Sorry, but mailing it in again today. On my way to NJ. Perhaps I’ll have better material this weekend.
- Are you flirting with me?
The other day, ALJ asked BLJ to show me how he winks. He’s three, so I settled in for something hilarious. And BLJ did not disappoint. He stopped dead in his tracks, turned to me, and began to contort his little face. Mouth open, tongue pressing on the top of his mouth, not quite blinking and not quite closing his eyes, BLJ most assuredly did not wink.
ALJ started laughing and turned to me. I knew where this was going, so I cut her off in her tracks. “He winks like me,” I said. ALJ just smiled and BLJ went on with some other performance.
Yes, it’s true. I can’t wink. Never could. And just as I blame her for my inability to decipher my left from my right or tell time, I blame my mother for this. See, she can’t wink either. From the time I was a child until, well, the last time I saw her, my mother can’t wink. I know this, not just because it’s a fact, but because she is quite the flirt. And no matter where we are or who she’s talking to, she will attempt to wink at someone. She has morphed it into a more flirty version, surely, than the little move BLJ had. But their takes are not that far off.
And, sadly, when I attempt to wink, I do the same thing. It sounds weird here, but it’s creepy in person.
I hate phones. Like HATE hate. Like can’t deal at all really. Luckily, most people in my life are on the same page where the phone is concerned. But there are those few who are believers in the power of Ma Bell… or they don’t live close enough for us to see each other enough, so it becomes a critical form of communication.
This is when the trouble happens.
I’ve only had a cell phone for as long as I can remember. Maybe since 2000 or so. So when talking on the phone, I face things like lag time, dropped calls, dead zones, and the like. I find these things beyond frustrating, and I think these obstacles are at least partly to blame for my hatred of the phone.
Just get a home phone line, you big cheap-o, one might say… Fuck that. Fuck the phone company. I hate those bastards and they are the reason why I went to just a cell phone in the first place.
So really, the only solution is this – the people I care about have to move closer to me.
Great. Glad we solved that one.
- Oh no!
The other day I went out for a run and headed back home. The elevator doors opened. I stepped out. I gasped.
The walls had been stripped of all the wallpaper so that all you could see was this ultra white sticky substance. The light fixtures were gone and these hanging yellow bulb protectors were over the bulbs. The floors were covered with dingy paint tarps.
I had a near heart attack. Seriously. It was like Dexter but not as neat:
And without this guy:
But holy crap, I was freaking out.
Then it hit me… not a pipe or anything, but why the hallway looked like that.
My building has been planning a major renovation for months and months now. Every day there’s a memo at our door or some poster board in the lobby explaining the big changes. I knew this was coming, but I never read these memos or look at these poster boards. I definitely didn’t know how soon the work would begin. And it seems I walked right into Phase 1.
Phew! This is why I stay away from scary TV.