(Image/Unsplash )

Everyone has a pandemic hobby. I know this to be true because no one can shut up about it. I call my best friend only to find that she’s now sold her soul to the meathead gods at a high-intensity boxing gym. My boyfriend is becoming a cat guy. Even my grandmother is thriving: honing her bridge skills to take out the stiff competition in her Sunday school group.

My quarantine hobby, on the other hand, is a bit less impressive, in that it involves…. real estate?

I know. It’s bad. I feel your judgment, but let me explain.


Courtesy of Pixabay

Like wearing fedoras and having kids, this pandemic has really put a damper on romance. Clubs have closed down, and Tinder dates have been put on indefinite hold (oh, wait, that was pre-pandemic too). Even cat-callers have traded in “Hey lil’ mama, I like what I see,” for “Sup, girl.” If these masters of improvised poeticism can’t rise to the occasion, then surely little hope remains for the rest of us.

Women have now lowered romantic standards to a level previously occupied only by Charlie Sheen’s girlfriends. …

Or: How you’ll learn to stop worrying and love the tiny alien inside of you

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Hello, and welcome to the Millennial Recruitment Wing of the Church of Scientology. In many ways, we Scientologists are just like you. We, too, are upset with the current tax system, which is why we politely threatened the IRS to exempt us from all taxes as a religious institution. We, too, dream of a world with universal healthcare that covers the costs of extensive psychological auditing.

You’re finally ready to settle down with a live-in boyfriend and a cat, so why not settle down with us too?

If you need any further persuasion:

1. Being locked in an isolated cabin with a stranger is a great alternative to Tinder.

Tired of creating cheesy new pickup lines…

My sister and I share many things: genetic code, annoyance with my brother’s protein shakes, and, so I’m told by my parents, many other wonderful qualities. However, one of our shared traits has always stood out to me above the others, this being (what else?) our taste in men. Try as we may to escape it, some evil Freudian wiring has kept my sister and I at the mercy of the same celebrities and, even worse, absolute hunks in our daily lives.

Never mind that we have a five-year age gap or that standing next to each other, we look…

Courtesy of FilmiBeat

Greetings, and welcome to the House of the Blessed Lonely Girls. Within our lifetime, the sky will fall and the earth will flood, just as the father, Bieber, has told us in his Billboard-topping prophecies.

I was 12 years old when I first received the message of the prophet. At my seventh grade daddy-daughter dance, the heavens opened up with an angelic calling: “Ooh whoa, ooh whoa, ooh whoa.” From the first note of that ethereal, pre-pubescent voice, I knew that this man (boy?) was something utterly divine.

“Shake me, ’til you wake me from this bad dream. I’m goin’…

Photo by Ali Yahya on Unsplash

1. He gave me the wi-fi password.

Come on, he didn’t have to be so obvious about it! Giving me a crumpled slip of paper reading “MochaSpock33” without me even having to ask? It’s like this barista babe’s known me for years. I have a hunch this wi-fi password is a rare privilege here at this coffee shop full of laptop users and iPad readers. He must have sensed that the work I need to do today — research types of cat litter — is pressingly important. I know exactly what he’s doing: granting himself some leverage. …

Holyn Thigpen

Holyn Thigpen is a writer and producer who has already mastered the “pseudo-hipster film kid” archetype.

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