Today is my dad's birthday, a date I always need to be reminded of. I was especially thorough in my forgetfulness this year until my half-sister wrote to say:
Leave it to Dad to go out with a bang on his own birthday. Today marks twenty years.
This is going to be an irritating day.
Luckily, there are weekends. And weekends entail Occupy Wall Street dance parties that flood 14th Street with hippies and suits; learning Empire of the Sun is not, in fact, a prequel to Planet of the Apes; getting 100 points in the first play in Scrabble; realizing Top Ramen is the best imaginable Sunday morning food when you haven't eaten since Friday; secret beaches you wade through warm, waist-high lagoons to get to.
#winning
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New Yorker leaves San Francisco for Liberia just to throw everyone off.
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