Brianne Hogan

The turkey was rubbery. The mac ‘n cheese was cold. But somehow the meal was delightful.

brave. bawdy. decidedly not depressed.

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

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

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.

Seriously, the lady is Busy with a capital “B.”

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

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