a blonde, an asian american, and barbara boxer walk into a bar

Public transportation turns me on, y’all. I don’t mean, like, I see a city bus and get all hot and bothered; I just mean I have a real love for the lifestyle I think a good mass transit system supports. Whenever I dream of my life as a tortured, starving artist (with expensive shoes and a Jenny Aniston hair cut, circa now, not circa Friends), it’s always midnight and I’m on a train headed home to my postage stamp-sized apartment from whatever gallery opening or swank new restaurant I couldn’t afford so I just stood at the bar sipping tap water with lime and looking hot with my pretty shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes.
Continue reading “a blonde, an asian american, and barbara boxer walk into a bar”

eat, vegetables, love

Does anyone remember how all this foolishness got started? I’ve been thinking about it lately while I haven’t been cooking or eating vegetables but have been eating some great meat cooked by other people at Decatur’s newest burger joint. The answer is: I have no idea. I think it was an accident. I mean, I know I had a series of revelations about what a baby I’ve been about eating vegetables all my life, but no other revelation has ever led me to wake up one day and forfeit a way of life I’ve worked so hard for. I think it’s possible my abducted by aliens theory may have legs.
Continue reading “eat, vegetables, love”