5 Ways To a Better Day

5 Ways To a Better Day

There are 53 Mondays in a year and not a single one of them excites me as much as a Friday. Why? Because starting anything over is never as fulfilling as finishing strong.

Like completing a sand castle.

Monday’s are just the rogue wave to Sunday’s flawlessly sculpted beach creation equipped with a perfectly dugout moat. Insert Monday:

Frankly, I’ve never met a Monday I didn’t want to put back in the deck. Thanks for dealing me a bullshit hand Mr. Work Week but I’m gonna fold. You know what’s a good work week draw? Four day weekends. You know what I’ve never had while working in the medical field? a substantial pay check, mental stability, Four day weekends.

So while the rest of the world anxiously awaits the next national holiday–or for some really well oiled companies–fuckin’ any dead presidents birthday, I look for ways to make all 53 of those god forsaken Mondays a little less Monday-y. (Also, I’m great at sharing so I listed them below)

Listen to good music. I’m too busy listening to said good music right now to research any statistics on this, but I imagine someone did the dirty work to prove that “feel good” music isn’t just a nick name. ( you know, like how Siri calls me ‘Sugar Tits’ and I know damn sure she means it ) Feel good music makes us feel….good. If you’re feeling good, chances are your day is probably getting better. This equation is as 101 as it gets.

Go through your contacts and delete anybody who doesn’t serve a purpose. There’s nothing that makes me more bummed out than clutter. Add shitty people into that clutter and we have ourselves a clean up on isle-Iphone. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that this lunch time excursion brings me so much joy. Mostly because taking my phone out of my pocket by dinner will likely ensure a “Hey, what’s up?” from a “Maybe: Kyle”….and I get to pull my favorite line out of my ass: “I’m sorry but, WHO IS THIS?” Plot twist…..Spring cleaning isn’t only necessary in the spring. Take the trash out weekly my friends.

Sweat. Hydrate. Repeat. No matter how many times I’ve groaned my way to the gym, I’ve never left it pissed that I spent any amount of time there. ~Except that one time I had a nipple slip on the smith machine trying to rack weights that never should have called for that kind of bodily exertion.~ Anyway….Can’t say the same for the mall. Buyers remorse is a real life urban dictionary option whereas gym remorse falls into the category of what many would consider a sin. Monday might be a steaming pile of dog shit by the time you get to lift a single weight or chug a glass of water, but even dog shit needs a pick me up sometimes. Literally.

Plan life events. So, it’s a Monday and you’re coming off the high of 48 hours straight of pure debauchery, what will inevitably peak the interest of your inner sinner? MORE DEBAUCHERY. Nothing says let’s forget about the pain of right now like catapulting your thoughts of future bad behavior into it’s place. The best way to cure the Monday Blues is to pretend like Monday doesn’t even exist, or better yet…what the next Monday you won’t be showing up for work looks like because you will likely be on a Caribbean island sipping cocktails equipped with bigger umbrellas than your work insurance policy. Give yourself something….anything, to look forward to and any day can go from “why did I even wake up?” to “I can’t wait to wake up 43 more times until my vacation!”.

Pay it Forward. No agenda, no expectations. Karma is a bigger bitch than I could ever be, and she lurks in the shadows of everyone’s philanthropic moments. She wants to know what kind of player in this game of life you are and she’s ready to change an entire day for you at the flip of a coin (the coin you either paid for the person behind you’s coffee with or the one you didn’t). There are no rules about the frequency or size of a good deed, but there is for sure science that equates feeling good with doing good. That’s bad English, but it rolled off the tongue better, so we’re keeping it. Altruism brings human beings bliss; plain and simple. **If this doesn’t apply to you, you’re dead inside…go home.

Bad days are still just days. Which means they are never-the-less tiny 24 hour gifts that we have the option of altering based on events, mood, opportunities, people, how much money I find on the ground, what kind of puppies show up to my work, how many chocolate shakes I get offered for free…the list goes on. If you’re having 99 problems, and a bitch is more than one of them try one of my top five quickest ways to tolerate a bad day and see if you can’t turn it around with a little shake up from the norm.

