The time my dog shit herself in a Carl’s Jr.

A lot of us either have our own shit-your-pants story or know someone who was brave enough to share their shitty experience with us. Losing control of your bowels and living to tell people about it is a rite of passage into a different kind of adulthood. The kind that transcends any other form of embarrassment you’ve ever experienced, and inevitably leads you to look at life a little bit differently.

My shit-your-pants story features my dog as its leading lady. How does a dog shit their pants without wearing pants you ask? Let me tell you.

My sister, Sabrina, and our friend Islean were driving from Palm Springs to Los Angeles. It’s about a two-hour drive, but we were fortunate enough to catch rush-hour traffic, turning this exciting journey into a 3-hour long chapter straight out of Dante’s Inferno.

We pulled into a Carl’s Jr. drive-thru because Islean can’t stop clogging his arteries for sport. My sister drove up to the window, and as she started to order, Lacey sat up, and for lack of a better explanation, she looked like she was about to puke. She was making that “hey I’m about to throw up in the back of your brand new Jetta” face.


My sister screamed at me to take her out of the car. Call me crazy but I didn’t think throwing my dog out of the car mid-puking session onto a fast food drive-thru was a good idea.

Lacey threw up on a good portion of the back seat of the car. We pulled up to the drive-thru window and collected all the napkins they owned. 

I took Lacey out of the car to a small patch of grass to go to the bathroom. When she was done, we walked back over to the car and Lacey hopped into the backseat while my sister was cleaning the rest of the vomit. I sat next to her, and immediately got a whiff of the unmistakable scent of shit. I jumped out and threw Lacey back out of the car. She shot me a brief “fuck you” glance followed by a hint of, “but I understand why this is happening” look.


Sabrina ran around to the side Lacey was on. “I think she shit herself,” I said with zero explanation.

My sister checked under the hood of my dog’s fluffy bottom by lifting up her stub of a tail. In case you need more detail, Lacey doesn’t have junk in the trunk, but she makes up for it with all of the fur back there. And it was covered in poop.

“Do you have any diapers left?” I asked. My sister’s dog Penny had been having her period a few weeks prior. Our dogs have a lot of issues.

She didn’t. We both stared at Lacey and looked around as if the Carl’s Jr. parking lot would have a solution. “Maybe we should just leave her here,” I said. 

“We have to clean it,” Bri ignored my suggestion. We ran Lacey to the front of the fast food chain, and I quickly pulled her into the women’s restroom. We did what we could with the napkins, but it was no use. Her ass was getting as clean as Lindsay Lohan got in rehab. 


Then, Bri had her million dollar idea that we, no doubt, could’ve won Shark Tank with. She instructed me to get some plastic bags. When I came back with a few, she turned them into a diaper. Lacey was sporting a Carl’s Jr. diaper and honestly, she was cute enough to pull it off.

If there was a way, to sum up 2016 as a whole, this was it. My dog was covered in shit. There weren’t many options. So we created a temporary solution to cover up the problem, and then Donald Trump became president.


The finished product

I wore a ‘Grab It’ sign and cat ears for Halloween

This piece originally appeared on The Tab.

For my Halloween costume this year I found a black dress, threw on some cat ears and made a sign that read “Grab It” and placed it neatly above my vagina.

I am probably the least inventive person when it comes to dressing up, mostly for lack of trying and caring. This year, I knew I wanted to make a joke about the political election because a) it’s really hard not to and b) I’m obnoxious. Needless to say my outfit was a reference to Donald Trump’s leaked tape where you can hear him saying “When you’re a star, they let you do it..grab em’ by the pussy. You can do anything.”

After hearing the tape, I thought the concept of trying to grab a woman’s vagina in an attempt to sleep with her was awful – especially since Trump is like the human version of birth control – but it gave me the idea for a hilarious spin on it.


The tape should have come as a shock to no one, given all the racist and sexist comments Trump has made over the course of this year. Realistically, he’s a misogynistic asshole with very little will power. Scrolling through his Twitter feed is like reading the diary of a pre-pubescent 12-year-old boy. Hillary Clinton must be the most patient human in the world for putting up with all the things he has said to and about her. I commend her for not going apoplectic on him this entire time.

