March 26, 2015


Bye, Zayn :(
Today's headline was one I never wanted to see: "Zayn Quits One Direction."

Are you kidding me? As if today's surprise snow storm wasn't enough, this bombshell came along to break the Internet. Just kick me while I'm down in the snow, while pouring salt in my wound and blaring Justin Bieber! It's a tragic day in my world, the music world, and just the world. I'm at least coping better than the teenage girls posting their sobbing reactions on social media; I'm sobbing in private as a writer.

Some dramatics aside, I am saddened, and not just because Zayn is my favorite, the most talented, and the best looking. It's the end of an era musically and for my general obsession. I also might have to accept that my favorite artists can't be eternal, and that my amount of Zayn/1D merchandise may be a bit obsessive and qualify me a mental health assessment.

March 24, 2015

Bon Jour! Where Am I?

What's going on?
Greetings and French phrases from Quebec City! In the tradition of reporting on my embarrassment in foreign lands, Quebec seemed like the perfect spot to dust off my writing wings and peck out a new article. From our first truck stop in the province, I knew it was only a matter of time before I made some sort of fool of myself in this land of francophones.

Having never been to Quebec before, I'd heard it is very French, but how French is that? French like France, or as French as Florida is "Spanish?" I had survived months in France my first year with Hens on Ice with a little more that "bon jour," merci," and "fromage," so I hoped our neighbor to the north would be slightly kinder than the Parisian waiter who chucked my dinner plate at me and wouldn't refill my water. Ah, the city of love.

March 7, 2015

Refugee Status with Drag Queens

Last night, I was a refugee. A first world refugee, but one nonetheless. This is not to make light of countless refugees who have had to flee their homelands, but the fact remains I was briefly a refugee quarantined at Quebec City's finest gay bar with no place to call home.

The night started with great intentions: host a surprise party at the local gay bar for a show hen who is leaving us this week. The surprise was a success and the night was off to a great start with drinks and cake under our belts all before 8 p.m. At this rate, we could have both a rowdy night out and a full night's sleep.