– We are at a get-together with friends. Let’s say a birthday party for … whoever. It doesn’t matter, really – it’s happened so many times that it could be any event. We’re having fun, but as the night trickles on, I’ll see him check his watch nervously, and then his phone. He might answer…
– “There is never enough time,” Rand is fond of telling me, and I nod in agreement. It might as well be our mantra. I didn’t always feel this way. When I met my husband I was bored and lonely and every day seemed to stretch on forever. It was excruciating. And then he arrived…
Last week, I found out there was a trailer for Wes Anderson’s new movie, Moonrise Kingdom. I haven’t watched it yet. Not because I’m not interested – I am. I just like having it there, waiting for me. Knowing I can enjoy it whenever I want. It’s something I occasionally do with cupcakes. I sit…
A completely impractical and financially insensitive step-by-step guide to staying warm this holiday season! Head to California.
Dear Rand, You know what today is, right? Yeah. Holy shit. Sorry. I know cussing is only for special occasions like the Superbowl and visiting your family. But still. HOLY SHIT, RAND. I think we might need to count them, to make sure it’s actually true.
I forget that, during my travels, I occasionally hand other people my camera. I won’t realize it until after I’ve uploaded all my photos to Flickr. There will be a few snapshots in the stream that I didn’t know existed. Sometimes, they’re awful. And sometimes … – I generally hate surprises. Let’s be fair: they…
Sometimes, I am convinced I am beastly. I’m not saying this to solicit compliments – when I want compliments, I simply look at my husband and say, “Babe, don’t I look wonderful?” and then reply to my own question in a bizarre sing-song voice that is not-at-all reminiscent of Rand’s, “OH MY GOD, YES. No…
Don’t get your camera wet. These seems to be a fairly obvious rule, right? I can do that, can’t I? And yet, aren’t the simplest rules the hardest ones to follow? There were only three rules to taking care of a Mogwai, and none of them were that complicated, but look how that turned out.…
When I met Rand, he was living with one of his guy friends. Their apartment was a quintessential bachelor pad: it had two bedrooms, smelled of Old Spice deodorant, and was furnished with enormous black leather couches and geometric prints. There was an abundance of electronics, and not a single framed photograph of a loved one. When…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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