I had just a few simple dreams when I was a child: to meet the Spice Girls, to buy an entire wardrobe from the Limited Too, and to will myself into having perfect vision so I could cast off my Coke-bottle glasses once and for all. Did you know they make miniature cellos for tiny people… Continue reading eyes on the prize
“Well, he said you're cute, but kind of... weird,” she tells me, sheepish. “Like, he said he looks over in class sometimes and you're, like... giggling to yourself?” I'm offended, briefly, before I think about myself in Developmental Psychology. It's more about babies than I had really bargained for, and either I'm bored and my… Continue reading rules of engagement
"D'ya want [incomprehensible noise]?" "Um, I'm sorry, what?" "D'ya want [incomprehensible noise]?" "I'm--um--sorry, one more time?" "D'ya want [incomprehensible noise]?" "I... no. No, thanks." I am in London, in a cafe on Charlotte Street, where I learn in short order that drip coffee is an American thing, and there is something else that I could… Continue reading american idiot
I am a nervous Nellie. Always have been and since no matter how passionately I beg, my doctor refuses to write me a prescription for intravenous Xanax, always will be. I've outgrown a few of my fears: when I was a little girl (okay, until I was like, sixteen and driving myself), the bumpy span… Continue reading squirrel!