Julie Curtis

As my co-worker Kelli just informed me, I am being a horrible blogger. But hopefully, I’m being an awesome liver… as in “liver of life,” and not “organ that detoxifies.” I’ve been all over the place – Boston, where I watched the Boston Marathon, Portland, Maine, where I ate my first lobster, Kansas City, where…

Mankind, sit up and take note. With one seamless effort, I have – once again – proven myself the best parallel parker in the universe.  Gold medal, AP. – – – – – – – – Here are Julie and Mel, my former roommates who were bridesmaids in a friend’s wedding last weekend.  They are…

It’s 10am, and I’m at my kitchen table drinking coffee in my pajamas.  Julie is still asleep – I can’t blame her, she drove 1,200 miles to get here.  We had dinner with joeljoeljoel (SHOUT OUT) at the Cherry Cricket last night – have I mentioned that Denver is a destination?  Since I moved here…

And no, not because it’s been so awful. Only because nobody else could ever, ever compare. I will always be a JAM girl. And now, excuse me while I go weep.

The comments that you left in response to Thursday’s blog I was blown away by a couple of things: 1) the TRUTH that was so evident in so much of what you were saying, and 2) the HONESTY about something that isn’t easily summed up in a cliché phrase.  I love that so many of…

Julie: right before she kicked some serious booty on the GRE (not the GED, as I frequently refer to it), she sent me flowers at work yesterday.  She is so thoughtful, I can’t even stand it.  Julie Curtis is, perhaps, THE nicest person I know. Like, when I come home from the gym and I’m…

Julie [about our 61-year old next-door neighbor] “I want Neal to fall in love.  I wonder if he has a beau?” Annie “A beau is a man.” Julie “What – really?  I always thought it was gender-neutral.” – – – – – – – – Mel “Do we have koozies?” Annie “No… but… we have…