A lot of Trump’s supporters say they love his unfiltered rhetoric and spontaneity, but these aren’t good qualities for a president who has to make insanely important decisions on a regular basis.

I knew dressing up in this outfit would be a kind of controversial thing to do and I didn’t want to invite any unwanted grabbing, but I was hoping my kickboxing skills would magically kick in if it came to it. I also had pepper spray in my purse just in case.

Fast forward to midnight, and I actually ended up winning a gift card to my favorite bar in a costume contest, which is like gold to me since I’m there all the time.


A lot of the reactions to the costume were positive – people seemed to think it was funny and enjoyed the concept. I got a lot of high fives from both girls and guys. Only one strange girl grabbed my butt, but in general, I mostly got a lot of comments like “that’s hilarious” and “your costume is amazing.”

And luckily, no one grabbed my pikachu.

Diets are hard because oreos are easy to prepare

As I write this, there is a shitty nutri-system commercial playing in the background with people bragging about how much weight they’ve lost by eating cardboard. Like most people, I’m trying to suck all the fun out of my life by eating more vegetables and exercising. But it’s hard when there is so much pizza to be had. Self control isn’t something I thrive at especially when it comes to the tastiness of high fructose corn syrup. I’m not overweight or anything, but I would love to be strong enough to put up a little bit of a fight if a murderer attacked me.

Me being healthy!

Me being healthy!

My mom’s best friend is a super buff gym rat who literally gets paid to work people out. Let’s call him Chad. To help me stop eating junk food, I asked Chad to follow me around and prevent me from eating bad food. I view this as a small, but helpful step to the self control I hope to attain by letting someone else do the hard work for me.


I had a banana at around 9AM while I was watching some terrible show about real estate agents in New York. At around 9:30, I felt it was appropriate to start eating my oreos. Chad watched me walk over to the cabinet and started to approach me when he saw that I had two oreos in my hand. I took a bite of the first one and he stopped in front of me and said, “I’m not supposed to let you have those.” He reached out to take the oreos, but my ninja like reflexes were too quick. This is probably the only time I would ever be too quick for anyone – when oreos are at stake.


I popped the other half of the first oreo in my mouth and flipped my hair in a “haha fuck you” kind of way. That’s when it all went down hill. I started to move away from Chad, but he started to speed up. I began jogging around the kitchen counter, trying to chew the first oreo quickly so I could have the second one before he caught me. Chad began running faster, so I had no choice but to speed up. This is probably the fastest I have ever run, but Chad grabbed me by the arm.


Luckily that arm wasn’t holding the oreo, so I shoved the second oreo in my mouth. I couldn’t let him win; I bit into it so that he would only be able to take about 25% of it out of my mouth. Chad shook his head as he walked away with my quarter of an oreo, but probably in a “wow you’re so determined” kind of way. Obviously I shouldn’t have had oreos for breakfast, but I feel like running away from Chad burned a few calories, so it evens out right?

Targeted Advertising Strikes Again

I’m sure most of you, if not all of you have a Facebook and have seen the advertisements that pop up in your feed and on the sides of the page. Even if you only use Google, advertisements will follow you like that stalker-ish ex you had in college. Normally, if I ever click on advertisements it’s by accident because they’re IN MY WAY, but there have been a few select times where I have fallen victim to targeted advertising. Clearly my impulsivity has nothing to do with it; it is the advertisers’ fault. These are the most recent instances of me succumbing to targeted advertising.

The Cardboard Cut Out of My Mother

The first time it happened was on my mom’s birthday last year, so I was especially vulnerable to any ideas about what to get her. I saw an advertisement about cardboard cut outs and knew that this had to be the solution. I clicked on and was sold by the idea of getting my mom a cardboard cut out of herself that was 4 feet tall. And she loved it because she loves looking at pictures of herself.


