Freshly Pressed

Yesterday, one of my blog posts, Am I an Adult? was featured on’s “Freshly Pressed” page. Since it has brought me a bunch of new followers over night, I thought I should reintroduce myself. I know you could just scroll back and read some old posts, but I never give up an opportunity to coerce strangers into following me on Twitter.

So me. Here are the most important bullet points to get you up to speed:

  • I moved to LA from New Hampshire about 9 months ago to become a comedic actress/writer.
  • If I wasn’t a comedian I’d be a Special Victims Unit criminal psychologist, B.D. Wong-style. Screen shot 2011-01-20 at 9.22.44 PM
  • My 3 favorite things are Connie Britton, inter species friendships, and that thing on TV shows where wayward children call their foster parents “Mom” and “Dad” for the first time.
  • If you think Amanda Knox did it then you can let yourself out.
  • Related: “Foxy Knoxy’s The Mandy Project” is the most clever thing I’ve ever come up with.

Alright, I think that covers it.

Next, follow me on everything:

Twitter: @daralaine

Instagram: @daralaine

Tumblr: brunchforeverymeal

Facebook: brunchforeverymeal 

Youtube: daralaine

My Podcast: Wine and Whine 

Here’s another post of mine that was Freshly Pressed a little over a year ago, 3 Reasons Why Being Single is (Probably) Better than Dating a Serial Killer. 

Okay, cool. That’s it. Thanks for following!

What I’ve Been Doing for Two Months

*tap tap*


Is there anybody in there?

Just nod if you can hear me.

If you have a middle aged dad who owns a car with a functioning radio, you probably know I’m quoting a Pink Floyd song. If not, I’m sorry, you probably had a difficult childhood and/or very quiet road trips.

Anyway, I’m baaaack.

I know I said I was just going out for cigarettes and I’d be home in time for dinner, but now here we are two months later and I’m just trying to walk back into your life like nothing happened. (At least I’m home in time for A dinner)?

I’ll be honest with you. I thought about leaving this blog in my dust and taking up with a podcast, but as my father always told me and his father told him, “you make your bed, you sleep in it.” And hey, maybe I can make this an open relationship and do both? This is 2013, after all.

I was debating whether or not to start back up with the blog when a reader (not my mother. Trust me, she has a direct line to nag me about posting new stuff) sent me an e-mail saying he and his friend missed my blog. Listen, I’m not going to copy and paste his email because that’s no better than when people retweet compliments, but I will say he was throwing around words like “insightful” and “hilarious” (full disclosure, he actually said “humorous” but as a comedy writer, I had to “punch it up” for him as we say in the industry).

I just took a break from blogging because I didn’t feel like I had anything to say, so I went out there and LIVED so I would have something to write about. (Oh, reminds me, do any aspiring Youtube stars want to take this idea: a Bonnie Raitt parody song called “Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Blog About”? Please. Run with it).

So, here’s what’s been happening with me since we last spoke two months ago:


  • I’ve started using words like “the industry” and “the biz”. I also have “projects in the pipeline” and I’m punching it up and also loglines and back end residuals and I’m just like, selling it in the room, ya know? I also work at the front desk of a life insurance firm in Beverly Hills and I’m happy to pay $2 for a thimble of wheat grass juice… So I guess I’ve just been busy making Los Angeleez my home.
  • I started doing Crossfit.
  • I quit Crossfit
  • I gained 5 pounds
  • I’m back at Crossfit!
  • Breaking Bad finale
  • Coven premiere
  • I’m in the throes of a very serious Stevie Nicks phase (see above).
  • + Turned 25
  • – Began my 25th year by losing a booty shaking contest to a 17 year-old whilst in the presence of drag queens.

There it is! 2 months chock-full of life experience and writing material. I’m ready to get back to blogging regularly! (Until I get bored again or don’t become internet famous, which ever affects me more first).

Milestone: My First Mean Comment

I can’t believe it took me almost two and a half years of posting on this blog, but it finally happened. I got my first insulting comment!

This little gift was left for me on an older post, The Nice Guys of OKCupid!

It was actually in reply to another comment I had replied to, in which a 22 year-old dude told me I was wrong and he was offended…


My first offended reader!!!!

The comment from the offended reader was just way too long to post here, but the gist of it was, “you’re wrong about your thoughts and feelings and the thoughts and feelings of other women your age, Certified Vagina Owner. As a 22 year-old dude with a lot of life experience, you can just defer to me and my opinions since your brain is made up of a hollow, dark chocolate Easter bunny filled with Midol pills.”

