I didn't comment as much as I'd have liked, but I did read everything, including the comments. This site, y'all. Thank you. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I had a pen necklace, but I think I bought it at Claire's???? I also wrote that Ghostwriter was my favorite TV show in my seventh-grade "getting to know you" survey, which was probably one year too old for that. (To be fair, it was the FIRST DAY of seventh grade.)

Every time I read this story I'm all "okay, one woman... okay, the characters appear to think of her as their personal access to sex... ugh, the narrator keeps count of who has the most access to her... go be a jelly blob, dude, I do not care about your mouth or your screaming."

That opening sequence is the best thing I've seen all day.

That was always my guess. But who knows?

She was an older person, so I'm hoping it was the "this used to work 30 years ago" thing. But did that really work 30 years ago? Did it EVER work?

Okay, true story time.

When I was in college (2004) there was this theater that I really wanted to intern at, and my advisor told me that the best way to secure an internship was to call and write letters to this theater DAILY. So one letter would be about my qualifications, another letter would compliment something about a recent production, and so on—and while I was doing this I was supposed to keep calling the front desk and trying to get by the receptionist so I could talk to someone in person and prove how awesome I was.

(I felt TERRIBLE about this, by the way. I was not excited about this plan, I felt this stab of shame every time I called or sent a letter.)

I was also encouraged to jump the hierarchy and write the artistic director, and here is the most unbelievable but true part: since my advisor knew someone who knew Stephen Sondheim, she told me to call that person and ask for Sondheim's personal address (WHICH I DID) and then send Sondheim a letter asking to put in a good word for me.

(I received a lovely typed letter of bland and noncommittal encouragement in response. The stories about Sondheim answering all his fan mail personally might be true.)

All of this ended immediately the day I received a letter from the artistic director, with a single scraggly piece of notebook paper inside. Handwritten on the paper: "Dear Nicole, we have received your numerous calls and letters, including the one you wrote Mr. Sondheim. Do not contact us again."

That is one of the most embarrassing things I've ever done in my life.

RANNELLS: You say... I only hear what I want to... DAMNIT!

My favorite part about rock-climbing and wine tasting classes (both of which I've done) is that they're 99 percent couples doing couple things, and you're the odd one out who has to interrupt some couple's Date Night to ask if you can get a belay.

I got slightly into weaving because of Juniper. Not enough to keep going. The fact that my loom was one of those tiny kid looms and I was also, like, nine years old may have contributed.