Budget Wanderlust

I used to think that international travel was for the wealthy; that it only fell into the laps of the rich and fearless. What contest do I have to enter? Who’s band do I need to tour with? Where do I apply for an adult friend who’s already fully equipped with a premeditated travel itinerary? For years I’ve been double tapping Instagram photos of crystal blue waters surrounding islands I couldn’t pronounce while I listened to songs about celebrities living far beyond my forever-frugal means.


This misunderstanding about wanderlust haunted me until 2016 when I vowed to make it to *at the very least* one new country every year. Subsequently, I also vowed to go to one new city every quarter, and lastly….promised myself I would attempt to strike up friendly-in depth conversation with one new person a month. I hoped to expand my horizons, test my adventurism (I literally had to google if this was a word–really happy to hear Merriam-Webster in fact reps it’s credentials) and enrich current and potential human relationships.

What I thought was an unattainable and absolutely terrifying leap of faith became an easy resolution with the help of one minuscule golden rule: DO NOT OVERTHINK IT.

Someone inquires: “Wanna go to Asia?”. Book it.

Don’t have the funds? Put it on a credit card…that’s future you’s problem.

Don’t know the language? Wing it…everyone sounds foreign when you’re drunk.

Don’t know if you can get time off? Quit…ok, fine, this one isn’t realistic for everybody, but its 100% effective given the chance of a lifetime.


If you don’t write the check for experience, you will eventually write one for regret and nobody is cashing in on memories unmade. If you have the mindset that moments are more precious than things, nothing can get in the way of an inexpensive travel log.

I remember looking up tickets to New York in the dead ass cold of winter and wondering how anybody visits their family during the holidays when some busted up business class seat reservation reflected half of my  paycheck. I assumed that if a destination that didn’t even require a passport was going to wipe out my bank account before even booking sleeping accommodations, international travel would forever be a distant delusion of a broke-ass dreamer. Enters….the trifectaWow Air, Flight Network Direct , and Hopper. These three websites/apps give me almost a guaranteed shot at booking tickets anywhere in the world for under $600 round trip. So, what next? Phone a friend.


Traveling in groups isn’t just good for multiple photo angle opportunities in front of mediocre travel blog tourist traps. It comes in handy when looking to save on living quarters both domestically and internationally. With the rise of websites like Airbnb and Vrbo, finding compact and affordable full sized homes for rent and splitting that between multiple people is proving to be more of a spacious and cost-effective option across the board. Hotel rooms are a thing of the past when you can literally book a temple equipped with handmade slippers and an entryway guest book that will likely be home to a 2 am drunk drawing of what you think dick’s should look like. “Five star renter, great draw-er”- Every Host I’ve Booked With.

So you have your plane tickets. Every single one of your friends have been threatened into a no-choice vacation scenario so that you can spend a mere $16/night on potentially becoming the lead death in a sketchy group remake of Hostel 3, and now we just need to round out our budget with an alternative to transportation.

In 2017 I traveled to both Canada and Iceland, hitting two new countries on my first year of resolution. Recently, just a few weeks prior to 2018 coming to a close, I visited Japan for nine days. On all three of these trips, transportation was my steepest expense. Mostly because when I go, I go big and I need to see as much of a country as I can in what little time I’ve been given. Which means we need to drive fast, take chances and the scenic route is ALWAYS gonna stroke your wallet.


My advice is to walk when you can, cram a lot of people into one car if it’s comfortable and make sure you are researching how other people fucked up all the routes before you rage-commit to the easiest one.  Also, bring a lawyer, or many lawyers….or in my case just a lawyers daughter (shout out to my best friend Megan) with you when you rent a car in a foreign country.  I marveled at the ability of the Icelandic rental car representative to make me feel like an idiot, a criminal AND a sucker all in the span of about twelve minutes. While trying to sell you shit you don’t need prior to the trip they will likely double back at the end and falsely accuse you of damages done by previous renters, despite any or no documentation. “Stupid American”, even with a language barrier, translates universally thank you very much.


