As Featured on News Cult: The Best Picnic Foods

#dreampicnictbh #swoon

Picnics are great. Because they involve food. You can do them with people or by yourself (you don’t need anyone, you eat alone all the time! Literally–you’re eating at all times. Usually solo.). You don’t even have to go outside–have one on your floor! This is where you’re usually eating alone anyways!

Here are the best things to stock your picnic basket with.


The most important food group.


Also the most important food group.

Salads, of the Pasta and Potato Varieties

The only kinds of salad we’ll be eating.


An entire loaf or three will do.


It never hurts to throw a Quesarito in there.


Pretty sure Marie Antoinette was talking about picnics.

Bread Pudding

This will be your second bread course.


We’re mixing and matching, people! Don’t limit yourselves!


In the form of ice cream. Or pie.

Hot dogs

You can never have enough hot dogs. Plus like they’re just so American. If you don’t picnic with hot dogs, 9/11 is your fault.

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As Featured on News Cult: How to Keep Yourself from Texting People You Shouldn’t Text

We all have that one person we most want to text but they’re the one person we should most NOT text. Like an ex, or someone we like but who doesn’t like us, which is also the same thing as an ex, or our professor who’s married with two kids who are like eh whatever fine looking I guess. Like, just say no. Forget drugs–texting is the real enemy. Here’s what you do to keep yourself from sending a text you’ll regret.

1. Throw your phone

Chuck it if necessary. Into oncoming traffic. Break it, smash it, make it unusable. This will also help let out your bottled up, mixed feelings–“I want to text this person and I want them to love me and why won’t they just text me back and also I HATE them and hope they die and never find happiness in their life ever“–violent acts are always the answer. And you may not like how expensive this option is, but would you like the feeling of knowing you texted a love letter to someone who’s just not that into you? Like in the book and/or movie? Shame is not a color that we wear well. (Even though we wear it all the time). You can thank me later.

2. Text someone else instead

Your mom, your best friend, your grandpa– surely you owe him a call so the least you can do is text him you ungrateful trust fund baby brat (also bonus: he probably doesn’t understand how to text, but no one will be able to say you didn’t try).

3. Cry

About the fact that you want to text someone you shouldn’t and you feel so rejected and you’re unlovable and are going to die alone and the person you want to text will never find out because they wouldn’t have ever tried to text you anyways so you’re practically dead to them already.

4. Watch some TV

Pick a show that will boost your self-confidence. Again, anything on TLC will do–can’t stress this enough. And make sure you stack your DVR full of episodes so you have some ready in case nothing is on when a particularly strong wave of weakness and the urge to text hits you.

5. Remind yourself that it doesn’t matter

Like, in the end, who cares? About anything? So you are having a tough time in relation to one person–what’s the big deal? As my mom always says my grandpa always says, in 300 years none of it will matter. Soon enough, your text plight will just float away into the vast expanse of nothingness that is your existence, and no one will care, just like whoever you want to text doesn’t care about you now.

6. Clean your apartment

This is a Herculean task that we’ve been avoiding for years, so it will take lots of time and energy, which is a great distraction.

7. Call any of your insurance companies, or your cable provider

You’ll be on hold so long that you’ll lose the will to live, including the will to send pathetic text messages.

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As Featured on News Cult: My Last Will and Testament

I figured it’s time for me to make a will because that’s what adults do right. So here it is.

1) My laptop, phone and all of my journals will go to whoever finds them first, on the condition that you burn all handwritten pages, and delete my browser history and all of my emails immediately upon finding them.

2) My dog goes to my sister, who is already taking care of her because I couldn’t provide a good enough life for her but whatever she’s still mine in spirit just like those teen moms who give their babies to their grandparents.

3) My car goes to probably the junk yard at this rate because I’ve been in four accidents in the last 2 months, three of them in the last week and in my new car that I had to get because the first accident totaled my previous car, so it’s not looking good. And for the record only one has been my fault and it was like super minor and nbd and prior to this I’d never been in an accident in 10 years of driving so before you assume I’m a terrible driver please chill the fuck out.

4) My extensive sweatpant collection shall be buried with me.

5) My inventory of burned CDs with no labels on them can go into my dad’s iTunes library. You’re welcome, Dad–you’re about to have hundreds of songs labeled “Track 1.”

6) My Brita filter should go into a museum, because that’s how old it is.

7) My 21 antique and/or decorative birdcages go to my mom, because she’s the only person who gets it/doesn’t think I’m certifiable for collecting so many.

