Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

As the air chills, well freefall to six degrees above freezing, I find myself drinking tea in my favorite NYC cup with fuzzy socks on and my favorite university pullover.  My hair is up in a messy bun, and since I'm not planning on washing it tonight, the said style should make it bouncy for tomorrow.  Or . . . Or it will be a dry shampoo Monday, which sets an entirely new tune for the week.  You probably think I'm listening to rap and white girl rolling it out.  Not today, my friends.  It's late on a Sunday.  Sunday's are no place for rap.  Mondays, now, are a different story.  Instead, I've got an even whiter mix of mellow and slow songs going that I've had on repeat for two days.  I make no apologies, as sometimes we just need the same twenty songs to move us along.  Sometimes.  This is all sounding pretty white bougie right now.  I probably shouldn't tell you I had a gluten-free blueberry bagel this mo...

Dating, or failed and semi-failed attempts, still circle the air these days.  Of the best of the best, here are a few moments that make you wonder why you bothered to shower, flat iron your hair, or wear heels instead of a pair of hole-riddled college sweats and a wife beater. Instead, the weak nature of humanity--and yourself--seek companionship, and you continue to hate and torture yourself . . . Time and time again.  I've had my share of duds and everything in between, and tonight I broke down and asked an old friend what the fuck is wrong with my profile to attract every asshat clown this side of the Mississippi. He assures me it is not me.  I think he's being kind.    I still feel like it is me, as it always is.   Doesn't help that two weeks ago I found out the dude I've been keeping up long distance texts with since August is a racist, wall supporting, anti-social program fucktard.  As the truth unfolded in his ill-punctuated texts, I...