J

J drinks bloody mary at brunch, as many americans allegedly do, and can't believe wine loving French people have boring orange juice and coffee instead.

J will probably forever be remembered by the Cafe of charbon's barman, as he had never served bloody mary with brunch to anyone before.

J is found on her blog, gmail, im, facebook, twitter, linkedin, dopplr, tripit, skype, but never at home.

J types so fast and vigorously on her laptop that the sound could be used as a machine gun sound effect for a war movie.

J thinks her father drinks a lot, but rather than chide him, she would drive him home and put him to bed once he's smashed.

J's sentimental life is complicated right now.

J ate all the pickles in my fridge.

J is the youngest daughter of one of my mother's mother's brother's son. That is how we are related.