A blog that was supposed be made up of bits about cab rides and blurbs about beauty products but, instead, is about other things.


Debbie Downer

His name may as well have been David Downer.

As he drove me home he regaled me with a tale of the fire raging in SoHo.
And as we passed a taped-off 14th Street he pointed out the remains of a dead body in the middle of the road.
(He’d witnessed the hit-and-run earlier in the night.)
I, in no mood to talk, nodded.

He pushed for my name.
I told him it was Debbie.
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