Hoo Kneads Literacy

Awesome Crap Giveaway* left me with four books on tape:
1. The Masque of the Red Death (Poe)
2. The Cask of Amontillado (Poe)
3. 1984 (Orwell)
4. Cyrano de Bergerac (That French Guy), last borrowed by Lisa B. on 5/21/84
And one pair of red-rimmed plastic glasses a la Sally Jessy Raphael. Watch out, world. I'm about to start doling out fashion advice--no, wait, that's my evil face lift twin, Joan Rivers.

*The librarians wheeled in three smelly old boxes. Among the treasures: pimply white vases, old water bottles, dust bunnies.

Jews: Please Stop Confusing My Coworker. He is a Simple Man.

"You know when people spell Hanukkah with a Ch? Chah? Chanukkah? Why do they do that?"

Slippin' On Sand and Salt Or, Laid Back (with my ass on the ground and the ground on my ass)

Today was the second time I've been frozen out of my car this winter. Piss.
Actually, yes. Piss is warm and would be helpful.

Is it ok to put boiling hot liquid in the crevases of your car? If not, how about pee? I will pretend it has been stung by a jellyfish.

I live at home, so my mom drives me to work on days like these. She drops me off and then I slide down the stairs and have just enough coat and butt padding to break my fall.
True, I get a car.
True, I have a mom.
True, I have a fleshy bum and a down-filled coat.
But dammit anyway because now I am afraid to drive even when I get the car open because it is slippery as snot. Or ice.

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"By inane you mean...not nane?"

Maritime Law Keeps Me From Saying More

Carly assumes that people go to their five-year reunion to see who got fat, and she didn't understand why I didn't want to go. Isn't she charming?
I had planned a relaxing evening of Sudoku puzzles (and by relaxing I mean mind-numbingly boring and frustrating until I would give in and find sleep) when Rick and Matt called, giving me fifteen minutes to showerandpicksomethingoutthatdoesn'tlooklikeI'mtryingtoohardandgetdressed. I had already RSVPed saying I was gainfully employed as an entertainer on an ocean liner. No one was expecting me.
Up until the moment we entered, I maintained that we could still leave. I wore something fairly non-descript in case of an emergency getaway...
But there was food.
And they had booze.
And they had fat people, which I must remember to tell Carly.
And it didn't suck, which I must remember to tell myself in five more years when I try to find a non-boat excuse.

I'm thankful that he's not that big a nerd.

Matt talked me into a late night run to Comp USA. I'm not into late night shopping. I'm a sleeper, but he gave me an ultimatum*. We arrived to our destination minutes before the Official 11:59 pm Opening and were shocked to find a line around the entire building for this Night Owl/Early Bird Sale. Somehow I knew this was not a crowd gathering for a Michaels' midnight craft bonanza. They were smiling. These were not the determined faces of Early Bird shoppers; these people reveled in their geeking. Amid the frolicking dweebs, I spotted a string of our former classmates, and did not hesitate to point them out to Matt who will agree that I have now fulfilled two obligations**.

*This or the reunion.
**This and the reunion.

Self-Defense

I got ready this morning in an empty house.
As I was blow-drying my hair, I considered that I always close the door. Even when I'm home alone. And then it occurred to me: especially when I'm home alone. I must use it as a barrier to protect myself from intruders should someone break in while I have a loud heatblowing machine near my ear.
I realize that I didn't lock the door. At this point I've worked myself into a frenzy and as I'm reaching for the knob, I hear a giant crash FROM THE SHOWER. I panic and step closer. In the meantime I yelp and grab a brush to bludgeon something to death.
I remove the curtain to find the source: our waterproof message board has become unhinged and suction-less and landed in the tub.
And then I beat the crap out of it.

Love Connection

A week ago, Carly had a date she described as 'magical'. Magical. She went to the orchestra and dinner with a boy. Imagine my surprise. She does not like the orchestra. She does not like classical music, but he was very charming and well behaved.
And then the boy was bad and mean and rude. And she did not describe this as magical. I believe she called him a ButtFace. (It's possible that I added that word to the story for embellishment. It's also possible that this guy--we'll call him Josh--was a buttface.) Josh didn't hunt ducks. He didn't remove the muffler from his truck so that the entire neighborhood might bask in his manliness. He didn't set poo on fire. But he wasn't good enough. They never are.
We* here at deletedeletedelete are now accepting applications for Boys Who Should Be Allowed to Date My Sister. Please include your name, age, location, interests, and feelings about germs. Send all necessary material to the comment box or enoughaboutyou@gmail.com

*The Committee will be made up of Mom, Poppa, Matt, Carly's roommates, Yours Truly, and what the hell, I'll accept applications for the Committee also.

Axe Body Stink

I sat at my desk today tapping my forehead when all of the sudden, my pen exploded.
No, that was a joke.
...My head exploded!
Joke again!
...The smell of Teenage Boy Cologne assaulted my nose. DING! That's what happened. Holy, holy stench. I hope the girls don't notice that I'm still sweating from gym class. I didn't have enough time to take a shower because I was too busy whipping the other dudes with my towel. That was awesome.

Petrol and I go Waaay Back

When we were little and had free time and microphones, Carly and I made tapes of pretend radio shows. In truth, we just re-made commericals in small voices. One of our favorites was, "BP. On the move."
The other was what used to be: "We're on your way/ The convenient stores of (beat) Speedway." It rhymes. The little tune fits with the correct number of syllables. No rushing. Sweet. Spunky.
"We're on your way/The convenient stores of Super America"
DOES
NOT
RHYME.
Does not fit the correct number of syllables. Rushes. Is not sweet. Is not spunky. Sucks.