I turned 31 yesterday, which would absolutely be unremarkable except for the fact that Justin, my big brother, died when he was 31. That’s a friendly way of putting it, though. Justin took his own life at 31. There, that’s more realistic. I’ve been dreading my birthday for almost the whole year. I was super […]Read More Happy Birthday to Me
My last post on HFOW was a year and a half ago. I don’t know about you, but I feel like some big shit went down between December of 2019 and July of 2021? Like maybe something fundamentally shifted worldwide for a whole year? I just can’t quite put my finger on it… If you […]Read More Did You Miss Me? I Sure Did.
Missing out on the job I’ve wanted for five years knocked the air out of my lungs. The Big Breakup Heartbreak pushed me to the ground and rubbed my face in the dirt. It left me feeling disoriented and unsure of myself. The Little Breakup Heartbreak gouged open old wounds and left me scared of […]Read More Perspective
It began, as it always does, with Florida–the nation’s phallus. Around 7:30PM on November 8th, I paced around my mom’s kitchen eating ice cream and praying to whichever God likes girls who stress-eat ice cream while pacing around their mother’s kitchens. When Florida went for Trump, I started sobbing. I know that I tend to […]Read More The Downward Spiral
I turned 26 last Friday. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, but Whitney! You don’t act a day over 12! Or look a day over however much younger you would like to look or act! Thanks, reader. That makes me feel really good about myself! I DON’T look a day over fetus. I spent my […]Read More 26 is The New 25
My blog has generally been a place where I turn tragedy into comedy. But the thing is, you can only turn a personal tragedy into comedy. You can’t be like, “oh, ha, ha, the holocaust was so funny,” because there is no way to make that hilarious. But you CAN be like, “remember when […]Read More Hey, You.
It’s like Asimov’s I, Robot only less fun and the movie adaptation would star Michael Cera in drag as me instead of Will Smith as the lead guy. I’ve been exhausted lately. Not post-blood clots nap time exhausted, but so tired that I actually have to lie down or I will pass out. The fatigue starts behind […]Read More I, Hypochondriac
Since Donald Trump is still in the running–is still considered to be a “viable” candidate–I have decided to take it upon myself to create a weekly segment in which I tear him up like the piece of beef jerky that he is. On this week’s segment of #TrumpedThursdays, we’re going to talk about how dumb […]Read More #TrumpedThursdays
I have tried to sit down to write this post like a zillion times and then my Anxiety Voice kicks in and gives me the sweats. Like this: Hey, Whitney. No one reads your blog anymore. Literally, no one. You’ve fallen from your position as a recommended humor writer and everyone thinks you suck because […]Read More You’re A Writer, Aren’t You?
This is less a story about bowling and more of a story about failure. The kind of failure that happens even when there are a zillion safeguards in place to make sure you can’t fail. When you fail when literally everything is built to make you succeed. It’s these kind of stories that turn boys […]Read More We Need to Talk About Bowling