Articles by Sarah D. Bunting
In my socks, I stand five feet ten inches. Well, really only five feet nine-and-three-quarters inches, but my driver’s license says five-ten, and I’ve learned not to argue with the New Jersey DMV, especially since …
I have a question to pose to the readership, and if anyone out there can answer this question, I’d really appreciate it. I’d like to know what I have to suck to get five minutes …
Thank god the holidays have ended. I like the holidays, but I’d had enough. I’d had enough shopping, I’d had enough eggnog, I’d had enough Y2Krisis “news,” I’d had enough “Deck The Halls” and “Auld …
I finally got my act together and sent out my last grad-school application over the weekend. After grappling with these things for several weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that admissions offices design their applications …
A couple of weeks ago, the Biscuit and I parted ways. I feel okay about it, all things considered, but now I have to find a brand-new impressionable boy to train as the househusband on …
It happens on a different day every year, but every year there comes a day when I stand at a crosswalk, hunched against the wind, shivering, my nose not merely running but sprinting on pace …
When pop-culture mavens bemoan the suck-assity of movie sequels, we usually point to a few universally recognized examples of overt greed, poor judgment, and sixty-eight cracked-out chimps locked in a room, the better to bludgeon …
When I ask the Biscuit to hold my messenger bag for a second so I can re-layer my clothing or whatever, he often makes a big show of staggering underneath its weight. I usually greet …
My friend Fur and I sit in neighboring cubicles at work, and while we type, we carry on a desultory conversation back and forth over the cubicle partition. Today, we had a few new topics …
7:20 am. Alarm goes off. Surface from a very pleasant dream to hear the words “thank you, Jesus, for this cloudy Monday morning” (radio tuner is set to an FM Christian-witness station, the better to …