A Short List of Things We Should Probably Discuss at Great Length Somewhere Else

First of all, the following sick tautology. When our feet stink we pick them up and take a sniff and declare that they smell like old cheese. When we eat old cheese we pick it up and take a sniff and declare that it smells like feet. In all seriousness, whose funk is original?

Secondly, crystallized armpit hair. Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. Dan himself has a cozy flock going half the time, he'll be pleased to learn I shared with you. It's when your armpits sweat and then the salt crystallizes along individual pit hairs, sometimes fusing together, to create what on a molecular level is probably a really beautiful space like some strange underground cavern full of twisting stalagmites and whatever. On a not molecular level, it pretty much looks like your armpits are full of mineral-encrusted armpit hair. I say "your" because my pits are as smooth as your mom. Which my boyfriend reliably informs me is why we, and I mean "we" as in people, never talk about armpit hair. Apparently men would never waste their breath talking about it, and in our circles they are the ones who are primarily afflicted. But that's stupid because you know what else men never talk about? Your U-spot. And I say "your" because what I really mean is me and my earth sisters.

No idea what a U-spot is? Yeah. Figures.

Lastly, grass fetuses. If you are unfamiliar with the grass fetus, it's what you find when you split a blade of grass open in the middle of May. Tucked into stem between the blade and the root is a perfectly formed, bright green grass fetus just waiting to peel off into the world and ripen into grass seeds. Last summer my friends and I sat by a pond and aborted them individually one beautiful day. We established that they would make a pleasantly crunchy if flavorless addition to a light salad, possibly in combination with toasted grains and a mild goat cheese. And my question is, pretty much humans have eaten everything that won't kill them since the beginning of time. So what's up with us not eating grass fetuses? It's not like we're going to run out of the things any time soon. They could be this delicious seasonal delicacy. What gives? Are they secretly poisonous, only me and my hunter-gatherer friends are immune? I mean, its pretty cool if I have some rare grass fetus immunity, because even fluffy bunnies make me break out (especially fluffy bunnies, and pillows and flowers and god knows probably rainbows and true love, too), but somehow I doubt it. So...does that mean we discovered something totally delicious that's actually a secret? That would make us geniuses. Because hahaaaa, suckers, that shit was right there in front of you all the time, hiding in the grass. Or we're at least Explorers. We're pretty much the Magellan of grass fetuses. Which is probably more than some people accomplish on a Saturday, right?

And speaking of Magellan and fetuses, you thought I was making things up back there when I was talking about the U-spot, didn't you. Schooled.

No Carrot Left Behind. Yeah, I Went There.

Someone better come over and give me a hug, because I just cleaned out the fridge and it was effing terrifying. As usual, I've now promised myself that from now the refrigerator will always be spotless, because now that it's clean I can pretend I'm the type of person who has a clean fridge.

Yeah. From now on, I'm going to throw away leftover coconut curry before it is disguised by a half inch layer of green spores. I'm going to dispose of half-empty containers before the sour cream has separated into its component parts that host apparently competing strains of life. I pledge that no colony of fungus will again be allowed to grow so lushly that it overspills its foil-covered plate. I promise that I will not permit alleged unperishables such as olives to be opened and then sit unused in their glass jars for so long that they half-dissolve in the darkening brine. I swear that never again, no not on my watch, shall any carrot -- not one carrot -- ever again be left in such a state of sorry neglect.

This is all a load of crap, of course. My careful policies are ruined by gross mismanagement and a lack of political will at a community level. In two months, when the guilt and the stench become unbearable and its time to boil the fridge again, I can be sure that I will find at least one carrot that was left behind.

But no matter far I backslide, I'm still never buying anchovies again, because wow.

Stupidity is Circular, Like Time and Circles

At the phone store...

ME: "I need a phone charger please. For that phone." [I point at a display case.]
HE: "Ah. Let me see... No, we don't carry a charger for that phone."
ME: "But I bought the phone in this shop."
HE: "Yes. It's a very good phone."
ME: "I see."
HE: "You like it?"
ME: "I can't turn it on. I need a charger. Mine broke."
HE: "But the charger is unusual. It has a micro USB port."
[I listen politely.]
HE: "We don't have the charger, but we have this MLine universal travel charger, and one of the attachments will fit in your phone. You can use this."
[I am grumpy.]
ME: "Yeah, but that charger doesn't work. I bought it before, and it fell apart. Plus it's expensive, and I don't need 16 extra attachments for phones I don't have."
HE: "Oh." [A beat.] "Well, I'll need the original receipt if you want to replace it."
ME: "Thanks. I don't have the receipt. I don't want to replace it. I just need a new charger."
HE: "Well...we have this MLine universal travel charger."
ME: "Which doesn't work."
HE: "It does work. Just not very well."
[He looks sad. I contemplate filching his stupid name badge and poking both of us with it until this conversation goes away.]
HE: "*Sigh*. Their products really aren't very good."
ME: "Sorry, what?" [I pretend to be listening through an ear horn. Like a jackass.]
HE: "What do you want me to say?"
ME: "Uh, if their products suck, then why do you keep buying them?"
[Silence.]
HE: "They might have the charger you need at Niedermeyer."
ME: "That's miles away. Why don't you sell it here, where I bought the fucking phone? Don't you think that would make sense?"
HE: "We have this MLine universal travel charger."
ME: "Right. Thanks. This is stupid."

