At the local beauty store, my sister, my niece and I got into the wrong line and debated loudly in Russian. Then we spilled a huge amount of coffee and made an enormous puddle on the floor.

“There is not a single person in this line who isn’t experiencing anti-immigrant sentiments right now,” I told my sister. “We just created several more Trump voters here at the store.”

What I don’t get about Facebook is what possesses normally reasonable people to inform the same tiny group of relatives and friends how much they detest Trump day after day after endless day, often many times a day. I mean, how is it possible that people don’t realize that communicating the same inane Hitler analogy to the same group of folks six times in a week is a bit redundant.

I wish I knew any Republicans so I could ask them if it was the same for them during the Obama years. It had to be, right?

A fellow around here bought a million dollar house without ever being inside. The buyer and the seller never clapped eyes on each other until the signing. The seller told me that when he came in to the notary to sign, he had no idea which of the guys there was the buyer and which the notary.

The house wasn’t for sale and wasn’t advertised on Zillow, so the buyer never saw any pictures. He just wanted it and kept sending offers until the owner agreed.

Other women stare at photos of handbags and shoes they dream about, and I have spent years coveting cassoulet gift boxes. If I had to choose between this and any outfit or accessory on the planet, the choice would be very clear.

People try so hard to find nice gifts for me when the best gift has always been located in the charcuterie department.

This “best tweet ever” is why I detest Twitter. It reminds me of those really unpopular, sad, nerdy kids in high school who were desperate to ingratiate themselves with the popular crowd. They’d act like clowns, crack dumb jokes, make outlandish compliments and look with forlorn, hopeful eyes at the popular kids, hoping to get noticed and approved.

I was the most unpopular kid known to humanity but I wouldn’t stoop to being servile to the class’s aristocracy. And it always felt like a huge betrayal when my brother and sister rejects simpered and begged for approval.

It’s only now that I finally figured out why political Twitter makes my blood boil. I still feel vicarious shame for people who are so desperate for approval.

Immigration will be the abortion of this century. Everybody will use the issue to posture and rev up emotions – “You baby-snatchers! You MS-13 supporters!” – trying very carefully not to do any definitive about it. And then eventually there will be no issue to solve.

I hope Candy Crush Saga develops more than 2,000 levels soon. I’ve been playing for two days and I’m already on level 137.

I can’t do anything intellectual after 2 pm, even read. So I had to upload the Candy Crush.

I think I should hide all the non-academic posts on the blog under a password and use it as personal brand building tool.

I recently discovered that I have a marketer’s mindset and am really good at marketing-style self-promotion. Rule #1 (which actually exists and which I arrived upon myself) is offer something of value 4 times before you ask for something once.

Klara has learned to say “guys.”

“Hello, guys. What are you doing, guys?” she says to me and her father and laughs.

Then she gets all pensive.

“Mommy, are you guy?” she asks incredulously.

I still haven’t figured out how to explain the sexist language rules.