Coworker on the phone
“What was that movie—My Dinner at Bernie’s? My Day With Bernie?”
“No, it was a black comedy years ago where they carried his body around for weeks and weeks and—”
“No, it was not called My Weekend With Bernie. It was something like that, though.”
“People have been comparing him to Bernie.”
“Because they want to embalm him, preserve him indefinitely…”
“Bonkers. This makes (inaudible) seem rational.”
“I doubt Obama was invited…What is the dog barking at?”
12:01 pm • 8 March 2013 • 14 notes
I am the same age as my mom was in this photo. I like to imagine passing this woman on a street in Bushwick in 2013.
Is anyone else having a really weird year so far?
7:58 pm • 6 March 2013 • 23 notes
My mother was born in 1939. She was in her early forties when I was born; I was a “surprise.”
Today I was reminded of something she said three Christmases ago, when my brother, best friend and I were talking about the many onion layers of strangeness inherent in meeting people on the internet.
“What do you think, mom?” I asked her playfully.
“Of online dating.”
“I think it sucks.”
12:16 pm • 1 March 2013 • 17 notes