My heart is heavy at this news. Talk about marketing bullshit.
One bit of advice to Barbie if she takes up with someone from thatthat hemisphere. One minute you think they are adorable boy toys, and the next you’re addicted and missing them when they follow the sun to warmer climates.
I need help remembering me.
For instance, was it Bobby or Bobbie or Bobbi or Boba Fett we lived with? What was her last name? Bob Dall or Dahl? I never remember details of my own damned life. What years?
And (important) do you have some written material somewhere I could look at? Make me laugh?
Hey,
Do I know you?
I lived with someone named Patty or Patti once upon a time with a third roommate, a man, and he and I worked with someone named Bob Dahl…
Is this a life you remember?
As for the written works, alas I am far too lazy, weak and impotent. This bullshit you see before you is all she wrote.
The pleasure of stand-up is the same pleasure of a one-night stand, no commitment, quick in and out and you’re done.
Do you have red hair?
So it wasn’t Bobby(ie)(i), it was Patty?
Yes. That’s me. See, I need help remembering. Next thing you know, I’ll start remembering Bob as a balding blond with large breasts.
And Julia? Yikes!
That is so cool you found me.
Are you in the Netherlands or some place like that? (I can’t tell from your weblog, but your IP address is European) Of course, you would use the world atlas as a starting point, given your blogroll.
So, yeah, it was Patti Hallett (or something like that), and Bob was the intrepid author-to-be. As for Julia, I don’t know. I guess I just assume she exploded in a puff of neuroses. If anyone were to spontaneously combust, she’d be a candidate.
And, what was the name of the chick who followed you with the wide eyes of puppy-dog devotion? Linda, maybe?
Linda edits for the Atlantic Monthly now — check the masthead — after a stretch of work at the Boston Phoenix. She’s the big success from that office, as far as I can tell.