I went on a date with a guy who claimed to be a 'feminist'

but his podcast playlist was just 12 hours of Joe Rogan

My coffee machine decided to stop working this morning.

So, I stood there, dramatically caressed the cold metal, and delivered a five-minute monologue to it about betrayal, loss, and the cruel indifference of a world without caffeine, as if I were starring in a prestige drama.

I took my car in for a routine oil change, but in my mind, it was a pivotal scene in my biopic

So, I monologued to the mechanic about the symbolism of dirty oil and the struggle for personal growth, and now I'm pretty sure he's rooting for me to win an Oscar

I've started carrying a small emergency kit in my purse, complete with bobby pins, pain relievers, and a portable charger.

Because apparently, I'm not just a woman, I'm a disaster relief team.