When I’m brushing my teeth at the bathroom sink, I can tell when the fan is on in the apartment below me. Sometimes if I come home drunk, I stand on the tile barefoot and see how long I can tolerate feeling the vibrations on my feet. I’m very ticklish. And I don’t really like that about myself. It causes me to squirm and wriggle, usually away from a person I don’t really intend to wriggle away from.
When it rains in Colorado, it smells just like Iowa. When the rain passes, the sky is clear like Iowa, too. When these two things happen on a cool night, I’m struck with a kind of heavy nostalgia that I can’t exactly place. I drive fast with the windows down and the music loud and dare suburban public safety to give me a speeding ticket. I feel good, sad, ecstatic and invincible. And I will kick your ass if you give me a speeding ticket.
I don’t like the people that call me to pass their time from point A to point B, and then end the conversation once they’ve reached their destination. Like I appreciate you wasting my time just because you’re bored with the two-mile drive from your house to the supermarket. If you’re one of those people who perpetually do this, you should stop. Your friends don’t like it.
World events, when bad, sometimes cripple me. Last Friday afternoon I read an article at work that upset me so much I wanted to go home and get in bed. “You should have,” my boss said. “I read the same thing that night at the airport and started crying at the Frontier baggage claim.” It’s because of these things that I sometimes need a break from all the sardonic bullshit we throw at each other all day. Fucking be nice to me. I’m nice to you. And don’t look at me like God, she’s gone soft when I tell you you’re important to me. Fucking appreciate that you’re important to me and be happy. Be happy you weren’t tortured today and shot in the back of the head. I am.
Sometimes I lose faith in men. Not in the romantic, no one-will-ever-love-me sense. But as a gender, a majority that runs countries, governments and families, I lose faith. I’m disappointed. Which is really not fair because the company I keep includes very good men. But lately it seems the bad outweigh the good and I can’t figure it out. Is it biology? Because I can appreciate the historic elements of science and biology. But I also appreciate morals and the power of free will, the ability to choose between right and wrong, and so on. Fucking clean yourselves up already. I can’t stand it. And you assholes are making a mockery out of my good guy company.
I’m afraid to be married, middle-aged, and miserable. If someone has figured out how to avoid this trifecta, let me know. I’d sort of like to skip the whole God I Feel Like I’ve Wasted My Life And I’m Thinking About Having An Affair bit.
Kissing is underrated. And I’m mentally slutty. But then we all knew that.
[Jam of the Day]: Goldfrapp, Strict Machine