dagblog - Comments for "A Few Words About Breasts" http://dagblog.com/link/few-words-about-breasts-14091 Comments for "A Few Words About Breasts" en Listening to NPR today, I http://dagblog.com/comment/158133#comment-158133 <a id="comment-158133"></a> <p><em>In reply to <a href="http://dagblog.com/comment/158125#comment-158125">I became a big fan circa</a></em></p> <div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>Listening to NPR today, I would have liked to have known her personally. </p> </div></div></div> Wed, 27 Jun 2012 21:17:39 +0000 Resistance comment 158133 at http://dagblog.com I became a big fan circa http://dagblog.com/comment/158125#comment-158125 <a id="comment-158125"></a> <p><em>In reply to <a href="http://dagblog.com/link/few-words-about-breasts-14091">A Few Words About Breasts</a></em></p> <div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p>I became a big fan circa 1979, when, having no idea of who she was, I picked up a paperback of <em>Scribble Scribble</em>, based on the cover reviews; it was a collection of some of her essays written in the 70's. I enjoyed it so much that I recommend it to friends who became fans too She was just a fun read, the kind of wryness that gave joy.</p> <p>Her movie script work is shlocky compared to her print work, mho, but that's because she "got" general American culture and what would make for a blockbuster in the area of romance and comedy.</p> </div></div></div> Wed, 27 Jun 2012 20:09:59 +0000 artappraiser comment 158125 at http://dagblog.com The Girl Who Fixed the http://dagblog.com/comment/158119#comment-158119 <a id="comment-158119"></a> <p><em>In reply to <a href="http://dagblog.com/link/few-words-about-breasts-14091">A Few Words About Breasts</a></em></p> <div class="field field-name-comment-body field-type-text-long field-label-hidden"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><a href="http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2010/07/05/100705sh_shouts_ephron">The Girl Who Fixed the Umlaut</a></p> <blockquote> <p class="descender">There was a tap at the door at five in the morning. She woke up. <i>Shit. Now what?</i> She’d fallen asleep with her Palm Tungsten T3 in her hand. It would take only a moment to smash it against the wall and shove the battery up the nose of whoever was out there annoying her. She went to the door.</p> <p>“I know you’re home,” he said.</p> <p><i>Kalle fucking Blomkvist. </i></p> <p>She tried to remember whether she was speaking to him or not. Probably not. She tried to remember why. No one knew why. It was undoubtedly because she’d been in a bad mood at some point. Lisbeth Salander was entitled to her bad moods on account of her miserable childhood and her tiny breasts, but it was starting to become confusing just how much irritability could be blamed on your slight figure and an abusive father you had once deliberately set on fire and then years later split open the head of with an axe.</p> <p>Salander opened the door a crack and spent several paragraphs trying to decide whether to let Blomkvist in. Many italic thoughts flew through her mind. <i>Go away. Perhaps. So what.</i> Etc.</p> <p>“Please,” he said. “I must see you. The umlaut on my computer isn’t working.”</p> </blockquote> </div></div></div> Wed, 27 Jun 2012 19:20:21 +0000 Donal comment 158119 at http://dagblog.com