Que Sera Sera

Cringe Turns Three: Wednesday, April 2

Can you believe Cringe has been around for three years? And I don’t mean that like it’s a baby growing up so fast, I mean it more like hasn’t Cringe been around since the olden times when everyone rode around on giant tricycles wearing top hats and spats? American history learned from old Wendy’s table tops is good enough for me and it’s good enough for you. I’m tired. What are we doing again? Oh right.

We’ll be celebrating our third anniversary with some favorite readers from the past year along with some selections from the upcoming Cringe book. Which is a lot better than celebrating our third anniversary by going out to Houlihan’s and then coming home and fighting instead of having sex. But we can do that too if you want. I am open here.

In all seriousness, thanks for everyone’s support, attendance, or just basic tolerance since 2005. You guys rule.

See you Wednesday!

Cringe Reading Night
Wednesday, April 2, 8:30 pm
Freddy’s Bar and Backroom
485 Dean Street (6th Ave. & Dean), Brooklyn

2/3 to Bergen, any train to Atlantic/Pacific

More directions

Cost: as always, free dollars

Oh indeed I do

I am in Tulsa and it’s 77 degrees and windy. I’m gunning for a thunderstorm and feeling pretty lucky. I am writing this on my parents’ computer, which is made of rusty soup cans and powered by a water mill.

Tonight after dinner my dad and I took a walk around the neighborhood, and I was surprised how many people’s houses I remembered. My first grade teacher, my 8th grade civics teacher’s parents, seven families I used to babysit for, my childhood best friend, the girl who dated every guy I dated in middle and high school after I broke up with them, the first boy I ever loved, all within walking distance. We walked by my old elementary school and I wanted to climb on the playground toys, but the gate isn’t open anymore. Then we came home and sat on the back porch with my mom and brother and did impressions of people. I didn’t need a jacket and there were no bugs. Magic hour.

I’m back in Oklahoma because I’m the maid of honor in my bosom friend Laura’s wedding. Laura is marrying Oliver, so for those of you who’ve been reading this site for that long: that Boba Fett move worked out.

Laura and Oli are a very well-matched couple. They are both biologists. Laura studies treehoppers and Oli studies katydids, so there are two in silhouette hidden in the corner of their wedding invitation. Aside from being gigantic nerds, they are also a very attractive couple, as this photo will prove (and the comments that follow are a pretty good representation of Laura and my friendship). I like Oli very much, for reasons including but not limited to:

Oli’s family is flying in from Germany for the wedding. They don’t speak any English, and Laura’s family doesn’t speak any German. Her tiny nephews will be wearing lederhosen during the ceremony, though, so I think it’ll all work out.

Laura has requested I spend the night before the wedding with her, in her childhood bedroom, which I imagine will involve us wearing long flannel nightgowns and braiding each other’s hair and singing hymns until the candle burns out or some other Anne of Green Gables bullshit. I will do this in part because she has killed many bugs for me in the past, but mostly because I love her.


Sometimes when I’m listening to people talk in close proximity, I’m tempted by the urge to suddenly kiss them. These aren’t necessarily people I’m interested in romantically: sometimes it’s a good friend, sometimes it’s someone I barely know. Both sexes. One time it was a co-worker, one time it was someone’s dad. I guess what I mean is, it’s people I like and enjoy, but not necessarily people I want to make out with. When I realize what I’ve just thought, for a second I consider actually doing it, and then I have to blink and act like I’ve heard what they just said and not smile.

I think the whole world must suppress this, like when you were younger and you had to bite your lip to keep from shouting out a swear word in the middle of a test or a church service.

Cringe tomorrow; arm wrestling

Cringe is tomorrow night. Last month I recommended that people arrive early to get a seat since the room was filling up by 8, so everyone did, and the room just filled up around 7. Sorry, guys. Let’s declare it a free for all and Over The Top it for seats this time.

See you tomorrow. Winner takes all!

Funny people reading from their old diaries, letters, songs, poems, and other general representations of the crushing misery of their humiliating adolescence, but it’s okay because they’re totally cool and well-adjusted and super attractive now:

Cringe Reading Night
Wednesday, March 12, 8:30 pm
Freddy’s Bar & Backroom
485 Dean Street (6th Ave. & Dean), Brooklyn
2/3 to Bergen, any train to Atlantic/Pacific
More directions
Cost: as always, free dollars

Like the gaping maw of gray forever

Few things are sadder than the sight of a thin gold anklet trapped beneath a suntan-colored nylon. And not sad like watching The English Patient on a couch next to a fire while it snows sad, sad like it’s cold but also humid and your mom didn’t wake you up in time to wash your hair and you’re waiting for your grandma in her empty beauty shop on the other side of town and there’s no magazines on the table and you have a hangnail you’ve picked at til it’s bleeding and even though you have the day off of school, it doesn’t matter because no boy will ever like you.

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