This week on Barely Edited, Melissa sits down with me for what was meant to be a simple catch-up and instead gives us the beautifully chaotic, extended director’s cut of her life lately. We get into new mom life, fertility struggles, breastfeeding, mastitis, relationships, and the general madness of becoming a mother while everybody around you suddenly becomes an expert.

This one is funny, a little all over the place, and full of the kind of side quests that only make sense when you’re catching up with a friend who has been storing thoughts since August.

NEW EPISODES EVERY 11TH AND 22ND OF EACH MONTH

In this episode, Bianca is joined by Chancie Carnevale for a conversation about skin, self-care, wellness trends, and the very humbling realization that some of us were not raised on green juice and boundaries. They get into growing up in survival mode, why wellness now feels like a rich girl personality trait, and how social media managed to make healing feel both more accessible and more completely deranged. If you’ve ever been bloated, puffy, burnt out, underfed, under-slept, and two TikToks away from diagnosing yourself with seventeen problems, this one’s for you.

Red hair. Red soles. Red flags we ignored in friendships for years.

This week Bianca sits down with Evelyn Skoutelas — a woman who owns 40 pairs of Louboutins and zero apologies — for a conversation that's equal parts shoe worship and emotional reckoning. They get into the jealousy between women that everyone feels and nobody admits, the adult friendships that start to fit like the wrong size heel, and why some women will hype you up in public and spiral about you in private — and sometimes that woman is you.

Funny, sharp, and just uncomfortable enough to make you text your group chat and go quiet.

We thought we were watching a hockey show.

We were not.

On the first episode of Season 2 of Barely Edited, Bianca is joined by her first guest, Erica, where they spiral into the cultural phenomenon that is Heated Rivalry — the slow burn, the secrecy, the tension, the cottage scene, and the fact that none of us are mentally stable about it.

Why are women simultaneously turned on and emotionally devastated? Would we tolerate an eight-year situationship in real life? Is this romance… or just a red flag with good lighting? And why does knowing certain moments were improvised make it ten times sexier?

We break down obsession, domination, fantasy vs. reality, whether Shane is toxic, whether Ilya carried the emotional weight, and why women — not men — are the ones who turn stories like this into cultural events.

If you’ve developed a Russian accent in your own home, can’t get the soundtrack out of your head, or considered ice skating “for the plot”… this episode is for you.

We came for hockey.We stayed for the tension.

Now we’re just trying to survive the wait for Season 2.

Somewhere between sober culture and scrolling culture, we lost the plot. This episode follows that thread — how going sober became the new cool, how being online became a full-time identity, and how we quietly forgot how to log off.

I talk about the rise of self-diagnosis, comparison, and jealousy as background noise, and how living online long enough changes the way you feel in your own body. And when you zoom out far enough, it all points to the same thing: why making friends feels harder than ever, why adult friendships feel fragile, and why so many people are walking around feeling disconnected without knowing how they got there.

This is a conversation about the friendship recession — the emotional cost of never signing off, and the quiet loneliness that comes with it.

This episode is a holiday-season panic attack disguised as a podcast. I ride shotgun through seasonal depression, Black Friday/Cyber Monday marketing insanity, and the endless flood of sale emails that turn “retail therapy” into retail trauma — because saving money never looked so triggering.

The anxiety of trying to survive while working nights, missing daylight for weeks, Uber becoming my makeshift chef, and realizing cooking three meals a day is a luxury even for people without kids. I talk about the grind, the burnout, and the creeping materialism — like the internet turned us into collectors of things instead of creators of memories.

Somewhere in the chaos, I get into the dating-app fatigue, the fantasy of meeting someone organically again, and the hilarious way married women gravitate toward me while I’m out here explaining, once again, why I’m actually not a lesbian. I touch on taking Plan B, questioning who the hell my pre-internet self even was, and dreaming about taking this podcast to a stage one day — Unwell, if you’re listening, hello.

It’s messy, overstimulated, under-slept, and weirdly comforting — the perfect holiday-season meltdown.

This week Rough Drafts I get into the story I never told properly — mostly because it sounds like a fever dream written by a bored screenwriter during lockdown. But here we are.

In this episode, I finally talk about the time I got stuck in Italy, went mildly viral by accident, became the unofficial “pandemic girl” for half the news stations in Canada, and somehow landed a six-month radio show because life loves a plot twist.

I get into the version of me that existed before the internet swallowed all of us whole, the weird ways your brain rewires under pressure, why shaving after 30 should qualify for Olympic recognition, and what happens when your personal growth gets broadcasted to strangers.

It’s chaotic, it’s messy, it’s very Barely Edited — and it explains a lot more about me than I expected.

Rough Drafts… you’re getting the uncut version.

Seasonal depression, vape regrets, murder mysteries, and the time I told a bride to fire her maid of honor — welcome back to the chaos, Rough Drafts.

This episode is a full-course meal of chaos — equal parts caffeine, confession, and Christmas panic. I talk about seasonal depression and how the sound of someone chewing can turn me into a full-blown villain, giving “holiday rage” a whole new meaning.

Then there’s the part where I told a bride to fire her maid of honor — which, for the record, Stefano specifically told me not to do. But because I have a big mouth and a savior complex, I did it anyway. I just couldn’t stand there and let this poor girl’s wedding implode in real time. Sometimes you’ve gotta ignore logic, ignore Stefano, and follow your inner wedding therapist. Choose your maid of honor like you’d choose a business partner: with strategy, not guilt.

From there, it’s a spiral of THC-induced shopping sprees, murder mystery birthday planning, and the last-minute chaos of building my Christmas sets with zero time and too much ambition. Somewhere between giving up vape pens and giving up control, I realize: maybe I thrive in disaster.

It’s unfiltered, unstable, and somehow still festive.