This is how I roll.

For almost four months now, I’ve been living a bit of a double life. It was a secret at first, mostly because I didn’t want to talk about it, I wanted to just do it. Plus, a lot of people weren’t going to understand. They were going to judge me. Not that I care about that, I mean, not too much. But I didn’t want to be a poseur. I wanted to wait until I knew I was really in it. Until I was sure.

I’m not the only one who does it, and from what I understand, more and more women are doing it every day. I wanted it to be just mine, just for a little while. But people have been asking me to write about it, and as much as I liked having this secret, it’s time for me to go public, because it’s about to become very public, whether I like it or not. Continue reading

The Tenth Annual Valentine’s Day Poems

The Secret of Our Success
1. He never makes me see him pee.
2. I never let him see me do yoga in shorts.
That’s it!


Do you still love me?
Do you still love me?
Do you still love me?
Do you still love me when I’m sitting on this couch instead of that one? Do you still (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, belgium) love me when I’m wearing blue socks instead of green? Because the first day you told me you loved me, I was wearing green socks, so I always wear them, but this pair got washed with something weird, because my stupid ROOMMATE touched my THINGS which he’s NOT SUPPOSED TO DO and now it’s kind of more blue than green and I’m pretty sure that means you will not love me anymore, even if you wanted to and also there’s an earthquake coming.


i’m lousy at cleaning.
(i always skip the floors.)
i’m lousy at plant maintenance.
(everything i touch seems to die.)
i’m terrible at not singing really loudly in the car.
(but the song’s so good!)
my hair is usually more in the state of “coping” than “thriving.”
i bite my nails. i have weathered feet.
sometimes i forget there’s a litter box in this place.
if that’s not too annoying…
i promise to love you with all of my heart
every day
and make sure you laugh every day
and go to sleep safe every night.
and i’ll even overlook all those weird things you do or don’t do.
like, how you …
you know, i’m not even going to say it here.
no, really. that’s how much i love you.
no matter how much you want me to tell you, i won’t say what i was about to say.
happy valentine’s day.


Valentine To an Extreme Crush Who Has No Idea You Are Interested
MSG: Hey, kiddo.


(found taped to a storefront in Los Angeles.)


I wanted to get you a bunny for Valentine’s Day.
That’s cute, right?
A little bunny, all hopping around and being cute?
And I remember you saying you always wanted one when you were little,
but your mom wouldn’t let you.
But apparently other people had the same idea, because the pet store was all out.
I drove around Los Angeles until I found a place that sold live rabbits.
It was in Chinatown.
I can’t stop crying.


Did you remember to lock the back door?
Before we left, did you remember to lock the back door?
I think… I think maybe it’s unlocked.
I don’t know, either I left it unlocked, or you unlocked it after I locked it.
Don’t get like that, it’s possible you unlocked it.
I mean, you have unlocked a door before, haven’t you?
So it’s possible that at some point you might have unlocked the back door before we came here.
Just say I’m right. Just say it.
I am not raising my voice, and people are not staring.
You wanna ruin Valentine’s Day?
That’s just fine.
We’ll stay here, and have this fancy dinner at this really expensive restaurant and when we go home all of our things will have been stolen out the back door.
So let’s have a toast! To our robbers!
No, seriously. Did you remember to lock the back door?
Are you sure you didn’t unlock it when you meant to lock it?
I could call Jim and have him go over and look.
It’ll only take a minute!
No, you know, I’m just… I’m gonna call Jim.
Oh, he’s not busy. That dude hasn’t had a girlfriend in three years. Not as long as he drives that scooter.
I am not going outside to use the phone. By the time I get out there I’d have already talked to–
Jim lost five hundred bucks on that game last night.
Where are you going? Are you crying?
Baby, wait!


Post-Strike Valentine
I’m very sorry, but I think I will be missing dinner tonight. Hope you didn’t make too big of plans. I’m just swamped now and I’ve got a notes meeting and I think they want to shoot this before the end of the month which is just stupid and I might have to sleep in my office. I don’t even know if you’re checking your email or already left for your hair appointment. But if you get this: PLEASE don’t forget to TiVo Lost!!!! Ur the best! (PS: Still support the WGA? (I got you an internet residual for valentine’s day.))


Love is a choice.
I fully believe that.
Also, I think it’s controlled by the same part of the brain that makes you actively choose to pretend you don’t know how the stove works.
Choose wisely.


Oh, you wanted a Valentine?
No, it’s just…
I thought you were better than that.
Like, I thought you were confident and strong and didn’t need some corporate bullshit proof that you’re special to someone.
Oh, so now you’re not going to talk to me?
What do you mean, you don’t believe me?
Okay, I’m broke!
Damn, woman.


there’s a floor tile
in the kitchen
just past the refrigerator.
that is where i am dancing.
tippie-toed, fists clenched, eyes shut tight.
i am dancing
for you
in honor of you
because of you
Happy Valentine’s Day.


