The Kid Stays in the Picture (Part Three)
< ![CDATA[ I want to be clear on one point as I hammer home this ode to a short hair domestic: I do not consider...
Hillery eventually learned not to say everything that came to mind. Some were too good not to write down.
< ![CDATA[ I want to be clear on one point as I hammer home this ode to a short hair domestic: I do not consider...
With all the change I’ve been embracing lately, I think it’s only fair to tell you about the one constant in my world. New readers...
I once met a man who could stare into my eyes and at my breasts simultaneously. Not one eye here and one eye there. No flashing back and forth. What was going on, I believe it’s what’s called a thrall. And we were never introduced, so it’s misleading to say I met him. But it’s a strange story and it has to start somewhere.
I was talking to my brother on the phone the other night, in a cab, on the way to a party. Since I live in...
I used to live in a much bigger apartment. It had two bedrooms, five closets, a double parlor, a sun room, and a big balcony, all of which was falling apart. Plaster flaked from the ceilings, the bathroom walls were molding, and the linoleum in the kitchen was older than me. The floorboards creaked mysteriously at night. It was the ideal floor plan in the House of Usher. It was also cheap and big enough to accommodate some serious entertaining. I had a propane grill out on the balcony and served homemade barbecue in the summer. One year I had thirty-five friends over for a Thanksgiving Turkey buffet. I would clean up for a week afterward. What I loved about it was the sense of accomplishment in entertaining people in a manner largely lost on my generation.