Mary C. and me, chillin’ in DP.
Dolores Park. Seventy-five degrees. Happy Katie.
Leslie and I ordered two waters at the restaurant where we are eating lunch. Our server delivered it in these buckets, without explanation. Whenever either of us takes a sip, the other can’t stop laughing.
For some reason, I walk around the world sizing up other people’s jobs, and deciding whether or not I would want to do what they do, even when their jobs are totally out of range for me. Over the past two weeks, I have determined that I would not want to work as a professional…
I just walked into a fundraiser where the suggested donation is $20, and the featured entertainment is comedy and music. As I reached for my wallet, the woman collecting the money asked me, “Are you a comedian?” “I like to think so,” I quipped, “but no.” Without breaking her stern demeanor, the money collector said,…
Tim … LINCECUM!
Let’s go, Giants!
Ready to bust some ghosts. We ain’t afraid of ’em.
In my pajamas inside my sleeping bag, eating the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s body weight in bread and cheese in Dolores Park. We are waiting for the sun to go down and Ghostbusters to come on. “If you have a dose of a freaky ghost, baby, you gotta call … GHOSTBUSTERS!”
My first place ribbon for the short non-fiction story I submitted to the San Mateo County Fair.