Hey, so here’s a thing: I live in California now. San Francisco, to be exact. However, please note that New Jersey remains the King of States at this time, and at all future times. My presence or lack thereof does not diminish its fundamental majesty.
Now that we’ve signed a lease on our new San Francisco apartment (!!!), I can share with you this most ridiculous of documents, the dog résumé, which I felt like a dang fool writing but which also worked like gangbusters helping us land a great place. I’ll be launching my Bay Area pet résumé consultancy within the next few weeks.
Which one of these seems like the better choice?
Option A: You have a great job, a great relationship, are happy and healthy, get to travel the world, and look adorable in hats. Also, you have really fantastic hair. You cherish all the wonderful things about your lucky, privileged existence. Oh, and you are fat. Like, fat fat.
Tonight, we saw Billy Joel perform — his 20th sold-out show in a row — at Madison Square Garden. Itzhak fricking Perlman came out to play on several songs, and rocked the shit out of the fiddle bits in “Downeaster Alexa,” and possibly the beautifully plaintive tone he pulls out of his instrument made me tear up a little.
I’m working at my new afternoon coffee shop working spot, which makes a mean iced latte. But I think I’m gonna take a break in a while and go to the beach for a bit, then maybe have an ice cream cone while I take the dog for a walk along the lake. Because I can do that, because the ocean beach is four blocks away and the lake is in my backyard. I LIVE ON VACATION.
I literally have no idea how things ended up like this; truly, there is hope for anyone.
Maybe we don’t want to live in Amsterdam right now, but we’re still hankering for a change. I am therefore pleased to announce that we are opting to go FULL JERSEY, and as of July 1, you are all invited to our huge, awesome loft four blocks from the beach in Asbury Park whenever you would like to visit. Please note that “Born to Run” will be playing on a 24-hour loop, so be prepared for that.
So, remember that time we wanted to move to Italy but it’s a bureaucratic nightmare, so we thought why not move to Amsterdam in the meantime because hey that seems fun, and then we got rid of our apartment and car and stuff and actually did it, and now we’re in Amsterdam?
To the people who took the time to read and say embarrassingly kind things about this post, thank you.
To the people who shared their own stories of struggle and loss: I’m so sorry.
To the people who are worried about themselves or someone they know, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (US and Canada) is at 1-800-273-8255. Use it.
As part of my job doing things on the internet, I take a lot of screenshots of various websites.
This is the most glorious one I’ve ever taken or will take:
Physical therapy: a place where you go and pay people money to force you to move about in ways designed to cause pain to your injured joint, so you can return home and resume sitting still so as not to cause pain to your injured joint. Makes sense.
There are electrodes and gels and many unidentifiable apparati. I think the physical therapists might be evil wizards, though it will take six more weeks of twice-weekly visits to be sure.