Dear Ativan

Dear Ativan,

I love you. I don't mean in a "who's your buddy, who's your pal?" kind of way. I love you like I would give you a kidney. Like I would leave you my 403b. LikeI would shave my cha cha for you (sorry MK.)

Because if she didn't start taking it again I was going to start shooting heroin, probably directly into my eyes (sorry again MK) and then I would have to write a different letter - several different letters - as I was working my steps.

Oh Ativan, you are a miracle.

And to be fair, 2 1/2 years is a very long time, and it is an awful, awful, awful way to slowly die. And if I were in that position I don't know that I'd do much better. But I would take my fucking Ativan!

Email From a Potential Date

Hey Elena,

How are you? I think you are really cute. Let's go out sometime, we could do something really fun. I have a mango in my pants.

-Mr. X

Really? Seriously? Wha?

You've Heard of Home Schooling?

Well, this is what home chemo looks like...

Blowpop Samurai

Today, I killed a wasp in my office with a watermelon blowpop. I am an effing Ninja. No me jodas.

Morning Commute

The Seven train holds a special place in my heart. So much of my life has been spent on it, from the old Redbirds to the current R62As. Seven train riders are, by far, the most ineresting people (except for those Park Slope transplants in their skinny jeans and Waldo glasses who recently moved to Sunnyside.) Do you ever play that game where you guess where someone is going to get off and stand near them o you can get their seat? Me too.

Wistful

Benny, our office dog, gazes out the window.