Year: 2005
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Sometimes Dan and I are sharing a couch.
As we were a few nights ago, bored with an episode of Gilmore Girls. So bored, in fact, that one of us pretended to be asleep, head thrown violently back, throat full of sound.
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Dear Pamie…
[readermail] First I would like to apologize in advance for my poor English; it is at best my second language so errors are bound to happen. You’ve written about Katrina and Tsunami disaster urging people to help and I would be very grateful if you could do the same for the victims of Pakistan, India…
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this is a reminder to myself
This entry is for me. I don’t want to forget today, as I’m home now, thinking about everything that happened that led me to here. I wake up in this house that is mine, that I own, with my husband. He lets me sleep in. I get to work early. I drink coffee. Email. More…
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observe THIS, griffith park observatory
As Darren so wisely put it: “This looks like a picture that would be taken right after your mom says, ‘Honey, go stand next to your brother. This will be so cute.’” Even the Hollywood sign is like, “Dude, I’m running away from them.”
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mom’s basement
My mom overreacts. I don’t begrudge it and I don’t judge it and I’m certainly used to it, because mom has always been a wonderfully neurotic Jew from Long Island who thinks the sky is falling or her plane is crashing or everyone has cancer. It’s fine. It’s culturally-appropriate. It’s an early Woody Allen movie.…
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what else are you putting in the coffee, you guys?
The coffeehouse where I’m working this morning has officially turned into a Fellini film. The old man standing two in front of me on line wordlessly handed the barista a white rose and walked away, as the slightly younger woman behind him danced twirlingly to the music on the PA. I thought at first that…
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It’s Not A Phobia If It’s Rational
I don’t like dolls. I’m not going to freak out around your Barbie, but if you’ve got one of those old-timey, eyes shut when you lower it, hair like Firestarter dolls, then I’m not going to stay in the same room with it. It’s that simple. My semi-pediophobia comes from a very real place, and…
