Pamela Ribon

Month: September 2003

  • well…

    They also said my name is Patricia.

  • “Not New But Recommended”

    That’s a title of one of stee’s plays/screenplays. I also think it’s pretty much what this reviewer is saying. Also? She thinks you guys are freaks.

  • tee hee! she said boobies!

    And she said it a lot. Hi. Talk about having nothing to add on a topic. I was actually sitting here, wondering why I kept free-associating the notion of “boobies” with the idea of “rented cummerbunds” and the sense memory of “Goldschlagger concealed in Poland Spring bottles.” And then it hit me: I’ll take “Things…

  • “I love you.”

    Back when I was in Monks’ Night Out, every Sunday rehearsal started with about an hour of Three Line Scenes. You had to try them over and over until everybody voted that your scene worked. It made you say stupid things like: “Hey, Sis, I just crashed Mom’s car — and it’s her birthday!!” But…

  • Sorry, stee.

    The saddest sentence about Nigella’s wedding story? “Saatchi notoriously hates parties.” That’s sadder than when one of your funny friends dates a girl with no sense of humor, one who stares at you funny and wants to leave early, and is always whispering something in his ear before looking around the room with a terrified…

  • It’s official. Ethan’s an idiot.

    Does anyone have Uma’s phone number?

  • Also..

    I now wonder if I have the wrong “dan” on my Friendster.

  • Friendster’s just a Red Herring

    True: last night I watched Clue. Also true: I had to go out and rent it. My copy apparently lives at my mother’s house. I got some mail regarding today’s boob-heavy entry (heh), from a girl claiming to be named “Kansas.” So, I guess strippers read my site, too. Yay, strippers! I love your boobs.…

  • And now, A Very Special Friendster Dating Story.

    The blog works. A large group of friends made up of a typical sampling of the overall New York demographic (eight Vassar graduates and one very smart older brother) were sitting outside at a Park Slope bar during the height of the Friendster craze (fifteen minutes and .01 seconds ago, as the clichéd, Warholian math…

  • Can We Still Be Friendsters?

    I’m thinking I’m going to have to lose SiteMeter in order to make the blog work. That’s frustrating. Dan and I are thinking about breaking up with Friendster. Why? Because it does nothing. It means nothing. It reminds me of Ben Kingsley with his suitcase of chess certificates, floating them all over the room. “You…