Author: maggeh

Given

Three things I like:

  • People who hum along with songs in stores.
  • Bright socks with somber outfits.
  • Black women’s voices.

Three things I do not like:

  • The intensely defined spaces between your teeth when you’ve just had them cleaned.
  • Removing dark fingernail polish to find that my nails aren’t clean.
  • The muffled “pink!” that moths make when they butt against the porch light in the dark.

The News

Me: Hi Grandpa, it’s Margaret.

Grandpa: Hi sweetheart! How are you doin?

Me: Great! I have good news.

Grandpa: Oh? What’s that?

Me: I got engaged!

Grandpa: No kidding! That’s wonderful, that’s wonderful, honey!

Me: Yeah! I’m really happy.

Grandpa: Wow, that’s great news. Do we know this gentleman?

Me: No, you haven’t met him yet. His name is Bryan Mason; you’ll love him.

Grandpa: Is he a good guy?

Me: He’s the best guy I know.

Grandpa: Well, you should know, you’ve been around.

Me: Ha! True enough.

Grandpa: Congratulations, sweetheart. Let me get Grandma.

Engaging

Me: Where are we going?

Him: We’re going for a toast.

Me: Where?

Him: Up here.

Drives into a dark little park at the top of a hill. Man in bushes crouches down as we enter the lot.

Me: Did you see that guy?

Him: What?

Me: That guy who hid when we drove in.

Him: Nope.

Me: He’s right back there.

Him: Huh. Let’s go.

Me: I’m not getting out of the car, there’s a psycho hiding in the bushes.

Him: Come on!

Me: No way! He’s seriously lying in wait for someone to rape.

Him: Let’s go!

Me: No!

Him: Come on. It’ll be fine.

Me: Do you have a pocketknife or anything?

(He closes the car door and heads out. I open the glove compartment and search for a weapon.)

And that’s why I had a pair of scissors in my pocket when he proposed.

Request

Hello, Charlz Theron. I hope this finds you well. I couldn’t find an email address on your site, so I thought I’d just drop you a line here. I know you read my site because, well, I wrote your July 15 entry. Could you remove that, please? Thanks, ever so.

Hot, Hot, Hot

Not so long ago, my roommate and I decided to clean out the fridge. We moved into a three-bedroom place within a few months of each other. Apparently, previous roommates had simply been leaving behind things they didn’t feel like moving out, or didn’t remember they owned. The fridge was no exception. We found a jar of jam from 1998. We also found a gallon bag of crushed cayenne in the freezer, and about twelve bottles of hot sauce (various brands) in the door of the fridge. One of the sauces actually made Rachel’s hands burn as she was pouring it out. Someone who once lived in our house obviously has no tongue.

Commute

This morning, the bus smelled of fried prawns. The man next to me was sitting much too close. This made me want to push him. I ultimately decided against it.