Camis (camisoles) are typically pretty handy for cleavage concealment (crucial in most office settings), and while I admit that they do help mitigate the effect, I find that I will often have residual cleavage peeking out from beneath the cami. It would appear that even my cleavage has cleavage – like some demented recursive Escher funhouse of boobs. » Read more
A good woman is like a good book: entertaining, inspiring, and instructive; sometimes a bit too wordy, but when properly bound and decorated, irresistible.
-Marcus Long » Read more
At the gas station, I successfully troubleshot a frozen fuel door release by sawing around the fuel door with my key McGyver style, popping that sucker the heck open, all while rocking stilettos in 0-degree weather. Twelve-year-old me would be terribly impressed. » Read more
“Would you be okay with dating someone who was abused?”
“Of course,” most people answer without hesitation. “I’m not going to hold that against them. Why would I?”
Except it’s not about stigma. It’s not about the fact that somehow something bad that happened to a person may have ostensibly “tainted” them, » Read more
I hate ringback tones with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.
I mean, c’mon, do I REALLY need hold music for the part where the call is RINGING? FFS.
Who woke up one morning and thought ringtones + hold music = win? They’re probably rich now, but I hate them. » Read more
I feel heroic when I fast. Maybe it brings out the hunter/gatherer in me. Maybe it’s the challenge. I’m sure part of it is subversive. I like showing food whose boss – and proving to myself I don’t need it every day, all day. Asserting my independence, if you will. Fasting it toughest at work. » Read more
<The yin and yang of adulthood violently collided this morning as I flossed with a terrible hangover.
<It had been a fantastic evening – at least what I could remember of it. A disconcerting number of fragments were missing like a mirror that had slipped from its mounting and unceremoniously crashed to the floor. » Read more
When I was in grade school, I was friends with a group of the shyest girls at school. My best friend was the soft-spoken daughter of two zoology professors, and when she got headgear, the bullies descended on her with a fury. Looking back, I’m amazed that my reaction as an 8-year-old was to attack the bullies relentlessly, » Read more
Every day, every way, it dawns on me more and more that no one is as good as my parents expected me to be. » Read more
It’s fun to puzzle people. I take this as a sign of progress. I used to feel ashamed when people would point out that things I was doing were different, even if they said it in a relatively nice way (“you’re really interesting,” “I never know what you’re going to say next,” etc), but nowadays it’s amusing. » Read more