Archive for May, 2010

PMS Means I’m Not Up To My Usual Massive Wall of Text. You’re Welcome.

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

Hipsters in plaid shirts and neon sunglasses seriously disturb me. Because it means that things I was wearing in high school with a gravely earnest air have come back as nostalgia fashion. Combined with the double chin I’ve noticed cropping up in pictures, I’m ready to stop aging now. Who can make that happen for [...]

I Would Like The Turkeys For My Living Room, Please

Thursday, May 20th, 2010

My aunt lives on the coast between San Francisco and Half Moon Bay. Her pets need tending this weekend and so I’m here, basking in the coastal sunshine and trying to steal wireless from the neighbors. Her house is very tranquil – there are tulips on the table and wind chimes on the porch and [...]

I Met a Red Wall Named Jack

Monday, May 17th, 2010

My love for San Francisco might be vaguely alarming to the uninitiated – marked by wild gesticulation and obscure historical facts broadcast to anyone who will listen and quite a few people who’d really rather not. This adoration has held strong for almost a decade, making it officially twice as long as my longest relationship. [...]

Let’s Duct Tape That Switch, Shall We?

Thursday, May 13th, 2010

I’m loving my neighborhood these days. Eight months ago I was planning to move into a bigger place where I could get a dog. Three months ago I was planning to move to whatever hovel in Chinatown would save me the most money. But I wasn’t finding anything that felt right (hovels rarely do) and [...]

Not Caving

Tuesday, May 11th, 2010

I asked for a dog, but I got this instead: Unidentified crazy cat. I sometimes leave my door open in a usually futile attempt to get some airflow and this wide-eyed-possibly-escaped-from-the-mental-ward feline waltzed into my apartment and made himself at home. By jumping on my kitchen table and knocking over the coffee pot. I shooed [...]

Apparently I Missed Kindergarten (But I’ve Almost Caught Up)

Monday, May 3rd, 2010

I used to dread talking to people. Walking up to someone, even someone like a waitress, who is literally paid not only speak to me but to bring me things, would turn me into a quivering, gelatinous mass of cowardly dysfunction. Given the number of people I walked up to and threw my arms around [...]