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Anne Almirall

Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Thirty-Six Female Fell On Face

August 30, 2013
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Thirty-Six Female Fell On Face

“Thirty-six female fell on face.” That was the last noted, and fairly well documented event in my life at the age of thirty-six. I am now thirty-eight and have been thinking quite a bit lately about loss and other fucked things. These thoughts have lead me to recall the not so pleasant details of...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: The Dogman Only Bites Once And It Really Smarts

October 13, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  The Dogman Only Bites Once And It Really Smarts

It had been two decades since I had woken up in a strange hotel in Michigan.  My pretty, little cousin was getting married to a swell guy in a couple of days and I was there for moral support, awkward hugs and plenty of booze. I was hungry so I went downstairs to sample...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: “It’s Not A Toomah.” It Was A Toomah, Actually.

August 18, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  “It’s Not A Toomah.”  It Was A Toomah, Actually.

If you are at all squeamish and happen to be enjoying a nice big juicy meatball or something right now, you may wish to skip this little medical tale, but if not, let us dig in, shall we? This story begins like many other horrific things in life–with an attempt to groom and/or bathe...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Bad Ideas And A Burrito And Poor Decisions

July 21, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Bad Ideas And A Burrito And Poor Decisions

We have all made mistakes, poor choices, unfavorable decisions;  I once tried to break up with someone, but instead, rented a two-bedroom house with him, purchased an unreasonably large television set, and lived there for exactly fourteen hours.  Now, I like to think that I am not completely alone in my piss-poor choices and...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Take Your Tiny Weird Things And Go.

June 9, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Take Your Tiny Weird Things And Go.

My orchid (pictured) is in full bloom.  My bunny (not pictured; too angry) is angry.  I am not sleeping.  I am not writing.  I am not packing.  I am panicking.  I am moving.   Allow me to explain why these facts are all related and why all facts about me are insults.  This move...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Write, You Whore

May 19, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Write, You Whore

                    Originally, I was going to call this post “Leggo My Ego” until I realized that there was already a Dead Milkmen song by the same name.  Not to mention, I have been slacking in the writing department like a motherfucker (who does not write...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Somewhere Between A Cornball And A He-Man

April 14, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  Somewhere Between A Cornball And A He-Man

“Have you cut your hair?  Is your head still outside of your ass?”  This was the conclusion to a recent email sent to me from my mother.  To answer those questions, yes, I did take time away from my relentless schedule of not drinking to cut my own hair (which at first was kind...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: All About Ernie

March 24, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  All About Ernie

I once encountered a misplaced mouse in the middle of my living room that I would later come to refer to as Ernie.  It was about two years ago and our contact was quite brief, spanning two, maybe three days at the most.  Of course, anyone who has ever encountered a mouse knows how...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: “Either She’s A Twin Or He’s A Twin Or You’re A Twin Or I’m A Twin”

February 24, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie:  “Either She’s A Twin Or He’s A Twin Or You’re A Twin Or I’m A Twin”

“You know what sucka legs are, don’t you?”  I don’t either, but  I was  faced with this baffling question while doing my morning Billy Blanks work out and was also informed that his intention was to “Put sucka legs on everyone–moms, dads, boys, girls, babies..”  That is a lot of sucka legs.   Now, it did...
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Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Work And Pants And Sandwiches.

February 10, 2011
Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Work And Pants And Sandwiches.

Ah, the daily grind–you know how it is–you go into work each day and begin your usual tasks:  pricing, counting inventory, filing, typing out labels for art work, entering new items, organizing consignment contracts, phone calls, calmly informing the man yelling in your face about the prevalent window cleaning wars that you no longer...
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