Sexless in the City

Sometimes reading romance novels doesn’t quite prepare you for a love life...

For this 30-year-old urbanite, love is always a misadventure: The Harvard Lickwit, Hippie the Groper, the 5% Man, and the Ad Weasel. These and many other men wander in and out of her life — but never her bed.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Dylan or the shirt?

Sorry for the delay in this week’s vintage post, dahlings. Am in the midst of a pretty crazy writing burst, as I barrel toward the deadline a month from tomorrow (!!!!!!). This week I thought I’d bring you instead a vintage shirt, which I’m debating the merits of selling so I can get my own Modern Times.

Already prepared to part with a few CDs I don’t need, but one never knows if the record store will buy such things, or how much credit they’ll offer for even such hipster gems as The Velvet Underground and Nico. (That in itself is a blow to my pride to part with, but if I don’t like most of the album except for the first track, and the rest of the main songs are all on my “Best Of” CD, why keep it just in case some person’s opinion of me would increase by spying the infamous “banana album” among my rows of slim cases?)

Hence the dilemma of keeping the shirt or no. It would be harder to part with if not for the strange way it fits when the sleeves are snapped. Thoughts on this, oh wise readers?