Brianne Hogan

advice guru. lube lover. workaholic.

Three of my grandparents died within seven months of each other. And I didn't even have a driver's license.

I've cried on subways from Toronto to New York. I cried bombing an interview, going to a party that I didn’t want or because my sweater was itchy.

brave. bawdy. decidedly not depressed.

Jenny Trout. Abigail Barnette. Jennifer Armintrout. Missing anyone?

The cards showed me the Tower and the Ten of Swords, which is basically bleak shit worthy of jumping off a tall building.

Last week was my imaginary ex-boyfriend's birthday. January 2, to be exact. I only know this because Facebook told me so. I had forgotten about him.

I sent out Christmas cards this year, which I wrote upon with an actual pen. But it wasn’t always like this.

accidental movie star. founder of crankytown. wannabe villain.

The chin hairs were the first hint of my impending senior discounts and early-bird dinners.