Sometimes life can feel like the final week before your next haircut. It’s awkward and difficult to manage, but know that better (hair) days are ahead.

I should've been a plumber. At least then being covered in shit feels productive.

The thing is… mass gun violence just pissed off a lot of bored, rich Jewish moms… maybe this is what we’ve needed to get change made.

You'll discover that losing your temper is just that—a loss.

I woke up angry. I always wake up angry. I eat my breakfast toast angry. I get dressed angry and put on my makeup angry. I adjust my hair angry. I reapply one of my damn press-on nails that always falls off in my sleep. Somewhere in the hill of sheets is a mountain of lost press-on nails. I don’t drink coffee or tea or juice. I don’t need a morning pick-me-up because I’m wound up from the start. Anger is my morning fuel and I love how it tastes. It makes me happy.

Sean and Ellen met on Bumble. Their first date was a standard drink at a bar in Roscoe Village. The date lasted three hours and the conversation flowed well.

Their second date was for dinner. The night went well but then, the bill came.

…that, if you’re going to adapt Tootsie for the stage as a musical, perhaps a focus on creating memorable songs, a believable narrative and avoiding a ball peen hammer approach to modernizing it for the #MeToo zeitgeist might be a better way to go.

I’m not a perfect person. I make no claims of sainthood. Here, if you like, is a litany of some of my faults: I’m an arrogant, know-it-all bitch. I’m stubborn, often to a fault. I hold people to extremely high standards. I’m inclined to fits of pettiness, and I tend to hold grudges basically forever. Despite having spent years preaching to my students constantly about how there’s no shame in needing help, I’m lousy at asking for it for myself. I don’t have much interest in privacy. I will brook almost no opposition to my right to do as I fucking well please.

Seriously, look at Anakin and tell me the whole fucking galaxy wouldn’t be a lot different if anyone had ever bothered to teach him some basic coping skills. How do you healthily process grief? Not by murdering a shitload of Sand People.

My boyfriend cheated on me with one of my closest friends. A year later, I’m still in a relationship with him, and I'm still trying to find my way to forgiveness.