Author: Arianna

Disclaimer: I’m a believer in writers expressing themselves candidly, transparently. So the words on this page reflect my current emotional state – lack of punchline and all. For more light-hearted fluff, you’ll want to keep scrolling. But for those interested in the full context of where my head is at, read on. Perhaps you feel the same.

Your prayers have been answered: after a lengthy hiatus, I’ve returned more basic than ever. Suffice to say, I’ve eaten a ton of avocado toast and purchased a lot of Soul Cycle vouchers that I don’t ever intend to use since we last touched base. Continue reading →

My sincerest apologies to all 3 of you that read this blog; I’ve been highkey lagging in the entry department. Reason #1: I’m attempting to semi-cleanse myself of social media (barring Snapchat, it’s essential my fans know my every move) and battle my severe phone addiction. Recently, The Burger™ was stolen by some plebe who clearly had a death wish, causing me to be phone-deficit for an entire weekend. I immediately found myself breaking out in hives, sweating profusely, and experiencing other classic withdrawal symptoms… it was evidently time to start reevaluating my life choices. Continue reading →

This week I wanted to take a quick breather from my NYC recap and go back to basics – no pun intended. You’ve read about my escapades in the juice-cleansing, yoga-posing, photo-filtering, tiny dog-walking city that is Los Angeles for a few months now… so let’s reflect on some of my most painfully cliché experiences! It’s been a wild ride. Continue reading →

Nightlife

Me: I’ll try to dress ‘New York’ when we go out tonight.
Friend: What does that mean?
Me: Oh, you know. Slutty. Black clothes.
Friend: What’s the difference in LA?
Me: Still slutty. Slightly less black.
Friend: Yeah, that sounds about right.

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“I visited LA and didn’t hate it. And I hate myself for saying that. I think I even liked it. God, I hate myself.” -Random New York Guy

For the first time since last August – when I became besties with an entire gay bar in Paris and dabbled in binge drinking in Ireland – I unwinded with a much-needed vacay in the concrete jungle that never sleeps. My mission? Eat yogurt on the steps of the Met like Blair Waldorf, sell my soul for Hamilton tickets, and track down the Abbi to my Ilana. Continue reading →

If you’re lucky, you may recall my – dare I say – avant-garde Study in Thirst (to be featured in the New York Times any day now, I’m sure). Quick refresher: I dove vajayjay-first into a sea of desperation and Wienerschnitzels by more or less downloading every dating app known to fuckboy. All of my bios included my Instagram handle in order to assess which randos would be desperado enough to DM me. And these unsavory, smart phone-using cretins delivered like goddamn Domino’s. Let me tell you about it. Continue reading →

Tickled is a documentary that debuted at this year’s Sundance and is now playing in select theaters across the country. It’s also slaying the game on Rotten Tomatoes, where their ever-infallible tomatometer clocks it in at a 94% approval rating.
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Every year it happens. You’re congregated around the table for another Thanksgiving feast, shoveling truckloads of mashed potatoes into your mouth like it’s feeding time at the zoo (after all, the calories don’t count on holidays!), when Aunt Debbie launches the classic backhanded compliment: “How come you’re still single? A pretty girl like you should definitely have a boyfriend.” Continue reading →

This is a humor blog, yes. And as vehemently passionate as I am about political and social issues, I shy away from polarizing discourse on social media to not alienate my audience too much. (Though naturally I can’t resist the occasional Ted Cruz/Zodiac Killer joke. Because, I mean… he is.) Continue reading →

The nation collectively celebrated a holiday last weekend – no, not Memorial Day, Bottlerock in Napa! Like Coachella, Bottlerock hosts a musical and culinary extravaganza where millennials and old folks alike can dress like the cast of Almost Famous and overlook the Red Hot Chili Peppers’s rocky legal history with sexual battery, indecent exposure, and disorderly conduct in the name of catchy rock melodies. And unlike Stagecoach, most attendees are literate and acknowledge there’s no such thing as reverse racism. Continue reading →