All through the streets of Allston
Liquid-legged collegiates stumble to and fro,
Sexy kittens in frothy black lace
Pursued closely by Greek gods in togas
Modern Daphnes in laurel orchards.


And lying in pools of sticky jungle juice
Frozen Eggo waffles quietly thaw
While above their Elevenses make out with Luke Cages
But stranger things have happened than a Netflix Noah’s Ark.


If you listen closely, you can hear
The plaintive howling of Basics:
“Tessa, put on your devil horns!
Without those devil horns!”


Tessa Tessa Tessa echoes through the cracked asphalt.
And you wonder how Becca will deal
With being a lone angel amidst monsters;
A pre-Fall Lucifer in thigh-highs.


Costumes are reconfigured to accommodate the dredging mists
Skimpy fairies become swathed slutty trolls
California surfer boys become J.Crew-flanneled Dartmouth legacies
Leaving behind only Spartans who won’t sacrifice sex for comfort.


Candies scatter across coffee tables like teeth
Holdovers from childhood
Sugary hangovers before Tequila called our names
They’re snatched up, eaten ravenously to bring company
To the alcohol already taking up residence in stomachs


Mouths hover like moths over mouths
Brushing ears to be heard above the Monster Mash
Tap-dancing along shoulder blades
Stained white from ghostly makeup and red from fake blood


The morning light will reveal the cracks on
An unexfoliated face fully mimed-out
But in the warm orange glow, gilding the faces
Of sexy gym teachers and slutty RBGs
Everything is airbrushed and whole


As the night stretches thinner than H&M denim
The sidewalks become cluttered with lolling legs
Attached to a coterie of Suicide Squad villains
Harley Quinns and Jokers


The anonymity is appealing
The ability to be slutty, or scanty, or arrogant
I’m in a fuckboi tank top but blanketed in the clustered confidence
Of play-acting at something else
Something other


But protruding like the starkly contoured collarbones
Is the internal core
Tessa still won’t wear the devil horns
Becca will always ask
The arrogance, bolstered by alcohol and Party City, will submerge back
And pretend to be humble confidence
Ready to reemerge in the next Halloweekend


Written while being inspired by a Nasty Woman!!! #ImWithHer

I haven’t said it in so many words on this blerg, but if you noticed, I haven’t really talked about the presidential election here. I write about it pretty consistently for The Odyssey, but by and large, I’ve just run out of things to say. Unless I want to pick up a different language, there are only so many ways I can say, “Trump is a horrific bigoted misogynist and why won’t you just vote for Hillary so we can get this over with?”.

But the third and final debate was held last night in Las Vegas—btw, it would’ve made the debate 125% better if they had walked out to Elvis Presley’s “Viva Las Vegas” because some classique Hillary “boogie-ing down” would’ve brought some much-needed levity to what would undoubtedly be 1.5 hours of pain for Trump, and us—and I feel like even though I might not have anything crazy-brilliant to add, I just want to talk about it.

This debate marks the third time that Hillary has won against Trump. Three-for-three, people—mark it down. And this debate, compared to the madness of the first one and the weirdness of the second one, was possibly the most honest I’ve seen both candidates. Trump was in fine form, accusing Clinton of paying people to get into fights at his rallies, accusing her of rigging the election, of controlling the media, of going into abortion clinics dragging almost-to-term pregnant mothers behind her and forcing them to get abortions.

First of all, let me just say this: If Hillary has done all these things—started ISIS, rigged the election, controlled the media—girl, I do not want to get on the wrong side of her. Let her have this election; she’s a certified witch. And I don’t mess with no witches.

But, of course, she has done none of these things. She supports late-term abortions on a case-by-case basis, when the life and health of the mother is at risk. Donald said that he would appoint a Supreme Court Justice to overturn Roe v. Wade. Hillary has not paid people to get violent at Trump’s rallies. Trump has encouraged violence at his rallies. HILLARY DID NOT CREATE ISIS. I REPEAT, HILLARY DID NOT FOUND THE TERRORIST GROUP ISIS.

