15 Ways to Ruin Your Boyfriend’s Life While Quarantined

’cause some things should still be fun, right?

With all of the world on practical lockdown right now, many of us are spending a significant amount of “quality time” with our SO’s that we aren’t quite used to. Sure, I’ve always imagined how fun a weekend would be getting cabin fever together, trapped in the house all cozy and cuddled up with my love, sleeping in and coffee in bed. But reality hit about 5 hours into day one, and now on day 7 I have a much different perspective on being trapped indoors together (and on him – that’s for another day, though). 

Prior to this caging, I never really realized just how much time men (I use that term lightly) can spend playing video games. Or watching people play video games. Or talking about video games. Frankly, I thought I was in for a treat when all sports were put on hold and I wouldn’t have to hear the phrase “line-up” anymore, but now I long for the days where I had the TV remote and he was in his own world, nose pressed against the phone screen organizing thoroughly researched players into a competition that would undoubtedly lose. Instead, my well-organized, decorated, and beautifully curated living room has become a gamer’s sanctuary, with coffee mugs and open Cheez-It boxes scattered across the floor. I am a guest in my own home.

Initially, I tried to keep things civil. Sure, rest your sweaty feet on my glass coffee table 5 minutes after you watched me clean it. No, no, eat your Chex-Mix on my couch – I can vacuum again later. Don’t worry about me quietly reading in the other room, yell as you need! I wouldn’t want to interrupt your “me time”.

Now, a full 40 hour work week of Call of Duty and MLB The Show later, I’m saying fuck it. While I’m relatively non-confrontational, I have found these little things can make his day even just 2% more difficult – and that makes me 10x happier.

  1. Unplug the HDMI to the PS4 every time he leaves the room for a semi-extended period of time (showering, pooping, walking the dog).
  2. Put the video game controller and headset “away” in random locations every time he’s “done playing” but leaves them out on the counter. Forget where you placed them when he asks. 
  3. Watch Netflix on your laptop on full volume next to him on the couch. Repeatedly sigh and turn down his TV because it’s too distracting.
  4. Put the dog’s toy under the couch so she stares at him and barks, and then, with a “really upset tummy”, hide in the bathroom until she annoys him enough to get on the floor and get her the toy.
  5. Use all of the coffee mugs for various random things and leave them dirty in the sink overnight so he has to hand wash one for his much-needed morning refresher after an all-nighter with the boys.
  6. Swap the bags inside his favorite snack boxes so he thinks he’s having one snack but getting something entirely different.
  7. Be overly difficult with dinner options. Blame it on the fact that crazy hoarders wiped the shelves clean and you just have no appetite for anything. Disagree with everything he suggests until he is so distraught he opts to go out and get you Chipotle.
  8. Leave the Brita filter empty and blame it on him if you need to use it before he does.
  9. Strip the bed sheets and leave washing them until very late. Go to bed with the only blanket you have in the house before he comes to sleep – and don’t share.
  10. Play your favorite music while you pace around the house aimlessly – don’t actually do any chores. I like to play the same song I know he hates on repeat so he spends the rest of the day singing it.
  11. Wash all the towels when you know he is about to shower. 
  12. When you do finally get ahold of the TV, play Gossip Girl, Real Housewives of New York, Keeping Up with the Kardashians, or some other overly-girly show. 
  13. Vacuum the patch of carpet in front of the TV repeatedly. It is very dirty. 
  14. Finish the creamer and put the empty container back in the fridge. 
  15. When you make any food for him, add a dash of something he hates. For my gamer, it’s too much garlic and/or salt. Eat up, babe! 

If you’re going to be trapped indoors, you may as well have fun. Good luck ladies, and remember that wine always, always helps.

Is being good at your job good enough?

Ever since I was young, I’ve been passionate about being successful. Not actually passionate about any specific career or achievement, but simply passionate about being a person worth remembering. This misdirected passion has plagued my entire young adult life. With no clear goals or targeted ambition, it has often felt like a bullet without a gun. Powerful, directed, and unstoppable, but incapable of being those things without the support it needs to take off in the first place.

