Wednesday, June 24, 2009

"Introduction, please. Key a b-flat. Here we go!"

My name is Emily [insert Edith Bunker's cling peaches 'mmhmmmm' here]. I was born in Wilmington, Delaware in August, 1989. I’ve always felt responsible for the death of Lucille Ball (she peaced out four months and one day before I was born - there was only room for one psychotic, August-born redhead, I suppose). The first thing I remember liking that liked me back was Dorothy Gale. I had a horrifying puberty: it started when I was 9. I’m a high school graduate; I go to community college. My entrance exam was me going into a “hot... airless little room...” and having them tell me my SAT scores were high enough to do whatever the hell I felt like. I decided to stay in my house because I'm poor. My mother still tells me I should have gone to a University so I could move out. Eventually, I'll move somewhere else, where it's not so HUMID. But for now, I'm stuck in Wilmington. Delaware, this is your last chance!

My name is Lara. I was born in Oakland, California in September, 1985. I've always felt responsible for the death of Bea Arthur (I was saying just a few days before she died that she would live forever). The first thing I remember liking that liked me back was Judy's hair in Meet Me In St. Louis. I had a bad puberty. It started when I was way too young and is still giving me agony. I'm a high school graduate. I went to a small liberal arts school. My entrance exam was in Spanish (but I ended up taking French instead, because evidently I'm Liza Minnelli). I decided to move out of the house when I was 23. My mother (who, incidentally, is Ida Morgenstern) still refers to this as the best moment in both our lives, but still calls me 5 times a day. Eventually, I ran to San Francisco. Where it's gay. And I figured I'd get along better. Now I'm still here. San Francisco, like your streets, you line my heart with rainbow flags!

I hope that you find that our blog will be at least a little interesting. Believe me, we'll be getting one hell of a kick out of it!


  1. Both of your comments about puberty remind me of Agnes Gooch (in Auntie Mame, not Mame). "How bleak was my puberty!"

  2. GOOCH!

    Well, I'm glad my puberty wasn't like that of Rhoda Morgenstern's, where it lasted 17 years.


  3. Agnes Gooch is a sex machine.

    My puberty was very bleak. And it might as well have lasted 17 years. One of the countless in which I feel kinship with Rhoda Morgenstern.