8) My lifetime of poor decisions will stay where they are currently, with my therapist.

9) I don’t have a house to give away because I live in an apartment because I’ll never get to the point of home ownership because I’m never going to get my shit that together and become like a real person, so the obligation to pay the rent for the amount of time the apartment lease is still in my name but that I’m dead, which will probably be at least a week because it will take that long for anyone to discover I’ve died because I’m ALONE FOREVER, goes to the last three guys I’ve dated, because you’re all pieces of shit and you know what they say bad things happen in 3’s so the least you can do is pick up this cost which by the way doesn’t come close to making up for what you cost me mentally and I’m giving you more of a break than you should get by letting you split it three ways but I know you probably can’t afford more than that because you work dead end jobs, don’t handle your money or anything intelligently and just are generally going nowhere in life.

10) My sexy lingerie can go back to the store because I never used it.

11) My DVR goes to whoever has as much of a passion and appreciation for watching TLC shows to feel better about yourself as I do (did?). Did. As I did. Because I’m dead. Hopefully I went peacefully. Like during a sex dream. But ideally I climaxed first. God I hate that word: climaxed. You know what’s a good way not to climax? Think of the word “climax” as you’re about to climax.

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As Featured on News Cult: Gun Violence: Let’s Discuss

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I’ve never weighed in on the gun debate publicly. I’ve always had thoughts, questions, feelings about it, but haven’t ever taken to social media. Perhaps because I felt like my voice didn’t matter among the millions of others pronouncing theirs. And I still feel that way–what I say here, or anywhere, isn’t going to change anything. And maybe it’s not supposed to. And maybe I’m not trying to influence anyone or anything. But as this latest gun violence-related tragedy at Umpqua Community College has hit us, I, as it seems many others too, have reached a sort of point of reckoning; a bizarre plateau of indifference, mixed with horror, mixed with defeat. We know this place–we’ve been here many times before. Too many. Yet, here we are again. And I’m not saying anything that hasn’t been said already by countless others, over and over again. But I want to finally discuss my many mixed emotions and thoughts on gun violence, with hopes that maybe it will contribute to a larger conversation, which maybe some way, somehow, will bring peace to whoever needs it.

First, I kind of think the Second Amendment right is irrelevant here. I know that’s what most people who are pro gun rights center their argument around, but I don’t think that’s really the crux of the issue. No one is arguing that people who are capable of handling guns properly shouldn’t have the right to bear them. The problem lies with people who misuse guns. That’s where the policy change needs to happen. So everyone calm the fuck down about how your guns are going to be taken away. And also, frankly, some of you who think you should be carrying guns probably shouldn’t anyways, so laws limiting their accessibility would probably be good for you too.

It’s pretty simple–require background checks on people who are buying guns. And background checks that involve an investigation into mental health, as well as criminal history. Would you give an untreated schizophrenic person a gun? No. It’s literally that simple. And this is coming from someone who considers herself crazy. Like, I would probably fail a background check. Do I think I’m able to carry and use a gun responsibly? I know I am. But I also respect that with hundreds of millions of people in the U.S., there have to be certain laws and procedures that apply en masse. And if that means that if you pass the crazy test (as in you fail it–like, you pass in that you’re crazy), you can’t carry a gun, and I would def pass the crazy test, then so be it–I won’t get a gun. If that means that hundreds, thousands, potentially millions of others who couldn’t and/or wouldn’t use a gun responsibly also couldn’t get one, I happily sacrifice my individual right–for the common good. Isn’t that what patriotism is all about? (Like, I’m really asking–I don’t get it. Loved the movie but I’ve never been a good patriot).

I’m not so selfish as to protect my right to bear arms above all others’ rights–including their rights to life. I would rather I never have the right to own a gun than any more innocent lives be taken by people using guns who shouldn’t. And this isn’t all to say I think background checks would permanently solve all gun violence problems and there would never again be mass shootings–but it’s a start. There are no perfect answers. There are no complete solutions. But there are better and worse ones. 

