It is weird and unsettling that a person who is hired to handle your money, make wise decisions about it, and, ostensibly, keep you from losing it is called a broker.
My brother, who grew up with three sisters, was I won't say how many years old when he finally realized that he did not have to wrap the towel around his chest when he came out of the shower.
CALLING SOMEONE'S NAME
You're calling someone's name, trying to get their attention. Perhaps you're in a crowd. Or they are across the street. Or they went to get popcorn and Raisinets and are now looking for you in the packed movie theater. You cup your hands around your mouth and repeatedly call their name, waving your name--Here I am--but they don't hear or see you. No matter who they are--a lawyer, a surgeon, a Latin scholar--they look like an idiot searching for you, craning their head like that, and you question your intelligence."
Oh, and here's the foreword:
"I was not abused, abandoned, or locked up as a child. My parents were not alcoholics, nor were they ever divorced or dead. We did not live in poverty, or in misery, or in an exotic country. I am not a misunderstood genius, a former child celebrity, or the child of a celebrity. I am not a drug addict, sex addict, food addict, or recovered anything. If I indeed had a past life, I have no recollection of who I was.
I have no survived against all odds.
I have not lived to tell.
I have not witnessed the extraordinary.
This is my story."
So creative, so entertaining. And I'm only on letter C.
Love it. Although I kind of wish someone had edited out the profanity in the first couple of pages. Oh, contemporary literature.