Bad Hair Day

The first time I recall ever being truly undone by worry, the kind that played on a continual loop and interfered with every aspect of my life, was the result of an errant haircut at a trendy salon. I became obsessed that I got AIDS from someone I absolutely did not have sex with.

Happy Place

My happy place is the beach. Which is weird because it is, by its very nature, dirty. Between the sand and the vermin and the beer bellies and the peeing in the water. You’d think it would make me up my meds.


I spent an inordinate amount of time in college devoted to the maintenance of continually ripe bananas, which, unfortunately, is not a metaphor for something more interesting.