Several hours later, at Niedermeyer

ME: "Hi! I need a phone charger."
GUY: "What kind?"
ME: "Um."
[This is where karma comes round and kicks my butt. Uh oh.]
ME: "Uh. For a Nokia. A flat, black Nokia."
GUY: "Really."
ME: "Er. It takes a mini USB."
[She said, confidently.]
GUY: "Sure! Right over here."
ME: "No, wait, that doesn't look right."
GUY: "But you said mini USB.
ME: "Yeah..."
GUY: "Where's your phone? Let's try it out."
ME: "I don't have my phone with me."
GUY: "Oh. I see. That makes sense."
[I wonder if he wants to poke me with his badge until this conversation goes away.]
ME: "Well, the other guy said mini USB. Or tiny USB. Or something. A teensy-weensy USB."
[She said. Confidently.]
GUY: "Do you mean a micro USB?"
ME: "Tiny USB."
GUY: "It's smaller, and flatter."
ME: "Oo, maybe. Can I see that?"
GUY: "Sure!" [We walk to a rack. He hands me another charger.]
ME: "This doesn't look right."
GUY: "Listen. There are mini USBs and micro USBS. And nothing else."
ME: "Yeah, but they both look funny."
GUY: "Do they."
[Yeah. They kinda do.]
ME: "Sorry."
[At this point, I'm pretty much prepared to inconvenience everyone and their mom to get a phone charger.]
ME: "Can you look it up online?"
[He blinks slowly. He's calling me names in his head, I can tell.]
GUY: "SURE. Which phone did you say you have?"
[His voice has a certain sour edge.]
ME: "It's flat. And black. Oh and it starts with a six. Six...five... something?"
GUY: "I will fucking shank you." (p.s. he never said that.)
[Five minutes later, after scrolling through pictures of Nokia cell phones on Google.]
GUY: "Got it. Your phone takes a micro USB."
ME: "Right. Which one is that again?"
GUY: "The one you're holding."
ME: "But this one looks funny. And it's from MLine."
GUY: "YES."
ME: "Oh. Do you have one that isn't from MLine?"
GUY: "NO."
[Gosh, why is he so touchy?]
ME: "Oh. Okay. I guess I'll have this, then."

P.S. The charger from MLine works great. Way to go, MLine. But don't think I'm going to forget the travesty of your stupid universal travel charger. I mean, really.

Hallelujah

Lately I've been all worried and troubled and shit which has put a real damper on my ability to think. My coworker and I decided our inner lives were dying. I would have writer's block, but I'm pretty sure you have to actually be a writer for that. I just have block.

So last night, while I was lying in bed, I was praying that some kind of inspiration would strike me and, even better, that the heavens would send me some kind of sign that everything is going to be okay. Some kind of green sprout in my soul, or fairy lights.

I was hoping for something to write about. Or at least freaking think about.

And then, a miracle happened.

This morning I rolled out of bed and plodded into the bathroom. Warily, I looked up into the toothpaste flecked mirror and what did I see?

There, pasted into my eyebrow, was an enormous green booger.

That's right. A squishy ball of snot. It might have been mine, it might have been Dan's... The mechanics of its fated arrival two inches above my eye hardly bear thinking about. Especially if it's not even mine. Although I guess it sort of belongs to me now.

The point is, it was serendipity.

Because now, I've posted something. And I know there will always be something to post. Hallelujah.

When did summer get so damn short?

I haven't written anything in, like, two weeks which just goes to show how much discipline I have. I was out of town for work but mostly just kind of lost in space, too.

Does that ever happen to you? It just turned cold and windy here, and dark too, and I think some of that fog seeps into everyone, and then you get the vapors. That's what they used to call depression -- having the vapors. I think it rings more true than "depression," although it must mean something that both those words have something to do with bad weather.

According to the Free Dictionary, the archaic meaning of "vapors" is "something insubstantial, worthless, or fleeting," or "a fantastic or foolish idea" --and I think that that's fucking beautiful and exactly how I feel about summer when it's disappearing. The whole rush of sap to the leaves and the whole glutting your sorrow on the "rainbow of the salt sand-wave" thing feels like it had just started again, and now its over. It's especially noticeable in this town, where as soon as its October everyone stops grinning and slows way down and hunches into themselves and lets their summer dreaming evaporate.

The other day I was leaving work and as I crossed onto the central square next to the cathedral there were these two mimes standing on wine crates up ahead. A tiny man and a tiny woman. It was a faded out day, gray and pale. He was dressed as a silver sailor and she was a silver 19th century whore, and they had painted their hair and hats and faces silver too. And facing them, there were these two old Tibetan monks in wheelchairs, their golden robes fluttering at the edges in the wind. The monks sat slumped in their silver framed chairs, smiling beatifically into the middle distance just past mimes' faces. I made sure I left before anyone moved.

