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When It Works In My Favor, I Go Biblical
This week, I’ve been waiting for news. It came this afternoon. Girlfriends (and Furiousball, who is total Honorary Girlfriend): next year I’m going on sabbatical. For the whole year. Those of you who read my last post are, no doubt, able to appreciate how welcome and timely this news is. The truth is that many of the
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Blech
Sometimes I start a blog post, and then it sits as an unpublished draft for months, even years (case in point: the draft post about how I’m not looking forward to the presidential-nominee battle between Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama). This lag is probably a good thing, as it reminds me of the importance of letting things gel, of
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Fear Not Bold Colors
During my early years, I shared a room with my sister. According to the dates on the photos, it would appear I was about two when Kirsten and I moved into our shared room. I’m also told we went to Disneyland when I was two, making that a very busy Year of Unremembered Wonders. Here we are,
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No Jive Turkey
When I was in elementary school, sometimes I’d score a rare, coveted invite to Shauna Bergendahl’s house across the street. She was about five years older than I and had perfect blonde feathered hair, the kind of Farrahed coif that shot her to a position as Head Majorette and a spot in the Homecoming royalty court. With neighborhood
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My Top Ten List of Things That Had the Potential to Be 10/10’s This Year but Were, in Their Actualization, Mere 7/10’s…and If That Concept Doesn’t Hurt Your Head Just a Wee Bit, Then I Have Failed in My Mission and Need to Label This Post’s Conceit a 7/10 and Add It to the List
Balls are dropping, and I don’t mean geezerly Larry King’s. There’s also a sparkly one in Times Square that’s making a slow descent. People are drinking jaw-dropping amounts of alcohol and wearing pointy hats and acting as though hands moving on a clock can signify change, all of which sounds like my last birthday party, to tell you the truth.
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Dear Rival Gang Leader Tom Logan: If You Ever Try to Take Over My High School Fortress-City, I Will Lob a Molotov Cocktail at You, Which Will Be My Only Recourse Since It’s Not Like I Can Go Tell My Mom, What With That Virus Wiping Out Everyone Over the Age of 12 and All
When I was a kid, I read this one book. Oh, all right, Sherlock Hemlock: I read about 4,000 books. Approximately 3,800 of those reading experiences have fallen into the crevasse carved into my brain that night in college when I drank too much Jagermeister. Fortunately, I still carry the imprint of the other 200 books (only
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Postage-Free But Heartfelt
Dear Inhabitants of the Interwebs, You Slimy, Three-Eyed Beasts: At this reading, may you be sipping on something mulled, wearing something fuzzy, and not hating those around you. What’s more: may you have protein in your belly and a carb in your heart. I offer up to you the following holiday greetings with a shrug of my
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Although I Felt the Freak in Many Other Ways, There Was This Month in Seventh Grade When We Did Track in P.E. Class, and As It Turned Out, I Was Pretty Good at Standing Broad Jump and the 100-Yard Dash. Whenever I Feel Down, I Remember Out-Jumping and Out-Running All Those Cute Little Things Who Had Boyfriends, and Suddenly I’m Humming Again, Which Indicates That My Happiness Stems from a Place of ‘In-Your-Face, Bitches’
A few weeks ago, my sister sent me a book. I think she’s making up for all those years in childhood when she insisted a “slap fight” was actually a “fun game” as she pinned me down and proved her superiority at fun games. Plus, once, she took my Bass ballet flats and threw them across the
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You Should See What I Do With Lincoln Logs
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I Promise You At Least Five Parenthetical Asides in This Post; Bonus Points If You Count More
There is a fortuitous convergence at the end of the semester: Gasping for air from beneath a heap of research papers, I claw one hand out from under essays about childhood obesity, bacteria-phobia, the death of newspapers, and the upsurge in wind farms, and that hand, calloused and gnarled, flops around blindly (what with
