Note: I started working on this post a while ago. I delayed publishing it, because it’s about laughing in a cemetery, and the empty void where my heart should be told me that putting that up in the wake of the horrible tragedies we’ve experienced wouldn’t be appropriate. I figured I’d wait until the news…
The other day I was jogging. Through a cemetery. – It was awful. The jogging, I mean. The cemetery was lovely. I find them kind of peaceful. I suppose my mom instilled that in me, which is weird, because she’s reared me to be terrified of so many other things (like thong underwear and undercooked…
– Yesterday, I noted that I was freaked out because the Touvelle House was right next to the Jacksonville Cemetery, and the risk of encountering zombies was therefore very high. I hope you all realize that I was joking. I am well aware of how ridiculous a statement like that sounds. We all know that…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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