As members of the “You can be anything you want when you grow up” generation, many of my fellow millennials are plagued with this discomfort, too. Despite being told we could have any career we wanted, we were never truly able to figure out what that was or how to get it. While being the generation most blessed with opportunity for exciting, empowered careers, many of us have also been cursed with crippling student loan debt and the pressure to still meet standards of success based on titles and salaries alone. Though my parents always believed I had the ability to be anything I wanted, they also believed I needed to make a certain amount of money, work at a certain type of company, and do traditional, respectable work. Despite having all the faith in me as a person and my abilities, the faith they lacked was in the system, the “man”, and the job market. In so many ways, that systemic fear, the lack mentality so many generations before have grown with, tampered with the potential we all had to be whatever we truly wanted, not just what was needed.

Growing up as a first generation college student meant a lot of pressure to perform, but I always thrived under that. The attention doled out to me over the years for exceptional grades, membership in scholarly clubs, and leadership roles I soon craved to take on became the fire that gave me my edge. My name in the paper, spoken at an assembly, or even simple, obligatory applause in class fueled my competitive nature, and I soon found that vague goal of success was actually a goal to be absolutely anything prestigious, especially as it came to a career. I was accepted to the University of Washington under the premise that I would be pre-med, despite the fact that I spent countless early high school mornings in the biology study hall with a patient teacher and several other flailing students. My first chemistry class at the university level was, undoubtedly, a joke. With 400 students, I had nowhere to shine as I was so used to before in my small hometown. But even if I had found that attention I so craved, it was the first time I didn’t have the knowledge to actually back it up. I received a 1.3 for the course, my first collegiate grade, first anything under an A-, and I panicked. As a prior walking success story and knowing I could be anything I wanted if I just decided, I accepted that “MD” would never follow my name. Why try again and fail, again, if I was great at all things except chemistry? One week later, I was a pre-law student.

College continued in this pattern, as I realized law was boring and not a guaranteed post-college job – declared business, was denied acceptance into the undergraduate business program – declared political science, and graduated, pretending I would go on to DC and lobby or work on “the hill”, as my classmates so fondly referred to it. I failed to receive internships that would actually catapult my career, instead working as a nanny, waitress, or ‘marketing assistant’ (aka mail-person and LinkedIn-request-sender). However, I still saw myself as eventually successful. This was just the beginning of my Oprah story. You have to have the shit jobs first before you become a household name, a person that matters. During all of this, all of these continued failures and roadblocks and adjustments, I still somehow was chasing eventual prestige and paycheck. Even now, I fear I have continued to do the same.

Four years after graduating, and three jobs in, I am still nowhere near close to the powerful, successful career woman I imagined I would be. I’ve gone from editorial intern to marketing specialist, and recently made a serious and unexpected pivot into recruiting, and all the while still feel this very, very big hole. Like something is truly missing about me. Like no matter where I go or what I do, I am always missing my “calling”. Like somehow, though now it seems expected, I failed to do something right and I’ve lost all hope of ever being truly fulfilled in my career. Like it’s too late to be the version of myself I created in my mind. Despite being exceptional at my current job, and loving so many aspects of it (and the fat, fat paycheck that can follow), I still find myself most days questioning what in the hell I am doing with my life. Staring blankly – full of boredom, hope, and the pit of past rejection – at my monitor while I ponder what I would be doing instead if I could. The misdirected “passion” now has landed itself on writing, journalism, working in a magazine under Anna Wintour, and absorbing so much cultural genius I can’t help but be engaged at all times. And then I wonder, will I just be questioning there, too?

For now, as many of my generation are stuck doing, I work for the paycheck. I worry about the student loan debt for the fancy degree I don’t use, the credit card bill I racked up trying to “enjoy my 20’s” and flex on Instagram, the rent for the apartment far, far out of my price range so people think I’m wealthier (i.e. happier) than I am. For now, I settle knowing that I am good at my job, and maybe that can be enough. That maybe the point of it all isn’t to be on the cover of Forbes 30 under 30 issue (26, time is a-wasting!) or to have created my own business or made a real name for myself. Maybe the point of this whole job revolution is to go back to the way things were. To just be good enough at something, pay your bills, and save your passions for after hours.

