But You Don't Have To Take My Word For It

Please, please read Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.
It's in paperback.
This could be my pounding headache or three hours of sleep talking, but I am sure that you will like it. YOU MUST. Because God wants you to*. In the month since I finished it, I have not let the characters leave me. They haunt me like images of a Steve Perry-less Journey**.

*It is just not possible to know whether God does, indeed, want you to like it. But I suspect that God would be pleased to see you reading something at all.
**Not really. The characters are beautiful and flawed. A Steve Perry-less Journey is haunting in a different way. A bad and different way. Just read the book.

You Can't [Donate If You Tell] The Truth [Which, Of Course, You Must]

"Where have you traveled in the last three years?"
"Uh..." [I hesitate. I know, but if I tell her she's going to not let me donate. I tell her anyway.]
"Anywhere outside the resort in Cancun?"
"Tulum."
"Well..."
"What?"
"I'm sorry. Mexican ruins are high risk for malaria."
"But! We didn't even get to the iron! I've been taking vitamins!"
"We have to protect our patients."
"From me? I'm safe. Look! See how safe I am? And how much iron!"
"I'm sorry."
"[mumble]"
"You're not a failure."

Love Handles

In A Pickle
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

Apparently grocery bags shouldn't be heavy enough for two arms, unless you have two arms free. Here is my Sharpie interpretation of tonight's massive Pickle Loss. That's right. Pickles died tonight. They sacrificed themselves on the driveway of life. Only their odor remains.

The Passive-Agressive Post

My ever-expanding definition of "douchebag...."
Where should I keep all the, "If I'm ever in this situation again[s]"? In a notebook? On Post-It notes? Tatoos?
I was stuck between two of my selves on Saturday: The Misanthrope and The Customer Server. We were setting up a group formal when a smug man handed me his [cue: disdain] point-and-shoot Sony. With the weight of my own camera and its three-pound lens, I thought about doing some damage to his lower regions. I stood, brows-knit, mouth-gaped, and stared at him for several seconds until I grunted, "yeah." He made sure to tell me not to charge him. I made sure to pass off his camera to someone else, lest I absent-mindedly toss it off the balcony or into the lovely fireplace.

No More Minors...er...Drama

Happy Birthday, Big Girl.
P.S. Thank you, State Legislature, for making sure that my sister does not die from Power Hour festivities.
P.P.S. Thank you, Hornsby Apple Cider, for being in our refrigerator for over a year. You were there for us when we needed you.
And that matters.


Legally
Originally uploaded by Sriracha.

Along The Same Lines

It will be very difficult for you to keep a straight face when someone comes in to tell you that he has detention for saying "butt plug" very loudly in class.

Adults Speakoutagainst Swearing (A.S.S.) is on to me.

If you tend to spew words like "crapface" when you're working with 11-14 year-olds, their collective silence might be an indicator that you just said something bad.
And then Tony thinks you're calling him "Crapface." Which you're not! You're just saying "crapface" to the air because you weren't thinking about the fact that he has to enter from stage left so that he'll be walking on from the livery and not the library.
And then maybe you're guiding a student through some class notes and you say: "So you have assignments and all this crap."
But it's not because you think biology is crap. Let the record show that you like biology. And Tony.

I Also Read Tea Leaves

I just ate two pieces of Dove chocolate. They are Promises; chocolate with little messages. Both wrappers said, "There is a time for compromise...it's called 'later.'" Significant only in that I interpret things as being "signs" from time to time.
But then the third one said, "Get your feet massaged."
And the fourth one said, "Hey, why not?"
So. I guess the time for compromise is now.
Dammit.

Rude Awakenings

1. Your alarm playing, what you have decided must obviously be, the Looney Tunes theme song. How can this be the first time you've identified it?
2. The water in your bottle tastes like soap.
3. Someone leaves you a voicemail saying, "I didn't know you existed."
4. You call the person back and she tells you again--this time, live--that she didn't know you existed.*
5. [This space reserved for forgetting your keys.]

*I'm sure this one is rude. I don't know if I can be personally insulted. She didn't know. It seems like no. And yet...

If A equals B, and B equals C, then...

He, my erstwhile protector, has come back to me for math help. Yesterday, as we were working on his assignment, he mumbled to himself....

Me: Sorry?
He: I am saying that books just gives you problems.
(pause)
He: When I have a wife, I will tell her, 'You are a math book.'
(pause)
He: 'Math. Book.'

Later...
Me: I can NOT figure this out. I'm sorry.
He: You're having math book.