Life in the Green Zone


Lizz Winstead comes across a bad case of separation anxiety and channels her inner therapist to save the day


By Lizz Winstead



Photograph by Rachel Leibman

He’s that friend we all have. You know, the one who could bore even Al Gore with his dinner party monologues about phantom energy this and fluorescent lightbulbs that; the guy who always remembers to bring the canvas bag; the guy who does a shift at his local co-op; the guy who makes you feel like you should do more. To make matters worse, he—let’s call him Dick—is not just aware of all things eco, but after one too many wheat beers, gets spitty and table poundy while making his point. So there are certain things you assume are environmental absolutes with the Dick.
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Issue 25



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