I mean, in his original argument, he was saying that he’s a nice guy but girls don’t like him, and girls only like assholes, which makes me think that he didn’t even really read the post (maybe because he just couldn’t get over the shock that my dad or brother let me use his computer. It’s a miracle my cup of tea didn’t slip through my delicate lady hands and spill all over the keyboard) because I kind of addressed that myth directly. Not eloquently or intelligently, but I did address it.

In my reply to this kid, I kind of just said, “shut up, 22 year old boy,” and referred him to another article that might help clarify my point. Because I’m just trying to open hearts and minds here, people.

Okay, then came the mean comment (from a different guy):

Screen shot 2013-06-26 at 9.34.58 AMFirst of all, thank you for calling my assertions “hilarious,” but what is questionable about Tom Hanks being nice? Scientists have been studying him for years and they came up with that conclusion, not me. Secondly, why do I have to choose between being mentally deficient OR trying to get attention? And I thought that by having a blog it was just implied that I am looking for attention?

Andy, I can see where you got your last name, “Wisdom” (what is that, Greek?). Everyone does have flaws. Like for me, the proportions of my individual body parts are totally out of whack: my hands and wrists are abnormally small, so you’d think that I’d have some really tiny feet, right? Nope! A totally average size 8!

Also, what are these separate flaws that “assholes” and “nice guys” have? Because please, oh, please, remember that the whole point of the post (that I don’t think you read) is that a [QUOTE] Nice Guy [END QUOTE] is really just an asshole in sheep’s clothing, not a genuine and kind man.

And listen, I’m not saying that women don’t date assholes and then write off guys who treat them with respect. There are plenty of woman who do. If that didn’t happen then all the strip clubs across this great nation would be empty and we’d have to turn them all into libraries and soup kitchens. Saying that we ALL date people who treat us badly is just a lazy, sweeping generalization that is patronizing to women.

So, thank you, Andy Wisdom, you made my day because you haven’t really made it until people start insulting you. Hopefully, one day soon I’ll hit it big and have thousands and thousands of followers, and then I can finally start tweeting things like “Good Morning, Haterz! xox #soblessed”


“Can’t see haterz! #raybans #michelobultra #BFFs #livelaughlove #sorrynotsorry #sweetsummer”


The Mindy Project WGA Panel


Mindy Kaling and Ike Barinholtz (who writes for the show and plays Morgan)

Yesterday, my roommate and I saw a Writer’s Guild panel featuring the writers from The Mindy Project. I brought along a copy of her play, Matt and Ben for her to sign and wore a neon pink jeans/chambray shirt/leopard print loafer outfit picked out with Mindy Kaling’s tastes in mind just incase we ran into her in the parking lot. The Girl Scouts taught me to always be prepared and that Samoas are at optimal deliciousness when consumed frozen.

They screened an episode and talked for an hour about what it’s like writing for the show, and then opened it up to the audience for questions.

Civilians asking celebrities questions is one of my top 100 pet peeves. It hovers around #48 right above people clinking their teeth on metal spoons when they eat. People just want to hear themselves talk. Like, unless James Lipton specifically asks you, no one needs to know what your major is in college. And it’s not necessary for 10 people in a row to thank the panel for coming. You paid to be there. Your gratitude is felt.

I considered asking a question, and I racked my brain for a good one until I realized that the only reason why I wanted to go up there was so Mindy would compliment my outfit and thoughtful question. There would be a witty back and forth between us, then I’d tweet her later that night, and we’d become social media friends until one day her assistant quits and she hires me and I become her protege and spirit sister.

By the by, living with my imagination is exhausting.

So, that was the wrong reason to ask a question, and I decided to just keep my mouth shut.

(But you should have seen my outfit, Mindy would have been so into it).

Vote for Me!!!!


Thanks to all of your help, I was nominated for Best LifeStyle Blog and Funniest Blog on the Indie Chicks website! So if you want to go over (click on the picture to to be take to the site) and vote for me in both categories that would be fantastic and much appreciated. I don’t think I get anything but validation if I win, but that’s like cash in the bank to a needy comedian.

