Author: Jocelyn

  • Shameless Plug

      No, not like the ones on Elton John’s head. This is a different kind of plug. There’s a new online humor magazine that just launched its first issue this week. It’s called the Clay Pigeon, and its puppetmaster is Diesel over at the Mattress Police, head puppet designer is Joel Bezaire from Crummy Church […]

  • Mama’s Best Advice: “Do It Naked”

    My mom gifted me with lots of things in my youth: flute lessons, bassoon lessons, piano lessons, ballet lessons, the old Nissan Stanza, her recipe for beef stroganoff, a deep loathing of my body, a fondness for the ocean. Human nature being what it is, however, I’ve also decided that my parenting should compensate for […]

  • Golden Plates: Tarnished

     Yesterday, I watched voyeuristically as my country acted the john to another media-Hallmark-florist-driven whore of a holiday. Having steered clear of the entire transaction myself, I had plenty of time to muse on the fact that it was a mutual-antipathy of VD that first watered the love blooming between Groom and me. Oh, plus he […]

  • Uno, Deux, Trois, Cinq, Sept

      Over the course of my adolescence, our family hosted seven French students for “a delightful summer abroad.” They would get on a plane in Paris and fly to Montana where they would disembark, their necks wrapped in scarves, their mouths smoking Gaulloises. Then, with a slow exhale, they would stare, in shock, at the […]

  • My Funny Valentine

    Dear Bicycle Commuter Rocketing Off the Trail by Crosley Street at Dusk: You will never know how close you came to a kismetical meeting with the Love of Your Life tonight. That unmet L.o.Y.L.? Me. So focused were you on getting home after a long day at the–what?–H & R Block that you didn’t even […]

  • Three a.m.: The Onamotapeiac Hour

      A thump. A creak. A scratch. A splat. Then the whisk of our duvet being flung open as Groom garbled, “Whaat und whooo huh? Fonzi hug me? Is someone there? Someone? Did someone just vomit in the hall?” By the end of that string of kerflabble, I had been yanked from blissful black to […]

  • Hot Child in the City

    Remember in 1991 when Demi Moore squatted down, and a girl child fell out? Less memorably, remember the Friday night in 2000 when I put my knees to my ears and emitted a squalling bundle of flesh? Now, some years later, I’ll be tumpluckered if a national organization hasn’t gone and named itself after those […]

  • All of Y’all Need to Eat More Whole Grains. ‘Ceptin’ the Poor ‘Uns. You’re Good.

    “Wait! What’s that?” asked seven-year-old Girl, catching a glimpse of the email I had opened on the computer tonight. “It’s just a message someone sent. But it’s time for bed; go choose your book, and then we’ll brush teeth,” I responded, ever task-minded at 8 p.m. I get profoundly more task-minded when my husband has […]

  • I Need Fifty-Nine Drinks

        When I was 18 months old and napping one day, my aunt felt compelled to hold a mirror to my mouth to check my breathing and find out if I was still alive. I slept that deeply. When I was an adolescent, my sister once poured a glass of water on my face […]

  • The Twelve-Inch Scar

      Five years ago, on January 17th, I made one of my students vomit. I hadn’t even assigned “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” either. Rather than yacking up her lunch as a reaction to Coleridge’s opium-induced writings, she barfed out of affection and empathy. See, this student came from a background so sketchy, so […]