Mighty Girl
My face.

contact: maggie at mightygirl dot net

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You'll also find me here:
Mighty Goods
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ReadyMade Magazine Blog
The Morning News

I read:
Bryan Mason
Heather Armstrong
Matthew Baldwin
Sarah Brown
Heather Champ
Matt Haughey
Eden Kennedy
Jason Kottke
Merlin Mann's 5ives
Obscure Store and Reading Room
Post Secret
Andrea Scher
Melissa Summers
Evany Thomas


This morning on my way in to work I passed a guy riding his bike. His grass skirt was blowing dangerously close to his chain and he was using one hand to support the four-foot-tall wooden tribal mask he was wearing. Yesterday, I passed a guy in jeans, an REI jacket, and a pair of fairy wings. I heart Halloween.

P.S. Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes, cards, and gifts over the last week. All of them made me smile.
10:15 a.m.

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From Signal vs. Noise:

"Steep Tea fortune of the day: When I said I can see myself with someone like you I meant like you, but not you."
10:14 a.m.

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10.29.01 YOU TELL ME
And the hostess says: "Hope, party of two?...Hope?... Is there Hope?
3:23 p.m.

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Self magazine has a "What I Ate Today" feature where they ask some marginal celebrity to detail, rice cake by rice cake, what she's eaten that day. Yeah... I've had sweet tarts for breakfast two days in a row now.
4:23 p.m.

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Excerpt from "Hanging Versus Folding":
"After washing, you have two choices: to hang or to fold. Which is best for a particular item depends on several factors...Deciding when to hang and when to fold is only part of the job, however. On the following pages we show you the best ways to do both, so your clothes are ready when you are."
4:48 p.m.

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10.23.01 ODDS AND ENDS
Three things to consider:
  • I've never seen a female cab driver in San Francisco.
  • There's a hearse parked on Mission St. that has a Jack-In-The-Box antenna ball.
  • A billboard: "Joint Juice. A full-day's supply of glucosamine. Building cartilage has never tasted so good."

Three food items I don't understand:
  • Pre-cooked bacon
  • The pecans in mixed nuts
  • Maple doughnuts
2:10 p.m.

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Yesterday was my birthday, and I had a good time. I spent the day baking, carving pumpkins, and thinking of reasons why 26 is old. I don't understand bubble tea, I've never been to a rave, and all the Saturday morning cartoons suck. My CD collection features entirely too much James Taylor, I had knee surgery this year, and I'm really starting to notice when the refrigerator needs cleaning. On the upside, I no longer order drinks with schnapps in them, I don't apologize for things that aren't my fault, and I make a mean peanut butter cookie.
3:45 p.m.

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Lady 1: What have you been up to with work?
Lady 2: I made a play suit for this guy.
Lady 1: A "play" suit?
Lady 2: That's what he called it. It was basically a body suit with modifications.
Lady 3: What kind of modifications?
Lady 2: Well it took me awhile to figure out what he wanted, he wouldn't just spit it out. He's like, "Can you make it really fitted?" and I'm like, "Yeah." And he's like, "I mean, I want it to fit me really well everywhere." And I'm like, "Kay..." And he says, "I want it to have three little pouches." So I say, "You mean you basically want a ball sack?"
Lady 4: Three pouches?
Lady 2: That's what I was thinking. I'm like (confused expression, counts on fingers). I was like, "This is gonna have to be a small, medium, large thing, because I'm not interested in getting that personal."
Lady 5: What color was it?
Lady 2: Bright yellow.
Lady 6: YELLOW?
Lady 2: Yep.
Lady 6: What is that?
Lady 4: Chiquita fetish.
Lady 5: He's got the fruit hat at home, and a set of castanets.
Lady 6: Come over here, mama's big ba-nan-ah!

4:01 p.m.

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I saw a bus-stop ad yesterday that read, "I scream, you scream, we all scream for pork tenderloin."
3:31 p.m.

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10.17.01 GIVE ME A SIGN
I saw Lily Tomlin in The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe last night. My favorite quote: "I think you should know I worry a lot. Like the Nobel sperm bank. Something bothers me about the world's greatest geniuses sitting around reading pornography and jerking off."
10:44 a.m.

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Went to the SF Oktoberfest on Saturday. Drunken button-down dude was outside on his cell, "No, I'm busy later on. Tonight. This is a one-night offer. Tonight, that's it." I don't know why he had to call for reinforcements; Oktoberfest women were of the willing variety. It was a sea of horrible toga tank tops, and those double-slit skirts that resemble loincloths. My favorite one-sleeved chick was alternately playing with her hair and pulling at her itchy, itchy skirt while talking to a bleary young man. Surrounded by 20 booths with 40-foot signs screeching SPATEN!, HEFEWIZEN!, KARLSBERGER!, she turned to her target demographic and said, "So, where do I go to get beer?"
4:53 p.m.

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I went to the El Vez Boxing with God Tour on Friday, and Dave Foley introduced the band. About ten minutes later, I looked over and he was standing next to me. Dave Foley, Mr. David Foley, the-cute-one-from-Kid's-In-The-Hall was standing right next to me.

Me: You are the funniest man alive. (ohmygod.davefoleystandsradientbeforemeinallhisapple-cheekedglory.) Extend my hand.
Dave Foley: Shakes my hand. Ha! Well, thank you.
Me: (iwillplowthornyfieldsinbarefeetfortwentyyearsifonlyyou'lltouchmyhandagain) You're welcome. I'm Maggie.
Dave Foley: Nice, to meet you. I'm Dave.
Me: So I've heard. (takemehereandnow) Nice to meet you, too (youruggedcanadianbeast). Enjoy the show.
Dave Foley: Thanks.