Could You Do Me a Favsies?

badassblogawards2Hey, friends! I feel like in the last two years that we’ve known each other I haven’t asked for much from you, but I was hoping I could cash in a little favor… I humbly ask that you consider nominating me for “Funniest Blogger” on this website. It takes two seconds, and if I were to win, it would give me just enough validation to keep me going in Los Angeles for another two weeks. Speaking of giving up, I did my first stand up open mic last night, and a male comic asked me if I was going to quit, move back to NH, and marry my college boyfriend. And I said “HEY, SIRRRR, jokes on you because I never HAD a boyfriend in college!”

Finding a Job

Hey, you know that kinda recent episode of Girls where Hannah goes middle-class-white-girl crazy and shoves a Q-Tip in her ear due to the stress of having a book deal? If that’s normal and soooo “relatable,” how would a normal person’s stress manifest itself if that person just moved 3,000 miles from home and had to find a job and pay rent? If the stress of getting paid to write a book at age 24 is a Q-Tip, and let’s say single mother making minimum wage and raising two kids is a hot steak knife…then I’d say I’m holding steady at a toddler’s tooth brush stuck firmly into my ear canal. In the grand scheme, it’s just champagne problems, but shut up, I’m Beyonce in my tiny universe, and having no job is stressful!!!

Now that I’m on my own, Girls makes even less sense to me. Why isn’t Hannah constantly talking about rent? If they wanted this show to reflect the feelings of a generation, then their scripts should have just kept alternating the words “rent” and “wine” for 30 pages. That would speak to me!

As of press time, so like, right now, I’m working on a bottle of wine after a long day of job lookin’. A day that was meant to be full of some completely undeserved relaxation, turned into a day of running back in forth through sand trying to get to an interview. That only kind of happened, but feel free to picture me doing that in a neon, wide brimmed sun hat.

b219f9e8a95011e2a22022000a1fc78f_7{This was me just prior to hell breaking loose}

My gal pals and I drove about an hour to Santa Monica for a beach day. Goddammit! I should have known I didn’t deserve a relaxing beach day!!!

Just about the time we got to the promenade, I got an email about a job opportunity that was very time sensitive. So in the ensemble you see above, my roommate and I went to the Apple store to tweak my resume and cover letter. After an hour of me hovered over a Mac laptop in my Coachella reject outfit, I finally sent off my stuff, and strutted to the beach, ready to relax after the stressful hour I had. What an hour.

15 minutes later, my shorts are OFF and my Trader Joe’s organic sunscreen is ON, and I am ready for some professional TLC from the California sun. Until! I get a phone call saying I have an interview and can I be there at 4:30, and of course I can ’cause all I have to do is put my mind to something.

So, my poor friends and I.. my poor, poor friends- May God bless and keep you, Jillian and Caitlin (my friends go by their full names, they are cosmopolitain ladies, THANK YEH). They were such great sports. SO, we run… picture me running through sand in that hat to the car. We finally make it to the other side of town, only so I can spend 15 minutes throwing on my interview outfit and showering in a bath of dry shampoo mist, until I was right back out the door.

For my 45 minute drive back, I meditated on the mantra that greasy hair would not be the determining factor of whether or not I got this job.

And hopefully that is actually true.

My interview happened and it was nearly the most majestic 15 minutes of my life, second only to my experience at Disney World’s Main Street Electrical Parade. Just kidding, it was okay, and I hope I get the job, but I release it into the universe like Deepak Chopra tells me to.

It was a stressful day, but it gave me an excuse to have a burger which I’ve been craving. That burger might end up being a celebratory burger or a depressed burger, but either way I enjoyed the burger. Breathe in, breathe out; rent money is just a man-made construct.

******If you’re in the Los Angeles area, please give me a job.

Aiming Low

Okay, hi, guys. I’m going to be upfront with you right now. This is just a blog post leading you to an article I posted on another website. If you clicked on the link to this blog on my Facebook or Twitter, which then lead you here under the false pretenses that there would be something to read, only to find another link to click on, then I am very sorry you fell for my Russian nesting doll of lies. I had to do it (for my site analytics).

Anyway, that was just a long way of priming you for the fact that an article of mine is posted on Aiming Low.

5 Things I’m Too Old for Now

197273_1002780752930_7210_nThanks in advance if you choose to comment on the article, but like, pretend you don’t know me, you know?

Oops: When People Find Out I Blogged About Them

So you can just color me uncomfortable because as luck would have it, when you put a blog on the internet anyone can read it- including, and especially the people you might have written about. Particularly, if you always post about your blog on Facebook, and then your friends post about your blog on Facebook, which is really just solid marketing, until it turns out that your subject in question is just one Facebook friend removed from you.

