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A Shout-Out to My Pepys

If you’ve been a semi-regular reader of this blog, you know I have a fondness (nay, my husband calls it an embarrassing weakness) for the hip-hop lingo. Words like cronkite or phat just say so much more than plain olde English. Why can’t we, as a profession, create our own groovy language? Sure, we have terms like “digital archives” or “YA services” or “competitive salary with great benefits”, but they’re just so boring. Why don’t we take a cue … Read the rest

On A Clear Day….

Last night, in the midst in a vicodin-induced haze (I twisted my back–this has been some summer), I watched the appropriately-titled A Decade Under the Influence, a documentary about the influential films of the 1970s. While I watched Martin Scorsese and William Friedkin talk about who influenced them while they were growing up, I began to think about what films influenced me, for good or for ill. Actually, I think about this all the time, but heck–this is the … Read the rest

Running Through My Head*

….some random thoughts:


  • Spoilers on cars are the automotive equivalent of the ankle bracelet.
  • Jacked-up trucks: let’s just say the bigger (and higher) the truck, the smaller and squeakier the guy. If they keep it up, them boys are gonna have to start wearin’ big, white, four-fingered gloves.
  • The more tattered American flags/stickers on a car, the more bone-headed stunts they will pull right in front of you.
  • The Chrysler PT Cruiser: the grandma car of the new
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If you’re going to San Francisco….

Last night I watched a fabulous documentary: The Cockettes, the story about a group of straight, gay, black, white, whatever group of hippies in San Francisco who put together a life celebrating peace, love and sequins. They were more than just a drag troupe: they were souls dedicated in expressing who they truly were inside. Though they’re best known for wearing jumbles of feathers and beads, dressing up in women’s clothes wasn’t the point–it was the celebration of the … Read the rest

My So Called Real Life

Quite a few entries ago I promised to give the world a taste of what my real life was like. After much soul-searching and an entire roll of Nestlè Toll-House refrigerated cookie dough, I’ve decided to come clean, wipe the semi-sweet chocolate smear off my face, and show everyone just what kind of big pimpin’ life I lead:… Read the rest