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General

The Dark Angel drinking game

Every time Logan says “genetically engineered killing machine,” take a drink. Every time the central story line is interrupted by wacky bike messenger hijinks having nothing to do with anything, take a drink. Every time the central story line becomes wacky bike messenger hijinks, take a drink. Every time Max must pretend to be a … Continue reading »

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Cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the useless-est girl in the room

Our toaster oven has been gradually dying for a while, and yesterday it gave up the fight for good. “Can you fix the toaster?” Gene asked me pleadingly. I am pretty sure he was kidding around, but I happened to be re-reading Y: The Last Man* at the time and suddenly I was flooded with … Continue reading »

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Bachelorina

On Saturday, six of us went on a limo tour of the wine country for Marina’s bachelorette party. As maid of honor, Michele was in charge of putting this business together, and — as you can see from the photos — she did a bang-up job. Six hour limo trip, wine tasting fees, two hotel … Continue reading »

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Tarragon and Five

Last night I dreamed up a skinny Labrador puppy and named her Five. The Moms thought I should name her Tarragon, but when I asked my new dog she told me I had guessed right, her name was indeed Five. I have yet to dream a dog who stays properly silent. Who are all these … Continue reading »

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Still smarting (off)

I went to a party for gay black people on Friday night. Everyone was so nice to me, but I still felt like a sore thumb. (Willow: But do they really? Stick out? I mean, have you ever seen a thumb and thought, “Whoa, that baby is sore”? Xander: You have too many thoughts.) Later … Continue reading »

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At dinner last night

“So what exactly is the event horizon?” Aaron asked. “Science,” Gene said, using many more words. “About eight p.m.,” I said.

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I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m pretty sure the Mayor is in love with me.

Yesterday I went to a press conference in Chinatown (forget it, Jake) where the Mayor was speaking. I sat up front, against the advice of my fourteen year old back-of-the-class brain, to try and let my tape recorder hear what was going on.* Anyway, I was basically face to face with him and I swear … Continue reading »

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Sugar and milk

I quit drinking coffee over the weekend. I lasted about fifteen minutes before giving in and rushing back to the coffee maker, filling it and switching it on and hanging all over it in a blubbering mess of gratitude and apology. “Why would you quit?” Jack asked, astonished, when I told him later. “I don’t … Continue reading »

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How to make urban tea

I am steeping in San Francisco. Little frayed pieces of my bones and muscles wriggle out along the streets, along the avenues, all the way to the sea. San Francisco is steeping in me. Streetcars run up and down my spine, dinging their happy idiot bells, and Coit Tower spears out through my heart, a … Continue reading »

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And I’m afraid nobody here can help you.

You are a solitary person, and I’m afraid nobody here can help you. You like to be on your own. As a teen, you wandered the darkened streets of your neighborhood, a second-hand trench coat wrapped around your shoulders and your fingers wrapped around an old kazoo you kept in your pocket. Your friends mostly … Continue reading »

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