Mighty Girl
My face.


contact: maggie at mightygirl dot net

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2.24.03 AIN'T LIFE GRAND?
Did you ever have one of those days where every little thing just fell into place? Friday was like that for me. I got to my car fifteen minutes after I should have moved it for street cleaning. No ticket. I climbed in and rolled the windows down. It was February, but it was balmy; the air tasted good. I was on my way to lunch with a new friend, one of those people you keep meaning to make time for. Every light was green; pedestrians waited for me to pass before they tried to cross; there was a legal parking space right in front of the café. I had a tuna sandwich with coconut, and seaweed, and a mild vinagrette; the ice water was particularly crisp. My friend and I talked about small, good things; we sat on the back patio where flowers were in bloom. And as I was driving home, “Groovin’” came on the radio. If I’d had some good chocolate in the glove compartment, I probably could’ve ascended.

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2.21.03 OVERHEARD: A SOLID RELATIONSHIP
Scenario: Young woman in her twenties is talking on her cell phone at the back of the bus. She is well dressed; she is alone.

Jus’ call up, double your hours…
You ain’ even got to fill something out, they should have you on file…
Just go in and talk to Jorge…
Yeah, do it. It’s easy…
It’s easy…
I gotta go to work, then I gotta go the DMV…
I can’t…
'Cause I didn’t go in yesterday. I wasted yesterday with your sorry ass…
I got an appointment at 2:50. Ain’ no telling what time I get outta there…
Noooo.…
'Cause you ain' gonna go…
You ain’…
I know you say you will, but you ain’…
You jus’ running down my battery…
‘Cause I know you ain' gonna go, so you wastin’ your breath…
You need someone to hold your hand. …
You like a little boy…
Why you always asking me who I’m with? Why I gotta be with somebody? …
No, I’m not…
No. I’m not
OK, whatever…
Whatever…
Whatever…
OK, if you feel the need to talk to me, then you can call…
Bye, bitch.

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2.20.03 ANTELOPE, INDEED
About a year ago, Bryan and I started walking all the streets of the city together. Last night we stepped around some wet cement. Someone had scratched “antelope” on its surface. And that’s, you know, a good reminder to us all.

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2.18.03 PERSONAL SHOPPER
I’ve been spending way too much time on eBay in search of fun vintage things for the wedding. Every once in awhile I come across stuff that’s of no use to me, but is great nonetheless. I look like a corpse in tan, but could you just eat this silk-lined, cashmere dress? Or how about this firecracker of a dress sweater? And finally, if you’re looking for a wedding dress for under $3,000 and sans glitter appliqué, observe this simple silk Ralph Lauren number. If you buy it, send me a note, girl. We’ll talk shoes.

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2.17.03 THE CHEESIEST
A friend of ours just got a car; it is yellow and zippy. We drove along the coast, tried to think of a name for the car, and ended up out at the pet cemetery in the Presidio. I’d never been before, and the place is an odd mixture of pathos and hilarity. Best pet name goes to a fish called Macaroni Heart. Rest in peace, little buddy.

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HEY, THANKS
Evan has taken a lot of shit over the years for keeping Blogger alive on his own after the original Pyras had, quite reasonably, given up hope. In fact, he's still taking some shit from people who really should have risen above by now. I'd just like to take this opportunity to say thanks, Ev. You done good. No matter how nasty things got, you were right to keep going. I owe a lot to Blogger, and I'm glad you didn't let it die. Here's to regular paychecks, paid vacation, and all the bandwidth your little heart desires. Wishing you and yours a long and healthy corporate life in your new partnership with Google.

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2.11.03 BOOKISH
Just posted a new something up at The Morning News. Please go read "Life Lessons in Literature."

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2.10.03 CEASE AND DESIST
Me: Yeah, I always thought he was a little off.
F: I think you’re right about that. It started to sink in when he’s telling me about this dress shirt he has, right?
Me: Yeah.
F: And it’s velour…
Me: K…
F: And he’s telling me about how he tie dyed it.
Me: What the?
F: Yeah, yeah, wait, it gets better.
Me: K…
F: It has a picture of The Golden Gate Bridge on the back.
Me: What? What.
F: Yeah. Yeah.
Me: Oh noooh.
F: Yeah, and he’s, like, proud of this, like telling me exactly how he did it.
Me: Aaa! Ack!
F: So I’m like, “No. No. You must stop talking about this.” ‘Cause sometimes they need that, you know? I think sometimes they like that.
Me: Boundaries.
F: Exactly. But he keeps on talking! He’s like, “Well, you know I tie dyed it so it looked…” And I’m like (shakes head), “Uh-uh. Uh-uh. You must stop with the talk about this shirt.”

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2.04.03 EITHER OR
B-May fills out a San Francisco questionnaire.

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2.03.03 CONSISTENCY
On Saturday we went out for breakfast. The café we chose is owned by a cordial Asian family. The menus say EDDIE’S SOUL FOOD above a set of dancing penguins wearing bow ties. The red beans and rice are good.

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2.02.03 WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE
Every year, someone sends me the list of stuff that this year’s incoming high school freshmen won’t remember. I know it’s supposed to make me feel old, but usually it just makes me feel sorry for them. This year’s sigh-inducing items:
  • Roller skating has always meant inline for them.
  • They don't have a clue how to use a typewriter.
  • Jay Leno has always been on the Tonight Show.
  • Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
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