Convoluted Ampersands continues the chronicles of Jill’s Terminal (“De gustibus non est disputandum; no place too far, no case too small.”), a dump site of all things inane, useless, and convolutionary, littered with references some of which date back to Eldest Aunt Tactical Genius’s formative years during which Chiang Kai Shek lost the war, Manila was da bomb, and Elvis swivelled the pelvis; the ensuing extra baggage is the direct result of living with the Elders too long.
Today, Jill lives in a displaceable cubicle with her husband DSTS, their Incorrigible Spud and Cheeky Pumpkin. She likes chewing people, spazzing out, goofing off, and looking at useless things like fountain pens and anything Steve Jobs is selling. She has never played hopscotch with her neighbors.
