Hey, everybody sharing those timesuck, goddamn fascinating dialect maps: this is now on loop in my head.


On a lighter note, my boss accosted me in the hallway as I arrived this morning, a look of concern on his face. “Did you see,” he began, my mind racing with what atrocities I could’ve missed in the news or what I could’ve fucked up at work yesterday, “the strawberry shortcake recipe in today’s Times??” 

I had not, but he was pumped to tell me all about it. It sounds delicious, and my boss is amazing.


According to the Guttmacher Institute, nineteen states passed forty-three new restrictions on abortion in 2012—on top of ninety-two restrictions passed in 2011 … The motivations behind these new laws are not difficult to discern. The ultrasounds are supposed to shock women into giving up their plans for abortion; the regulations are designed to raise costs for abortion clinics and drive them out of business; the hospital-privileges rules are intended to limit the number of doctors who can perform abortions, or eliminate them altogether, especially in states with very few clinics to begin with.

The Abortion Issue Returns.” I thought I was well-educated in such issues, then recently started working for the country’s premiere defender and provider of these rights. When you work here, someone in communications sends a list of notable news each day: equality, healthcare, women’s rights, poverty, choice. And you read them, because part of your job is the ability to articulate why we matter: to write it and to say it, to use the proper phrases and examples. And each day you get angry, deeply political blood boiling in a there-is-a-difference-to-be-made sense more than it has since you were a soon-to-drop-out college kid in DC, going to resistance training with your activist friends, ideas you grew up with in the process of being obliterated in Tenleytown basements. There’s good out there. It’s happening. We shouldn’t have to fight to keep it so, and yet.


Most New Yorkers cannot afford new cars, study finds

Local housing is so costly that a car’s average purchase price is higher than what median-income families can spend.
Today’s shocking reminder that we can’t afford nice things comes to us courtesy of Crain’s.

I was eating a falafel sandwich at Mamoun’s — you guys know Mamoun’s? Great sandwich.

EATING DURING BEATING: Suspect in savage Greenwich Village bashing claims he was enjoying Mamoun’s falafel during assault on tourist”

I mean. He’s not wrong.


Back in the summer of 2003 I constantly had this horrible, overwhelming feeling of not wanting to exist. Not of wanting to stop living, but of not wanting to ever be anywhere or doing anything. When I found myself in a social situation, or at a show, or anything beyond the confines of my bedroom on Ditmars Boulevard, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. All I could think about was how soon I could leave and return to my 8’x10’ space. And I didn’t want to watch TV or read or eat or, well, exist. I’m not saying this city caused it all, but when I moved away months later, the feeling went away.

What if I were to tell you I haven’t felt that specific feeling since—until the past month? What if I couldn’t even describe how terrifying that is, and how the terror compounds? And if I said it’s only brief flashes, a minute or two here and there, so that I’m sitting in bed on a Saturday morning, wondering if I should leave the house, text a friend, and the feeling defeats me, I will just lie here, and when I wake up again I reach a compromise with myself: I will leave the house, but just to go to the beach alone on this barely-75-degree day? That things have surely been worse, and I work, and I function, and I enjoy things sometimes, but I fear this?

This began as an overdue email reply, but ended up here.


Hey, remember how frighteningly good the Rome (Written Upside Down) EP is? Here’s a reminder. You may have purchased it in high school, but you’re never too old to have a dance party to this song. You should go do that right now. It’s cool; I’ll wait here. No, I just finished eating, but I’ll join you in a bit. Really.


In which my not-single friend tells me the secret. (Gubler because she thinks Matthew Gray Gubler is the most attractive man alive.)
“so I’m at the airport right now reading Cat Fancy…

In which my not-single friend tells me the secret. (Gubler because she thinks Matthew Gray Gubler is the most attractive man alive.)

“so I’m at the airport right now reading Cat Fancy…


Ginger is neither a fan of hugs nor the outdoors, but I have zero issues with subjecting her to both.

Ginger is neither a fan of hugs nor the outdoors, but I have zero issues with subjecting her to both.


GPOYW: LOOK AT HOW PROFESSIONAL I AM JUST GIVE ME THE DAMN JOB ALREADY, WOULD YOU?? I’M SMART AND CAPABLE AND DRIVEN AND AWESOME AND LOOK! WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED? edition.

GPOYW: LOOK AT HOW PROFESSIONAL I AM JUST GIVE ME THE DAMN JOB ALREADY, WOULD YOU?? I’M SMART AND CAPABLE AND DRIVEN AND AWESOME AND LOOK! WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED? edition.