We’re going to the Salon of Shame again tonight. Tickets sell out, literally, in one minute of release. Apparently past diary entries is all the rage.
Seriously, it is. It’s absolutely the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
And since this is my memoir, how can I NOT post some old journal entries?
(And since you have them, how can *you* not post them? Ponder that for a while.)
So here’s a journal entry dated January 26th, 1997. I’m in college and I like this guy, Matt Bell, whos name I never actually write for fear... Read more
I’m clearly losing my mind.
The sun is out today. This, in and of itself makes locals here in Seattle run around screaming, “MY EYES! MY EYES!” If you’re walking downtown about this time on the first day of sun in nearly four months, you can see businessmen in suits twitching on the ground from the sheer excitement of warmth.
I shit you not.
People suddenly “get sick” with all kinds of ailments. “CoughHikingCough” “KayakFlu” “EscapeToPark-itis” “GreenLake-Virus” And of course, the... Read more
We live in a pretty tight community. And by tight I mean the buildings are so close you can fart and hear neighbors laugh three doors down. Or maybe that’s just me and my own farts, I don’t know, but I swear I know when the people next door have sex and when their dog has the runs and when the cop behind us gets lucky one warm night when the windows are open.
Not tight as in, “I know my neighbors and they are the awesome.”
Not tight as in, “I fucking LOVE OUR HOUSE.”
More like “These jeans push my undies up too far remind me... Read more
He likes Big Books
and you can’t deny
When the other mothers
Ask you why
Your toddler reads with so much grace
and a big ol’ book in his face
You get Horney
Thinkin’ bout being lonely
How fast your kids are grow-grow-growin’
Oh Baby! Baby! You wanna make a brand new Baby!
Those other mothers tried to warn you
You’d start feelin’ that way when the boy turned two
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your wife got the baby itch? (Hell yeah!)
Tell ‘em... Read more
If you follow me on twitter, this may be a slight recap. But oh! There is VIDEO. So get comfy and get ready to cringe on my behalf.
Last night we saw Dooce (do you really need me to link to her? Hai?). I’ll be honest, I don’t read Heather that much anymore. I don’t read enough of anyone, anymore, really. (I blame Google Reader that bastardized RSS reader that is like the government aid enabling the bored and lazy.) But I wanted to hear her speak because you hear so much trash on the Internet and I wanted to go formulate an opinion on my own.
And so... Read more
I remember when we blogged because we loved it, before branding, before ads.
I remember the first time someone linked to me and I was shocked.
I remember when we wrote things because we wanted to, not because it would get a stumble or dig.
I remember when I’d be so shocked to get a comment, not shocked when I didn’t.
I remember when Dooce was just a girl who couldn’t spell Dude.
I remember when the community was still small enough you could actually read all your favorite blogs every day.
I remember when I had to password... Read more
I’m not ready to write some more memoirs exactly yet. I have them, tucked away nicely in my photo box of memories with words spilling off the pages waiting to be published.
I just can’t.
It seems we’re in some state of crisis in our house. Maybe “crisis” is too extreme a word. “Recession?” “Depression?”
Chaos? Uncertainty? Stress?
All the above?
I’m frustrated the “state of the economy” is throwing my daily life in to some sort of tailspin.
I never... Read more
As a little girl, I wanted to be a famous ballerina. All little girls want to be famous ballerinas. We dance and twirl and pretend we’re beautiful and light as a swan.
Then we grow up.
We graduate college with a single task in mind: Make a living.
Maybe we add on there to “Have a house! Get married! Make babies!” and then we happen to meet someone who has the same dreams and you work together to make them come... Read more
Growing up in south Houston, we had manicured lawns and sidewalks connecting each house. Most evenings the kids would ride our bikes (or hot wheels) up and down the sidewalk and in and out of the driveways while the parents stood and laughed, talked, and drank tea. I remember coming home from a friend’s house one night and seeing the parents out talking without my mom. “Mom!” I yelled breathless as I came in the house, “Mom! You gotta go outside and talk. Lindsey’s mom and Paul’s Mom and Beth’s Mom are all out there!” Then I’d grab my... Read more