Flip Collective Field Trip




Season Five of Flip Collective has come to an end. We’ll be back soon. Until then, check out the last piece I wrote, “Funny Girl.” Excerpt below:

“Ohhhh, Jenny.” Some calm, emotionally stable married person sits across from me, having listened to my most recent failed pseudo-relationship, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.  “You just don’t like the nice guys.” Oh, I’ve heard this one before. It’s a slightly veiled way of saying, “Yo, dumbass, take responsibility for your life choices and stop crying to me about it.” 

Click here to read more.



In case you missed it… another Flip Collective Field Trip

Male Triangle


Flip Collective just started its summer season, and that means I’ll be back with a few pieces. Like this one, “The World’s Second Most Difficult Triangle,” about unicorns perfect men.

There’s a graphic out there — I’m sure you’ve seen it — often referred to as “The World’s Most Difficult Triangle” or “What I Want in a Woman.” It is a simple, black and white rendering of a shape, accompanied by the adjectives “intelligent, emotionally stable, good-looking,” as well as a directive in the center: “Pick two,” it says, inferring one inherent, tragic sacrifice. Intelligent and emotionally stable? She’s likely got the face of a horse. Good-looking and intelligent? Watch out for when that nut job stabs you in the hand with a fork. Good-looking and emotionally stable? Hope you’re into girlfriends who are as dumb as Golden Retrievers.

Click here to read the rest of the piece on Flip Collective.


A Flip Collective Field Trip: The Consequences of Not Giving Two F$cks

Head on over to Flip Collective, where you’ll two ways to experience Zen. Hint: One is a lot more fun than the other. Excerpt below

There is a Zen-like quality to not giving a shit about anything. I usually feel this way right after I leave Bikram yoga, when the sweat and the heat and the humidity have hammered me into submission, quelled all the frothing angst that usually develops over the course of a day. Concerns about how I’m not booking modeling jobs (going broke) or how my insurance is charging me $2,000 for routine lab work (also, going broke) or how that guy still doesn’t – and will likely never – love me (dying of loneliness).

Read more.


The $4.99 Field Trip


Screen shot 2013-02-20 at 3.40.16 PM


Alright beloved freeloaders, it’s time to cough up a tiny bit of cash if you know what’s good for you. We’ve just published our…fourth? third?…issue of CARTEL and the annoying writer-ish part of us requires that we harbor some sick desire that you read it. It’s available on Amazon for the bargain price of $4.99. The work is good. Scout’s honor. Click here to purchase.


Field Trip! (Of the Flip Collective variety)




Click through image above to read my piece on Flip Collective this week, “Killers Drink Coke.” If you’re too lazy to scroll up, you can click here, too. Excerpt below:

Late last year, I stumbled upon an article titled “Last Meals Before Execution,” featuring, as one might suspect, a slideshow of death row prisoners and their last meal requests, a priceless receipt of unparalleled morbidity courtesy of US taxpayers. It is most likely I was rerouted to such a fine piece of literature after looking for one too many recipes for kale online – perhaps the universe’s way of telling me my skinny ass could go to hell, but that I had to have a cheeseburger first…




Field Trip!

Police Discover A Victim Of Jack The Ripper

Flip Collective started off their first season of 2013 last week and that means I’m back in that saddle for the time being. Click on the image above to read my latest piece, “Bullets and Butterfly Wings.” Excerpt below:

The four of us sit in an expensive restaurant on Kenmare, four blondes from all over the world gossiping over the smudged surface of a copper table: Milena from Denmark, Hannah from Sweden, Anneli from Finland, and myself from glamorous Woodland Hills, California. Ultimately, we all speak the same language, the language of I’m-Single-in-New-York-City-and-This-Is-the-Fucking-Worst. That language. With the exception of Milena, who has been married for thirteen months. Even so, she’s got stories that would last anyone more than a few years…



BUY ME! (please?)

Okay, the way I see it, all of you are EVENTUALLY going to have to pay to read my work (dear f’ing god, please). And when you do, it’ll be like $14.99 and it will be a book. For now, I offer you this chance to pay a little bit of money to read a little bit of my work. We just released CARTEL, Flip Collective’s e-magazine. Please support us (and me). Flip Collective has made me an infinitely better writer, which I hope has benefited you as a reader. Anyway, check out the excerpt from my piece by clicking through the image above and, if you like it, go to Amazon and purchase it for $2.99. It’s cheaper than an US Weekly Magazine and you won’t go to hell because of it.

Buy it here on Amazon.


Future Field Trip

After four years of providing free content and refuge from the boredom of your workday, in a week I will be asking for you to cough up $2.99 for the first issue of Cartel, by the people that brought you Flip Collective (also free).  We’ve been working hard on it.  Not like coal miner hard, but white girl problems hard.  Anyway, I think it’s pretty good.  In it, you’ll find out what happens when I entertain the idea of online dating, which went kind of like this.  Hint: I am not the toaster.


Flip Collective Field Trip!

Click through on image below for my new installment inspired by Brooklyn Love Stories, aptly titled Insignificant Others.  Check it out.


Golden words commanded from their place on a clean windowpane. Words advertising clothing and midcentury furniture, a lifestyle this particular store wanted to promote.


Lourdes wanted to feel less. She wanted to feel nothing. She was in a horrible mood, one that had become distressingly familiar. The strain in her chest, the whirling brain, the helpless feeling that made death sound less than disagreeable, if only to make everything stop. These bouts of depression were like a barreling train with incomprehensible force and speed. Walking along the darkened sidewalk of La Brea, she unscrewed the childproof lid of a plastic orange canister and swallowed a Xanax without water…