I don't get why people like fantasy and science fiction. It's so not interesting to me. I don't see how you can get riveted by things that don't exist. Oh! There's a curse from the Land of Dumblethworp and it's going to affect all the Kasimotos!
Who gives a fuck? I don't even know the name of the street a block over from me. I'm supposed to remember who the Kasimotos are?
My cousin Katie, who similarly teaches tolerance, sent me a text this weekend that merely read, "I don't understand gladiator sandals."
Actually, while we're on the subject of my love-everyone friends and family, I got a SERIES (a SERIES!!) of texts from my friend Paula in Seattle. She was out to dinner with her husband Saturday night, and they pretty much spent the whole evening detesting the annoying hipster woman (redundant) next to them.
First, the woman told the waiter her husband wanted "a simple wine," while she wanted "something more structured."
Dear annoying hipster woman (redundant): Yes, it's Saturday night and I'm trying to wait on 50 people and there's a line out the door. But let me sit around and decide which of our wines has more structure.
Then she regaled the waiter with all of her idiosyncrasies during her second glass, when she wanted just "something red."
I'd give her something red.
Finally, (in between those, Paula texted me that her asshole had permanently puckered. This was a nod, a structured nod, to my grandmother, who when she got mad said things made her asshole pucker up and twitch. Which reminds me, I watched a documentary on Jackie O last night, followed by one on Princess Diana, and it was pretty much my ultimate evening other than no one handed me a kitten at the end of it).
Lottie. So not into Jackie O or Princess Di, since 2016. Currently she's all head, like one of those parades with all the, you know, big heads.
Oh my god, back to my sentence. So, finally, at the end of the meal, the annoying hipster woman (redundant) claimed to be too full for dessert, unless the waiter had "something that amazes me."
OH MY FUCKING GOD I'D HAVE CHOPPED HER UP AND PUT HER GIZZARD IN THE PIZZA OVEN. You know what amazes me? Is that she's still alive, and no one has seen fit to chop her face clean off.
The best part of all this is picturing my already-cantankerous friend Paula getting cantankerous-er by the minute. And her husband's such a lover of people, as well. Oscar the Grouch's character is modeled after her husband. He was five at the time.
Here's one I took with my desktop camera, wherein I must have heard something interesting. Lu was the queen of the head tilt. She did it all the time. She did it when you said "Obama." I don't know why. She never told me.
Oh, also this weekend, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear Lily having one of her Vietnam flashbacks. Ever since she ran away for those 52 days in 2014, she'll have an occasional middle-of-the-night meowfest, where she makes this noise she never makes any other time. It's awful.
Anyway, she was doing that in the night, and when I half woke up and heard it, my instinct was to call her. Not on the phone. Hallooo? You haff reeech Lilee voice mayl.
To call her into the ROOM, genius, but I didn't wanna wake Ned. I could feel him pressed up behind me and I knew if I called Lily in, he'd wake up. Just as I was thinking that I heard a dog moan, and I realized it was Edsel up against me.
And right then I knew. Ned and I broke up 11 months ago. He hasn't been in the bed since God wore the short trousers.
That was disconcerting. And sad. Which sums up my life.
I leave you with some sounds of not silence. I filmed, for your pleasure, a ribbed, six-second video of the cicadas last night.
It was way louder in person. And whoever that car was, I hate you. It was probably the annoying hipster woman
driving by. Also, I did not at all come home from walking Lottie, sweatily take her leash off her and sweatily put it on Edsel, caring not for his humiliation or anything.
Also, this morning, speaking of sounds, as I was typing you, there was some sort of crow fest outside and I recorded that. It's super Hitchcock creepy, if you ask me.
The most important thing to take from this video is, what the fuck kind of a name is "Tippi"? Was she the family dog?
I guess that's all I have to tell you. Tomorrow I'm taking the afternoon off to start a headache study, and remind me to tell you about that. How many days in a row do you give me to forget before I tell you? I say the study will be over before I remember.
Go off and prosper or whatever science-fiction bullshitty thing you want me to say,