There’s something I’ve wanted to talk about for awhile. It’s how many pickles you can eat in a night before you’ve eaten an odd number of pickles. Not odd as in eighty-seven, fifty-one, et cetera, but odd as in abnormal. Or perhaps even slightly gross.
I went out to a neat barbeque place [...]
I really love Alison Bechdel.
Watch out for that dyke. Seriously. I think if I say that you might actually follow the link.
That is all.
This story is about Young Max and “Arabian II,” a certain genre of music that may be familiar to those of you who are so cool you live at the bottom of the Gowanus Canal or that putrid stream in Greenpoint.
Indeed, it was atop the aforementioned canal–we were walking on the Union Tree Bridge, which [...]
“Emma.” When my mom says my name like that, I get a weaselly little stomach ache and purse my lips together. It mainly happened in high school, and it was usually because I missed someone’s birthday, left my pot in plain view, cursed at my sister or had premarital sex.
This last time, though, [...]
emma[at]redadmirable[dot]com