My bestie always has a box of red wine in the fridge specifically for calimoxos. It is probably why we were friends in the first place.

It had never occurred to me that Matt McGorry in real life would be funny and charming (I kind of hate his characters on OITNB/HTGAWM). This is a pleasant surprise.

Hey Daniel, is that you?

I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t call a cab/Uber. I do this pretty frequently, and I don’t even qualify as middle class! I also have the good sense not to bring my car with me when I’m about to go drinking, so there’s no danger of drunk-me making bad automotive decisions.

My great-grandparents were first cousins. :(

Yeah, I super don’t understand the relation, except that they’re not related? I’d draw a picture but I don’t care that much.

(Once I drew a picture to figure out how, exactly, Liz Lemon was related to The Hair.)

This is fascinating. Where can I learn more?

I have Pokemoned my way through several restaurants and have never actually managed to do it in the establishment itself. I feel there will always be a part of me that will regret never having sex in a walk-in.

I’ve worked in three high-end service positions where, for parties of less than four, you do not clear anyone’s plate until everyone’s eating. An Austrian (I think? something like that) count once gave me a nice-but-firm mini-lesson about it on my first day at a yacht club.

But at every place I’ve worked where it…

As a super broke student it was fun to get back into your winter coats in November and almost always have coffee money in your pockets already.

Hell yes.

I was suspicious it might be. So much for that.

Each day I write in my diary with an antique fountain pen that I fill with liquid ink using an eyedropper. My inkwell and the blotter I use to dry the ink on each page before I turn it are antiques from the 1890s; I buy my ink from a company founded in 1670. My sealing wax for personal letters comes from the same…

That’s the one half of my family. If I was on my mom’s side, I would’ve been a pregnant and barefoot sister-wife in the budding territory of Utah. After walking for months with a handcart, of course.

Am I poor or rich? Am I white? Am I an indigenous person in the colonies? All sorts of good questions need to be answered.

Hells yes. I’m sitting in what I consider the worst airport in the country after a heinous morning of travel delays and I would still take it over a goddamn wagon train or steerage. Also, I’m a woman traveling alone. Scandal.

Table legs! Right? Weren’t they weird about table legs?

Emma!

The first time I read that book (for “fun”) I threw it across the room when it came to the walking scene with D’Arcy’s judgmental... sisters? cousins? Anyway, eventually finished it for a class. Still sucked.

So she doesn’t pass the Turing test?