ride or die (but probably die): my life sans cheese

The first time I ever realized I was from the Midwest was I was sitting in a room, surrounded by New Yorkers, and I squealed when I saw two cows kissing one another. Cows are cute. I like flannel. Soda will ALWAYS be called pop to me. You can kick the boy out of the Midwest, but goddamn, is that buttermilk ranch flavored force within him strong as heck.

Witches, Weirdos, and Rose-Coloured Boys // RCB x Band of Weirdos

This last month, after PRAYING to experience what we in the midwest call "True Winter" (you know, the negative 30 plus windchill, yadda yadda yadda),  I journeyed out into this urban tundra, dressed to smash the patriarchy in my new gear from Band of Weirdos. What I don't understand is why the human body decides … Continue reading Witches, Weirdos, and Rose-Coloured Boys // RCB x Band of Weirdos