Akron Car Theft & Brake Repair

I’m not sure why this story stays with me. It isn’t just the stealing. I guess it’s that the thieves fixed a damn-near 20-year-old beater.

Read Full Post »

Anthropomorphic Motoring

I have a coworker who gets lost easily; I’ll call her A. About four of us were hired at the same time, working between two buildings, a lovely old well-ornamented Beaux Arts building and a modern concrete and glass box, connected by various corridors and passageways. We have passcards to beam us into the places we are permitted to tread, which keep us out of the rest.

At first A managed to get lost occasionally, losing her way on stairwells and such, and would find herself in other departments’ reception desks or elevator lobbies, relying on the kindness of strangers to find her way back to us. People tried to give her maps, but she claimed not to speak map. “Maps for me are art, and belong on the wall,” she half-joked.

Read Full Post »

Fletchers — Brave Brew World

The lean, 30ish man stood on the corner, scanning the street as if looking for something familiar, as the wind whipped long blond hair in his face. Shaking his head, a bemused smile pulled a corner of his thin mouth up toward his left ear as he read the street signs. Evening commuters brushed past him as if he were a signpost or a news kiosk, oblivious to his banner headline: Where did it go? He had been away from the Financial District for years and now, after accepting a job offer, was looking for a place to celebrate. He walked around the corner, spotting an alleyway and heading for it.

Read Full Post »

The Alfred E. Neuman post

My friend is losing his inexpensive apartment and bummed about it. Another friend is getting by, but worried about the rising cost of his health care, and wondering how long he can afford to freelance. I know people who are single and wish they were in a monogamous relationship, and I know married people who are wondering if maybe it’s time to be single again.

Oh, the greenness of the grass over there …

I, however, I’m not worried about those things, other than concern for friends.

I’m taking all those things for granted and am concerned with other things, entirely.

Read Full Post »

“Wild Thing, I Think I Love You!”

“But I want to know for sure!
C’mon and — hold me tight.
You mooove me.”

Read Full Post »

Price, the Princess, and the Pea

I know a lot of people who like wine. I like it, too — but sometimes shake my head at the prices involved in enjoying vino.

So I was amused recently to read this story, on how the price people pay for wine affects their perception of its value.

Read Full Post »

Having a little too much in common

Have you heard about the parted-at-birth twins who got married?
Eeeeep.

Read Full Post »

Fletcher’s — Circling the Wagons

“I’ve got fifty bucks on this game,” Murphy told Ron, “All I ask is for Johnson to just keep hitting his receivers, using the pass to control the game, is that so much?”

Murphy had his elbows out wide, staring enrapt at the football game on overhead. Emil sat nearby in gentile dishevelment, nursing a pint and squinting up at the tube occasionally, while Aida sipped a glass of wine and flipped through a magazine, occasionally smiling at Ron and rolling her eyes when Murphy erupted into cheers or tirades.

“C’mon, Carter, go baby! Yeah! The Redskins got nothing.” He pounded the bar, shaking his jowls.

Ron mouthed the word “nothing!” to Aida in mock anger, and she decided it was time to give Murphy the needle. She brushed mid-length black hair back and looked at the screen then spoke slowly, the careful drawl Ron loved. “Redskins, that’s just about the worst of the nicknames, isn’t it? I mean, Indians and Braves are bad enough, but it’s disgusting that Washington, home of the federal government that directed the genocide against Native Americans, calls its team the Redskins.”

Read Full Post »

A message for azahar

I’ve meant to tell you, azahar, I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of the video you linked for me: the Man-Cold.

Read Full Post »

Fletcher’s — Why Life So Hard?

It was Thursday shortly after 5 PM, and Ron had just finished restocking the coolers; he was ready for the evening crowd. He stopped to re-fill his coffeecup, noting the place was already half full, and took a moment to scan the customers dispersed along the bar.

Jim Garvin, the only regular in so far, had arrived early and met someone. The first thing that Ron noticed about her now was her high cheekbones. She sat erect, shoulders back, proud, with clear green eyes that watched Garvin sidelong. Crinkled skin at the back of her hands and the wrinkles on her neck and face gave her maturity, accented by silver jewelry with gaudy clear stones over her purple khaftan, which gave her a well-traveled air, rich in experience, discriminating yet vulnerable.

Read Full Post »