And let’s talk more about mental health. I think this is the main issue. People get outraged when the focus of the gun debate becomes mental health. Because they say mentally ill people aren’t more likely to commit crimes involving gun violence. And mentally ill people get painted as the villains. I happen to think that argument is also a pile of horse shit. The point is not that mentally ill people are dangerous, and everybody take cover because who knows when they’re going to be mentally unstable and shoot up a place. The argument is that people who commit acts of gun violence need help. They are mentally ill. Not that every Tom, Betty and Susie with Down Syndrome is going to open fire at school. But that in order to kill people, especially in a mass shooting, you have to be somewhat mentally ill. I honestly believe this. And yes, hatred, and racism, and prejudice, and sadism can be products of mental illness. I already know what a lot of you are thinking–that I’m using mental illness as a crutch–an excuse to pardon gun violence. But that, too, is besides the point. The point is that if everyone had better access to mental health resources, people wouldn’t fall through the cracks. They wouldn’t get to the point where their only solution is to kill multiple people and themselves. They would be able to work out whatever underlying issues make them want to commit these acts of violence, and, hopefully, not end up committing them.

But so long as we have a government that is primarily driven by greed and profit, the mental and physical well-being of its citizens will never be paramount. Wherein lies the money, therein lies the power. I just came up with that. I should be a chief of staff. Or lots of people have probably said that before. Whatever. Like, we all know this by now: the government gives approx. -0.000001 fucks about us. Unless you come from oil money. So I suggest getting a job with good health insurance, or marrying someone with a job that gives good health insurance, or dying before you turn 27. Omg the 27 club FINALLY makes sense–they were all anticipating the reign of Obamacare!

Because we all need mental health help. You may not want to admit it, but you’re fucked up by virtue of being human. So you need help. You may not need as much help as your neighbor who’s writing manifestos about how he’s going to blow every woman’s brain out who ever didn’t want to date him, but you still need help. And if you’re lucky, you’re afforded the help you need. If you’re not, you and a lot of other people are potentially at risk of the consequences. 

I guess my bottom line is we need to do a better job of looking after our people–by instituting not just stricter gun laws but more effective mental healthcare regulations. And maybe stop thinking about what all of this means for us as individuals, and start thinking about what it means for society at large. Because while God knows we would love to live in a vacuum without contact with anyone else ever, that’s just unfortunately not reality. You may be vehemently stubborn in your belief that you can and should be able to own and do what you want with however many kinds of guns you want. But think for a second about what the world would look like if everyone thought that way–what it does look like with that being the mainstream pattern of thought.

If nothing else, fall back into thinking about what that means for you again–it means people can attack you and your loved ones with guns rather easily. One minute you’re watching a movie in a theater (which like btw why are you doing that who does that anymore ever heard of the Internet??) and the next, you’re being sprayed with bullets from an AK-47 some lonely teen bought off the shelf at Walmart. Is that really the best way for our society to function? (I’m inclined to say yes because I think the world would be better off without selfish people like you, but also I’m rising above it and saying that, for fuck’s sake, NO– no that is NOT the best way. I’m willing to coexist with you–reluctantly, but still–if it means a less violent world.)

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As Featured on News Cult: An Open Letter to Insurance Companies

Dear Soulless Corrupt Opportunistic Greedy P’s OS Insurance Companies,

You are the worst. You parade around as if you exist to help people. Yet, you prey on them. Like a lion. But not as sexy. Don’t pretend you don’t think lions are sexy. You only want one thing: money. And if that means fucking over your customers, who pay you to help them, then you’re going to do it. You have no loyalty. No compassion. Seemingly no capability to act rationally and ethically. I mean, if we were looking for that in our lives we would get back together with any one of our exes. We don’t need your bullshit. Why the fuck should we pay you so you can turn right around and rape-pillage us? This ain’t 1492, bitch.

Here’s the thing: you bank on the fact that people don’t have the time and energy to fight your outrageous claims and unfair treatment of them. But you don’t know who you’re dealing with. You’re dealing with US. And you’re mistaken. Because we are fighters. We will make the time and summon the energy to fight you. We’ll stay on hold ALL day long. Because we are not going to let you win. We are going to fight for every elderly person, every poor person, every overworked single mother you give the runaround and take advantage of who can’t fight for him or herself. You shorted us $.10 on a reimbursement check and figure since it’s only a dime, we won’t fight it? WRONG. Because if we let you get away with it, you’ll keep doing it. And you’ll keep doing it to the people who are most vulnerable and most in need of your help.

In other words, we are basically super heroes. Robin Hood. We are taking on the cause of taking you down for the good of the general populace. We’re a better dressed Erin Brockovich. Who am I kidding, there’s no one better dressed than Erin Brockovich. We are on to you, and the tables have turned. Because we angrily flipped them. And we are going to hunt. you. down. Hope you brought your running shoes. You probably don’t own them since you’re all chubby Midwestern ladies with bad perms, too much blue eyeshadow and a penchant for sass that seems to be powered by tacky press-on nails and chunky Brighton Collectibles jewelry.

