Italian-style pasta salad and WTF, genius

I got my eyes checked last week. Dr. Jue said I have the worst vision of any of his current patients. (The competitive child in me felt a deep sense of satisfaction, even though we had moved into a conversation about “next steps,” which included “contact lenses AND glasses” and SURGICAL LENS IMPLANTS.) But this is why…

Louisiana crawfish boil and my gay boyfriend

For the past four months, Strong Jawline, my current provider of intercourse, has been telling me I’m pretty. I’ve never been accused of such a thing. In 39 years I’ve been called “striking,” “Mediterranean,” and “similar to Peter Sellers.” Once, thrillingly, I was compared to Tracy Thorn of my favorite ’90s band Everything But the…

Sopa Azteca and WTF online dating

So I got fucking snookered into another three months on Match.com because I forgot it automatically resubscribes you and charges your credit card. So I signed in … with the wrong email address and discovered my OLD MATCH.COM ACCOUNT FROM THREE YEARS AGO WHAT. And I looked in shock at the exact same bikini picture…

Pulled pork and coleslaw and Day 2: Rose and Dave

Mom and Dad discussed my blog. Mom said they decided for revenge they’re going to backpack across Italy and talk about where, when, and how 74-year-olds have sex. (I think this idea is AMAZING.) Although THIS blog makes them uncomfortable in all kinds of new ways, Mom is referring to my 2012 blog (long since hidden)…

Roast chicken and a rejection letter

There’s only one thing better than being single and childless at 39: having your novel rejected by one of the biggest agents in New York (AGAIN. AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN). My joke these days, although it’s not a joke, is I’m being rejected by the best. Three of the biggest agents with the biggest and most…