See: The Compulsive Bike Stealer.

Last night I got a new comment on that post…..
I mean, he called me “pretty lady” so he doesn’t seem that mad about it…

Meanwhile, on Facebook:

That comment was from our subject.


But really, at this point both his cousin and the Bike Stealer himself outed his identity for anyone on Facebook, so it’s hard to feel guilty about a little story told ’round the internet through Gallery Girls stills and Wayne’s World clips.

Now I just sit and wait for the day when this all catches up to me and I never get a date again because guys are afraid I will blog about them. But I won’t blog about you if you don’t do anything weird. I think we can all agree that’s fair? I mean c’mon you guys!!! He stole bikes!! What was I supposed to DO?!

Plus, for all the guys I have written about, there’s a handful more that are even weirder that you’ll never even read about.


I’m just giving it a few years until they all forget who I am and then I’ll probably write a book or something.

Advice for College Freshmen

I went to an arts and communications school, so pretty much the only thing I’m qualified to do is dance around in a variety of wigs. Regardless, I still went to college so I think I’m at least qualified to give some advice about your freshmen year.

Don’t go out with someone you met at a party if you haven’t properly vetted them. This is actually advice you can heed for the rest of your life, but I feel like it’s particularly important now because you’re going to be meeting a lot of new people.

If you meet someone at a party and you have been imbibing in some sweet, sweet hummingbird nectar like PBR, you might want to make sure that everything checks out before you see them under something other than the soft, flattering glow of a black light. The problem is sometimes even Facebook doesn’t help that much. Case in point, I once went to a frat mixer (just shut up and keep moving) and met this guy at the ice booze luge… BOOZE LUGE.

Booze. Luge.

This kid was wearing a straw fedora…. STRAW FEDORA. And because the chilled vodka spilling forth from a trail of ice was hitting me juuuust right, I was convinced he looked like Jason Mraz. We ended up chatting on Facebook and I invited him to my sorority’s ‘Crush’ party as my crush.. I hate myself so much right now.

Jungle theme Crush party. Riley, Jill, Me, 2010.

Now, sure he didn’t look like Jason Mraz on his Facebook, but I tend to give guys the benefit of the doubt when it comes to pictures because I don’t think a lot of guys photograph well. CUT TO: Crush night. We all meet at my friend’s apartment. He STILL doesn’t look like Jason Mraz. Another thing I do not remember from the frat party: Kid is 6’10. I’m 5’3. It would have looked more appropriate for him to take my friend’s coat rack to this party instead of me. I mean he was nice and everything, and sure I like a tall guy, but God forbid we got married. My Leprechaun: in the Hood hips are not equipped to pass his Andre the Giant baby. Also we’d have to constantly tell people we met while competing in a booze luge competition. All I’m saying is be careful.

Put down the chicken tenders. I have awful opinions about everything that I craft out of some serious anthropological data that I gather from thin air, and one of those opinions is about how many people have to be slightly overweight once in their life. Most people I know (including myself) who were fat as children worked harder in college and their 20s to keep things right and tight, however kids who were skinny in high school get to college and act like they’ve never seen a waffle bar before. Problem is when you gain 20 pounds in college it’s a lot harder to lose that when you’re 23 than it was to lose 20 pounds when you’re 16. Look, I can still fit in my prom dress that I got sophomore year (That’s it. I just wanted you to know).

College Fronds. Caroline, Riley, MOI, Michelle.

Learn how to write a proper essay. This is the most important and practical advice I can possibly give you, and if you listen to anything I ever say let it be this and that you should never take pictures of yourself on the toilet and put them on Facebook. If you know how to write a proper essay and you go to a middle or lower tier college, I can’t tell you the kind of crap you can get away with stuffing into those essays. If the Emerson College administration knew how many times I used Sex and the City as a source in the various essays I wrote, they would revoke my degree. You can’t get away with that sort of stuff if you pass in a clunker, but if the paper flows like Burnetts down a booze luge then you’re   at least looking at a “B.”

So you can take this advice or leave it, but seriously, learn how to write an essay. And watch your drink!*

*That goes for boys too- I know like 5 guys who have been roofied because no one ever tells guys to watch their drink. Sage advice. Brunch for Every Meal, saving lives of young men everywhere.