No, no, no, no, no.
Baby, that’s not what I said.
I said I’m Passion-Aggressive.
You better believe there’s such a thing.
That means I’m gonna kiss the lips off your face.
Off your face, lady!
Ain’t no pill gonna fix that, because there’s nothing wrong with it.
Passion-Aggression. All up on my lap.
Come here, sweetheart. You look good.
You buy those for me?
You look good in them.
Ooop. Sorry, I didn’t realize they were so sensitive.
Did I break that? Oh, man.
How much?
Three hundred dollars!
Then they shouldn’t fall apart when I pull at them a little.
I guess they don’t make panties that can handle my passion aggression.
That’s okay. I like you better naked.
Is it Valentine’s Day or something? Man, you are on fire.


I first heard about you in Texas.
I wasn’t impressed.
To be completely honest, the thought of you made me gag.
But I decided to be brave.
That first time was a complete failure. On all levels.
I did not speak highly of you.
I believe I called you “gross.”
Years passed.
Things changed.
I changed.
We tried again.
I was introduced to you by a man who thought I’d like you.
He was right.
Sweet heaven.
And I quickly became addicted.
I have no idea how much money I’ve spent on you over the years.
How much time.
How many different ways we’ve done it.
Hand. Roll. Smothered.
I thought we’d be together forever.
(I still do.)
But lately you’ve been on the news. Making a name for yourself.
A bad name.
Apparently, you are loaded with toxic chemicals.
Every time you touch my mouth, you kill me, just a bit more.
You are turning me into a thermometer.
Turning my ovaries into giant nickels.
I can blame you for my crazy.
But still.
But still.
Lovely sushi.
Oh, sashimi.
Ahi, Toro, Maguro, hai!
Watashi wa anata o hontooni aishite imasu.


is the only word left to say.
…So how come you keep talking after you said it?
Like, a lot. Like, a lot a lot!
I think you wanted to drag it out until today so that you could get a present.
That’s pretty crafty.
So I got you this mini Nano.
It’s pink.
Now, BYE.


Thanks for ten great years of sharing Valentine’s Day with me.

Dear Dad,

I can’t believe it’s been five years and three days since you died. Five years. So much has happened that you’ve missed, much of it things you told me you knew you were going to miss. You were like an oracle in that hospital bed, pointing at the television, telling me my name was going to be on that screen with “written by” in front of it, and that you wished you were going to be there to hold a book with my name on the cover. It makes me wish you’d told more about the future lives of all of us instead of that tangent about the girl you took to prom, the one with the bacne.

It’s always painful when the big moments happen and you aren’t here. But those, in some ways, are much easier to get through. Mom, Bosie and I will call each other, or the moment is big enough that there’s a friend around or many friends around, or it’s happy enough that the joy quickly fills up the ache. It’s the little moments that get to me. It’s hard to get through the moments when you are the only person who would have been able to understand. Continue reading

The Ninth Annual Valentine’s Day Poems

You know what happens when you have to write something for the ninth time, which means it’s not quite the tenth, so it isn’t as exciting and spectacular, and it all kind of snuck up on you because you were taking some much-needed time away from the internet, because sometimes you’ve got a lot of shit on your plate… which is a really gross image (and sorry), but like, you just don’t know what to do? Well, what happens is, y’all get a clip show.

CLIP SHOW! YAY! Continue reading

Chris Ware: The ACME Novelty Library

This was NOT a good idea. I’d been saving this for myself, for a time when I wasn’t feeling well or sad. I’ve been both this week. I can’t get through five minutes without putting the book down and crying. Damn you, Chris Ware!


It wasn’t a hallucination.

It just feels like it was.

Almost two weeks after the marathon, I’m now sort of completely healed. The nasty blister on my foot has been drained of blood, so it looks sad instead of angry. There’s still a bruise on one of my toenails, which I didn’t know about until I took off my nail polish. (I ran with red toenails. I’m extreme, but i’m girlie!) The cut on my chest from my sports bra (Thanks, Oprah), has healed, but still has left a bit of a mark. But my feet, which were in so much pain — the tendons just under my ankles — are now letting me walk again. But I was a bit limpy there for a while. It turned out the only shoes that didn’t give me extreme pain were high heels. Ironically. Something about keeping my weight on the balls of my feet made it so the tops of my feet were no longer screaming in pain. Lots of Motrin, and about three days with an ACE bandage, but I’m okay. No sunburn. My hip was fine. But my feet are so sad-looking, I can’t even treat myself to a pedicure. I’m going to wait until they’re less embarrassing.

Maybe I’m Crazy…

“But why do you want to do this?” my mom asked in that tone, the worried whine of motherhood.

“For a lot of reasons,” I answered. “Because I want to, and because I don’t think I can, and… well, probably because Dad and that race when I was in the third grade.”

She sighed. She remembered.

I don’t know if I wrote about this before. Probably. Yep. I totally did. It’s worth reading, because it explains things a little.

“Just be careful out there,” Mom said. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Mom, it’s 26.2 miles. It’s going to hurt.”

More sighing. “Good luck.” Continue reading

making friends

I’m supposed to be writing something that’s due very soon, which means all I want to do is write the blog entry that’s been sitting in my head for a week. I’ll get this out, and then I can go over to Word and finish the outline for the new novel. I procrastinate work with other work. It’s not healthy, I’m sure, but it’s what I do. Continue reading