The Wine

So when I’m supposed to be doing work, I like to take Buzzfeed quizzes to see which possible Illuminati member I am. One day, I was on Facebook and a sponsored ad popped up that read something along the lines of “take this quiz to see what kind of wine you would like.” Obviously I needed to take this quiz since I am an avid wine drinker. I knew I liked white wine, BUT WHAT KIND OF WHITE WINE SUITS ME?! There was no avoiding this ad, so I took the quiz and I don’t even remember which wine I got because there was a 60 minute countdown in the righthand corner. If I ordered 3 bottles of wine within the next hour, I could get $20 off my first purchase. I hope I don’t know anyone who would turn down this deal because I got 3 bottles of wine for $26. I chose the wine based on how pretty the labels were.

Screen Shot 2016-05-10 at 8.38.53 PM

The Potato

About a week before mother’s day, I saw one of the most unique ads pop up on my Facebook feed. Here it is with me complaining about it:


But then curiosity got the best of me and I started to peruse their surprisingly well designed website. Honestly, they market their potatoes very well with examples like these:

Screen Shot 2016-05-10 at 7.50.02 PM

Photo by Potato Parcel

Not sure how I was supposed to resist getting my mom a potato for $9.99 plus shipping and handling that had a custom  message on it. Needless to say, she loved it and probably loves me even more now. This was her reaction to my potato present:



From Beverly Hills to New Brunswick

Hey party people and fellow bloggers,

I wrote this article for one of my school’s publications and thought I’d share it with all you lovely peeps. It’s about my move from Beverly Hills to Rutgers and the differences I’ve picked up on in the last 3 years. Enjoy!


I’ll be honest. I was a spoiled little shit back in LA. I went to the beach regularly in February, and attended mansion parties before I got my high school diploma. Every time someone from RU asks where I’m from, and I follow up with “California,” the same exchange happens:

“No way? You’re from Cali?”


“Why the hell did you come here?”

I’ll get this out of the way now. First of all, no one from California calls it Cali. Secondly, Rutgers is a phenomenal school with an insanely good reputation on the west coast. I can’t say that I love New Brunswick, but I do love Rutgers and it’s definitely a “you can’t have one without the other” type of deal. Long story short – I applied because my mom told me to, and after I was accepted, I decided a change of scenery would be good for both me, and my future memoir. Here’s what happened when I came here in a not-so-chronological order.

I’m fucking cold all the time

I had never bought rain/snow attire before moving here. I still call the north face coats “puffy jackets.” My whole wardrobe had to change in ways I had never imagined. My first year here was apparently the “coldest winter ever”, and that was my first time wearing pants underneath my pants. On a positive note, I will say that it was exciting to buy cute winter clothes.

My dog needing a hat b/c it's so hot in LA

My dog needing a hat b/c it’s so hot in LA

Fat sandwiches to Rutgers are what juice cleanses are to Los Angeles

One of the first things I noticed in the dining halls was what people ate. Carbs on carbs on carbs. People were mixing pasta with pancakes topped with ice cream, and every form of high fructose corn syrup you could come up with. Whereas in Los Angeles, everyone is constantly on a diet or the infamous “juice cleanse” where you just drink shitty juice and don’t eat for three days. I have definitely had my fair share of pizza and fat sandwiches during my time here.


I’m sure I probably just don’t know about the hiking spots that might exist in NJ, but hiking isn’t much of a thing here. Hiking is a popular Sunday morning or pretend exercise activity back home (and I love it). Then again, to us, hiking means strolling up a mountain at your own pace with a latte in one hand and a hangover in the other.


Wawa is pretty cool

The convenience stores in LA range from CVS to 711, but don’t have as many choices as Wawa has. Wawa is kind of like if a grocery store and a sandwich place had a delicious baby.

Less of an interest in entertainment

Since we’re all in college, it’s common to talk about your future aspirations. Generally, there are a lot more ‘actors’ and people who want to get involved in entertainment in LA, which make sense since it’s one of the entertainment capitols of the world. At Rutgers, I meet a lot more pre-med, pre-business and other majors.

