All I really need for survival (save shelter and a working air conditioner) is Chex Mix, pizza and an Olde English 40oz. In hindsight, I really wish I was kidding.
Boston is and always shall be in my heart. I mourn the Middle East Club, the ‘Kremlin on the Charles’, real seasons and Anna’s Taqueria.
Classy and sassy to me means investing in a flask, petting dogs every chance I get, being nice to kids, going on hikes and preferring Manet over that fraud Monet any day.
Daniel Handler wrote one of my favorite fiction snippets ever, perhaps it is telling of me: She and I were cut from the same cloth, an angry odd quilt, and then she went and got sick just like her mother and I had to start drinking for the both of us. “Sick?” I would hear myself yelling to the late-night science television. It was the only thing worth watching after visiting hours were done. “Why haven’t we fixed sick yet? You scientists there – put down those starfish and help us. I hereby demand that all people who are good at math make the world free of illness. The rest of us will write you epic poems and staple them together into a booklet.” Then I’d weep, finally, and fall asleep in Adam’s sweatshirt and wake up and quit my job.
Encyclopedias in paper form may become outdated as soon as they’re issued, but never in my heart. Their charm only becomes apparent with their increasing age. Same with maps.
Free things fan the flames of my heart. I love nature and also John Smithson for helping me cultivate such a thrifty relationship with culture.
Grabbing or snatching dollars from my husband’s fingers is one of my sad little trademarks. I am greedy, and I also really appreciate my own physical humor.
Hillard was my great-uncle I was named after. A lot of my ancestors bought the farm in really tragic ways I’ve since romanticized in short fiction.
I’ve had short stories published in Permafrost, The William & Mary Review, The Portland Review and the Grove Review. I wish that I could make a damned living from my meek little hobby of pen-to-paper.
Jokes are best as they age, like wine. I like repeating jokes as if I was beating a dead horse. I cannot help myself.
Kids will always and forever be the most marvelous creatures that I can actively relate to. They are the most generous and creative people of us all.
Language should be peppered with an impeccable and surprising vocabulary. Humor should be vaguely physical yet visual.
More often than not, I am probably looking to institute another paltry little tradition into my life, such as visiting the Lake Mansfield Trout Club every summer (18 years) or joining the Polar Bear Club by jumping into the pool every Memorial Day (1 year).
Never will my heart have love or empathy for crooks, the Catholic church, haters, the New York Yankees, the Los Angeles Lakers, bandwagoners, cheats, line cutters or those who are glib to children and the elderly.
Obviously I’m awesome. I fluctuate between crippling bouts of self-doubt and wondering why no-one has realized my limitless wit and potential.
Phish was my favorite band in high school (I know… I know) – my life changed forever when my mother refused to let me take an epic trip to see them at Bonnaroo. Now they’ve broken up and I have to live my life knowing that I’ve only been to 6 of their jam band marijuana freakshows. I miss the bliss.
Quiet is not my forte’. I’ve only gotten worse with age.
Red Sox Nation, stand up! I’m not one of those snobs who hates on Red Sox fans in Detroit, California, Montana, Minneapolis. Let’s just have love. My tolerance probably comes from the fact that most people have the nerve to inquire as to my Red Sox ties. Hello! I was a Sox fan from the age of five, when my lonely only child status gave me an inclination towards collecting baseball cards and loving the teams with the wussiest names. Also, I lived 3 miles from Fenway for 6 years.
Suddenly I’m not sure if I’ll ever finish this (I quit easily).
Truffaut is one of my favorite directors and I’m mad about French New Wave. It’s a damn shame that Brigitte Bardot turned out to be a horrid racist, as Contempt is my favorite film and I was always cheering for her, even if she didn’t deserve it.
Usually, ok actually ALWAYS, i require beer or cheap wine in order to get through watching series-clinching or title-clinching MLB, NFL and NBA games. Tonight (Game 6 of the 2008 NBA Finals) is no exception. Bring the title home, gentlemen!
Very rarely will I heed “the mic” – I like to entertain, it’s an honest problem that I have.
(The) Wildcats were the first second grade class that I taught for. I miss them terribly, but look forward to my year of second grade starting in September.
Xylophones are just great. By the way, I’m writing this from my window overlooking the National Cathedral. No, I’m not rich at all – I live the life of a lucky pauper.
You can’t take it with you, says that sage Howard Hawks.
Zen is something I will never achieve. Free-wheelin’ emotion for life!
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