oops! or, why the yuppie isn't keeping me:
marky and i went to the mall last night in disguise as old women. ok, maybe it wasn’t exactly in actual disguises, but we did eat at the nordstrom cafe, which screams old. since i ate a lemon bar for dinner, i made him go to the gym with me afterwards–where we had this conversation:
marky: “hey, where’s (insert the yuppie’s real name here) tonight?”
me: “who?”
marky: “umm…the guy you’re dating!”
me: “shit! shit! shit! (among other expletives)”


