite me to your kid’s birthday party, and I say I’m at a 42nd birthday celebration and my friends want to come crash and bring champagne, what am I going to do with them when they come and destroy the moon bounce because they thought you said you were going to have moonshine ??

If we are counting by months, why aren’t you having a birth month party? Why does a yearly party even matter anymore?

Am I up to date as far as developing on a 30 day cycle goes?  Am I exactly where I should be? Am I young for my age?

This month, if I pay my credit card bill off completely, I will have paid all bills on time, have had no hangovers, have worked out almost 4 days straight, not used my last 35 dollars on shots and chicken tenders, and not made out with anyone in a shitty bar. Those are some pretty solid milestones for 338 months. Yours truly, your little blooming buttercup, with pollen in ALLL the right areas, is progressing age appropriately!  It was touch and go there for a while, I wasn’t hitting any significant progressive markers in my late 20s as my other peers were. But now… now I’ve mastered bill paying, credit restoration, emotional stability (somewhat) and some advances in the career that I literally pulled out of thin air and created myself because I just couldn’t fart out another resume cover letter telling people how fantastic I am and lying about how hard I will work for them.  Pretty good for being a mere 338 months old.

Like seriously your kid is sh*tting in his own hand and constructing grammatically correct sentences on the floor of your prius with it and stealing organic dog treats from the bulk bins then storing them under your boob after a very public breastfeeding when he wasn’t really hungry, he was just walking up to you for money for candy but you tore your shirt off and shoved his head into your nipple anyway, then glared at everyone, demanding they challenge your right to force feed your 42 month old baby in a public arena. #FREETHENIPPLE I don’t think we need to celebrate every damn month at this point.

Your kid is 3 and a half.  You can do it. Say it. THREE AND A HALF.

But I am still 338 months. CARD THAT AT THE BAR, BETCHES.

I’m so tired of plus size clothing. It’s absolutely ridiculous. EW

I’m so tired of plus size clothing.  It’s absolutely ridiculous. EW

I’m so tired of plus size clothing. It’s absolutely ridiculous.

I’m tired of women who are stressed that they are the “biggest size” of regular sizing.

Or the smallest size of plus size.

I’m tired of separate sections in stores called Misses.

I hate the stigma and terrible fashion picks that hang over plus size giant, Lane Bryant. It’s ostracizing and gross and embarrassing.

It’s also absolutely maddening when someone says, “well they wouldn’t be plus size if they worked out.”

well guess what, nipplefart. Plus size women are out there in their husband’s over sized sweat pants, trying to get the motivation to work out, eat right, feel good, starting already in an energy deficit, and on top of that, they don’t even get high quality, high end activewear to even START in to feel good about themselves. They get Old Navy. They get Walmart.

You want a woman to have confidence and feel good enough to get out there and do something about herself so she doesn’t have to be so “disgusting” as some put it? Then put her in some Lululemon quality clothes that make her literally get up and prance her happy donkey butt out the door every single day because she’s so excited to sweat in something gorgeous. Oh wait… Lululemon won’t make those sizes.

Where the hell is she supposed to stuff her big ol nanas as shes swangin around the track? How’s she supposed to do squats without cheap cotton pants bustin’ out of the buttcrack?! What do these women even have to work out in, women who make tons of money in great jobs who don’t want to twerk their way through Walmart or Ross? Women who have class and a credit card who just happen to simultaneously do a push up and Bhujangasana, the cobra pose, at the same time?!

Well guess what. We changed the game over here. Luxury fitness is coming to those ham hocks. Get on this, immediately and share. We want as many women who are struggling with this as possible to be the first to try our new luxury, high end exclusive activewear in all sizes, especially in the sizes who need/want it the most.

“FitCandy, an e-commerce site for high-end women’s activewear, bridges the gap between standard and plus size clothing by simultaneously providing precise fit technology and the only high-end, high-quality performance activewear brand to include full figured women.”


http://www.facebook.com/fitcandyshop  – if you join you can even get our sweet shhhhh for free, too- find out how on the Facebook page.

10 Burning Fit Candy Questions Answered:
1. Yes, we sell amazing regular sizes starting from the tiniest 00 we can find.
2. Yes, bigger women DO want to work out
3. No, bigger women do not have have any high-end workout clothing options to do so, currently.

4. Yes, we provide the most elite brands in activewear and performance gear sold in the most exclusive boutiques, spas, and department stores from around the WORLD in ALL sizes

5. Yes, we have our own in-house brand being produced which has sizes for full figured women and also rivals the quality and scarcity of Lululemon products. It is an elite brand because as a larger woman, you still get to wear luxury, even if you never want to sweat in it ever and you just want to pretend like the rest of us in LA.

6. Yes, FitCandy has technology to give a precise fit and match to brands, depending on your body measurements.

7. Yes, there is a crisis between truly accepting the body we are in and doing something about it. Love it first so that you respect it enough to do something good about it.

8. Yes, women need to focus on real numbers and realistic fit so they are inspired to change. There is NOTHING wrong with wanting to decrease in weight/inches, but there IS something wrong about panicking because you aren’t a size 2.

9. No, we don’t fat shame, no we don’t thin shame, but yes, we do inspire you to get off your ass and do something that makes you radiate pure sunshine out of your entire being. You know those type of people. Be one of them.

10. Yes, we are taking over the world. You’re welcome. Join the movement. http://www.fitcandyshop.com or http://www.notagscampaign.com