Casey Kniseley

Casey is a twenty-year-old miscreant with a penchant for dark chocolate and strong convictions. She’s done a lot of travelling, and can’t wait to do more as soon as her lottery numbers come up. She works for a D.C. communications firm and lives in a townhouse with a mother, a small dog and a beginning-to-be-medium sized kitten who begrudgingly cohabitate on the condition that they are supplied with regular treats and a good amount of cuddling. The dog and kitten, that is, not the mother. Casey writes about things that make her angry in the swirly twirly gumdrop sea of politics; which means she does a lot of writing. On a typical Sunday she can usually be found burning cookies and generally being whatever the opposite of a domestic goddess is.