Move Over Bridget Jones…

Day 5 of the bread cleanse and I’m getting so much done!


Cartoon by the amazing Aliie Brosh

I haven’t felt this good since I was 4 and ate all of my mother’s birth control pills. (What? They looked like candy)


I even had a moment of clarity this week…

It happened on Epiphany… that little known Catholic-ish holiday that comes 12 days after Christmas when Jesus appeared to the 3 Wise Men in the desert and said…”Bitches… you need to haul ass to Bethlehem with some presents because I am moving and I have no furniture or plates… ”

Now, the word “epiphany” generally implies something positive….a revelation, a light bulb moment, or a 1970’s V8 juice commercial. In Manhattan though, most of the epiphanies I’ve witnessed are preceded by an audible groan, followed by an expletive.

My epiphany was like this:


Cartoon by the amazing Aliie Brosh

What happened was… I got an email… a simpering, whiney, needy letter from a guy friend from a million years ago, who talked about everything thing from his yellowing teeth to his irritable bowels and how much he could love me…

Reading it made my whole being feel like puckered fingers… You know, the kind you get from staying too long in the bath? It was the cringiest moment of my adult life and I’ve already had loads of them…

I have been this woman… standing in my leopard print undies in the snowy street, trying explain my actions and feelings. I mean, we’ve all done this, right? When you finally find your very own Colin Firth, you simply can’t help yourself.

Screen Shot 2015-01-08 at 9.26.20 PM

And I’ve also been this same woman–wrong costume, wrong party… all wrong. Time to de-bunny.


But in my big moment of clarity, I really saw myself these past weeks and I realized…

I had become “bowel guy” and it sucked.

I’d been doing exactly what he was doing…writing ridiculous, simpering, pathetic things–emails, texts to loads of people… ugh… When you recognize your own idiocy in the actions of others, it’s like a massive attack of dread, self-loathing and chagrin… it’s the very definition of “cringing”.

In NYC, there are so many opportunities for these bright moments, it’s a wonder anyone can leave their apartment.

Right after the shock, I wanted to hide forever, like this:


Fortunately, it was nothing a little bread couldn’t cure. So, am sticking with it.

Will have bottom the size of Brazil, but hello… the enlightenment’s worth it 🙂


Cartoons by the amazing Allie Brosh from and the book: Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things that Happened… 

2015: Year of the Bread Cleanse

Aren’t these 2 things…Sex and Bread… ideas we can all relate to?

Happy 2015 people…  I can’t believe it’s already been a year since I failed to become a better person.

I’ve been mulling over different new year’s resolutions… Most are such a terrible yawn… Things like flossing, wearing sunscreen, not leaving wet towels on the bed and doing things like squats and lunges to stave off gravity… Most of these I will forget or reject by Tuesday. You will too.

No… I’d like to make this year’s resolutions more about New York… and less about squats.

Resolution #1 – Go on a “Bread Cleanse” 

Screw all these newage-sewage resolutions to go on a “juice cleanse”… Not only is juicing pretentious, it’s yucky. Fess up New Yorkers, do you really want to down a quart of kale-beet-garlic-turnip sludge? You might feel righteous in the moment as you are choking it down, but trust me, pooping purple is not going to make you feel any healthier.

Instead, I’m going on a “bread cleanse”.  I’m going to eat nothing but croissants, muffins and brioche for a whole week, and I guarantee you now that I will feel happier and healthier at the end of it. Before and after pix to come…


Resolution #2 – Become the “Building Fairy”

NYC is about “the building”. There’s none of this ridiculous apartment vs. single family home class warfare that you’ll find in other cities. Everyone lives in a building.

Our building is like many old school, prewar upper westside edifices. Great bones, beautiful details, but everything’s just a little bit broken… the front door sticks, the toilet seat is missing a bolt, so it slides around with you sit down, the heat works too much in the bathroom and not enough in the back bedroom. The lobby could use a re-fresh–or at least some Mr. Clean. We also have something that’s uber rare in NYC and a little bit broken…a back yard…it’s been completely abandoned. Dead plants, junk and a dirty old dinner table. It’s a total travesty.

And I’m taking it back!

In the dead of night… when everyone is sleeping… I am going to become the Magic Building Fairy. I’m going to do some reverse vandalism and leave some figurative treats under figurative pillows… I’m spraying that stupid sticky lock w/ WD40, planting a shitload of flowers, fixing the patio furniture and hanging some solar string lights because this coming year, I’m vowing to have a bunch of these:


Because dinner parties always lead to good things, like bread and sex.

Resolution #3 – Wear pants less often

Lastly…In NYC, heat is free and our apartment hovers at a balmy 82 degrees throughout the winter. I am going to channel my inner and outer Lena Dunham and dispense with the whole pants paradigm from now on. I’ll save on laundry, be more environmental… and if Lena can do it… and oog out half of America… so can I.

The point is, pants are overrated.


Besides, it’s always good to accept one’s own bodily realities in the face of bread.

And if you get to ride through the streets of NYC on this guy… well then a very happy 2015 to you my friend…