This debate made it all the clearer that Trump is intensely focused on being nasty, rude and ignorant. When the candidates were asked—in two minutes—to outline their economic policies, Hillary talked about bolstering the middle class, creating a comprehensive education plan, creating larger taxes for the 1%. Trump used the first 1.5 minutes to talk about Japan, China and Saudi Arabia, before briefly mentioning free trade.

Trump kept twisting Hillary’s words. When she mentioned that she was for late-term abortions—with conditions—he said, “Hillary wants to rip your babies out in the ninth month, the day before they’re due.” Which, honey, is basically just a C-Section. So no, Hillary isn’t sacrificing to-term babies to get to the Presidency. When moderator Chris Wallace brought up a paid-for speech Hillary did in which she mentioned “open borders,” Trump jumped on it saying that she would let the borders loose and there would be hell. Hillary gently reminded everyone that the full quote refers to “open borders re clean energy grids.” So, like, remember context maybe??

At this point, I officially don’t care if you think Hillary is a crook or a war criminal or from the goddamn moon. These are the facts: Hillary is wildly competent, wickedly smart, and incredibly savvy. She has thirty years of experience. She is dedicated to her work. She has cohesive plans that she wants to put in place. She has the stamina to withstand having to be in the same room with Donald Trump.

Donald Trump has no plans. He relies on bigotry and violence. He has said that he will “surprise us” on whether or not he will accept the outcome of the election, i.e. he hasn’t decided on whether he is for democracy. He treats women horribly. He is volatile. He has no stamina. He is mean; he is childish. He is a bully.

So stop pretending that both are terrible outcomes. One person might be someone you might not like. But the other person will be horrific for our nation. I’m tired of your bullshit “apolitical” opinions. To not pick a side at this point is to pick the side of Donald Trump. Do you really want to be on that side of history?

I’m a journalist, so I’m supposed to be “impartial” and “unbiased” or whatever. I don’t care. I’m smart; I’ve looked into these issues. That also doesn’t matter. You should know by now who is going to steer our country in a healthy direction.

Stand on the side of that “nasty woman,” who has worked tirelessly, endured your shit and disrespect and judgment for thirty years, all for the love of the country that you so easily disregard while you whine. Imagine that kind of love: the kind of self-sacrificing that Hillary has done, the amount of hours she’s logged, out of a desire to be a public servant. Other opinions aside, you can’t deny that. You can’t deny her deep love and devotion to our country.

I want that kind of perseverance in the Oval Office. I stand with her, fully and forever. I stand behind her, and I’ll follow her, because I trust in the direction that she will take us. Please, join me. Register. Vote. Support. Be passionate. Care.


And to end on a light note, let’s focus on the true leader of America that’s already been crowned.


BAI 2015

So I’ve written 99 posts throughout 2015, and could you imagine if I didn’t make it an even 100 before the New Year arrives? That would be the biggest case of writing blue-balls ever!


2015 was kind of a stellar year for me. I was in great shape—which was then ruined by going abroad and getting v ~broad~—I watched a lot of TV; I went abroad—am I a total douche for mentioning ‘watching TV’ before living in Europe for three months—I made a ton of fried rice. And it looks like 2016 is going to be another rockin’ year.

Here is a very silly, but entirely real “2016 To-Do List”:

1). Register to vote.

2). Either learn what “fam” means or have the willpower to not care.

3). Discover a new band to listen to.

4). Get an internship.

5). Take a least one artsy “who me?” Instagram picture.


6). Wear white without getting food stains on it.

7). Go an entire day without looking in a mirror.

8). Go an entire day without saying “literally” or “like”.

9). Do more than 12 pushups at one time.

10). Bench at least my body weight.

11). Do a yoga class.

12). Rent a bike and go biking.

13). Do the Chicken Nugget Challenge (50 nuggets + 30 minutes = me dry-heaving).

14). Ask out a definitive 8+.

