Worst Fake Friend Ever

When I moved to suburbia in the Bay Area, I joined the Danville-Alamo Newcomer’s club and then joined the babysitting co-op within the club. We were all new mothers with one or two children, and the thirty of us traded babysitting with coupons while our little families grew older and bigger. My two-year-old daughter bonded… Continue reading Worst Fake Friend Ever

Worst Husband Ever

PK lived in Jersey when her friend’s mum was terminally ill in Boston. When her friend called to say her mother had died, PK woke up feeling bad but thought it was the heat. She wanted to go to the funeral and surprise her friend. She loaded up her three-year-old daughter and took off for… Continue reading Worst Husband Ever

Sorry About That

Aileen had a date in her early fifties that neither she, nor the guy will ever forget. They met online. He suggested a hike out to the Black Diamond Mines in Antioch. She agreed, although she wasn’t much of a hiker. During the hike and while climbing in and out of the mine tunnels, Aileen… Continue reading Sorry About That

Worst Professor Ever

She taught the research class at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. I needed the course to earn my master’s degree. It would be easy. I’d written dozens of research papers at Iowa State. She said we could choose any topic. All we had to do was take a position, defend it with an intro,… Continue reading Worst Professor Ever

The Classy Meet-up Dancing Bar

There’s an outdoor dancing venue behind an Italian restaurant in downtown Pleasanton, a city which sits near a major crossroads of two freeways, north/south 680 and east /west 580, a few dozen miles east of San Francisco. The people come from all over on Thursday nights from 6:00 to 10:00 in the summer for live… Continue reading The Classy Meet-up Dancing Bar

Please, Ms. Postman

I was the only female in the place. Ninety-nine guys in their blue and gray uniforms watched me walk up to my case. I had on jeans, a summer top, and closed-toe shoes. It was going to be a hot one out there. It was 6:00 a.m. I’d gotten up at 4:45, eaten breakfast, thrown… Continue reading Please, Ms. Postman

Why So Many Worst Firsts

In scrounging around for a first-worst-date story this week (after all, I’ve already done my own dates from Ames, Omaha, and Walnut Creek – how many first-worsts can one person have?), I discovered something. I hate some of my friends, the ones who’ve never had a bad date, ever. First there is Jim whom I… Continue reading Why So Many Worst Firsts