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Boys And Their Shirts…

"Did you meet anyone in Italy?" she asks. She means well. Some of the gal friends believe all of us are better off paired. It bothers this particular friend that I remain nonplussed at the idea. "No." I smile. "They were friendly. They were handsome. They're different." "Flirty?" she's hoping. "No." The first time there… Continue reading Boys And Their Shirts…

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Alla Prossima Bella…

I answered, "Oui." First, because I'm a bit flustered with street flirting, and second because French is the closest I come to another language. The gentleman in question is young, of the Italian variety and a good enough liar to make a woman of a certain age feel good for an hour. GrandBear 2 and… Continue reading Alla Prossima Bella…

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Hiatus, Schmiatus…

It's called hiatus and it's supposed to make you feel better, take a step back, reexamine your priorities, and probably even some more hocus pocus. Mine turned into almost nine months of not writing, not tending to my extracurriculars, and basically just working and tending to the needs of my job. The result? Hiatus, Schmiatus.… Continue reading Hiatus, Schmiatus…

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Casual Friday As Bad As I Thought…

I don't believe in Casual Friday; not as a concept and not as a participant. One should always look their best at work. We never know when there will be the need to intimidate someone or point out that their sweater is not merely blue but cerulean and that fashion does, in fact, affect us… Continue reading Casual Friday As Bad As I Thought…

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Carrie Bradshaw Stole My Gig…

Yeah, Carrie, we watched. Girlfriend, you stole my gig. I'm the doll that writes scathing, snarky comedy about widowhood. I'm the girl that carries grief in her pen and starting over in her notebook. Don't think we didn't notice you and pals drinking dirty martinis, two olives instead of your signature Cosmos. For shame. You… Continue reading Carrie Bradshaw Stole My Gig…

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Grouchy Is In The Underwear…

"I don't like underwear full stop," says Emma Thompson. She continues, "I stopped wearing underwear a long time ago. It's not my scene. I don't like comfortable underwear. I find comfortable underwear uncomfortable." The words speak to the soul and I cry out, "Where my girls at?" That's a lie. I eschew speaking in less… Continue reading Grouchy Is In The Underwear…

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My Esophagus Is Better Than Yours…

"You have the esophagus of a much younger woman." Well, there's a thought. Here I am, tormented by wrinkles making daily debuts, and it's my esophagus I should be showing off to the world. How does one get that designation to show on the outside? Seems radiation, the cancer gift that never stops giving, can… Continue reading My Esophagus Is Better Than Yours…

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Perhaps You Need More Stevie…

Sometimes you shake your head in disbelief. And praise the stars above you were born before rap. It's the weekly dinner with the chicks. The Goddess hosts at her abode and The Other Norwegian (remember, The Norwegian's cousin?) cooks the fare. The Goddess and Sweetest G are there. So is She Who Shall Not Be… Continue reading Perhaps You Need More Stevie…

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Let’s Talk Makeup…

A makeup conversation. The kind you put on your face not the kind after a breakup. She: "You want to create a natural look, a look like you're not wearing any makeup at all." Me: "Why?" She: "What do you mean why?" Me: "If my natural face was so lovely, why would I wear any… Continue reading Let’s Talk Makeup…

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Can I Get Some Help Here?…

Living in the moment is not my bag. Inner peace eludes me. The Universe does not move magically at my whim. Meditation drives me batty. What's a girl to do? I've tried contacting my inner shaman. I don't have one. I am at one with no one. But I do think some solace for the… Continue reading Can I Get Some Help Here?…