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I can’t tell you one thing about the book, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I feel like maybe I never read it the same way I’m pretty sure I never read Horton Hears a Who. I think we had all Dr. Suess’s other books.
I remember being in high school and over at a girl’s house I liked. That night, The Grinch was on television, and I pretended to be excited by saying, “Oh yes, a classic. Can’t wait!” We settled in and I remember thinking, “I don’t honestly think I’ve seen this before.”
Earlier last month a very generous reader sent me a pair of shower gloves with my initials to use as a stocking.
And then, nothing.
You fans suck! I actually prayed to Jesus that he would deliver all of you bad tidings for Christmas. Or wait, is that Santa that hands out the tidings?
In my senior year of college for spring break my folks took us to Hilton Head. While a great idea in theory, and wildly generous, it was about fifteen degrees cooler than it should have been at that time of the year, making doing much of anything outside pretty miserable.
If you’re not familiar with my series “Paris-Ochial,” these are tales of my time at a Catholic high school as a Protestant.
Recently I was turned on to a great NPR podcast. It’s called On Being with Krista Trippett, and, not unlike all the other awesomeness that is NPR, it’s a deeper discussion into such things like race, social reform, and anything else that matters.
I’m in a band.
And, without any false ego here, I think we’re pretty damned good.
Everyone who is in a band has some sort of “famous” fantasy – mine goes like this:
We finish our set and get offstage. A woman comes walking over telling me she really likes the music and that we made her night. Then she motions over to her table where she and a few friends are having drinks. She invites me over and I hang out for an hour. Then I go home alone. No phone number or anything.
Want to hear more thoughts about the Thanksgiving date from the guy from ThoughtsFromParis? Yes. Yes you do.
Last time I left you, I had just explained to my forgetful father that I was bringing Jessica home for Thanksgiving dinner with my family.
A woman I had never spent even a second with in mutual physical presence.
In the last installment, I talked about the idea of a “Dates With Readers” feature where I would go out with a few women who regularly read my blog.
Read Part I Here – and then come back, because, well, you’ll totally want to!
I was telling my father about Jessica, the woman in the previous story with whom (Or is it “with whom”? Or “to whom”? To which? Damn my feeble attempt at grammar! I just learned the commas rules recently. I still promptly ignore them. But I learned it!). I was really starting to connect.
I had a great idea.
When I started getting some decent traffic to my site, I began to receive emails from readers. I noticed that nearly all of these emails were from women. I suspect that there are more women who read blogs than men. This may just be a result of many mothers who stay at home and raise their children. In fact, there is a whole “mommy blogger” category of blogs, and it is HUGE. Every year one of the biggest blogging conventions is called BlogHer which you have probably have figured out is for birds.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