‘Idk I guess we’re hooking up or whatever’

Everyone I meet here has been in a relationship for at least 57 years and plans on marrying their partner. In sharp contrast, people in LA live and breathe Tinder, casual hookups and never being clear on what kind of relationship they’re in. The more obscure, the better.


The people

In general, the fashion/outfits here are very different. There’s a lot of leopard print happening here, which is fine if that’s what you’re into, but just know that Joan Rivers is laughing at you from heaven. Aside from that, people are much more blunt and straight to the point here.

Fuck Dunkin’ Donuts

Dunkin’ Donuts’ coffee sucks. Donuts aren’t that great of a dessert. Starbucks wins. Sorry.

What I Would Do with the Powerball Money

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in a while, but let’s talk about being rich enough to buy Facebook (I’m not sure if that’s true, I’m just guessing)

Realistically, I’m certain that 99.9% of all humans would love to be rich. The .1% is reserved for the people who claim they would give most of it away to charity. Humble little shits. Ok I was kidding, calm down. Anyway, who doesn’t want to go to the mall and not have to say no to those $500 pair of jeans? And what about all the extra condiments that you can order with your food? Everyone wants extra condiments. After careful consideration, I have compiled a list of things I would do if I had won the Powerball (even though I didn’t buy a ticket due to lack of funding). Warning: almost none of it is considered charitable. It’s definitely charitable toward me though.


1) Pay Amy Schumer to be my best friend

The reasoning behind this doesn’t take too much explaining, but the approach does. At first I would offer her a hefty sum to be my friend, and then slowly pay her less and less until she realizes she loves my personality and wants to be my best friend for free.


2) Buy my own television show 

I would need to purchase the whole network so I could say whatever I want on my show, like Oprah. But let’s be honest, it’s just so I would be able to say the word ‘shit’ regularly.

3) Purchase a Trader Joe’s

Not only is Trader Joe’s my favorite grocery store, it also is located 5 minutes from my house. And I’m not sure if any of you have ever tried cookie butter, but it’s probably better than that time Channing Tatum put on a wig and danced to Beyonce’s “Run the World.”


4) Start my own wine company with cool ass labels

Labels include “Hope your wedding night is as hot as George and Amal Clooney” and “Black out or back out.”

5) Hire a chef

…And naturally, I will hire a personal trainer shortly after.



Once wealthiest beyond my wildest dreams, I would need something to remind everyone that walks into my bajillion dollar mansion. Hopefully the thrown comes with a crown as well.

7) Buy Victoria’s Secret 

…to find out what the goddamn secret is.


Bad Cereal & Other Disappointments

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve literally been as busy as Obama since school started. Except, Obama doesn’t have a personal blog, so I’m technically busier.

Update: I’m currently eating a bowl of rice krispie cereal with about 10 spoonfuls of brown sugar, almond milk (to add in a healthy kick), and a glass of wine. I don’t know why anyone eats this cereal. It tastes like a wet couch cushion. There is literally no flavor and nothing to look forward to. At least with lucky charms, you can eat all the fake cheerios and then save the marshmallows for the climax of your meal. The brown sugar helps, but I must add in that I considered having a second bowl of just brown sugar and almond milk to satisfy my drunk belly.


Update 2: (I’m not complaining, but I’m about to complain). I have a decently full schedule this semester. I have to take five classes, work two jobs, be the head of marketing for some magazine, and teach a class. I’m not sure who let me be in charge of anything, but I’m in charge of a lot of things. Be that as it may, I am taking a creative non-fiction class to satiate the urge to talk and write about myself all day long. I will be posting some of those stories as blog posts until further notice. Definitely give me feedback if you can! I prefer comments like “omg best writer ever!” and “Ernest Hemingway reincarnated as a woman.” If you HAVE to be constructive, please let my ego down easily.


I was going to run in 2020 as a surprise candidate, but Kanye beat me to it. I wish I could buy you all pumpkin spice lattes and Ugg boots. To be continued…