Winona Dimeo-Ediger

I regularly call upon personal saints for help. Really specific ones whose sainthood only exists in my own mind, but they’re very effective. Today I’d like to introduce you to a few of them; feel free to call on them as often as needed.

The hardest thing about transitioning to an in-office job after working from home for a long time? Not being able to tell your boss, “I’m gonna take a quick shower to clear my head” after a stressful team meeting.

Target’s lack of gender signage is obviously a sinful, confusing disaster. You should definitely never shop there again. But just in case you ever need to buy a gift for your kid and Wal-Mart is closed, here are some tips for how to navigate the Godless dystopia that is the new unlabeled toy section of Target:

For example, if you’re having gastrointenstinal distress, resist the urge to hashtag it with something generic like #diarrheacramps. Instead, include your first and last name and the date to make it your own: #LynnSmithDiarrheaCrampsFebruary2016.

But my God, have you read a celebrity gossip rag recently? They make Vogue and InStyle seem like forward-thinking beacons of body positivity and intersectional feminism.

"While ample cleavage comes in handy for filling out sundresses and storing cracker crumbs for later, it presents a professional dressing challenge that’s annoying and a little unfair ... "

Stage one: annoyance. Stage five: obsession!

In 1897, a little girl named Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of the Sun, asking if there was a Santa Claus.

Pinterest: “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
Me: Wait, so maybe I should carry an umbrella, in case it rains and I want to dance?

The customer is always right but they are not always sane. The customer is always right but they are not always sane.