Freelance TV writer / script coordinator / lil stinker. My book “Rags to Rags“ is available here from Atmosphere Press:


Yes, it’s true. Lady Pieces has started a Twitter and yes, it’ll be easier to maintain than Instagram because it requires way less work. Such is the beauty of social media.

Give it a follow and we’ll be sure to follow you back! We can promote published pieces, bring new readers and writers to the publication, and just be little stinkers on the internet. If there’s one thing we know for sure, it’s that nine days before the election is a great time to join Twitter.

Catch you on the flippety flip!

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Photo by Fahad Waseem on Unsplash

I wish this was a sexy post or a joke post or a sexy joke post, I really do, but sadly it is real. Like, 100% not a joke. This happened in real life to me this week.

The unfortunate reality of what happened is that I spent like $35 on a piece of lingerie, it was delivered, and someone in my building STOLE IT.

Let us take a moment. Let us contemplate. These are the facts:

Number 1: Someone stole my package (not a sexy “I have a package for you” package, but an “Ellie paid for this and you stole it” package). …

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Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash
  1. Definitely not texting your friends funny memes and replying “omfg i’m dying just like he will omg”
  2. Not making a social media post that’s just a giant winky face with the caption “lol”
  3. Not by any means getting a tattoo that says “karma ❤”
  4. Never ever holding a zoom party with friends where the theme is “funeral chic but like you’re happy the person is gone”
  5. Not laughing so hard that soda comes flying out of your nose when you learn he also gave it to his inner circle
  6. Not, under any means, masturbating furiously after researching comorbidities
  7. Absolutely not blasting “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette so loudly that the cops are…

A “Lady Pieces” Exclusive

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Photo by Claire Anderson on Unsplash
  • The person running Herman Cain’s Twitter account and downplaying COVID even though Cain died of COVID
  • The guy that touches your waist when he passes by you at the bar even though there was no reason for it
  • The Stormtrooper that punched Baby Yoda
  • My really mean fifth grade teacher Ms. Sanchez
  • The lady from that video that freaked out about Bath & Body Works peach bellini candles
  • My sleep paralysis demon
  • The TMZ guy
  • Brett Kavanaugh’s buddy Squee
  • The green guy from the Mucinex commercials
  • ICE hysterectomy doctor
  • Ghislaine Maxwell
  • Himself

This Is Us

Even though I’m straight-passing, I’ve finally decided I’m allowed to take up space

A woman’s foot with sandals and a rainbow flag tied to the knuckle making a step forward on a rainbow sidewalk.
A woman’s foot with sandals and a rainbow flag tied to the knuckle making a step forward on a rainbow sidewalk.
Photo: Carles Navarro Parcerisas/Getty Images

I’ve always kept my mouth shut during Pride Month. So when this past June came around, I spent 30 days in a limbo (at least more of a limbo than usual), going back and forth, swirling around, deciding to just post nothing again and not acknowledge the truth lodged in my throat.

My sexuality is both nobody’s business, and yet something I want to embrace as loudly as I can. I feel like I’m wearing stilts; I’m shiny and impressive, but I’m also teetering, always thisclose to tipping over and falling over myself. My whole “thing” is writing and posting whatever I want, often without filter, and yet this topic has ping-ponged in my brain for years on end. …

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Photo by Molly Belle on Unsplash

Growing up, I heard three kinds of statements from my extended Salvadoran family. They were either: 1) a negative comment on my appearance and/or weight, 2) a compliment on my grades which eventually led to a strained and awkward relationship with my cousins, or 3) something about me being “so white”.

Weirdly enough, I felt uncomfortable about the first two but not so much about the third. As a kid, I knew being fat and a nerd were not desirable traits, but being called white wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

I grew up hearing comment after comment from both family and strangers alike about how being white was the desirable thing to be. My parents would always say that I’d end up meeting a nice white boy in college and having half white babies. My sister was frequently complimented for her fair skin by like 90% of the Latino people we encountered in our daily lives at laundromats and grocery stores. When I asked my mom if I could go to a white kid’s house party in high school, her usual strictness about my social life melted away and she barely took a breath before saying yes. …

Lady Pieces Supports Black Lives Matter

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Image: REUTERS/Darren Ornitz

During this time (and honestly, all the time) it’s crucial for us to amplify the voices of Black writers.

I know Lady Pieces is a humor publication, and that humor can be a way to lighten the emotional load during times like these, but we must not forget that humor is a tool of resistance. It is a way for us to fight hegemony and take away power from oppressors. We are blessed in having a significant following on this website and we implore each and every one of you to read work by Black writers and not take everything you see on the news or on social media at face value. Dig deeper, look at sources, see why videos are edited the way they are. Look at this guy, for example. If you’d only seen the news, you might think he’s a victim. The full footage shows he was an instigator with a weapon. …

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Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

Earlier on Monday, President Trump stated that he takes hydroxychloroquine daily. We at Lady Pieces managed to get our hands on the rest of his medication regimen, outlined below:


You can’t spell “yeasty boy” without “best,” which makes his Monistat use all-around patriotic.

FAIDS Medical Regimen

“Why,” you ask, “does the President of the United States take medication for feline AIDS?” To put it shortly, because he can.

Horny Goat Weed

He doesn’t take it for sexual reasons. Rather, he took so much of it in the 80s and 90s that if he stops now, his kidneys will disintegrate.


This medication is a knockoff of the antacid TUMS. Rather than treat acid in the stomach, it combats acid corroding the blood-brain barrier. Trump takes five with every meal. …

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You don’t wanna know where I put the Lysol. [Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash]

I never thought this would happen. I’m just a simple girl with a simpler brain and I thought I was being smart when I shoved some Clorox up my ass. I mean, think about it. Disease is germs. Germs is bad. Bad starts with a capital B, which rhymes with P, which stands for pool. So I got into a kiddie pool and squatted down and put some fucking Clorox up my ass. And you know what? It was way easier than I thought!

What hasn’t been easy is the side effects. Other than the cheek numbness and constantly pooping a fine neon powder, I am now able to read minds. The only explanation I can think of is that the Clorox cleansed my body of cell phone brain pollution and now I can receive everyone else’s electrons. …

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Don’t touch your face. [Photo by Ben Hershey on Unsplash]

I wish I could write an eloquent thinkpiece right now that could bring comfort to others, and more than anything to myself. I wish I could focus my attention to collecting data or on the flip side making a funny video to help people laugh. But honestly this is my brain right now:


I like to think of myself as a woman of science and don’t usually give in to fear mongering, but I think what’s getting to me the most is first hand accounts from current patients with COVID-19. I know that at 26 years old I’m in relatively good health, but I also know I’m an overweight asthmatic who has to take corticosteroids for her asthma twice a day. I’m scared for it to reach me, even though I know that symptoms are different for everyone. For all I know it could hit me and be just like a mild flu, or maybe I won’t even show symptoms. Who knows, I might have even already had it. But there’s a little voice in my head often saying: for all you know, you could be dead next week. And here, let me detail step by step what’s going to happen to you. And then I cry and work on my will and have myself a panic attack and then take myself through my coping steps: wash my face, listen to a meditation on my phone, and write. …

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