"Breasts Like Martinis"
By Jill McDonough -- Listen to Jill McDonough read this poem.
Posted Tuesday, Oct. 23, 2007, at 7:35 AM ET

The bartender at Caesar's tells jokes we've heard a hundred times.
A shoelace walks into a bar, for example. I whisper
Sarah Evers told me that joke in sixth grade and Josey says
My brother Steve, 1982. A whore, a ( Read more... )

Breakfast is an exciting time. The two big dogs (Porties, 50 lbs) hover around me while I get their dishes ready, then excitedly escort me over to their breakfast place. The little dog (GSD, 50 lbs, rapidly outgrowing his name) runs back and forth, jostling the big dogs, and then dances back to the breakfast nook, spinning in circles and prancing ( Read more... )

Last Saturday I stopped by the local grocery to pick up some last minute barbecue items. As a vegetarian at a barbecue, I always assume that it's BYOVB (bring your own veggie burger) unless I've explicitly heard otherwise ( Read more... )

A few days ago I found a six leaf clover. How cool is that?


( Read more... )

I was supposed to visit my boy this weekend- first chance to see him since December. My bags were packed (with far more attractive clothing than I've worn in two months and with his jeans and t-shirts pulled from storage), I'd researched Japanese restaurants, Irish pubs, and cab companies, carefully picked out a couple of DVDs, and my dog was over ( Read more... )

Sodden.

Goddamnit, Williamsburg.

Alright kids, a little help for the bar etiquette-ly challenged. I went out to a bar by myself for the first time ever, and accidentally got bought a drink by a granddad ( Read more... )

( pups )

"... after all, beneath the leather, fishnets, and Valium I am a good southern girl and a good southern girl always thanks her host ( Read more... )

"World Press Awe at Disaster" courtesy of the BBC