Smarter Than Me

Veronica Mars is smarter than me; you're not.

But really: I love good grammar, coffee, Montreal, and the internet. I work hard and party harder, and you can read all about it (and other stuff I like on any given day) right here.

Ran into someone I’ve been avoiding for over a year last night. She was getting out of a taxi, and Adam and I were getting in, and I was surprised but happy for the opportunity, because he said, “hey!” and I did too, no hesitation, and she straight up ignored me and, well, as Adam put it, I guess that’s the result of me being 28 and she being 21 and lord knows I’ve been a pussy about a billion times in my life and I don’t always get to be forgiven.

So that’s cool, I guess, but Jess, if you still read this from time to time, I’m sorry for taking advantage of you like an opportunity to explore my latent potential as a grown-up lesbian. I didn’t think I was doing that, but in hindsight I think maybe I was. At least I can admit it, and say I’m sorry here, and you are under no obligation to forgive and forget because who am I to insist on that?