tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98473602012-02-16T04:08:00.782-05:00May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.comBlogger111100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-3105357224875169422010-09-19T03:28:00.000-04:002010-09-19T03:28:23.874-04:00

Dear Mr. Drunk Neighbor Dude Whose Name I Have Forgotten Since We Met in the Elevator That One Time, I really appreciate your willingness to turn down the music you were playing at 3am this morning, despite the fact that you were clearly in the running to win the world record for prolonged deafening bass with no discernible musical value.  In the future, however, when I knock on your door in the

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-75435716936761392052010-03-18T11:57:00.005-04:002010-03-18T21:32:47.092-04:00

As the L.A. Times reported earlier this week, it seems Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas’s wife is a tea-bagger*. This has caused a fairly big stir . . . in the world of legal blogs (and at least a medium-sized stir in less dorky media). Frankly, I don’t see what the big deal is. I thought the whole point of allowing the Justices to have wives was so there would be someone around to throw the

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-5301343345250750212010-03-16T07:44:00.005-04:002010-03-18T00:53:37.601-04:00

For as long as I can remember, my grandparents have had season tickets to their local theater. Every year, when the brochure announcing the following season arrived, my grandmother would run around the house gathering up all the necessities: the family calendar, a pen, any relevant family members, and several pairs of reading glasses (Why several pairs? For some reason that I’m sure has to do

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-72901582445487588422010-03-14T14:16:00.008-04:002010-03-16T10:39:21.717-04:00

Yesterday, Republican Kevin Garn resigned from the Utah House of Representatives after acknowledging that twenty-five years ago, he spent a night in a hot tub with a naked fifteen year old girl. No big deal, right? If every guy with a naked hot tub story from his teen years had to resign from office, then . . . well, actually, I have no idea how many politicians have such steamy--sorry, couldn't

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-72231484325998823352008-04-09T23:02:00.000-04:002008-04-13T13:09:01.078-04:00

I don’t believe in love in first sight. Never have. Never will. And not for lack of trying either (at least on my Nana’s part). As a kid, I was taken to the ballet, dressed in pink taffeta, and subjected to an endless string of Disney movies, all in the hope that someday I would find faith. But I never could buy into an idea of love, the platonic expression of which was a comatose

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-1105515692915425742008-02-28T02:40:00.000-05:002008-04-13T13:16:47.404-04:00

My freshman year of university, I was that girl. You know, the one who came East for college convinced that it couldn’t possibly be THAT cold. Given a parka, a pea coat, and an iron, I would have been hard-pressed to identify the one most appropriate for a snowstorm. I did, however, own several pair of long underwear, a collection amassed over years of fierce L.A. winters.The first time it snowed

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-1104706036266801322007-12-31T17:42:00.000-05:002008-04-13T13:43:16.328-04:00

When I was a kid, I used to dread New Year’s. Not so much the day itself, but the retrospectives that heralded its coming. Commercial after commercial would advertise the replacement of perfectly good tv shows with clip after clip of people I didn’t recognize. Then the event itself would arrive, and I would sit on the couch smooshed between my grandparents, watching more clips of more people I

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-1104389910349813642007-10-10T11:30:00.001-04:002010-03-14T16:21:36.424-04:00

... or, just trains. I love trains. See the world. Meet new people. Chat up men in uniform (with whistles, nonetheless). All within an easy walk of a moving oasis of microwaveable foods and stale pretzels. Well, easy insofar as you're able to walk steadily forward in a car moving largely from side to side -- without doing a faceplant in that nice elderly gentleman's lap. For all these reasons (

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-1104508568175212122007-07-08T10:22:00.000-04:002008-04-13T13:51:15.528-04:00

"I'm going to be a trashman." Or so I proclaimed for years, every time I was asked the dreaded question – “And what do you want to be when you grow up?” I loved the alternately amused and bemused reactions of my inquisitors when faced with a little girl in ruffles proclaiming a passion for waste management. Not to mention the added satisfaction of watching my grandma make the "I'm totally

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-1104856029717598012007-05-02T23:20:00.001-04:002010-03-14T16:27:43.822-04:00

After several riveting rounds of the what-nothing game, my wonderful, yet ambiguous, visitor left for the airport this afternoon. Videos were watched; Thai food was eaten; tension was ignored. A good time was had by all. After he left, I carted myself off to the gym to run off any lingering confusion (and Thai food). I walked onto the floor, and immediately found myself awash in a sea of pink

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9847360.post-1104380336096515242007-01-05T22:49:00.001-05:002010-03-18T12:06:23.456-04:00

By all rights, this should be the obligatory why-I'm-starting-a-blog post. But truth be told, my motives are neither unique, nor frankly all that interesting. I could ramble on a bit about writing for its own sake or creativity or accountability or, maybe, if I were feeling particularly high and mighty (read tipsy), art. But many people before me have so rambled and I'm quite confident that many

May Day Cafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15194140230154336210noreply@blogger.com0