I don’t think it has anything to do with the biological clock. I think it’s more along the lines of baby envy or peer pressure. A couple of months ago, one of my co-workers became a father. Over the next few weeks he changed his desktop wallpaper almost daily, updating it with new pictures of his adorable newborn daughter. He was exhausted from the sleepless nights, but he was proud. So proud! His pride renewed the pride of the other…
H.E. and I were waiting for our sushi dinners when I noticed a dark blonde guy sitting at another table across the aisle, staring at me with thoughtful dark eyes. I tried not to be conspicuous, so I quickly slid my gaze away, but after that first meeting of the eyes, I simply couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was he still staring at me? I stole another look and found that the answer was yes. That second glance told me…
If Jeffrey Zeldman and Heather Champ mention it, it must be all the rage. I’m talking about patterns, of course. Apparently, everyone’s using them to decorate their web pages these days, for subtle repeating backgrounds and matching color schemes. It’s oh, so very hip again. Meanwhile, I (the ever so un-hip) look at these patterns, find myself collecting them for future Topsy Turvy toons, and think to myself, “Wow… my own private online Yardage Town!” If you don’t know what…
I was a teenager the first time I ever saw that cliché involving two women who discover they’ve worn the same dress to a party. The first woman would enter full of confidence, a sashay in her step as she showed off her new dress, only to stop dead in her tracks when she discovered that another woman in the room was wearing the exact same thing. Egad, how embarrassing! The first time I saw that, I didn’t get it….
Why haven’t I updated or responded to your e-mail? Well, I’ve blown it. Too often. My nose is being such a drip and wants to run off with another girl. I’ve smothered it so much that he’s feeling a bit chapped in the hide. “You’re only running to spite me,” I said, simply unable to imagine my dear sweet nose absent from my familiar face. “You know you love it when I blow you.” He grew an angry red. “No,…