I’m the one standing at the left, holding Funny Guy’s hand (he’s seated on the sofa).

Yo Mimi! where you been?? Right here. ? At my desk, working. You haven’t told us what you do, but I guess if you’re at your “desk, working,” you’re not — hmmm — a chef or a decorator or a landscape designer. I wouldn’t be so sure. Well anyway,...

Funny Guy and I met Sunday, May 10th at 6 pm, so as of that time on Tuesday, November 10, we’re six months old. This semi-anniversary deserves a post, but it will have to wait till the weekend. It’s hard to believe I’ve known him for half a year: as...

This isn’t about sex. It’s about talk. * * * Okay so in this post I wrote about the way Funny Guy talks to working-class male strangers, usually policemen or doormen, and makes little chummy comments as he walks by: “Too bad about the...

When — in bed last night, of all places — I discovered that Funny Guy was only half-Sicilian, I kept saying, “Omigod! Omigod! But you were so insistent that you were all Sicilian. I even remember that when I asked, you said yes, both sides of...