This morning I received a phone call from a woman I’ve never met. She told me her name was Tina and that she wanted to talk to me about insurance. It took every ounce of my self control not to state in a frustrated tone “Tina, you fat lard, come get some dinner.”
Dish towels. Or tea towels if you live somewhere a little more colonial. Pretty innocuous right? Usually found hanging from the oven handle in kitchens all over the world. Perfect for drying dishes and wiping up spills. Potentially the understated MVP of the kitchen.
Or are they callous betrayers and the spawn of the goddamn devil?
Today I walked past a woman on the street. Well, I actually walked past many women on the street. I imagine I passed a countless number of women without seeing them as anything other than another obstacle to navigate on the streetscape. Equality yo.
Some I did notice. One in particular caught and held my attention.
I’ll admit, the prime cause of this noticing was most usually because I found these passing strangers to be attractive. Shiny. I’m not sure if it’s OK to find women attractive in these modern times, or call them shiny, but the truth is the truth. I get distracted by shiny things. Women included. If I were a bower bird decorating my nest it would be built and decorated with attractive women. Well, I mean, um… Hmm. That metaphor took a decidedly grim turn. I leave it up to you to come up with your own. Hopefully one that’s a little less Ed Gein-y.
Ah, the long goodbye. Essentially any time one person is forced to interact with another person this bizarre exercise in human interaction can happen. It’s probably happened to you. And it’s the dirt worst.
Imagine. Or recall. You’re at a party, family gathering, meeting, wedding, funeral, work function, bris, intervention, or something as low key as a few quiet beers with a friend… At some point you will invariably decide that the event or whatever is over, you’ve had enough, and you’re going to leave.
So. I haven’t written anything more substantial than an email in quite a while. Admittedly a number of those emails were quite profound; like when confirming my attendance at upcoming team meetings in the vein of an overwrought Hemingway. And granted, I have written a few texts that have ended up being an epic four or five “pages” long. Hell, even some of my snapchats can get pretty wordy. No mere “send nudes” from this little black duck.
I’ve never been accused of being succinct.
After celebrating the hell out of a friend’s birthday, well into the wee hours of the night, I find myself in a popular late night food destination. And just like an ugly fat girl at closing time it’s a destination that can thank alcohol and poor decision making for 100% of their business.
The Gravy Spot. Ugh, there’s just no way to make that sound classy.
After purchasing a ridiculous amount of food because alcohol/poor decision making, with the ridiculous amount of loose change I have because alcohol/poor decision making, I become aware of the demeanour of 90% of the patrons. Patrons who happen to be 90% male.