The Thermostat Is Not a Human Right
If a hot shower doesn’t feel like a minor miracle, you’ve never tested your life outside the soft walls of money and assumption.
I Believe… [Honest Pickup Line]
...that my new, best pickup line is the most honest: “Hi. You seem to be exactly someone who will ruin my life in a spectacular fashion. Wanna go get a drink?”
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of February 1, 2026
“Stop, look, and listen” is great advice for crossing the street, but it also applies to entering a new job, a new relationship, a new… well, anything. Best to learn the lay of the land before you go reaping and sowing, lest your efforts be met with extreme distrust and petulant resistance.
Year of the Fire Horse [Sixty Years and Counting]
I guess I've been waiting 60 years to come into my own...
I Believe… [The Belt of Longevity]
...that, at a certain age, a birthday is no longer a celebration of your existence but another notch in the ‘Fuck off, Death’ belt.
I Believe… [Good Footwear]
...that, as we age, good footwear is more important than a girlfriend.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of January 18, 2026
Chicagoans are tough. How tough? We can survive a double-digit sub-zero winter day with our kids at home when schools close due to the freeze. That’s how tough.
I Believe… [The Book]
The third of a series is out and ready to read!
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of January 11, 2025
If you ever need a pick-me-up, come over and let my 3-year-old serenade you with a song about poop and trucks.
C:\garbage\takethisjob.exe -shoveit
What kind of bored, unread, over-measured, automaton signed off on this AI-generated dreck? Job-hiring isn’t human resources, it’s resourcing our brain’s data to power the click-clacking of computer keys so the boss can feel good about doling out over-taxed bonuses that hardly represent the bonus time you gave the company.
I Believe… [Less Outrage]
...that the real lessons of history are almost always ignored because they require humility instead of outrage.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of January 4, 2026
Remember on Sesame Street, how Bert was, like, really into pigeons? The fuck with that guy? Pigeons. Pigeons!? I think there was a gas leak in that garden apartment of his.
I Believe… [Good Shoes]
...that a haircut, a good book, and a pair of shoes that really fit are the luxuries of the lower middle class.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 28, 2025
My hope for 2026 is that our cultural exhaustion will catch up to us and we’ll all disengage from the nonsense, and take a good, long nap. We’ll wake up refreshed and prepared to behave more humane to each other. And maybe, finally, vote responsibly. Or not vote at all, which may be for the best.
Jacob Marley Wasn’t Punished—He Was Finished
What Dickens Knew About Living Small, Dying Heavy, and Dragging Your Life Behind You
When the Fascists Come
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 14, 2025
If you’re not feeling the Holiday Spirit, turn on Elvis’ Christmas album. That’ll do the trick. Every time. Guaranteed. Try it. You’ll thank me. You’ll thank me very much.
The Theory of Pie
The Theory of Pie is established in my day-to-day. How much of my time is left after, say, a long work week of eight shows in six days? Who gets that time? How much do I gatekeeper for myself?
The Great American Potluck
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”
I Believe… [Grace Ain’t Competence]
...that ‘grace under pressure’ isn’t the same thing as ‘competence in a crisis.’
Being an escort for me was like being a scrapbooker on Etsy for most other single moms trying to pick up some extra money. The only difference was that I could make a few thousand bucks for one hour of potential discomfort versus making a few hundred for several hours of suffering through handmade clip art. I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I cannot for one second believe that there is any joy in being hunched over a desk, cutting and pasting other people’s memories together. It seems so lonely and juvenile.