I had breakfast the other morning with a pal who is almost exactly half my age. She is 21, and I am 44, but despite this gap between us we are genuinely friends. We share a bespectacled,  busty brunette sensibility — a particular kind of hyper-responsibility and flirty trouble-making — along with a love for fat novels, greasy spoon diners, and Pat Benatar. We joke that it’s a … Continue reading Be More Stupid