Am I a terrible parent for letting my twelve-year-old daughter binge-watch the 90s super sitcom “Friends” over the last few weeks?
I’m sure by somebody’s standards I am.
But it’s been a particularly cold and rainy late winter and early spring, and I was curious about what she would think about the world I inhabited during my twenties. Continue reading On binge-watching “Friends” with my daughter
Kenny sat by me on the train tonight.
“How’s that phone working out for you?” he asked.
“Fine, fine,” I said.
“That the six?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“You have an iPad too, right?”
“Yes, but I forgot it at home today, so I’m working on my phone instead,” I replied.
“That must be nice,” he said, smiling knowingly.
I don’t know Kenny, but I sort of do.
I’ve been watching him work his social magic on the forward train car on the 5:30 train from LaSalle to Blue Island almost every night since October.
You see, every train car has its own culture, and I spent most of September and part of October trying all the cars out on the 303 to see which culture I fit into.
Continue reading My friend Kenny