Back in my original college years, my friend got involved with the very stereotype that makes women look bad. She was, for lack of a better term, a heinous bitch. I’m not one for that label very often, but honestly, if *I* am calling you something like that, then you best get your ass into therapy and find out what the fuck is wrong with you. Ahem. She was the president of our choir. I did her job after she got pregnant with my friend’s baby. Well, I think that’s how it went, I’m... 

The day after I lost my pants, the bizarre twists and turns kept on coming and I’ve been scrambling around for two weeks trying to keep up with what Saturn/The Universe/Evil Clowns has/have been throwing at me: love,  new roomie,  end of a two year era of constant vigilance and obsessive intellectual “stimulation,” the end of a lot of things, and the oyster-scented world opening up. Oh, and accepting and feeling the “L” word. Excuse me while I look at you with my eyebrow...