After all, how would any of us millennials have successful instagrams, blogs, podcasts, and side hustles if we were actually satisfied in our careers?

where do friendships go to die?

we all know that not every friendship can last forever. like boyfriends, apartments, and hairstyles (thank god), sometimes friends are better for a certain season of life than for the whole ride. but how do we know when that time has come to let a friendship go?

recently, i visited my college campus after 2 years since my last trip west. when i moved a few years ago from seattle to d.c., i had high hopes that i would return within a year. i planned on staying with my college boyfriend after the short stint of long distance and moving back to the west coast with my past friendships and future life goals intact. however, as quickly as my bags were unpacked, my friendships (and relationship) began fading. my boyfriend and i broke up, and i realized seattle was no longer the end game. phone calls and facetimes with college besties turned into snapchats and text messages, until eventually even those were too “difficult” for us to keep up with.

while the distance made an impact on many of my relationships, i had successfully maintained my best friend through it all with checkins, updates, and phone calls over the years. she visited me and we both reached out to each other, knowing that we valued each other more than the inconvenience of reaching out. but with other friends, it wasn’t the same. their efforts were exhausting or annoying to me, or my efforts were falling on deaf ears. had that distance finally proven that we were friends out of convenience, and not actually out of friendship?

in school settings especially, friendships are easy to form. everyone has school in common and are likely in similar stages of life. in college, i joined a sorority where we had sisterhood, classes, and events in common in addition to the fact that we all had similar goals, family structures and ages, and significant other issues we all faced. it is so easy to become friends when everything about the other person and their life, problems, and concerns mirror what you’re going through. complaining about your dead-beat high school boyfriend to your roommate who also is having issues with her long-distance beau is effortless. but as those commonalities start to shift, so does the friendship.

suddenly, it’s harder to talk to that friend about your boyfriend issues, because her fiancé proposed last month. your situation with your parents is now no longer relatable because you live at home, and she lives in a beautiful high-rise apartment on her own. your concerns about work and career growth are seemingly irrelevant when she just received a promotion and a pay raise. it becomes nearly impossible to relate to that person as effortlessly as you did before.

and for me, the jealousy has become a major factor. i don’t want to share with you how frustrating my boyfriend has been because he plays video games with his friends on a sunny saturday after i get the snapchat of your boyfriend making you breakfast in bed. i don’t want to hear you tell me “at least you’re living rent free” when i complain about being 25 and living at home, because you think you wish you could still live at home and save money instead. i don’t want to rain on your promotion parade with my depression about where my career is going and the epic failure i feel i am in relation to my goals. all this comparison does is create a wedge in the friendship that we never had before. no longer are we two girls going through life together – now we are two individuals comparing our lives to one another.

over time and distance, almost all of my college friendships faded, as i had anticipated some would. i have never been one to keep friends around after the season has dried up – in fact, i’m unfortunately known for the cut-and-run when i no longer feel i can rely on you the way i did before. but when i visited seattle again this month, these faded friendships hit me like a bag of bricks. these people who had shaped me so much – been so integral to the woman i became, held me when i cried, told me how valuable of a person i was – no longer even wanted to see me when i was in town for the first time after years. it was like pulling teeth to try and even grab a glass of wine to reminisce the good ole days together when these people had so completely changed and moved on from me. i realized these relationships were over long before i had landed in the city, recognizing that some individuals just hadn’t ever tried. and with others, i hadn’t tried either. i didn’t reach out over the years, keep in touch, or make an effort worthy of people who had been so important to me once before.

the hardest part of it all is that the friendships died so unintentionally. i had every intention of moving back to seattle and being friends with these girls forever. they were to be my bridesmaids, my children’s aunties, my wine and t-ball dates. and even when i decided not to move back, we would’ve had girls trips and reunions in my mind (think: carrie bradshaw wedding-less honeymoon with the girls).

