“Wow. It was the first run and he caught the ball, rushed it all the way down to the other side and made a six pointer.” “Uhm, you mean a touchdown?” “Yeah. That. Then he made a one point kick.” Every year I stay up until 1 in the morning to watch the live half-time
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My mom thinks I’m awful, because I’m getting ready to write about Alex the Ex. “How can you do that to him?” Him is the dark eyed European in the other room. “Because he’s not the jealous type,” I tell her. “And because the things I have to say about Alex could be said in
I’ve just been tagged by DevilWoman. I don’t usually play, but DW is hilarious and I’m a huge list maker. Also, I’m feeling rather aggressive today; and I’ve found it’s best not to write memoir type entries when in the throws of anger. Or restless irritation. So here we are. Quirks and things. A tag.
Laura was mean and pugnacious. Not the way most children are. She didn’t play practical jokes on busybody aunts or pull the ears of annoying cousins like I sometimes did. She told families of their father’s indiscretions and then wondered aloud in other people’s company why the children were so ugly and the mothers so
I’ve just finished watching The Holiday. Kate Winslet is lovely. But I can’t bring myself to care for Cameron Diaz and I find Jude Law incredibly pompous and irritating – in spite of that rather touching display of affection in his penultimate scene. I would have turned it off, Winslet notwithstanding, were it not for
Yesterday I checked that email address I never check – and I’m glad of it. Amidst all the annoying chain letters, the phentermine and porn spam, I had a note from the lovely Dina. The food blogess and publishing girl sent me an email re: Gather.com’s First Chapters Writing Competition. It’s being promoted as something
My turn. Because Oprah said to… If you really knew me, you would know I think I’m fat. Not just fat. Obese. Morbidly so. I have since I was nine. I sometimes see photos of myself and think “No way that’s me. That person looks normal. Not like Jabba the Hut. Not like me.” I’ve
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It’s funny how you meet your other. I don’t mean the one you have babies with. The one you vow to love and adore and never leave. I mean your other other. The person that’s so much like you they could be you if you weren’t around to do it yourself. I met Mallorie when
“I could read his prose on salary, but not Jane’s. Jane is entirely impossible. It seems a great pity that they allowed her to die a natural death. Everytime I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.” –Mark Twain
