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As usual, I made a bunch of plans, and only about 1/3 of them came true. there's been a little progress... Out of desperation (and...

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels So sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not clever enough to pull off a statement piece with...

Because I really do not know any more at this point. I am so sorry, Deidre. I know you were really looking forward to this. On the plus...

Yes, one of them is to start a podcast. Photo by Joshua Brown on Pexels We’ve been down this road before. Late night Googling, trying to...

The average millionaire has seven streams of income , was a pretty popular thumbnail four years ago. During the pandemi, 9.6 million...

I'm glad you asked! because it's been a lot :) Maybe even too much. We're officially nineteen months into my "big-time influencer" era,...

The Ultimate Guide to Fetch Beyond This would probably be a little easier if I actually read a blog instead of imagining Sex and  the...

I’m not sure if it’s a disease, a crime, or even a real thing. But I know I have it; I don’t know how I got it, and I do not want it....

Set somewhere between 1970 and 2020-now, author Deidre Annette retraces her steps to find where she left the Super Ordinary Safehouse.

If you weren’t online in the early 2000s, you missed out on an era. Back when the internet was messy but magical.

I’ve never felt older than the day my little brother tried to explain Snapchat to me.

I still wanna be an influencer, though. I’m manifesting it. This is a manifestation.

Lately, I've been wanting to be social. So, if I like your comment or drop a terrible joke—don’t be alarmed. It’s just me.

This isn't about waiting for the perfect moment. Sometimes, you just have to hit publish and let it be messy.

My name is Deidre Annette, and as much as I don't wanna be, today—I am another crying girl on the internet.