SF Weekly

This Thursday, December 9, I’m going to be reading something at Adobe Books in San Francisco. But I don’t know what! Haiku? Essay? Dramatic reading of OkCupid emails? What should I read?! Your input is much appreciated. I haven’t read in public in a long time, like 5 years. So, […]

Halp! What should I read?

Glamour Shots, 1994 – Back story HERE There’s no reason to post that picture of me as a twelve-year-old Texan prostitute here, I’ve just been listening to a lot of Katy Perry and the ridiculousness of that I felt should match this blog post. Shit that happened this week: At […]

You requisite a crumpet to accompany?

You found my blog by searching “haiku for drunk sluts” – Christ, that delights me. ____________ Dear anonymous Googler, Please reveal yourself! And marry me. Love, Anna Other shit that happened this week: Over at SF Weekly, I wrote about when to stop texting and use your phone as a […]

Haiku for Adulthood #80 and writing and stuff

Last week, I wrote these limericks about being a frustrated bisexual, one of which included a story from my past where I behaved like a douche canoe. And I WAS FORGIVEN. In the comments. Check that shit out. Limericks bring people together! In my lesbian column, I compared friendship to […]

Reconciling friendships, one limerick at a time!

Things that happened to me this week, not organized very well, and with self-indulgent references to nothing! At SF Weekly, I gave advice on how to shame your friends into posting better Facebook comments. Then I said no one remembers who Henry David Thoreau is because he’s not on Twitter, […]

Okay fine, I’ve broken up with people via email

Devastating news in this week's SF Weekly. It appears that single women can't find ANY men to date in San Francisco! A six-page spread was devoted to tackling this rare phenomenon, whose mystery somehow wasn't covered in any of the six seasons of Sex and the City or in the movie. It's gotten so bad that someone called in the "number 8 pick-up artist in the world" according to an online magazine called TSB (This is Surely Bullshit?) to come to San Francisco and help five of these spinsters-in-training to find love.

The He-cession strikes San Francisco