Love Curse — Part II
This graveyard had a reputation for being haunted. But what graveyard wasn’t? By the time they got there, she thought, this van would be haunted with the ghosts of what she’d rather have been doing. Playing old SEGA Genesis video games; binge watching Arrested Development; sleeping on the couch with a partially chewed bite of Tony’s frozen cheese pizza in her mouth. She caved to hanging out only after her boyfriend, Len, promised they’d spend all next weekend at home on the couch.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of September 9, 2018
The people who post how excited they are about the Christmas Season/Holiday Season in September are the worst kind of people. Slow your roll. Appreciate what’s in front of you. Be present. It’s OK to be excited and have things to look forward to but dial back your enthusiasm. No one likes an adult who gets giddy over something three months away like a puppy gets giddy over rolling around in its own shit.
Identifying the Corpse on the Blue Line’s Third Rail
I turned around. There were wakes of glistening human coolant running down this woman’s forehead. They were almost as long as her airbrushed and bedazzled fingernails. It was too hot for a weave that thick. She kept tapping at it, itchy from all that sweat spewing out from the top of her head. The nails, the hair — how does she function in this kind of heat? There’s no way she worked a desk job, or any job that requires her to type on a keyboard of any kind.
You do?
“I see this shit all the time working for the CTA,” the sweaty woman said. “He’s just some gutter punk.”
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of September 2, 2018
The greatest threat to the LGBTQ community is not Donald Trump or the Republicans or the Alt Right. It’s gender reveal parties.
The Graceful Failure of Mayor Rahm Emanuel
But what’s he really going to do? I imagine that he’ll spend the next three to eight months furiously beating his knob to a pulp jerking it to footage from the 1968 Democratic National Convention riots in Grant Park. You know, back when Chicago was a city he could get behind. One where the police policed. Maybe he’ll spend his days eating Arby’s sandwiches hoping to find a finger in his food. His finger.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 26, 2018
John McCain was a genius. And he was loyal to his party. So much so that he died the same day as the Jacksonville shooting so we’d talk about his death instead of gun control. Genius.
Gary Thompson, The Great American Drifter
I felt a kinship to this guy. I, too, had always felt that without the trappings of relationships — the weight of accountability to someone else — I could do much more. Yet, there I was, afraid to be by myself for two weeks on a chicken run to the fray of a new life unknown. Riding shotgun was a guy who also preferred solitude but would still be stuck on a Great Falls road if it weren’t for other people offering up a little bit of their company.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 19, 2018
If you don’t apologize for acting like an asshole, you weren’t acting in the first place.
Keeping My Bed Sheets Clean
I’m an evangelical of crisp, clean, smooth bed sheets. Trust me when I tell you that getting into freshly washed and pressed sheets is the second greatest feeling you can feel in your bed. And sometimes, it’s a very close second, depending on the company you’re keeping.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 12, 2018
Most of my college friends have kids starting school this week. First graders, fifth graders, kindergartners… Seeing their First Day of School photos is just a reminder that most of my college friends were having sex way before I was.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 5, 2018
I bet the best part of a customer service representative’s job is picking their American name. “Hey, Aarushi, who you going to be today?”
“Today, I’m Stephanie. Tomorrow… I’m thinking I’ll be a Jill! No, Jillian! Definitely Jillian.”
Conversations with Whores
Old men with cheap cigars talking to half naked women, who can’t waste too much time with one guy because it’s all about turnover. Beyoncé was playing on the jukebox and it sounded out of place. Hip-Hop didn’t belong there. It was too cool for what was really going on.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of July 22, 2018
• The body wash I use in my showers has “Enviro-Friendly Microbeads.” What? I don’t care about the environment right now. I care if this soap is going to clean off the dookie that’s made its way halfway up my tailbone.
Saying “I Love You to the Moon and Back” is an Empty Sentiment
“I love you to the moon and back.” Doesn’t sound very sincere. Sounds like hyperbole — the kind of thing you’d say to someone you don’t really like but really want to go down on you.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of July 15, 2018
I would prefer to do the work of a long-haul truck driver or a Great Lakes shipping captain or a bellhop or a plumber than whatever the fuck it is that I think do for a living now.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of July 8, 2018
• If you take seriously anything FOX News or Huffington Post report, you have also probably bought a time share.
America’s Distaste for Mommy’s Milk
I don’t know a lot about a lot. I’m only four months old, after all. My understanding of the world revolves around one thing: milk. I love milk. I love my mommy’s milk. Really, like there’s no form of measurement grand enough to represent how much I absolutely love my mommy’s milk. It is my breakfast, lunch, dinner and snack. I love it so much that I often drink too much of it, which makes me vomit. And when I do, I always vomit on myself so that none of that sweet, sweet goodness goes to waste. Because my mommy’s milk is so good that it not only fills my tummy with vitamins and protein, but it also helps keep my skin healthy. Incredible, right?
Yeah, my mom’s boobs are awesome.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of July 1, 2018
Christians are not the most persecuted group in the world. However, Christians who are assholes are being prosecuted in the court of public opinion. And that’s a good thing for everyone, especially Christians.
Debate is Dead; Long Live Debate
The problem is that healthy debate appears to be dead. Or, at best, on life support in a hospice bed providing infected bed sores rather than rational thought.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of June 24, 2018
I’m not gay. Not even bi-curious. But I think Gene Kelly is the sexiest man to have ever lived, and without question or pause, I would dig up his bones and dry hump them to full completion.
Solitude is a sure way to avoid pain. I’ve waded in those waters before. Specifically with romance. But life is and must be a balance. Be flexible. Go with resistance. Be satisfied with life even it has you feeling the way you don’t want to feel. Protect yourself, push yourself. Balance. Survive. Find little ways to thrive in big ways.