And then what happens when you find another girl’s bra in your apartment.

[Setting: Twitter]

@pamelaribon — I just pulled a bra out of my drawer and put it on, only to realize… this isn’t mine. I don’t shop at Victoria’s Secret. (…is it yours?)

@Glark — Stop crowdtesting your new novel Pamie.

@Mjfrig — Yes, I have man-boobs, okay! Stop rubbing it in. #idontreally #onlyajokeiswear

@auriflamme — It’s mine, yo.

@matt_fuqua — How embarrassing. I’ll get it next time I see you.

@SaraMorrison — What does it look like?

@pamelaribon — @SaraMorrison Flesh-colored, “Biofit,” 34D. If it’s yours, you just saved three thousand hours of drilling @jasonwupton with questions. Continue reading

Come On, Jet Blue.

This is ridiculous.

I’m now sitting in the JFK airport, with free wireless, having a glass of wine and sushi as I wait for my flight to start boarding.

You must know:

1. I normally would never do this.
2. But this is my vacation, and I told myself I’d do things I normally wouldn’t do.
3. It still feels way too decadent, but I’m going to let myself enjoy it because
4. Yesterday was quite emotional.

I got to see lots of family and friends. We tried to see more, but families are complicated, and some people shy away from contact, and consequently we were sometimes turned away, or left knocking at the door, or sometimes we asked not to come anywhere near the door. Continue reading

Jet Blue, Part II

I’m in Connecticut. My cousin’s about to take me to the train station so I can get to Manhattan, where a shuttle will take me to JFK. I fly to Burbank, where I fetch my suitcase and check into a different airline that’ll take me to Oakland, to get to Berkeley.

It’s going to take many, many hours, and all I want to do is speed up time so I can get to stee.

written by…

Last Friday was a big day.

I arrived at the office early to write email. My phone rang. “Pam, you have a delivery.”

At the front desk, there’s a delivery of roses in all different colors. It’s beautiful. Suzanne says, “Now, I’ve had some experience with this. I really want these to be from your husband, but I know they’re from your agent.”

She’s right. Continue reading

On My Way Home

you love me when I write from planes

So I had the absolute perfect picture of my cousin Cool Chris with his arm around Creepy Peter Playpal and I had the Worst Digital Camera Fuck-Up that was completely my fault and lost so many pictures from the trip, including that one. I had taken a picture of my gramma’s frame, pictures of the house, things I had found, people I had met, all sorts of stuff. But I was so upset about losing the Chris And Peter Are Playpals picture that I just had to have a small tantrum on the phone on the second floor, begging Chris to drive all the way back to my Gramma’s house and take the picture again.

Continue reading