The author of McSweeneys’ much-loved paean to fall (It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers) has just written a genius piece for the New Yorker on the hell that can be playground life.
My favorite excerpt:
ANNA: There’s also string cheese in my hair, not sure if you saw that.
SARA: Last night, I found a cheddar Goldfish in my vagina.
ANNA: In it?
SARA: Right in it.
Read the whole thing here, if you’d like. And if you’re into Colin’s wry take on suburban ennui, I’d highly recommend Tom Perrotta’s Little Children. It’s one of my absolute favorite books, and the one that hooked me on Perrotta as a writer.