Pamela Ribon

Month: August 2006

  • pre-wedding conversation with the yalies.

    I went to a wedding this past weekend. The night before, I ended up in this conversation, which shows you my tolerance when it is assumed that girls suck.

  • Self-Absorbed Like Bounty.

    Maybe less than a year ago I was the kind of person who rolled her eyes as she passed the self-help aisle of the bookstore. They all seemed like the same: “Why Don’t I Feel Normal?”: A Guide To Helping You Feel Normal. Now I’m that girl grabbing those books. Reading them. Using a pen.…

  • Who loves MySpace?

    Me, not so much. Especially after Pamie and I went through such a public de-Friendstering on this very blog, so long ago. But this page seems to have some interesting information on it. I don’t know who all of these people are, but I sure hope they get what they’re fighting for. They seem nice.…

  • viewer mail shuts me up.

    [readermail] Dear Pamie, But what about “condos“? thanks, Felisa [/readermail] Oh. Yeah. And just like that I thought about “Nachos.” Hmm.

  • she’s in charge of rocking the other coast.

    My life is the subway from Brooklyn, dodging pedestrians in midtown, and meeting my cohorts for free drinks at the bar that sometimes employs us when the magazine operating out of the office above it doesn’t. My wardrobe is H&M, second-hand, ebay-won, or just a simple Japanese t-shirt and jeans sprinkled with a rotating array…

  • hmm.

    hmm.

    I have been trying to talk myself into buying a new computer, because this one is getting slow, and all of the keys have worn off with the thousands of words I type every day, and basically this machine has been attached to my hip since May of 2004, but having seen what happens when…