Mighty Girl
My face.


contact: maggie at mightygirl dot net

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Bryan Mason
Alice
Heather Armstrong
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1.31.03 OH YEAH
Hey, Amit. This is what you wrote that I thought was funny:

“I think that if you post a story on your blog, you should no longer be allowed to tell it at parties where people who read your site might be present.”

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1.30.03 TIME ON YOUR HANDS
Someone didn’t clean up after their dog. Someone else took a very small piece of paper, glued it to a toothpick, and inserted it into the mess. The mini picket sign reads, “Step in me!”
Everyone has their hobbies.

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1.29.03 PRINCE ALBERT IN A CAN
L: I used to work for this company called Emerging Growth Management.
Me: What?
L: It was a financial company.
Me: Oh.
L: All my friends would call and say, "Hi, I have an emerging growth. Can you manage it?"
Me: That's hilarious.
L: It is pretty funny.
Me: Less so after the 134th time.
L: Yeah.
B: All my friends used to work in theater, and whenever one of them got a booking gig, we'd call up to harass them. (thick New York accent) "Hi. This is Javier Abramowitz. I got an act with two cockatiels and some twine. You book that kinda thing?"

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1.27. 03 ELSEWHERE
Just wrote a film review for Gerry, an independent flick that you'll either love or hate. I'm in the former camp.

Also, I'll be interviewed tomorrow morning on KFOG (97.7 FM if you're in the Bay Area). I'm showing up at the station at 7 a.m., who knows when you'll actually be able to hear me. I promise to sound more like Mickey Mouse than anyone expected.

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1.26. 03 OVERHEARD
I seen you on this bus before. What's your name?
Alicia.
What sign are you, Alicia?
I'm a Capricorn. I don't know much about it, but Capricorn is supposed to be compatible with Aries. My fiance's a Aries.
Oh yeah?
Oh yeah. I don't get along with no Virgos. I don't like them Virgos at all.
Really.
Yeah, my ex-husband's a Virgo, and he cheated on me.
My ex-wife's a Virgo, and she cheated on me too!
Really?
Sure 'nough.
Ha! Can't trust them Virgos. My fiance's a Aries. He keeps his hands to himself.

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1.23. 03 THAT'S BETTER THEN
E: Is Hedwig and the Angry Inch" still in town?
B: Is it? I think so.
E: Are you guys gonna go see it?
Me: I have no desire to see it at all.
B: I really want to.
E: We should go.
Me: Yeah, please go.
B: But then we're two guys going to see a musical about a cross-dressing transvestite.
E: Huh.
B: We'll take Jeff.

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1.21.03 NOW ISN'T THAT NICE?
This week's New Yorker is a good'un. "Truth in Architecture" by Larissa MacFarquhar contains a description of Moshe Safdie--who is apparently a world-famous architect--that reminds me of how I'd like to be more mindful:

"He wears beautiful, finely woven shirts that he designs himself and has sewn up by a shirtmaker. He takes great pleasure in eating: he is the sort of person who always squeezes his orange juice by hand, or drives far out of his way to procure strongly flavored olive oil. To him, appreciation of such sensual delights--wine, clothing, food--is not an indulgence of whim, but rather an enobling of ordinary need..."

And from the same article, a spot-on similie:

"The fog was thick and white, and the car drove blindly through it. Tree branches flashed in and out of view like scratches on blank film."

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1.20.03 PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN?
Three best signs from the anti-war march in SF:

Calm down, Mr. President.
Iraq is Arabic for Vietnam.
This guy right here don't want war.

Also, Tom Ammiano barely catches himself:
"We're here!
We're…present!
Get used to it!"

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1.20.03 BETTER WITH BACON
B: Have you heard of this Go-gurt crap?
L: Yeah.
J: What? What are they talking about?
Me: It's like yogurt in a tube so you can throw it in your backpack and go!
B: Every time I see those ads, I want everyone involved fired.
Me: Worst idea ever.
L: They should make ranch-flavored. With beef bits.
Me: Aaaaaa. Jerky-ranch.
L: Or with baco-bits. They stay crispy! How do they do that?

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OBSERVANT
L: I'm taking off my shoes now.
Me: OK.
L: I've got some good-looking feet.
Me: You do have good feet. They're little. What size do you wear?
L: Eight.
Me: Really? They look smaller.
L: I was kidding, but at least all my toes are the right length. You know?
Me: No.
L: I can't stand the girls who have those extra-long second toes and they still wear sandals.
Me: I have monkey toes.
L: I don't mean long, I mean uneven.
Me: What?
L: You know what I'm talking about. The second toe is way longer than the first toe, and it's actually sticking out over the edge of their sandal.
Me: I have never noticed that.
L: You haven't? Oh my god. It freaks me out. Sometimes both of the next two toes are longer than the big toe. It's like creepy spider toes crawling out over the edge of the sandal. Yeeeeh. Why would you wear sandals knowing that you have this problem?

