The stories you will read are quirky outbursts highlighting everyday activities from a perspective that mindfully rails against them, creating perfectly imbalanced masterpieces. Brought to you from Portland, OR. I hope you enjoy!
Counterintuitive to the purpose of online dating, I, generally, do not reach out to or swipe right on anyone when I resort to this method of courting. The clear fact that makes me engage in this type of torture is the acknowledgment I will not meet anyone in his or her natural habitat or in mine, especially during a pandemic. However, prior to this self-imposed virus fearing abstinence, I was not the most sociable or observant when I was out doing day-to-day tasks. If a single person fell out of a tree in front of me, I would most likely step over him while engrossed in TikTok videos.
Like A Dog
I often fantasized about what it would be like to be a dog. Especially, on any given Monday morning. I would much rather stand guard over my house, and never leave it, ever. To have someone feed me every meal, tell me how good I am, and invite me into bed every night to cuddle… Well, that sounds almost like heaven.
The Art of An Awkward Conversation
In the not so distance past, I received a phone call that begun with the caller asking me, “Do you know what happened to me today?" Innocently, I replied, "No." How could I guess, really? The caller then reported, "I shit my pants!" The person on the other end of the call appeared to be just as surprised about this news as I was as I held the phone to my ear. My first thought, if this had happened to me (and I was alone) this incident would have been taken to my grave unreported. However, it felt surprisingly consequential to be the "chosen one" bestowed with this terribly sensitive information.
Frog With Glasses
On one particular evening, I saw a sweatshirt that popped up on my Instagram feed. This shirt came in several different colors, but the print on it is what captured me. I was instantly possessed by an unexplainable force and before I knew it, I clicked, paid and waited. Somehow all rationale thought was not available at the time of purchase. On the front of the shirt was a print of a frog wearing oversized glasses. Picture a green head, the size of a bowling ball, coming out of my ribs wearing huge costume glasses. I’m sure it had a body too, but it was much smaller. The depiction was caricature like. When I looked into the creature’s eyes I was under control that was not my own. This green toad with glasses was most definitely incongruent with my normal fashion sense as my closet is flooded with solid black and various shades of gray. This piece of clothing was a fashion abomination that I quickly had to make part of my wardrobe.
Ice Cream Romance
This week was brutal. I look the same in the mirror, but on the inside, I am merely just remnants of the person I was on Monday. Still, my day is not over as I grab a shopping cart and walk into my local grocery store. I have wanted a glass of merlot since noon. However, instead of beelining to the wine isle, my crushed ego and spirit pull me over to where I know you are lurking, the freezer section. I impulsively grab you as I cannot resist your pint sized chocolatey and peanut butter goodness and I head to the checkout line.
Meals, Weed, Rap & Repeat.
I know so many of us have lost count like I have on the number of days we have been living, working and entertaining at home. I was on a Zoom happy hour and someone said it was 5 months. I don't think it has been that long, but I honestly don't know. Maybe 4? My brain has gone limp, and it no longer is able to process time the way it used to. Now, the measurements are not in days or weeks, but my time is now tracked by meals. I am considering developing my own holidays for the days that I actually cooked something particularly edible. Yesterday, September 1, 2020, might become Blueberry Pie Day, at least in my household.
Dear Massage Therapist
You probably are unaware, but I spend a good portion of my time lunging and squatting all around my home. I have weights and exercise bands for added resistance. I also have an actual squat machine that I’m presently failing to use. I declare war weekly (sometimes daily) on my backside. To be completely forthcoming, I am not much of my fan of what’s below my waist to just above my knees. I invest a lot of time thinking deeply about how to shape this mess into something I can live with peacefully and happily ever after. Unfortunately, this is not a love story.