That Anthropologie dress, owned by me, and once worn by Marnie on Girls, is popular on TV. A woman on that storage locker show, whose name is apparently Brandi, had it on a recent episode. I don’t identify with either of these characters, so maybe it’s an out of character dress for me.
I haven’t worn it since I was in Dubai because it’s still not spring-like enough here. Plus, I feel exposed wearing so much white.
I always thought that the thing about plucking your eyebrows and having them never grow back was a myth (definitely something I heard from my grandma) but I’m now wondering if there could be some truth. Even though I keep mine thick, they are still not natural and I pluck them every single day. However, I stopped plucking a few weeks ago because they were getting off balance and I wanted to start from scratch. And now there are gaps (mostly noticeable just to me like the seam in my two front teeth that drives me batty) with no hair. This is very serious.
This weekend I found out that a zine guy I had a crush on in the mid-’90s but liked my friend instead (it didn’t hurt that she was Evel Knieval for Halloween and his zine was about Evel Knieval) and worked at the Kinkos on my corner when I was a Kinkos regular has died. We hadn’t been in touch in over a decade, but still it was a surprise. Once in 2004, which doesn’t seem like ten years ago, I randomly thought of him, looked him up and saw that he’d just gotten engaged, as if I sensed it. It looks like he and his wife just had twins last year, which I don’t mention because it’s more tragic if you’re a parent, a notion I reject, but that he was chugging along doing all the things a person is supposed to do to be happy. In 2007, he wrote about Evel Knieval’s death in Slate.
I want to say that I’ve begun my Big Chill phase, but I’m not sure that’s even accurate because I only saw the movie for the first time a few months ago by which I mean that I caught it in the middle and had to turn it after 20 minutes. I feel like the group was in their 40s but it was probably 30s because boomers just always seem 40 to me. First, distant peers start dying, and then tragedy creeps closer.