This is a lifestyle blog.

I'm Alida. Writer of Books. Lover of food. Late 20s and still shops at Forever21. Wears lipstick to the grocery store. Runs even when not being chased. Like a Real Housewife but poorer. Not real good at anything. Now a lifestyle blogger.

You should definitely listen to me!


When You Give A Girl Kombucha

When You Give A Girl Kombucha

When you give a girl 8.00 Kombucha she got at the corner store because her 'stomach hurt' and it 'also had .5% alcohol': 

she will ask to see the manager at a local frozen yogurt place because they do not have the advertised acai berry

she will pull a crumpled 100.00 bill out of Namaste tote bag and wonder how it got there

she will knife a waiter (WITH HER EYES) for forgetting to hand wash the quinoa

she will tell her friend about a juice cleanse while drinking 100% agave tequila and lime juice with a splash — no, I'm serious, a splash — of seltzer water

she will carry home a case of coconut La Croix halfway before she Lyfts home

she will waltz into her sister's fucking rehearsal dinner in one of those silky long robes with an Everlane t-shirt and cropped white J Crew jeans from 2003  — 2 hours late, no less

she will buy a leather pink pill case

she will read Refinery29 money diaries and leave some aggro comment like "it's kind of sad women still spend their money this way" while she has another window open on her browser for 'expensive hotels Vegas' and 'balayage highlights' 

you better believe she'll attend your bachelorette party

her Equinox gym membership will practically renew itself

she will hold a small funeral for her succulent, but also say "I cannot be bothered" and throw out the marble pot it slightly dirtied during it's untimely death

she will have one of those goddamn white fur pillows on her couch

she will have met and loved someone named Devin

she will Google Lauren Conrad and workout routine

she will use coconut oil on her hair, in her stir fry, and as birth control

she will give her life for Gwyneth Paltrow

her yoga mat will be left somewhere: either Madewell, ByChloe, or at one of those tantric-blood-orgy-crystal parties she attends

she will re-watch Gossip Girl immediately after Master of None, Seamless some tagliatelle, and eat a few bites of it

she will apply a thick face mask made from the pulp stuck in her juicer and the placenta an old witch — one she journeyed deeeeeep into the woods for — gave her

she will name her body the Appalachian Trail

No Bad Bites: My Trip To Montreal

No Bad Bites: My Trip To Montreal

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Season Finale

The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Season Finale