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How to avoid hand cramps when you're in the 3rd grade

A t the beginning of the third grade my mother moved my brother and I to a new school. She did this often. With each move I attempted to blend in and fade away with the other children; but with a younger brother whose rebellious reputation was known in the tri-county area and a mentally ill mother this never seemed to happen. Each time I would gradually become known as the good student with the crazy mother and hellion brother. This meant I was never invited to sit with people at lunch, or play at recess. At our young stage of development we didn’t understand that mental illness was not something you caught; that my raving mother’s appearance outside of homeroom would not infect our teacher, or my classmates. I was blacklisted. Determined for this move to be different I decided to reinvent myself, to remove as much of my family as I possibly could. When I walked into my first class at this new elementary school and the teacher called out my name, “Elizabeth Johnson” I replied, “Act...
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Up in arms about 'Smoke'

I've been meaning to blog about my dining experience at Smoke for weeks now. I've been busying myself with things like Glee, V, and Fingerless Ghost . (more on those kids later) The old Cliff Cafe' next to Bar Belmont took a bit of a vacay and in step with Dallas tradition got a face lift, a chic monosyllabic name- Smoke , and a new man(ager). I first visited Smoke, located at 901 Fort Worth Ave., during its evening bar hours; I always say meeting new people is best done with a little social lubricant. I got a text from a friend saying it was "bumping" so my gf and I decided to kick off our chucks and put on some pumps for the occasion. By the time we arrived, all of 11:30 p.m., there were only a few recently cut bar staff from Bar Belmont, and one or two pasty black-clad hipsters smoking languidly on the patio. This was their first official night open, other than their buzz-making grand opening VIP party. I will give super kudos to our awesome bartender for the k...
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Subject: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel

In 2005 I was living the high (mediocre) life in the city of Angels, L.A. working in this business we (they, or someone) called show. I wasn't just working in television, I was working in live television. And as if that wasn't enough of a chaotic setting for a great story for you, I also happened to be working for the first (yes, FIRST EVER) GLBTQ television network, appropriately called: Q Television Network with absolutely no experience. The details of how I found myself living in LA as a fresh college senior dropout from the tiny little hipster hotspot of Denton, TX will come later; because rest assured, I had no lifelong desire to work in production. I was a poetry major after all. On this particular sunny day I'm sitting in my office, with my staff (yes, at 23 I had a STAFF! Small, but still...) when I receive an email on my Sidekick. The sender was Jon, a new friend I'd made who worked in acquisitions. The subject was: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel. The b...
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