“If you’re lacking inspiration as an artist, your father and I are probably to blame. You just had too good of a childhood. We were too perfect as parents.” -Marti

An online journal is cheaper than therapy, I say when people ask why I write. Blogging doesn’t make me unique; everyone does it nowadays. Thanks to technology, any old schmuck with Internet access can post about sports or music or the sweaters they knit for their cat, Chairman Meow. The evil part of me – which makes up a good 97% – lives for it. Now you don’t have to wonder which of your peers has a double-digit IQ anymore! Continue reading →

12:43 A.M.

Those Yelp reviews told NO LIES. Coppers would most definitely not pass even the sketchiest of under the table health inspections, and the bouncers obviously ignored those ‘100 people maximum capacity’ guidelines and went for a hard 250. The club was grimy, borderline moldy and hordes of half-naked people were pressed up against each other like cattle. They were literally panting on one another – all heavily perspiring, all with vacant expressions plastered across their faces. Everyone was dead in the eyes. Continue reading →

Day 4

What other stereotypical Irish things we could do? Go to the Blarney Castle, of course! There, we kissed the Blarney Stone, which – according to legend – endows the kisser with the gift of gab. Not that Brandon and I really needed that, as my ‘excessive talking in class’ elementary school report cards would indicate. Basically, the moral of the story is that we kissed some big rock and managed not to contract an exotic strain of herpes, so props to us, I guess. Continue reading →

Day 3

According to Cillian, to truly get the bonafide Irish experience you have to drink until you wake up on a filthy bathroom floor tour the majestic Cork countryside; Dublin alone doesn’t cut it. So that’s what we did. Green, green, and more green stretched for miles. The lush pastures felt like a scene straight out of Leap Year and the only thing missing was background music by The Cranberries. Continue reading →

Day 1

After dropping our child (Hayden) off at the Charles de Gaulle airport, Brandon and I hopped on a quick flight over to Ireland’s capital city, Dublin. Continue reading →

Day 4

It was our last full day in Paris – cue the crying face emoji – and dear Hayden’s birthday. Brandon and I made a pit stop to a local bakery that morning while he slept his usual ten hours and had them prepare a custom “Joyeux Anniversaire, Hayden!” chocolate hazelnut cake that tasted like Nutella, Saturday mornings, and childhood dreams. Continue reading →

Day 3

While I was coming to terms with the fact that I may be a bonafide cougar, our trio strolled over to Café de Flore for brunch – purely because the restaurant had been featured in Gossip Girl, and I consider myself to be a West Coast Blair Waldorf with fewer headbands but just as much sass. Continue reading →

Day 2

Tragedy struck when we trekked all the way to Marais, only to discover the Beyoncé wall was history.

To whoever painted over it: you’re officially on my hit list, right after the beez from 2nd grade who never returned my lit Lisa Frank notebook and whichever TV executive decided to cancel Freaks and Geeks. Continue reading →

Day 1 in Paris

Everything began as expected: I landed at Charles de Gaulle at the ungodly hour of 7 AM and whipped up a sign that read “HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS JBSC” to hold up when Brandon entered the baggage claim*. Because, obviously. Hayden arrived some time later, and after we were all reunited/told Hayden how much we hated him for flying first class, we rode the metro over to our luxurious Parisian hotel. Continue reading →

In a strange turn of events, I managed to not get banned from Europe after my year-long bender abroad. Customs just isn’t what it used to be, I suppose. So naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to take another trip overseas – for the first time since my days in the fried chicken parlor, liquor store that looks like a crime scene waiting to happen, thot-y paradise that was East London. This time, the squad was taking Paris. Bring on the escargot, romance, and lack of deodorant.

Before we begin, allow me to introduce you to our story’s cast, for all you poor, unfortunate souls out there who aren’t already familiar. Continue reading →