Brianne Hogan

Seriously, the lady is Busy with a capital “B.”

I’ve decided that I no longer want to depend on an exchange of cultural consumption or “comparing lives” currency in order to feel good about myself.

accidental movie star. founder of crankytown. wannabe villain.

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

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.

advice guru. lube lover. workaholic.

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

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.

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