but, not all friendships are meant to live on forever. i may not be a bridesmaid in 15 sister’s weddings, but i will be in at least one. i may not raise my kids with their kids, but i will make friends with fellow parents in my neighborhood. and while i still need to work on my jealousy issues (hello, therapy), i will gladly watch them succeed from afar and know the impact they forever made on me. friendships don’t all have to die a painful death, and there can still be love there – even when that’s all we have in common anymore.


welcome to new york

hello to my fans, sorry it’s been so long since i wrote you. i’m so incredibly busy, it can be hard to remember the little people.

joking, of course, minus the busy part. october has kicked my ass and taken my name, and left me tired, sore, and kinda stinky. time for a shower.

in all the hustle and bustle of my busy life, i recently went to nyc on a whim, marking my third time in the beautiful city. still haven’t been during the summer, but that can be a 2019 goal. however, i have decided that the third time truly is the charm, and now i can claim myself a nyc expert. here are my favorites – the must sees, eats, and dos of the city.

*keep in mind, i love to do some touristy stuff the first time i go somewhere & then usually never again – if it makes this list, its either worth seeing twice or its not a tourist destination/spot you’ve heard of yet*

must see:

brooklyn bridge – this is a personal favorite of mine. take the subway into brooklyn and wander through dumbo, then cross back to manhattan by walking across the bridge. the views are unreal and when you’ve crossed, you’re not far from chinatown, soho, etc.

soho – for me, soho is everything that i love about the city. in midtown, new york feels like any other city – big, shiny buildings and crowded streets. but there’s something about the character in soho that feels so much more new york. get a cocktail, do some shopping, stop by this cute café for a cookie shot – soho can fill up an entire day.

central park – this is truly one of the most beautiful places i have ever been. from the lake to the paths to the zoo – central park has it all. plus gorgeous views of the city from wherever you are. grab a cup of coffee and wander through the park while you enjoy the perfect blend of city and nature (and people watching).

cute neighborhoods to hit:

upper westside for brownstones and pretty much everything that embodies the life i want to live

tribeca for its blend of cityscape and still so much character (brick, cobblestone streets, boutique cafés)

must eat (brunch):

rock and reilly’s – great  spot in midtown, quiet and elevated. loved the smoked salmon pizza

l’amico in nomad – deeeeelicious! this place was a little loud & a little slow but that’s brunch for you. I recommend the lemon ricotta pancakes – the whipped lemon whatever it was that you put on top with the blueberry compote is absolutely heavenly

hotel chantelle in lower east side – i loved this spot for a good boozy brunch, and their smoked salmon platter is not only delicious, but also so instagram worthy. while we were there, there was a live band which was a little bit loud but absolutely phenomenal!

must eat (lunch/snack spots):

the plaza – get your boujee on and splurge a little – you only live once. caviar, champagne, tea and all the delicious finger sandwiches of your dreams in the most beautiful and elevated setting. felt like a princess.

katz deli – delicious meats in the lower east side, known for its scene in when harry met sally (see this movie, seriously) where she fakes her orgasm. and let’s be honest, the food is real-orgasm worthy.

must eat (dinner):

butter in midtown – feel like blair waldorf and the minions in this delicious spot. must get the midtown fizz cocktail & pan seared scallops

catch in meatpacking – this place is unreal. great for shareable bites, and especially for the seafood, we loved the oysters and the sushi rolls

tao – the. fucking. chilean. seabass!!!!!!!! unreal. unrealllll like if you don’t eat this you’re going to die sad. the ambiance is amazing with a very cool asian fusion theme, from the massive buddha in the middle of the room to the dark, moody lighting. also, get the saketini.

must do:

PHD rooftop – the views are incredible here so that alone makes it worthwhile. plus, if you wanna feel super inadequate you can come here and stare at all the insanely pretty people around you.

top of the rock – this is the best view in the city because you can see the empire state building in the skyline rather than being in the tower. it’s only about $35 per person to go up to the top and you can explore three tiers of views, all from the safety of enclosed glass. go at sunset, it’s amazing.

