Someone on this bus smells like feet. I hope it’s not me. Continue reading Trivia Night
Category Archives: Random
Quintron and Miss Pussycat
Completely worth $12. Not sure I like the advertising policy of The Stranger. $10 online, $12 in person. Justified by the service charge that makes the online ticket $14.75 after the fact. What about cash covers that go to the talent? It’s a terrible standard to expect your local talent to perform for free. A psychedelic punk rock puppet show combined with appropriately catchy dance music. I met two hard-core fans before the show and their enthusiasm embodied an entire crowd of fans. The crowd itself was substantial as well. Continue reading Quintron and Miss Pussycat
Slammin’ the D
I’m a naturally nocturnal creature. In the South, avoiding the sun is an understandable trait. In Seattle, it’s not even a challenge. I can go weeks without seeing direct sunlight if I want. Naturally, this led to a clinical deficiency of Vitamin D after my first winter. Every day felt like running through water and I lost the ability to do more than sleep during my time off. Fighting depression is hard enough without the added struggle to sit upright. In my defense, I took supplements for months to no effect. January, I gained a key piece to the puzzle. Vitamin D is only absorbed when taken with a meal. The opposite of what I do when taking pills in the morning. Oops. Continue reading Slammin’ the D
Flames
Watching someone engulfed in flames and the consequent screams is painfully surreal. The monks in Tienanmen Square are much less egotistical about it. Knowing that kid actually existed leaves a taste of reality in my mouth I can’t quite wash away. Probably need some hard liquor. I didn’t start my day thinking about Memphis but it’s hard not to at this point. My walk home last night was littered with mantras about my worthlessness and the desire to stop taking up space. Yet, I’m not dedicated enough to die for it. I view my suicide as that eventual thing I’ll do if I’m desperate enough. Like agreeing to marry someone if you’re both single at forty. Continue reading Flames
The Vibe
Finally, I manage to meet someone who wants to have sex with me. After wading around in months of sludgy self-loathing, I should be excited about this. Showing patience and maturity this guy, let’s call him Jeff, managed hang out with me a few times in public without being pushy. Drinks, dinner and an Uber home after last call – he’s done all the traditional legwork. His behavior indicates a desire to continue seeing me and I appreciate the effort. The attention brightens my outlook and boosts my tenuous self esteem. Yet, we’re drunk and stoned in my apartment after half a dozen dates and I still can’t find my groove. Continue reading The Vibe
9th Grade
Midtown seemed so far away then. I was only 13. The University area 10 miles away only felt close because my school was near there. Did they send me across town so I wouldn’t embarrass my sister at her school? Now that I think about it, that makes more sense. I wasn’t trustworthy enough for public school so they sent me to a different version of the same all-girls prep school. I don’t think they considered the Midtown element until it was a little too late. I always tended blue, that part of town sealed the deal. Often, I think they’d be happier if I was a lesbian but stayed Republican. Continue reading 9th Grade
Pity, Dreadful.
As a working stiff it’s vital that I have at least one mindless television show to escape into after a long, hard day. Someone mentions Penny Dreadful and so I give it a try. It’s a Showtime creation and labeled as British-American, whatever that means. I watched more HBO as a kid and remember only tuning into SHO after 11pm when things like The Red Shoe Diaries aired. Even then, I liked Real Sex more. The violence and sex of today’s Showtime seems less seedy, almost antiseptic, compared to the things I saw in the 90s.As if the prudes said, “Well if you’re going to show it, at least make it clean.” Continue reading Pity, Dreadful.
Grab My Pussy
I like comparing the Bill Clinton BlowJob Scandal to the infamous “I grabbed her by the pussy” statement of today’s president. They aren’t the same thing at all and yet show where our society’s standards are on a spectrum of sorts. Honestly, I see it as a type of mass mental disorder for humans perpetually seeking meaning in a merciless world. There’s probably a way to measure exactly how far up your own ass someone can get, right? I propose we call it the Asshat Scale. Continue reading Grab My Pussy
Nuttin
Stuck between two regulars that have accepted their fate, I’m depressed. I can feel the spot on the left side of my temple where I want to push the barrel in deep. I can feel the other side of my skull exploding outward, making such a mess. I don’t want to leave anything for people to clean up. I’m not inconsiderate, just hopeless. My own parents have disowned me. My sisters pity me. Friends pretend to support me until I actually need help. The warm sting of my presence is a good reminder of how bad it could be. The threat of my absence slowly gains appeal. Continue reading Nuttin