Brianne Hogan

The turkey was rubbery. The mac ‘n cheese was cold. But somehow the meal was delightful.

brave. bawdy. decidedly not depressed.

Come, fervent readers of smart, witty blogs.

Last week was my imaginary ex-boyfriend's birthday. January 2, to be exact. I only know this because Facebook told me so. I had forgotten about him.

Jenny Trout. Abigail Barnette. Jennifer Armintrout. Missing anyone?

From fierce bunnies to books, Sonja rocks the art world.

The cards showed me the Tower and the Ten of Swords, which is basically bleak shit worthy of jumping off a tall building.

advice guru. lube lover. workaholic.

The chin hairs were the first hint of my impending senior discounts and early-bird dinners.

For a long time, romantic love was an esoteric thing to me that I assumed would occur eventually, like taxes and having your clothes dry-cleaned.