You know how there are certain words people just hate? The ones that always make me want to tear my ears off and then fling them across a crowded room so I’ll never see them again are “moist” and “panties.” Combine the two and I’ll never eat solid food again. I don’t know why it is that those words make me cringe, but the reaction is real and it’s probably somehow related to the way they grossly they roll off the tongue and the visuals that I connect them to in my head. At any rate, there are scores of other words that make me smile. “Poodle” is my favorite word of all time and I have no answers for how that came to be. What I do know is that none of us should ever use the words “c*nt” and “scary” in front of Kathryn, our newest Housewife, a woman who likes to engage in battles over linguistics in an effort to make her guests feel as uncomfortable in her home as is humanly … Continue reading →

The other night I saw God and it turns out he looks exactly like Bruce Springsteen.

I haven’t completely figured out if there’s a poetic meaning behind it all, but my 30th Springsteen concert was part of The River Tour, meaning he would be playing the entire iconic double album straight through before launching into another full set. I’d missed the original River Tour. I was too young to go to a show, a fact that didn’t comfort me in the least when my parents and my sister left the house and promised to bring me back a tee shirt. No joke: I remember almost nothing from the earliest part of my life – and when it comes to the night I had to miss the Bruce show, I can vividly recall the name of my babysitter and that the feety pajamas I was wearing were yellow.

I still have the shirt they brought me. It fits now. I’ve been to many shows since and I feel nothing but blessed for all of those perfect … Continue reading →

Is there a place a nonreligious girl like myself can go to ask for forgiveness for taking last week off and not recapping the episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills when Faye Resnick came face to face with the woman she talked total bullsh*t about twenty years ago in a book that was written in two weeks alongside one of the editors of the National Enquirer so she could most effectively capitalize off the murder of someone she claimed was her best friend in the whole entire world? Would it suffice for everyone to know that, even more than I hate the slug-like Resnick, I hate myself for spending last Tuesday night leisurely resting up for the Springsteen concert I went to the following evening instead of watching the Housewives devolve into simmering pits of resentment while the sea monster in their midst sat calmly on a patio she probably decorated? Can I ever possibly come to terms with the fact that it took me a full day to actually watch that slithering … Continue reading →