Posts under ‘Everyday’
Worth the verbal assault
My infrequent visits to the post office have been known to trigger homicidal rage.
There was that one time that a nasty clerk made me cry on my birthday. She kept yelling at me to get back in line. This occurred after I had walked up to the unoccupied window twice to be served, having no idea that there was some man whose turn it was. Never mind that he kept leaving the periphery, as if done with his business… I had to wait for him to wander away for the final time before the clerk pointed at me to step forward. My jaw was clenched and I gave her the package slip without a word. She spent eternity looking for it. “Just to spite me,” I thought. When she found it, she carelessly dropped it on the counter and shoved it in my direction. It was a birthday package from home. There was a picture of me hanging on a tree on the side of the box. The words, “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! You look like a monkey, and you smell like one, too!” danced before me in my mom’s handwriting. I was so angry about that mean old bitch treating me and my care package so disrespectfully.
Q & A
Q: Why didn’t you get your hair cut?
A: Actually, I did. It’s pretty subtle to me and some of my closest companions. To others, it’s a shocking follicular development or lack thereof. It’s a razor bob. It was done entirely by razor, instead of scissors, which I think it pretty darn impressive. It was my first do as a hair model.
Snuggling weather
Snow has blanketed the city just in time for Valentine’s Day! I spent the morning sloshing around downtown to get to the building where I’m supposed to grade ELA state tests. Upon release this afternoon, I scurried to the train station. Streets downtown are closed and clogged with slush that’s been around the block.
Match made in homebody heaven
Brrr! Though the pipe in the bathroom puffs a serpentine song, this apartment is barely heated. The wooden floors only look warm; the bed only looks snuggly in its disheveled stripes.
Fruit basketcase
Further proof I am my mama’s daughter:
I bought all of this fruit (about eight pounds) for $9.18! In NYC!
Meta lights betta
I nodded in the direction of the display to the cashier at the discount store and smirked, “Ironic, huh?”
Letting it unfold
Hello again.
I haven’t felt like writing much during this first week I’ve been back in New York. I now believe that I was suffering a malady far worse than bad salad, though given recently documented cases of e. coli in spinach and lettuce, bad salad is nothing to take lightly. I’ve been exhausted every morning when I wake up, and my stomach still can’t handle eating certain foods. I learned this the hard way when I went out with some co-workers Friday night, and ended up spangling the curb with some margarita-tinged chunks.
