Rachel

I hate to admit my brother was years ahead of his time, but ask me how many reggaeton CDs we had in the family shared Volvo before the NFL caught up.

So, uh, how long until Trump drops the AI Charlie Kirk as Jesus on the crucifix?

In today’s episode of “My Boyfriend Thinks He Grew Up in North Jersey”, he’s out here declaring his undying love for the Pulaski Skyway… and in the same breath, casually admits he’s never driven on Route 1&9 in North Jersey. Like sir, are we sure we’re talking about the same state?

Van Hollen verbally disemboweling Rubio is my summer aesthetic.

Reminder: Sam Alito—who literally went to a public high school with my dad—is now out here like, “What if states were forced to open religious public charter schools?” Not allowed. Required. Because nothing says freedom like mandatory Jesus in math class.

So, if I start calling Pete Hegseth ‘Whiskey Leaks’… is that still free speech, or do I wake up in a Salvadoran gulag listening to a recording of Tucker Carlson reading Atlas Shrugged aloud for eternity?

The difference between two minds on 4/20: One guy’s out here like, “I bought an ounce, and splits it into four jars—budgeting in these unstable economic times, I’m a millennial baby”. The other? Just dumps the whole thing in one jar like, “What is time? What is money? Does anything matter anymore?”

All I want is to binge every Dick Wolf episode, in order. You know, just casually watch over 1,000 episodes across the Law & Orders, Chicagos, and the entire FBI spinoff universe, in perfect chronological order. I need to know what happened before Benson met Stabler again. Is that too much to ask?

Friday night revelation: There are exactly two people on Earth who can pull off denim on denim—Kendrick Lamar and my boss. One’s a generational rap icon, the other is the executive director of an animal shelter. Honestly, impossible to say who wears it better.

Credit scores are cool. You make a payment on a student loan, feel secure in your financial situation for a moment, then BAM! your score drops because you sneezed near a credit card offer. It’s a trust fall with capitalism, except it never catches you—just calls you “high-risk” and raises your rate.

My cat spent weeks inside after getting his ass kicked again. He finally escapes, then comes back with a dead rat—because nothing says “I love you” like a fresh corpse on the porch.

Dating a guy seven years older than you is all fun and games until you’re passionately explaining why the Kendrick Lamar and Drake beef is a defining moment for your generation, and he just blinks at you so you say, “It’s like when Jay-Z and Nas had that thing.”

Last night, my dog started lip smacking and twitching her lips, and naturally, I panicked, convinced she was having a seizure. Nope—just a slice of cheese stuck in her mouth. Life with a Frenchie: where every issue is either a crisis or nothing at all.

Ah, the magic of Apple—part tech, part resurrection. In 2017, I traded in a MacBook that somehow booted up years after a Jäger baptism for a new iPad. In 2025, déjà vu—another dead MacBook, another comeback, another iPad. Thanks, Apple, for proving that sometimes all you need is a really long nap.

Day 1 of Enki’s grand transition to being an indoor cat:

He expressed his deepest appreciation for indoor living by peeing in the shower. A bold statement. A true artist.

What’s your favorite traumatic moment in emergency medicine? Mine was walking into work and my coworker casually asking, “Do you wash your hands every time you use the bathroom at home?” I said, “Yes,” like a functioning adult, and she goes, “Oh, I don’t.”