Screengrab by Various Today in Nerve's film blog: Holiday special - 35 people, places and movies we're thankful for.
The Remote Island by Bryan Christian Michael Phelps indulges Anderson Cooper in some watersports and Dexter makes a 'bitch move.' Plus: the secret of Tina Fey's scar, revealed!
Dating Advice From . . . Engineers by Steph Auteri Q. For optimal functionality, what should go into a first-date emergency kit? A. Fine wine, road flares, a snake-bite kit and Ghirardelli chocolates.
When
she woke in the morning there beside her was the boy she had dismissed
the night before as far too ugly and ingratiating, and on the other side,
even more of a surprise, the boy she had dismissed as far too pompously
intellectual. And there she was in the middle, and though she thought
she was in the house where she had partied the night before, she wasn't
sure, she just wasn't sure.
She climbed gingerly over the one and went to
the window and looked out into the backyard where she saw huge piles of
sand, little mountains with peaks,
and as she had no idea why or where they had come from, she quickly decided,
"I must have blacked out." Then she went to the bathroom and returned
as the two boys were rising.
"Hello boys,"
she said lazily, without surprise or enthusiasm. And the boys, first one,
then the other, said hello and looked at each other, and as they did not
smile or seem to commiserate, the girl took her seat at the foot of the
bed. "I'm hungry," she said. "Are you two
hungry?" One boy nodded while clearing the
sleep out of his eyes, and the other boy looked around trying to figure
out where he was. "Well then, let's go,"
she said. And since they were all in their clothes there was nothing to
do but leave. One boy was taller, and the
three moved slowly down the road, and it was cold. It was already November
and should have been colder, but still, it was cold, and the girl thought
nothing. When the sidewalk narrowed the intellectual hung back, and the
ugly boy and the girl walked ahead. After
five minutes they reached a good place to eat. It had eggs, it seemed,
and bacon and potatoes and unlimited coffee, and no sign that forbade
smoking, so they took a booth at the back, and the booth was brown, and
the lighting was dim, and the sun wasn't shining, and they were all wretched
and existing in states of humility and banality.
They all ordered the same thing, except for the
ugly boy who was a vegan, and he ordered nothing but black coffee and
orange juice, and the girl
thought drearily in her head, "Oh God, I slept with a vegan." And the
tall intelligent boy kept his eyes on the table and said nothing, and
none of them said anything except the girl, who made comments like, "Are
you sure you don't know what happened last night?" and, "Your name is
Malcolm, I think I remember."
Eventually
she grew irritated with their silent and purposeful ignorance, their childish
posturing, and she thought that since they weren't fessing up to anything
or saying anything, probably something like that had never happened to
either of them before, but the thought was so terrible she pushed it from
her mind. "Well," she said, when the food
arrived, and inwardly cursed these humorless boys, whose dark moods succeeded
in pulling her down with them, and she knew, even then, that it would
be much better if they were cocky and glowing and gay.
They ate their food in silence, and the intellectual,
she could tell, wanted terribly to go. Before he was finished he asked
for the bill, and the young waiter brought it and the young waiter left,
and the intellectual left while she was still eating. Then the ugly boy
gulped down his juice and left, and neither said more than "okay" or "good-bye."
Now she was alone. She put down her money and realized for the second
time that she was out of cigarettes, and she felt horrible and hung over
and nothing like a slut. The girl walked
through the city that day, and it was cold and dark, and the sky was uglier
than it had ever been, but not as ugly as the boy she had slept with,
and then she realized that she was twenty-one, and she thought of her life,
"What a waste," and nothing convinced her otherwise.
n°
Excerpted from The Middle Stories, which is being published
this month by McSweeneys Press.
Sheila Heti's
first book, The Middle Stories, has been translated into
German, Spanish, French and Dutch. She lives in Toronto, where she runs
the lecture series Trampoline Hall. She is working on a musical with Dan
Bejar of the band Destroyer.
peaks,
and as she had no idea why or where they had come from, she quickly decided,
"I must have blacked out." Then she went to the bathroom and returned
as the two boys were rising. 
girl
thought drearily in her head, "Oh God, I slept with a vegan." And the
tall intelligent boy kept his eyes on the table and said nothing, and
none of them said anything except the girl, who made comments like, "Are
you sure you don't know what happened last night?" and, "Your name is
Malcolm, I think I remember." 
, featuring curious yet marvelous infusions of cucumber and rose petal.
