For this Center Stage I’m visiting some of my favorite blogs and dipping into their archives. Enjoy!


“Have y’all noticed how hard it is to get anyone to do their job? It’s another sign of my age, I’m sure, but I remember learning a skill set we usta call customer service. Y’all remember customer service? It wasn’t a hard skill to hone. I would be kind to people while trying to solve their problems in a way that didn’t cost the company a fortune, while making sure the customer would come back to spend more money again. It was hardly a novel concept when I entered the work force at fifteen, but it may well be on its way to extinction now.”

It’s Not Customer Service, It’s Just Some Guacamole: Joeyfully Stated


“You know the ones. They all star this legless bald chick with an IQ of 70 and anorexia whose stepdad beats her but she ends up going to Harvard and winning Miss USA and running a marathon and then goes on to inspire other bald legless anorexics to achieve their dreams.

Does the Lifetime movie channel play in other countries besides America? Cause it’s so fucking “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps” American I could puke…and then make a hot chocolate and grab a box of kleenex and cry, “She’s. So-ooo. Ah…ma..ma..zing!” and then watch it again. Damn you, Lifetime movies!

I swear to God, this is the reason why we are all so crazy: the expectations. They are terrible. TERRIBLE!”

Fuck Lifetime Movies: Damn, Girl. Get Your Shit Together


“My darling, hyper-intelligent baby deer, I am going to share with you one of the best, most secret methods of saving money. It cuts down on wasteful spending. It increases your savings. It encourages you to be intentional. It even empowers you to live your best life.

Please hold onto something and prepare yourself spiritually. Ready? Here goes:

Don’t spend money on things you don’t like.

Wait, come back! I know it sounds obvious… but I find myself breaking this personal rule all the damn time. And whenever I do, I regret it, and not just for the wasted dollars I will never ever see again. So take my hand and let’s break it down, shall we?”

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool: Bitches Get Riches


“I tempted fate and clicked the link to see what it is the Prez wants to know. The first question was fairly easy to answer. What state do you live in? Fear. 24/7. All day. All night. Completely blinding, staggering, stupefying panic. The other questions sent me into an emotional death spiral that could only be stopped by cramming fistfuls of Skittles and antidepressants in my face.

Do you feel safer from terrorist attacks under President Trump’s leadership?

Is Fuck No an option?

Do you believe many universities indoctrinate rather than teach students?

No, that’s a job for Fox News.

How would you rate the infrastructure in your neighborhood?

Why? Have you finally sent the one tweet that pissed of Kim Jong Un enough to start a nuclear holocaust?”

The Trump Survey And Maybe A Threesome!: I’m Sick and So Are You


“After a solid two days of despair spirals, I managed to book myself a Monday morning appointment with a general practitioner, and proceeded to eat every meal in the meantime as if it was my last. I drank two glasses of wine last night and ate cheese and crackers for dinner, making small talk with a friend, while in the back of my mind I slowly whispered, “Goodbye, wine. Goodbye, cheese. Goodbye, sweet friend. Goodbye forever.”

At 11pm, I was in bed.
At 4am, I was awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was my last time waking up with all my limbs intact.
At 5am, I was googling symptoms again.
At 6am, I went downstairs and drank a glass of water, because it was probably the only thing keeping me alive.
At 7am, I started googling reviews of this doctor. They were all great, glowing reviews. Of course the reviews are all great, my Anxiety Brain whispered, because it’s clearly a scam. Yeah. I bet it’s a scam. I bet he’s not even a real doctor. I bet he’s just some guy who set up a bunch of profiles on, like, Yelp For Doctors or whatever this is I’m reading, and all of these reviews are just him under a bunch of fake names making up a bunch of fake stories about what an amazing doctor he is. I bet he’s going to take my personal information and steal my identity. I bet he’s going to send me a bill for a thousand dollars. I bet he’s a murderer. I should cancel. There’s no way I’m going to this thing.”

Anxiety!: I Am Begging My Mother Not To Read This Blog