Hi beautiful people!

I recorded a (remote) podcast interview recently on how my Medium blog led to me writing a book and getting a job in television (sorry for my phone quality but you know, old phone. I remain true to the poor brand). The video of the podcast is here below, and it’s also available on Apple Podcasts and Spotify. Also yes, this is my voice. You all get to hear how extremely Los Angeles I am. My Central American ancestors are writhing in their graves:

The link to my book is here for Amazon and here for independent bookstores. It’s a collection of short funny stories about being the poorest kid in the room and yes, it came out the week *right* before lockdown. …

This piece isn’t an answer. It’s not some kind of insight, or magic moment. If anything, it’s more procrastinating.

I want to do the things I have to do. I want to work on my script rewrites. I mean, are you kidding me?! I never thought I could actually write for money, and now I have this beautiful magical opportunity, and I really truly am excited about it and appreciate it, and yes writing is hard but it’s so much fun, but I feel incapable of starting it.

It’s not just writing; I procrastinate cleaning, I procrastinate texting back, some days I even procrastinate taking a shower. I‘m not proud of it but sometimes I’ve even procrastinated feeding myself, feeling the pang of hunger and knowing all I have to do is walk to the fridge to get a prepackaged salad. …

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!

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). …

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…

• 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

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. …

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. …