(update: I'm not alone. Meena knows what it is to yearn for a cross-dressing Ralph Reed lookalike.)

2:27 p.m.

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-How to be cool. Hot. Or not. CSOMO puts you in charge.
-GO FOR IT! Jump start your life. With the fun. The fashion. The juicy essence of life only COSMO would know.
-Be an ice princess. Or a total hottie.
-No hunk too hot to fall. Make him yours. Body and soul.
-He's already drooling.
-Make him your love slave.
-Don't just sip life...GULP IT DOWN!!!

Dear Friend:

I know what you're thinking. COSMO is about sex. Seduction. How to win a guy by any means. Fair or unfair.

Okay, we admit it. It's a sexy, addictive, fun-to-read magazine. It's what women obsess about. No contest.


About your life. What turns you on. What gets your juices flowing...

From the unlawfully luscious Dylan McDermott. To erotic astrology...

Yes, we all want it. A satisfying life. A great guy. Great sex. And COSMO WILL help you enjoy all of that. Everything you've imagined in your wildest dreams.

(over, please)

HUNDREDS OF FASHION FINDS. Edgy fringe tops. Flashdance foxy ways to update '80s cool... Beauty tips every man magnet must have.

Yes...you get it! Embellish. Entice. Add sass to class. Add COSMO ATTITUDE!

How to resist pigging out with your man.
How to squelch the belch. And when to see a doctor.

Does lying come with the territory? Is it a necessary evil of the fun-loving and not-really-committed?
Only when WE do it! For those times when honesty is the worst policy. COSMO shares invaluable, fave fibs!
Is HE lying? Hey, he can't get away with that! Become a lie detector. Learn to read the six body-language signs that will flush out any rat.

We don't believe in fair. And we have an arsenal of weapons.

You have nothing to lose, and lots of fun to gain. So mail your savings certificate now.

Kate White

2:42 p.m.

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10.11.01 I FEEL PRETTY
You guys broke my Geocities site. Bastards. Oh well, it was time for me to leave my punk-rock lifestyle behind. As I moved in a hurry, there's bound to be some mess to clean up. Please let me know if you come across broken links, images, spelling errors, or anything else that's embarrassing, but not intentionally so. Thanks for all the "what up?" notes and the patience while I relocated.
3:30 p.m.

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10.08.01 ART AND LIFE
I've been collecting photos that look like the work of famous artists.

Alex Katz:

M.C. Escher:

John Singer Sargent:


4:50 p.m.

10.04.01 PAIN HURTS ME
I'm a wimp. I've tried to get past it, but I can't watch an episode of "ER" or "Rescue 911" without getting tunnel hearing as I crawl from the room. So I didn't do well with the Wisdom Tooth Removal video at the dentist's office. It's a high-level cartoon, for cripes sake. No blood, no close-ups, just detailed descriptions of the procedure and my over-active imagination. The dentist returned to find me with my head between my knees, and one arm groping blindly for the stop button on the VCR. Tomorrow morning I'm having roughly half of my jaw removed. Should be a treat.
7:38 p.m.

Ladies night excerpt:

Lady 1: Does your necklace say "Rockstar?"
Lady 2: Yep.
Lady 1: Awesome.
Lady 2: I wore it to a meeting today before I realized I had this lovely hicky. (Does Vanna White hand-display impression around hicky.)
Lady 3: Oh well. At least now they know you're getting some.
Lady 2: In case you were wondering if I get any action. (waggles eyebrows)
Lady 4: What? This? Oh, yes... I was curling the ends of my hair and the iron slipped.
Lady 2: Ha! The crackpipe slipped.
Lady 5: Rugburn.
Lady 4: Ropeburn.
All: Awww.
12:16 p.m.

I've had three cold sores in the last six years. Each one of them has coincided with an event involving Dave Eggers. In college, I had a subscription to Might Magazine (coincidentally, the inspiration for my blog title). The staff had a farewell party in the Tenderloin, but no one would go with me (I was living in Davis at the time). I had all these tests the next morning and woke up with an angry cold sore. So, with a bitter sense of disappointment that still lingers to this day, I skipped it. A couple years ago, Mr. Eggers was doing a reading in SF that I was determined to see. Of course, deadline ran over at the magazine I was working for, and I had to stay late. I had a cold sore then, too. I finally got to see him speak last night. The audience was eerily consistent: tousled men in '50s eyewear, artsy chicks in knee socks and pea coats. Mr. Eggers baked cookies for the audience, and rocked nervously while he told us about his taxidermy supply store in Manhattan and his poor experiences with UC Santa Cruz students. I brought along the Carmex. I would have stopped to meet him afterwards, but I was afraid that if I shook his hand my entire body would break out in fever blisters. So I got a cab instead.
4:24 p.m.

10.01.01 SPORTY
This weekend, I went kayak camping for the first time. The waterproof windbreaker, board shorts and salt air made me feel pretty sporty. I had to stop myself from greeting fellow kayakers with my chin ('Sup?), and grinning stupidly at the tawny, tanned, fleece zipping, sports-bra sporting girls. Then I realized that seasoned outdoorsmen probably don't assume that every seal they see has a shark lurking just beneath. They probably don't wince at the searing pain in their shoulders after rowing for five minutes either.
5:22 p.m.

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