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COOL HUNTER
Blondies is a lovely place. It's a martini bar where they give you the shaker with your drink. This means that you have the first martini in your glass, and two more waiting for you in the shaker. Three martinis for the price of one makes it an excellent place to get to know people. Mostly drunk people. Or the 300-pound man in a pink leotard and tutu with heart-shaped deedleeboppers on his head. He seemed to be on his own, chatting with the door guy for a while before moseying off down the street. That was when I noticed his leg warmers. So I guess they are coming back.

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SOMEWHERE TO BE
Yesterday, I saw a hearse driver peel out and flip someone off. That has to be in direct violation of the employee handbook.

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1.15.03 UNDEREMPLOYED
As of this morning New Architect magazine is no more. And that means I've gone from being a managing editor to looking for bartending gigs. I don't own a single Wonderbra, people.

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1.14.03 BAUBLES
The Morning News just posted my article on accessories. Go visit Women's Fashion, Part IV: Accessories.

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1.13.03 THE GO AHEAD
J: I have a good story.
Me: Tell it.
J: I'm not sure if it's really acceptable dinner conversation.
Me: Oh, who cares? Tell it.
J: OK. So my balls were really itching, right?…


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1.09.03 THE RULES
This young man is driving a white minivan, the kind they use to take residents of old-folks homes to the mall. A little girl is buckled in next to him, tapping her hand against the window. He puts a cell phone to his ear and begins talking. She turns from the window, leans across the space between their seats, and shakes her finger in his face. "No, no, no!" He grins, embarrassed, and hangs up.

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1.08.03 LOST ARTS
This man is rolling a car tire up our block. His action is effortless, almost soothing to watch. He walks next to the tire, bending occasionally to give it a slight push or correct its course. The tire seems alive, like an obedient dog, until the man stops it with his foot and lifts it into the trunk of his car.

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1.07.03 THE SOURCE
Scenario: Bryan has an interest in politics.

B: When's the State of the Union Address?
M: Beats me.
B: Hmm. (Goes rummaging around online for several minutes.)
B: Arrgh. I can't believe it could be this hard to find.
M: You can't find it?
B: Nowhere.
M: Huh.
B: (Points, clicks, types for another fifteen minutes.) AAAGH! (Picks up phone, presses speaker-phone option, lets it ring as he types.)
M: Who are you calling?
B: …
Phone: White House. May I help you?

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1.06.03 AND SALT WILL TAKE CARE OF THAT STAIN
Me: Man, I can't keep my hands off these stupid things.
Her: What are they?
Me: Molasses chips, they're like toffee.
Her: Oooo. They have dark chocolate ones too.
Me: Yep. They're good with red wine. Pretty inexpensive too. They make great hostess gifts.
Her: Hostess gifts? You're so…
Me: I know.

Which reminds me of a joke Rosecrans sent me the other day after receiving thank-you note #601 from me:

Why don't WASPs have orgies?
Too many thank you notes.



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1.03.03 WHILE I WAS AWAY
I contributed to the Santa Claus piece for The Morning News.

The Fray posted my "Chagrin and Men I Have Loved" piece. It's the same one you may have already seen on The Morning News, albeit with a new introduction and a few photos of me as a kid. The first one you'll see is a photo of me and my sister jumping from sand dunes. I'm the one standing on the dune, she's the one leaping to her doom. If you click on my name, just below the story title, you'll find my favorite childhood photo. I was three, and I was pissed. If you scroll down, you can see me and my junior prom date Rahul. He's going to be an usher at our wedding. We offered him flower girl, but my niece threatened to beat him up, and he chickened out.

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BACK
I've been in Colorado, where I had my first Awesome Blossom (recipe) at Chili's. I had no idea what I was getting into. They take a genetically engineered gigantuonic onion, slice it decoratively, deep fry it, and slap it on a plate. The result looks like an enormous sea anemone with ranch dressing garnish. It is roughly the size of a small head of iceberg lettuce. In San Francisco, when you order onion rings, you get about four of them on a plate. In Denver, they give you enough to bring your entire circulatory system to a halt right there at the table.

Anyway, next time I go on vacation, I promise to say, "I'm going on vacation now" so I don’t get worried emails. Still haven't adjusted to the idea that strangers assume that I've died/sunk into a deep depression/fallen into a hole where the well used to be when I stop posting. I was in Colorado eating an onion anemone, happy, above ground. Thanks for the notes.

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