This man is standing barefoot in the gutter of a busy street wearing his white terrycloth bathrobe. He has not come out to retrieve the paper, or turn off the sprinklers, or check his mail. He’s come out to enjoy this fine Thanksgiving Day and watch the cars go by. He spits, takes a drag of his cigarette, and sighs contentedly.
Category: My Life
Wedding Detritus
We are the proud owners of 692 candle votives, three party jugs of SKYY Citrus, and five large jars of maraschino cherries. Come on over. We’ll get drunk, light shit on fire, and see how many cherries you can fit in your mouth at once. Married people know how to party.
Lessons Learned (and Learned, and Learned)
People, please. I do not want to say this again, and I know I need to talk slowly because you’re obviously not the brightest bulb:
Keep your children away from Michael Jackson.
The man breathes out of two holes in the middle of his face, you can see his entire circulatory system through his skin, he dangles his children from balconies, and he’s had his penis described by a thirteen-year-old boy. What needs to happen before you think, “You know, maybe I shouldn’t send Johnny over to play on the merry-go-round.”
Overheard: Manipulation on the F-Line
Scenario: Two high school girls discuss AJ, who is a “friend” to one and love interest to the other.
What your grandma think of AJ?
She don’t like him.
Why not?
She think he’s lazy.
He is lazy.
Yeah he is. Mom likes him, but grandma don’t like him.
He sits around all day. Like, all he do is play video games and watch movies.
That’s it.
He always, like, “I’m so tired!” and I’m like, “Why you so tired? You don’t do anything.”
Yeah, but you with him.
No, I ain’t. It ain’t gonna work.
You say that now, but later…
No. No. I’m serious as a heart attack.
Yeah, he always callin’ me and sayin’ blah blah Natasha this, blah blah. She’s always on me.” I be like, “Why you callin’ me? Why you callin’ Asia to talk about Natasha?”
That’s weak.
Yeah.
He’s weak.
He just gotta make up his mind what he want from you. Quit dragging you.
He gives people mixed emotions. You know?
Yeah.
I’m through ’til I know where I stand.
He’s funny. I told him I thought Matt was cute, and he’s like, “You can’t say no to that, but you’ll say no to this?” (laughs)
What? He’s so weak. He’s always between me and you.
Well you can’t expect him not to call me and stuff. I’ve known him eighteen years.
Yeah, but he tells you everything.
But then you’re here tellin’ me about him too, so…
Yeah, but that’s different.
No it’s not.
I guess it’s not.
He tells me everything, if I ask him to. Why wouldn’t he?
…
I mean, I wouldn’t ask him. I don’t care.
I guess.
He’s just being honest.
I guess.
Well, it’s up to you.
Me and AJ, nah. It’s not gonna work.
My Life as an Abercrombie Catalog
We spent the weekend in Carmel, where you can pass an entire day chatting with strangers about their Labradors and reading The New Yorker on the beach. Strolling into town for a latte, you’ll note a tide of applique sweaters and track suits (many of them on the Labradors). We took long neighborhood walks; donned fleece pullovers and played frisbee on the beach; drank wine out of red plastic cups around a bonfire.
Last night, we drove back to the city. As we pulled up to our apartment, I remembered leaving the house a few days ago to find a man pissing near our front stoop.
No place like home.
Complications
Me: I’ll have a cup of tea.
Barrista: Grande?
Me: How big is grande?
B: Medium big.
Me: Then what’s the big called?
B: Vente.
Me: How big is Vente?
B: (Points)
Me: Whoa. Way too big. What’s the little one?
B: Short.
Me: I’ll have that one.
Peet’s Coffee offers small, medium, and large cups. I go there because they don’t make me think before I’ve had my caffeine.
The Thrill is Gone
Bryan has just taken a shower, and I leap on him.
Me: Ug! You’re still all wet!
(Blow on his shoulder in a mock-sexy attempt to dry him off.)
Him: Whoa! I thought you were going to spit on me at first.
Me: Spit on you?
Him: I know. I was like, “Um. That’s not-hot.”
Me: Spitting on you equals not hot.
Him: I’m thinking, we’ve only been married like three weeks, and already she’s trying to kick it up a notch.
Married Life Begins
Somehow one of the registries malfunctioned and we ended up with three meat tenderizers. Right now, Bryan is using them to play air drums in the kitchen.
Order
This man on the bus is counting to himself as he rocks back and forth:
“One-thousand…
Two-thousand…
Three-thousand…
Four-thousand…
Five-thousand…
That’s music to my ears.”
Of Note
If you’re in San Francisco, find House of Shields on New Montgomery near Market. Walk past the bar to the women’s restroom in the back. Go inside and open the door of the stall in front of you. Look for the earthquake crack running through the tiny mosaic tiles on the floor.
Follow it with your eyes until you come to the wall on your left. There, near your feet, someone has painted a pale blue sprout reaching up for light from the crack in the floor.
Mighty Girl 