My PMS Has PMS.

I like Essie and OPI nail polish names because they’re glamorous and aspirational, but sometimes I resent the unrelenting enthusiasm of Alpine Snow, Ballet Slippers, and the like. If anyone would like to start a new nail polish line with me, I already have some ideas for names:

Purse Lint
Migraine Aura
Rosacea Rose
Sarah Goldfarb Orange
Does This Look Infected?
Day-Old Coffee
Gin for Breakfast

Sweet Valley High Book Title or Porn Movie Title?

1. Two-Boy Weekend
2. Teacher Crush
3. Boy Trouble
4. Jessica’s Older Guy
5. My Best Friend’s Boyfriend
6. Spring Break
7. Double Love
8. Power Play
9. All Night Long
10. Forbidden Love
11. Caught in the Middle

Answer Key: They’re all SVH titles. For now.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Today, let’s sing like no one’s listening, dance like no one’s watching, and love like we’ve never dated an actor-slash-musician.

Sorry, grocery store stranger.

Didn’t mean to get all existential on you yesterday when I mistook you for the manfriend and shimmied up to you in front of the balsamic vinaigrette and the blue cheese and asked—maybe with a tone—”what are we here for?” It’s just that we—me and manfriend, not me and you—needed horseradish, which is obviously not in the salad dressing section, and we had already discussed salad dressing and having enough of it in the fridge that we didn’t need to buy more. So I asked “what are we here for?” with familiarity and maybe slight annoyance—I couldn’t find the McCormick’s spices I wanted, remember? It had nothing to do with you—and I was so delighted when you looked at me and solemnly responded “I was wondering that myself.” It was perfect, and when we both realized I thought I was talking to someone else, I wanted to laugh about it together and have a grocery store moment, but down the aisle you went, so quickly that you forgot your ranch dressing.