We Need To Talk

You and I.

How should I put this? I’ve been thinking about this conversation for a while now. I want to know the best way to put it to you. Let me try and make it as simple as possible.

When I first started this website, I worked for a computer company. Then I worked for a software company. I rarely wrote about those jobs. I know enough about writing on the internet, under you own name, to know that it’s not so smart to talk about your job, your co-workers, your boss, or anything having to do with your feelings of inadequacy at the place that pays your bills. Continue reading

The Curviest Number

So, I’m thirty. Today.

“Drew Barrymore just turned thirty,” stee says from across the breakfast table. He’s got that tone — hesitantly trying to cheer me up.

That’s how many people have approached me over the past week. “Soo…” they start. “Someone has a birthday…?”

Like they expect me to stop them in the middle of their sentence. “Birthdays are cancelled!” Continue reading

Wedding Week Update (final)

Still raining. I don’t care. Everybody is getting here safely.

It’s time for me to wrap this blog up for 2004, and take a nice vacation from computers. Thanks to everybody who has been here for your support, your activism, and your wonderful personalities.

I’ll see you when I’m not so covered in single.

Do you take this dork to be your lawfully wedded…

When Tara does recreate her recent fight with Glark while delivering our ceremony, she can have confidence in the fact that my last argument with stee involved him eventually shouting, “I don’t understand the oven! I don’t know how to cook!” and then him grinning from ear to ear at how stupid that all sounds, and then me, knowing that he’s grinning about how much of a fool he is for being scared of the oven (not the stove, he made pains to point out, just the “baking part” of it) giggling while shouting, “Don’t make me laugh when I’m mad at you, DAMMIT!” And then him hugging me going, “I can’t cook. I can’t. Help me.” And then me shouting, “I’m not going to let you make me be unangry. I want to be angry right now. I have to go to the post office and run all of your errands and then make you lunch because you’re scared of the oven.” And then him laughing some more, and me driving away with the biggest dumb grin as I thought, “He makes me CRAZY.” (And then he cooked dinner.)

They Don’t Even Have a License, Leeza. (Now We Do)

We got our marriage license today.

Actually, it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do, as there aren’t too many places in Los Angeles to fill out this form, and the Beverly Hills one is only open about twelve hours a week total. I appreciate how often they stress that both bride and groom must be in attendance to get one of these things, so you can’t send your bride out to get the license as one of her errands, and a woman can’t find herself somehow married to a guy with too much time on his hands. Continue reading

Me, Me, Me, Blah, Blah, Blah

Sometimes the week gets away from me, in terms of this website. When that happens, when a huge week goes by and I haven’t been writing about it, the thought of trying to catch up can seem quite daunting. I’m having one of those weeks when I wonder why we have this relationship, you and I, where I talk about what’s going on and you sometimes write back to tell me you agree or don’t agree or hate me or think I’m funny, or that one guy who constantly asks me to send him pictures of my calves. Continue reading

she lives in caps lock

Andi Teran was the new kid.

I’d been the new kid time and time again, and hadn’t been on the other side before. She was the one who didn’t know anybody, who wasn’t sure of how to get around, what to think of all of us. And look, this girl, she was really cool. Cool in a way I hadn’t exactly been exposed to before. It had been a long time since I’d come across someone who made me shy because she was just that much cooler than I could ever be. I mean, she had her own apartment! She had an Emily the Strange sticker on her car. In 1994. Continue reading