they walk alike, they talk alike, sometimes they even… (nevermind.)

When my friend Rebecca and I are out in public, we are sometimes mistaken for sisters. In fact, when Dan, his brother Adam, Rebecca and I are sitting at a restaurant together, we look like an East Side version of the Bobbsey Twins: the boys in their ringer t-shirts, Rebecca and I in blue hoodies with our hair pulled into ponytails.

But the story Dan told me today, this one’s the best. Here it is as I heard it, during mile three of this morning’s ten-mile run with Dan (Yes, I ran anyway, even though the nice nurse suggested (ordered) that I don’t. I didn’t want to call Dan in the middle of the night or early in the morning and puss out on him, particularly because we’d logged all the miles during the week leading up to our long run. I got up early and had a good breakfast, drank lots of water, ate an orange, and did some stretching. What do you know, all that preparation worked! We did all ten miles, and didn’t die, and we’re awesome and this week, unlike last, I didn’t come down with the chills for an hour afterward. Yay, us.)

Anyway. Back to the story.

Continue reading

Bounce With Me, Bounce With Me.

I bought an Enell Sports Bra, because Oprah told me to. It arrived yesterday afternoon, and despite all better judgment, I decided to give it a test run. Literally.

It’s not a pretty bra, but with a little imagination, you can pretend you’re into some weird bondage stuff with it, because… well, because I’m pretty sure it’s an actual instrument of bondage. Twenty hook-and-eyes go along the front of it, which is easier said than done when you’re binding yourself into this Ace bandage with hooks, trying not to pinch your precious skin between your fingers, as you shove yourself into position. Once you’re all hooked up, it looks like you’re ready for some kind of cheesy Sci-Fi scene. The boobs are so flattened and frozen in position that you actually feel like the top half of a Barbie, only able to swivel from side to side at the waist. Continue reading

i can now, officially, raise the roof

The very nature of a blog is self-serving, self-aggrandizing, self-important and selfish. I know that I write these thoughts down to entertain you while keeping a diary for myself, as I seem physically incapable of writing unless there’s a prospect of an audience. But some days, I do wonder what it means that I write all of this shit down. Particularly now, when I’m about to tell you about a rash. Continue reading

a short conversation

[scripty]
Pam
Hello?

Todd
Hey, Pam. It’s Todd.

Pam
Hey.

Todd
I, uh, I read your story in the Cold Feet book.

Pam
Oh, wow. Hey, thanks.

Todd
Yeah.

Pam
That makes you officially the only person to have read it.

Todd
No.

Pam
Other than stee and people who are paid to read it? Yeah, I think it’s just you.

Todd
But you gave us this copy for free.

Pam
That’s probably why nobody’s read it. No investment.

Todd
Well, I read it. And… it’s… very… dirty.

Pam
Oh. Yeah. Heh. I guess it is.

Todd
I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Pam
Ha.

Todd
So.

Pam
Yeah.

Todd
How did you–how did you– what was– how–how– what was the process on that?

Pam
Heh. What are you asking me?

Todd
Did, did, was, how, with the publisher, were they — how did they react to it?

Pam
They said it was a little far-fetched.

Todd
I mean, you took the “Cold Feet” thing to the extreme.

Pam
That was accidental. We were just told to write a wedding story.

Todd
And that’s what came out?

Pam
Yeah.

Todd
Uh-huh. Interesting. And they… were they… did you… was that toned down?

Pam
Actually, a little. Yeah.

Todd
Wow.

Pam
I can’t believe you read it.

Todd
Of course I did. I’m reading the Stamps’s book next.

Pam
Me too!

Todd
Very different book.

Pam
Yes.

Todd
So. Anyway, I very much enjoyed your dirty story.

Pam
Thanks, Todd.
[/scripty]

guts

When I first see the cover of Haunted on Amazon, I have to close my web browser. It is truly disturbing. When I buy the book, I keep it face-down because it makes me so uncomfortable. Whenever stee sees it accidentally turned face-up he says, “Fix your creepy-ass book.”

I start reading it in Toronto. “Do you want to come sit in the living room while you read it?” Wing asks. “So you’re not alone while you read the scary book?” Continue reading

Drop It Like It’s — ow.

If there was any wonder how much fun I had at my own wedding, the proof was in today’s doctor bill.

I danced so much in those shoes that I have this.

The day after the wedding the arch of my foot had shooting pains whenever I went on my tiptoes. I knew I had overdone it, particularly during that part seconds after midnight when Everlast commanded that I jump, jump, jump, jump, everybody jump. Continue reading