Traveling the world doesn’t need to be expensive. With a little bit of planning, and a whole lot of ability to throw all the plans you just made out the window (should it benefit a budget) there’s no cap to what you can explore. If you spend all of your time thinking about all of the things you can’t do, how will you ever find the time to do the things you want to do? Dream big, spend small. You have the rest of your life to settle down, work a 9 to 5, raise little dreamers and grill burgers in your underwear during the Superbowl. Today we empty our piggy banks and fill our travel tanks. The journey is worth it.



Sidepiece Situations

Sidepiece Situations

I gave him a ringtone that was loud and obnoxious because if he ever called it would be in the middle of the night and only in an emergency. After all, he was a father now. I hadn’t thought about him in weeks; our small talk was always smaller talk than I could entertain purposefully. But I shot him a text before bed requesting some much needed attention amidst my dating failures.  The ellipses floated there with no response. He wanted to, he just couldn’t. The routine was pretty predictable. If it was any consolation I always knew he would call once he was out of the state on business. When he was finally away from her, and her insanely life draining insecurities.

“Kiss me, k-k-kiss me, infect me with your love and fill me with your poison, hate me ha-ha-hate me wanna be you victim, ready for abduc-” blared from under my pillow. His contact photo always brought me back to a younger love.

Before the beard. Before the bullshit. Before the baby.

I sent it to voicemail. Just text me dude, it’s 3 am and I’m only one level of consciousness away from a coma. Declining him was easy, because my needs were met by the serenity of my pillow. Plus, I knew we’d chat in a better mindset, after the sun had risen. Or so I had thought. With my wishes far from being respected, Katy Perry’s encore of E.T. jolted me awake.

“It’s late, Chad. What’s up?”

“Listen you stupid bitch, stop contacting my boyfriend, he wants nothing to do with you, you fucking stalker. If you text him again I will call the police.”

“I’m sorry? *giggle* Who is this?”

It clicked. She sounded young. And ugly. Not that you can tell a persons physical appearance by their tone, but the way she breathed into the call sent me a visual of a putred exterior. I hung up. Mouth hanging open in shock. Did my ex’s current girlfriend just call me a stalker? Did this pubescent psychopath just accuse me of harassing her family? You send a couple of friendly texts and the wrath of Satan is spawned. Holy ball and chain, batman.

She called again. I picked up in anticipation for the ability to unleash.

“*expletives and mumbling about me ‘getting my own family’ quickly drowned by a whole bunch of tears and the suggestion for me to kill myself*”

That’s cute. I remember my first boyfriend.

I had to hang up again. I felt horrible laughing at her while she formulated mindless threats in a senseless rage. I wondered at what age a woman can be certain some twenty-something isn’t going to call her from [not-her-phone] to bitch about a whole slew of made up scenarios in her tiny fucked up head. The answer is: never. Side note, we aren’t even in the same state, and I wouldn’t sleep with your boyfriend again if he paid me in gold. So, why don’t you calm your tits, and take up your concerns with the person who lied to you and not a stranger in a call log? I’ve never even met you before, which means there’s zero chance in hell I’ve made any promises to you I haven’t kept.

It took everything in me to not find a way to peel the wool from her childish eyes. Let’s not forget who ruined his and I’s relationship just over a year ago. You, bitch. You pissed on a stick while I went ring shopping. Remember playing that little game of entrapment the second you found out our love was greater than yours?  If ever there was a more grandiose display of Karma, it was now. Your “family” has been and will always be just a sad little fairytale involving an unwanted baby and a father who spends most of his nights asking if I still love him. He will block me to appease you for now, but I’ll catch him in my email inbox in the next forty eight. Because when you bring nothing but drama to the table, don’t be surprised when everybody gets up and leaves.