see a live show – so this could be anything from broadway to stand up, but when i went in april my best friend and i saw live with kelly and ryan, which was an amazing opportunity to see how a live show is recorded. so many great shows are recorded in nyc and they are usually free to attend, and if you dress up real cute you can be in the front row (*insert hair flip*) .

let me know if you visit any of these spots, or what your favorites are – i’ll be back again soon so if there’s anything you didn’t see on this list that you’re dying to know about, i’ll be your tester. keep your eye out for my favorites from the bahamas – i leave tomorrow! can’t wait. xox

boys, beets, battlestar galactica

‘be single while you’re still young’

‘be free’

‘take time to learn who you really are before you fall in love’

fuck. all. that. advice.

summary for lazy readers: being single is not cool. it’s not freeing. in fact, it’s the least freeing thing i’ve ever done. it’s unstable, it’s boring, it’s sexless, and frankly it’s not worth trying. don’t recommend.

first and foremost, i’m not dating, i’m barely even trying, let’s be honest. i’m a pretty passive dater. i refuse to date a coworker or use a dating app to meet someone, and don’t go out where sexy humans spend their time. even when i do, i stand in the corner with my active bitch face telling the world not to even try to talk to me. i can imagine my abf is pretty bad considering no one ever does approach, and my rbf is pretty scary as it is.

even if i was tindering, idk what i’m supposed to do. i’ve never gone on a blind date or met up with someone i hadn’t sufficiently stalked online first. how do you start the conversation in person when you’ve already flirted a little over messenger? how do you ask about them as a person without asking about exes and their weird relationship with their mom and the age they were when they first watched porn? i don’t know – i’m too forward to figure out that fine line i guess. with me, it’s pretty all or nothing.

but let’s say god is smiling on me and fucking blesses me from above with a hot guy that approaches me at a bar or meets me through a friend. *thank you, jesus* what is this poor guy supposed to do, come back to my place? fall in love with me over a dinner that my dad cooks us? propose in the living room so my incessantly nosy parents can be involved? living at home lacks all romance.

being single and living at home – now that’s the most depressing thing i’ve ever done. nothing like trying to flirt with someone over text while your dad is screaming about the game in the nearby living room. talk about plain creepy.

honestly though, the hardest part for me is my pickiness. be cute, wealthy, slightly older, significantly taller, light eyes, dark hair, obsessed with me, gentlemanly, get along with my family, spoil the shit out of me. that’s all i ask. i think it’s relatively simple yet apparently it is not. add to it the fact that i am a serial monogamist, relationship hopper, girlfriend extraordinaire. no guy wants to commit from day one, but i love to bag ’em early. hello, my name’s hannah, i’m already in love with you and we’re officially exclusive now, k? come meet my parents and tell me how in love with me you are.

it’s hard because as a female with a history of long and super-serious relationships, i think guys can see that red flag waving from afar. it must be a twinkle in my eye they spot from the minute we meet. and how do you overcome that as a girl who, sure, only ever has experience in that, but who is willing to try out the whole casual dating thing?

let’s be honest, i don’t need a boyfriend, i need a sugar daddy. or two. three preferred. i need someone who wants to take me out, show me off, spoil me, and treat me like a princess. those guys do not exist unless they’re the creepy foreigners dming you to be their mail-order wife. no thanks, block.

guys these days, or maybe just guys i’m around, just want to sit around and relax. i’ve relaxed for the last 24 years of my life, that’s all you do in stable relationships. i’ve watched the office on netflix 749 times because that’s just what you do when you’re wifed up. not complaining, but just saying i can watch the office on my own time now, thank you – it’s your job as the new love interest to woo me. where’s this guy at?

taking a moment to self-reflect, i think a lot of my struggles boil down to my weird need to be courted. i don’t want to meet you on tinder because that requires me taking an action and putting myself out there. i don’t want to be welcoming at the bar because i’m sorry but if one more weirdo approaches me i’m going to throw a punch. i don’t want to be living at home anymore because – you know what, that one’s self-explanatory. but here i am finding no love falling into my lap and wondering what i should do next.