Like a good neighbor? I don’t THINK SO, State Farm. More like the worst fucking neighbor you could ever imagine who takes dumps on your lawn and then refuses to clean them up and then invoices you for the cleaning up of them that YOU had to do. Yeah, you’re a good neighbor, and I have sculpted arms. You’re a good neighbor and Bill Clinton didn’t stick a cigar in Monica Lewinsky’s vag. You’re a good neighbor, and John Travolta’s tan is real.

Attn: Kaiser Permanente: you are the Walmart of health insurance companies. You’re cheap, low quality and overrun with sad, pathetic people who wear nothing but cargo shorts and camo print baseball caps, the bills of which they’ve dedicated far too much time to bending. Also wtf is up with your name? Shamelessly pandering to the Hispanics? You don’t DESERVE the voice of Allison Janney.

Geico gecko: I hope you die in a fiery hell pit. In fact, I’d like to put you on a spit, roast you in that fiery hell pit, and relish tearing the charred flesh off your bones with my well-cleaned, payed-for-by-Geico-dental-insurance teeth–literally biting the hand that feeds me. Because it capitalizes on human compassion for cute reptiles and feeds me lies.

Welcome to your worst nightmare– people who actually analyze and question what they’re told, who read the fine print, and who aren’t afraid to stand up for what’s right. You may be in the majority–you may have more power and money. But what you lack is our Spartan will. We could have to pee for 12 hours and never get off the couch because we’re determined to stay there watching TV. We could be told by our doctor that our cholesterol is too high and we’d still soldier on, bravely eating pizza after pizza, after pizza. We could be stranded on an island with George Clooney and not have sex with him because we’re too wary of where his dick has been and won’t settle for Hep C even if it means we get to bang him. We are determined. And you are unprepared.

With all our worst,

The Fight Club (but we’re not crazy like in the movie. We don’t talk to ourselves. Well, we do, but we’re aware of it. Like, it’s not a problem. We’ve got it under control)

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As Featured on News Cult: How to Pass the Time in the Doctor’s Waiting Room

Ugh the dread of the doctor’s office waiting room. THE DREAD. Like, tick-tock tick-tock it’s just a matter of seconds before you find out you’re dying or have Herpes or actually wait those are the same thing. Also, fuck doctors–they get to make us wait forever but god forbid we are 11 minutes late to an appointment.

So here are some things you can do to kill that wait time (really tried to figure out how to make this a pun about you finding out you’re dying so like ‘kill time’ get it?? but I failed but also did I? because I’m pretty sure I just killed it. HEY-O did it again!).


Harshly. Judge, assume, repeat. Guess why every other person in the waiting room is there. IBS? Multiple Personality Disorder? They’re just generally a shitty, unlovable person? All of these are safe bets.


After you’ve judged negatively and assumed the worst about your waiting room compatriots, introduce yourself and make chit chat. Some suggested intros:

“Hey, I noticed you have disgusting skin.”

“So, what are you in for? You know how like they ask that in prison, except that this isn’t prison, obviously. It’s just a doctor’s waiting room. But like, it’s funny that you can ask the same question in a doctor’s waiting room and a prison. Actually have you ever been in prison?”

“‘Sup motherfucker?”


Especially the ones that are sensitive and private in nature.


Scroll, honey. Scroll. Some suggested accounts:

Kylie Jenner *Caution: this may qualify as child pornography and/or reek of desperation

Vin Diesel


Need I say more?













Hillary Clinton (it’s just funny how corrupt, deceitful and greedy she really is, underneath the liberal, feminist, progressive mask she wears– but none of that really comes across on her Instagram. #TeamBernie)


Do you know how many vile, germy hands have touched those pages?? They might as well be bathroom keys! Or bar peanuts!


The Internet really is a miracle. Before you know it, you’ll have found his new girlfriend’s resume on which she asserts that she’s a “necessary cashier who’s always smiling” and “attends on customers at all times upon and within the floor” at Kohl’s, and four different Facebook profile pictures of her, each of which looks like a distinctly different person, and an excerpt of a magazine interview in which she says “my Brazilian heritage allows that my carmel complexion can be sun-kissed 366 days a year.” And you’ll just really feel a lot better about yourself.

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