One weekend in Palo Alto. Three days with my maternal family. Too many Vodka-Cranberry Juices. One pretty darn tootin Bar Mitzvah for my cousin, Jon. Not too bad. Oh and my duties? Getting everyone drunk. Why do you ask?
Thankfully, it’s not cancer. It’s still horrible and painful, but it’s not cancer, it’s now menopause. But for another friend, it is indeed cancer.
There’s something about Chicago’s weather that just pleases me. It’s probably just the fact that there is weather at all!
It’s not my fault I can do complex math in my head. It’s sort of funny, though, when you realize I can’t spell.
When you have a friend who is your boss, you enter a very strange dynamic of a relationship. Add in the concept of said friend being your mentor at work, guiding you around the various insanities of the office place, and your friendship often takes a sharp turn to the worst. I’m glad to say my mentor and I are still friends.
Tradition requires that I at least attempt to address the issues which require forgivness, and that I review upon the past year carefully. Still, after all this time, there are people I do not forgive.
This is not about the strike. Nope, not about baseball’s strike. Why should I care? I’ve only been a fan for my entire freakin life. Me? Baseball? Not happening- What? Well, okay, so maybe this is about baseball and the strike. Just a little.
After spending 16 hours out of 36 in airports/airplaces, I can tell you where you should really hide your bomb. And no, it’s not your shoe. (PS the title means “Don’t make fun of it! Don’t destroy it! Don’t cheapen it!”)
When your favorite ‘cult’ TV Show becomes the media’s darling, do you change the channel or keep watching?