I never understood how people missed flights. Connecting flights, sure, if your initial flight rolls in late and you’ve got to haul ass to get to the gate across the airport in some unreasonable sliver of time. But that first flight? I just always figured you had to be a real slack-ass to not be able to get to the airport two hours early like me, Little Miss Perfectpants. Until this morning, when my eyes…
Last year Tamara visited and brought me a tiny baby zebrina plant that Jack instantly devoured once my back was turned. Sad face. So I borrowed some zebrina from my mom’s garden and wisely did not bring it anywhere near that fat bastard of a cat. It is doing well.
Me: Want me to bring you a souvenir? Manfred: Yes. Bring me a replica of the space needle. Me: I’m going to Portland, not Seattle! Manfred: Same thing.
So don’t leave it alone in the room with her.
On the heels of a recent conversation about Southernisms and colloquialisms spurred by my usage of “gullywasher”… Manfred: I heard something like “gullywarsher” the other day: “Frog strangler.” Me: Oh yeah? Ha! That must be like a toad choker. Frog strangler, toad choker, gullywasher. Manfred: I have never heard of any of those. Me: What are some colloquialisms from where you’re from? I’m sure there are Jersey phrases we don’t use here. Manfred: I can’t…
I had a Plenty of Fish profile once upon a time. My username? Hipsterectomy. Yeah, yeah. You wish you thought of it. Anyway. If you’re a girl and you put up even a semi-flattering photo of yourself, you get a shitton of worthless one-word e-mails from dudes (subject line: “hi,” e-mail body: “hi”), even ones who, were they to actually read your profile, would see they are not compatible in any way with you. It’s…
He stirs early, then comes back to me, sometimes with coffee on his breath. His hair is usually damp by then, and mussed. He wears black socks on his feet under pressed slacks. I like to watch him tie his tie, consider the results, and retie if needed. A few more sips of coffee and he’s looking at the clock on his phone, cussing at the minutes. Where did they go? I stand on the…
Last weekend I traveled to my hometown to reunite with two of my very oldest friends, Tamara and Crystal. We were thick as thieves in high school (with bouts of adolescent spattiness throughout our friendships, of course), and then went our separate ways after graduation. Tamara and I — with the exception of some months of no communication because we are sometimes stubborn, foolish girls — have mostly kept in constant contact, but I lost…
$1 Walmart coleus. Score, even if it does only last a year. BONUS! My short but sassy stripey canna who has decided this is not her year to bloom.
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