I was in Lebanon last week. I'd never been.

From above, the city of Beirut looks like a hot stone bowl that has melted into the sea on one side. The traffic is chaos, and fast. The honking comes in triplets on the small streets, one car after another, and on the highways it's constant. Not rude, but a matter of courtesy: I am coming quickly from behind, and we all just want to get where we're going, so make way.

At one point I was in a taxi, tearing down a one lane curved canyon road, no barriers, going 130 km per hour. We flew past a speed limit sign that read 30. I looked at the cab driver with a raised eyebrow and he actually took his hands off the wheel to shrug -- that crazy motherfucker -- and tell me that in Lebanon, the street signs and the painted lanes are "just a picture."

He told me I could never drive in Lebanon, because I would die. "If you follow the rules -- blink left, turn, blink right, turn, slow down for red lights, pass on the right [sic] then you will be die in five minutes. No shit," he said. "I am only safe if I am the fastest."

Now we were on the main road that runs from the northern suburbs into the city, weaving like a missile between old Mercedes and naked-looking old minivans, racing fast BMWs and at one point, briefly, a bright yellow Ferrari. Marwan rarely took his hand off the horn.

"You are still late?" he asked, as we came level with the sea. "What is the time?" He pointed across the bay. "Voom! I drive this way." He swerved hard towards the water, into the lane on our right, and then jerked the wheel back. Hahaha! A chorus of honks erupted all around. Hahaha.

But I wasn't afraid and I hoped we wouldn't get there soon.

Anyway, so this year I've decided to fuck assuming the winter position and growing slowly slow and sad and instead I'm just going to stay happy for ever and ever until I blow up in a supernova of joy next spring. Which pretty much makes me an A1 goober, but one the other hand, you're a total asshole for pointing that out.

P.S. The picture of the balloon man is from here.
P.P.S. The Go Speed picture is from here, although not originally, I don't think.

platitudes are pointless. so fucking sue me.

Ask the hard questions.

Face your fears.

James Thurber, who drew these cartoons (and a bunch of others for the New Yorker and other publications and who also wrote), apparently once said:

All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.

Which would be great, but it doesn't really cover the days where you feel more like you want to scrape out the inside of your head with an egg spoon and burn the contents before anything or anyone else gets infected. You have those days?

This was actually part of the previous post. I suck at this.

If CNN was the way I want it to be, the announcer would have flat hair and crooked glasses and look like Beth Ditto and the news would go like this:

"Good evening ladies and gentleman. Today in Crapistan a lot of people were protesting fraudulent elections, so their government called them terrorists, because right now we're all totally waging war on terrorism, and locked them up, and then right in front of everyone Crapistan stole a glance at the U.S. and muttered out of the corner of its mouth, "This is how this works, right?", and the U.S. tried not make eye contact, which Crapistan, not unreasonably, took for a yes, and then Crapistan security forces proceeded to pull out the protesters' toenails one by one, which hurt more than anything that you or I can possibly imagine and probably bled a lot. Which frankly, Crapistan, really fucking sucks, you bullies.

"But then, instead of saying something helpful, like "Free Money for Bleeding Crapistani Protesters," the European Union and the United States government waited until some famous activists got on TV and were like, "Honestly? I dare you guys to be bigger hypocrites." This precipitated a totally fucking novel move by the leaders of the free world, who announced this afternoon that democracy is a pillar of democracy, which is a nice sentiment but too bad we already fucking KNEW that democracy is a pillar of democracy, you stupid shits.

"Also this afternoon, the right-wing spindoctors held a press conference pointing out what an asshole socialist our president is, and how incompatible his values are with theirs and how there can be no compromising on this right and wrong stuff. Although, just a couple of years ago the same politicians thought Hussein had totally cooperated with the 9/11 terrorists (Yes I'm STILL talking about this. Fuck you.), and so by extension, even though Republicans are apparently made of sugar and spice and Democrats are made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, which are totally incompatible, they should still be able to work together. And I don't even know what the implications of this analogy are, but let me just say that if you go splitting the world into bad and good you're basically going to end up with the half the world hating you and the other half pretending to like you, which, DUH, we totally just did last century.

"Also, maybe we should all just shut up and simmer down for a hot minute because studies show that all the hating is not going to bring back the polar caps OR the aborted babies.

"On the other hand, really the whole distracted, sound byte presentation of misinformation is my own damn fault because I love being invited to lunch so much and I love it when politicians call me, because frankly politicians are the best-dressed people I know, so no way am I ever going to do what I would do if we were honest, which is call bullshit on basically everyone. Including myself and the rest of the media. But frankly? My attention span is even shorter than yours. We're all just working here.

"Thank you for your kind attention to the news. You may now return to our life-renewing programming. Up next, the remarkable fable of Silky Clam and Thundernuts the Sea Cucumber, which features a lot of real life lessons. Good night."

In the long run, maybe that isn't preferable to the real eight o'clock news at all. I would watch, though.

P.S. If you click on the picture then when it opens in another tab it twinkles. I would make it twinkle here, but I have no idea how to do that.