for the pros, being single has helped me focus on my health, losing weight and getting skinny. that’s because it’s pretty unattractive to feel like you have to suck in during sex in every single position. it’s helped me finally launch my blog and grow my instagram, because i’m pretty fucking bored every day and have nothing better to do than talk to and take pictures of myself. it’s helped encourage me to save more so i can move out soon, through my resentment of living at home for free where all my food is prepared and water is always hot and my dog is loved. you know, it’s the little things.

moral of the story is, looks like i am about to be single forever with this lazy mindset. in 30 years you’ll find me still living at home, still not using apps, still not being courted – still. single.

but you know what, all boys suck. so, c’est la vie. at least i have kali to cuddle me at night.





describe your dream life

i’m sitting in my bed, drinking a glass of delicious red wine, curled up in a furry target blanket, with the sound of my dad hollering in the background. ‘cause i live at home. i’m typing this while i watch gossip girl for the 800th time (get with it) and wondering.. wtf am i doing with my life?

you see, i’ve always been the girl with a vision. fancy car, hot husband, insanely big job title, nannies to care for my children. bangin bod, travel on the regular, and so rich it’s just disgusting. alas, i’m so broke i live at home, eating my parent’s food and using their hot water until my mom complains. listening to them spend 30 minutes debating which beach is the featured beach on apple tv’s screensaver. it’s fucking riveting.

so i’m sitting here watching gossip girl, feeling like dan is probably equivalent to the richest person i’ve ever known (please someone tell me how a poor, washed-up rockstar can afford a massive loft in DUMBO???) and even he is the scum of the earth in NYC. where does that leave me? an extra in the background? lollll.

i mean seriously the wealth in this show fucked me up for a goddamn lifetime. i will never be satisfied. nothing can please me when i’m not living blair waldorf‘s life to the fullest. the dripping gold, diamonds, flowers – the SHOES i mean just the freaking shoes i would die for. sign me up for all this drama i do not give a flying fuck, if this is what i get in exchange. sure their lives are depressing as shit but at least they’re crying on a private jet and not in the poorly lit bathroom at work.

and another note, someone wanna tell me how these girls found such insanely hot guys?! YES EVERYONE I KNOW ITS A TV SHOW please tell me why they’re trying to ruin my expectations for my own life with these gorgeous, rich guys who are obsessed with their girlfriends. i can’t even get my dog to hang out in the same room as me, let alone a human being of the opposite sex. LET ALONE a human being as gorgeous as freaking chase crawford and ed westwick (post-season 3, duh).

also, everyone is skinny. sure, scary skinny, but tell me one time you saw a character work out (other than season 1 when nate goes running with his dad and the guy from dartmouth, of course). they all go to these fancy restaurants and eat pastries for a living while i’m concerned about whether or not i’m in the window of allowed eating time and googling if butter is a carb.

i’m just trying to say that i feel like an epic failure when i look at the lives of these fake rich people (and shoutout to the hills comeback for just continuing that mood) and trying to figure out what i am doing wrong in my life that i’m not living like that. yeah, i already know money isn’t everything, that’s what poor people say, so just go away.

maybe it’s where i live. i mean really, everything interesting happens in an actual city. not in the suburbs 30 miles outside of a relatively interesting city. when’s the last time a sexy, rich tv series was set in fairfax, virginia? never cause it could not be a more boring place to exist, i’m serious. people would watch the show and start protesting the city’s general existence and lameness.

i get that my lifestyle is definitely not helping me to create this dream life since i spend about 90% of my free time in my bed, or drunk. or drunk in my bed. wow, lame. i mean seriously, it’s not like i’m out there going to galas or meeting attractive people at bars i go to alone (how does serena make this look cool and i still make it look insanely sad?). i think my general laziness plays an awfully big role in my discomfort in all aspects of life. will i change? never.

and on that note, i am going to continue the nap i took at my desk today and head to sleep, dreaming of a world where chase crawford shows up at my door, whisks me away to la and then actually i meet a super rich and hot and famous athlete that i end up marrying. you know, always shoot for newer, better goals.