You are currently viewing the stories for “November 2004.”
To the woman on Craigslist who wanted to know the difference between 'booty call' and 'F*ck Buddy.' by Vince Passaro The Local F*ck by A. Leigh French Kissing The Cab Driver by Maura Kelly Things We Say To Cops (Things Cops Say to Us) by Rick Rofihe
To the woman on craigslist who wanted to know the difference between ‘booty call’ and ‘fuck buddy.’ (I figured she must be foreign so I addressed her as ‘Madame.’) Madame: In Re: the difference between ‘booty call’ and ‘fuck buddy,’ despite the alliterative pairing and their shared concern with fucking, the two phrases are ontologically different, the main distinction being [...]
I had made a plan to meet some friends at a place that had opened just one week ago. The prior weekend, we ended up there at three in the morning, and the scene was good: under-populated, smooth, steel drum-like lounge music, a few good-looking peoples. I was impressed by the Mondrian-inspired decor, and the two women's restrooms that overpowered [...]
Twenty years ago, almost to this very day, my tenth-grade history teacher, Mrs. Alexander, decided it would be an important lesson for us students if our class was to conduct a mock vote for president. And without further ado, slips of paper containing the names of the candidates and their running-mates were distributed throughout the class, and Mrs. Alexander magnanimously [...]
We found the doll right there on 16th Street in Brooklyn, outside the Baptist church (now, don’t get too excited, they’re boring white Baptists--no big hats or electric guitars anywhere in sight). The doll was wrapped in a black plastic garbage bag. Only its feet were showing, chubby little feet in high-button boots. The church folk had been cleaning out [...]
A friend of mine had a screaming fight with his father a couple of weeks before the election. The subject of the fight was politics. The father supported Bush. The son supported Kerry. The fight was heated, and eventually the son slammed down the receiver. He hung up on his father. Days passed. The phone rang at the son’s house. [...]
"We're out of luck," Steve said one Saturday afternoon as I returned to our apartment from doing my weekend errands. "The dryer just died. I have a load of whites in the washer and now I can't dry them." We were one of the fortunate people who actually had a washer and dryer in their apartment. Steve and his ex-girlfriend [...]
