Menu
Brits and Americans have hundreds of different phrases for the same thing. Luckily, it’s usually a source of amusement rather than frustration. A flashlight by any other name is still a torch. My personal favourite is ‘fairy lights,’ which we boringly refer to as ‘Christmas lights.’
In New York, if you weigh under 200 pounds and decline so much as a cookie at a co-worker’s party, women will flock to your side, assuring you of your appealing physique. This is how skittish we are about the dangers of anorexia and the pressures of body image.
The reason that war is such a fascinating subject for writers is because it’s a revealer. Put a bunch of people in an adrenaline-fuelled, life-or-death situation and their fundamental behaviours are exposed, the scrim is taken away and the motivations behind each personality come out to play.
It’s funny. People often compare me to other humor essayists. They’re usually quite nice comparisons I will accept those gladly. But I am always sort of appalled at the idea of being lumped with other, more chick-y female writers. And the truth is probably that neither comparison is accurate.
The truth is, I wrote a novel when I was 23. It’s hideously bad. Truly rotten.
Air travel is the safest form of travel aside from walking even then, the chances of being hit by a public bus at 30,000 feet are remarkably slim. I also have no problem with confined spaces. Or heights. What I am afraid of is speed.
Personal technology has given us the freedom of being able to do whatever we want – and in the case of celebrities and athletes, whomever they want. But it can also serve as a humiliation jetpack.
My mother is a special education teacher but also an artist, and my father an advertising executive. They are about as wacky as you can get without being alcoholics.
My grandmother was a kind of Scarsdale, New York, society woman, best known in her day as the author of the 1959 book ‘Growing Your Own Way: An Informal Guide for Teen-Agers’ – this despite being a person whose parenting style made Joan Crawford’s wire hangers look like pool noodles.
If I go into a sandwich shop or anywhere that features ‘Today’s specials’ on a chalkboard more than 10 feet away, I have to ask for a printed menu. I smile at people I don’t know on the street and ignore those I do. When at home, I often find myself grabbing my ‘back-up’ glasses to search for the better-loved pair I have left on top of my dresser.