15). Ask out someone based on their “personality” and not their “cute butt.”

16). Get up at 7 am for a week and just go on Tumblr.

17). Care more about Britney Spears.

18). Read the BBC news website at least once a week—I’m lowballing because I have low expectations for myself in this arena.

19). Smile at one stranger—at least—a day.

20). Practice self-care.

For 2016, I also want Lorde to release a new album and for Scott Disick to get his shit together. That’s literally all I want from the pop culture gods. And blog-wise, I would like to get to 150 posts by the end of the year. That would be nice, and frankly not impossible.

But for real, in 2016 I want to give a lot less shits. I feel like I’m very concerned with what everyone else thinks of me and that needs to stop. So this year—2016—I’m going to focus on what makes me happy and try not to worry so much about the opinions of those dummies. Also eat more dark chocolate—I’ve heard it’s good for you.

I semi-hate New Year’s Eve—the pressure, the celebrating over the corpse of the year almost gone, and the idealistic goals for the new year—but I want 2016 to start so it can be great and I can do lots of fun things with my loves, so New Year’s Eve is a necessary hurdle. One thing I will not be doing in 2016—jumping over hurdles, legislative or physical. 2016 will be hurdle-less.


So I hope that you all have a safe and good New Year’s Eve. I hope that all of your days are bright, and your nights are full of Netflix. I want to thank everyone for coming along with me on the first year of my blog, and I want to put a hex on anyone who thinks that I’m a 6/10. We all know I’m a 7.

So in conclusion: I’m a 7. An 8 in Denver.




It’s almost 2016, and you’re looking back on 2015 and realizing that all you’re taking with you as you dive into the new year is a couple extra pounds and the sinking realization that you’re twenty years old and more than halfway done with college. So, logically, you’re freaking out a little bit. But you’re in luck, because we’re all in that shitstorm together, and here’s what you’re going to do.

You’re going to make a list of everything you want to accomplish. Big, small, and everything in between. You’re going to make goals that are actually accomplishable; you’re not going to write “Go to Mars” or “Overcome all your insecurities” because that’s unrealistic and prone to failure. Set small goals: “Get published somewhere” or “Go outside of your comfort zone in fill in the blank.” Make it relatable, make it accomplishable.


Write it out. Physically. Not on a laptop. Not on your phone. Get out a journal or a piece of paper and curl your millennial fingers around a physical pen and write it out. I don’t know why, but there’s something satisfying about the permanency of physical paper. It might seem more transient, but laptops are so easy to hit click, click, click, and delete things from your list and make it seem like it never existed.

Set big, massive goals. Body goals, internship goals, love goals. Keep them in your mind and operate with the mindset of striving towards something. It can be cool to strive, and having that massive, life goal hanging over your head doesn’t have to be an anvil waiting to drop. It can motivate. It can inspire.

Set goals for the year, but also for the next year after that. And after that. In the next few years, you slightly chunky twenty-year-old, you’ll be out of college and moving on to bigger and better things. You’ll be in jobs or graduate programs or the army or a parent. You’ll be starting crap-paying internships and starter jobs, and living in a small apartment with your new roommates, Cockroach and Student Debt. So now, when you’re optimistic and dumb, set massive goals and little goals to keep you going when things seem very #dark.


Set metaphysical goals. Set out to be nicer to other people, to yourself. Set a goal to say one positive thing to yourself for a week. Then a month. Then six months. By the end of the list, try to imagine the kind of person you want to be. Brave. Smart. Educated.

Set bucket list goals to benefit other people. Volunteer. Register to vote. Donate. We’re dumb, smart, naïve, opinionated, idealistic, realistic. We are twenty, and we are so capable of greatness. Create a 2016 bucket list to rival the gods.

Be educated. Be bold. Be brave. Take risks. Fuck ‘em. Treat yourself. Try something new. Reach out. Ask for help. Be the one people ask for help. 2016 could be great, or it could be another year that you write off. Start the list. Be a ball3r.