My darling husband has a slightly inflated impression of my foreign language abilities. A haggling session in Cuzco left him believing that my Spanish was far better than it actually is (It’s not that great. I am, however, an awesome haggler). I allow it, of course. We all believe slight exaggerations about our loved ones.…
– 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…
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.
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…
The place: a restaurant on the lower west side in Manhattan. The time: a few weeks ago, on a very warm summer night. The characters: Tom Critchlow (admitted smart-ass); me (totally not a smart-ass AT ALL). ————— Tom: You know what your blog needs? Me: What’s that? Tom: More photos of you and Rand kissing.…
Three years ago today, I made you laugh until you cried. – – —
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
Available Now!
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