I Would Do Anything For Love But I Won’t Do That

I mean, what could it hurt for me to have an innocent conversation about one of the most controversial religions in modern history? If I could endure a lecture on Pastafarianism and Worshippers of the Flying Spaghetti Monster for a free plate of Bolognese, I could weather a few minutes of hearing about Xenu, The Dictator of the Galactic Confederacy. This guy was (most likely) handsome, and clearly eager to make new converts. I mean, converts. Wait, what I meant to say was, converts. Dammit, autocorrect, I mean, converts. 

Friends. He was eager to make friends. 

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All I know about Chanukkah, I learned from Charleton Heston

When I find myself in a conversation trying to draw upon any Jewish history, my first thoughts always take me to an old movie I saw as a little girl, the 1950’s epic saga, The Ten Commandments. I was probably six or seven at the time. I had been allowed to stay up past my bedtime to watch it while next door my parents rocked out to Barry Manilow. I credit the entirety of my musical style to having heard the somber, celebratory, and terribly confusing mashup of, “The Lord’s Prayer” and “Copa Cabana”.

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more than a turkey

Today I am grateful for my thumbs. When language escapes me, my thumbs are there to pick up the slack. I am grateful for disposable contacts that allow me to see every day. Without them, I’d be left wandering around with my thumbs in the air.

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Sundays Are For Suckers

Hey! This was a fun Sunday. My house got flooded, my car air conditioning went out in 112 degrees and I got broken up with, via email. There is a giant gaping hole in the middle of my living room floor and I’m beginning to think that the depths of Hell are calling me. I keep sending them to voicemail but the calls are becoming more and more frequent.

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The $800 Donut

I had the optimism you only get when you’ve decided to give up everything to follow a dream and a suntan. I packed only the essentials: a suitcase of shoes, an electric piano and 3 days worth of trail mix. California here I come.

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Everything Hurts

As a child I used to like to brag about how many injuries I had acquired. Each open wound, scar, allergy, and bump signified notches on my ladder of life accomplishments. As my injury count rose, so did my tier of badassery.

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Hair For Your Enjoyment

Women who play with their hair drive me just a little bit crazy. I am aware this can be a nervous tic, but ladies, you’re lovely just the way you are. But after a recent experience of being down wind from a woman and her shedding ponytail, I felt I needed to get a little bit off my, not yet hairy, chest.

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More Things To Worry About

  I love using paper towels. I feel like it’s the most baller thing I do. How decadent is it to get a clean opportunity to wipe away my dirty problems. But yet, I feel guilty with every towel I tear off that poofy roll. Yes, I buy recycled, and yes it is probably the repurposed […]

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