Month: November 2020

creepy crawlies

They say there are eyelash mites found in bunches at the base of your eyelashes. They say that on average, 61.84 spiders can be found per home at any given time. They say 63% of homes in the U.S. contain cockroaches and their particles, including saliva, droppings, and decomposing body parts.

They say the average person creates 1/3 ounce of dead skin each week, which is about the weight of a car key. This dead skin combines with other particles to create household dust. While that 1/3 ounce doesn’t seem like much, the average home in the United States collects 40 pounds of dust each year. Many people claim to be allergic to dust, but in many cases they are actually having an allergic reaction to dust mites. These mites eat the dead skin and their dead bodies and fecal matter cause allergic reactions in people. Up to 500 dust mites can survive on just 1 gram of dust.

You can roll an entire strand of hair behind your eyeball and pull it out inch by inch, the pus in zits can pop out past three feet, and a blood clot from a nosebleed can reach eight inches (according to them).

You produce about 1.5 quarts of mucus a day, and swallow the vast majority. There is a lot to not need to know about mucus, snot, and boogers.

In conclusion: I have enough to worry about that is out of my control, so can you please brush your teeth so I do not need to smell your breath in public while my house is being secretly overrun by arachnids?

I know I’ll never really be alone because I’ll always have my snot to comfort me.

Can you PLEASE take a shower at reasonable intervals so I can focus on not breathing in the dead skin of myself, anyone who has ever entered my home, and the mites that have eaten and pooped it out?

the inaugural address of a girl who cannot cook (but is trying to learn)

Good morning my corn tortillas of ambition, waiting to be filled with the ground beef of knowledge, the spicy guacamole of wisdom, the shredded cheddar of good judgement, and the iceberg lettuce of compassion.

I have gathered ye all here today to hold me accountable. I am on the path to becoming America’s Next Top Above-Average Chef and although I will most likely never check in again on my cooking ability progress, I hope you will join me in sending the Good Vibes of Justice to whatever benevolent god grants cooking abilities to slightly lazy young women.

I have the Tools of Kitchen Utility: an instant pot, an oven, lots of mismatched utensils, measuring cups and spoons, a vegetable chopper that doth not fucking work and is on my laste nerve, and a magic bullet.

It is with these tools and the ingredients readily available at Trader Joe’s that I will craft the easiest and yet shockingly yummy meals that have graced this planet.

Haters, my good people, will say it’s fake but my cooking progress hit an upward spike this year starting at around summer. By summer 2021, I may be ready for one Michelin star. Only time will tell.

I am making the entire Thanksgiving meal this week and I can smell the fear on my family’s skin.

FEAR NOT, FAMILY. FOR I AM CONFIDENT IN A 70% EDIBLE MEAL.

We’ll see how it goes, xoxo gobble girl (yikes).

the heart rate of a mouse

But where’s the sweat? The blood? Life isn’t about smiles and forced politeness. Life is raw, it’s meant to leave marks on you.

Over the Tracks

A beach at night, without a moon. And me and you. The salt burned you right out of my eyes. Remedy clouds listlessly sailing through the night hid the words out of our mouths from our eyes. We were all newborns with blurred vision and no sense of direction.

Am I missing home or am I missing me.

I sleep in a cotton-scented coffin with mediocre dreams; seven days a week I fall back into vampire sleep.

This is why I push so hard. To see every outcome to its end.

I am closure in a red dress. I may never get this chance again.

Is it my jaw that is locked or is it your (E and F) dun-nuh-duh-nuh (or maybe F and F sharp) Jaws that are Locked.

You don’t have to lose me. You already did. At least enough to keep me smiling from San Francisco to San Diego.

It’s for lovers, orjustfriends.

I don’t want to keep you I want to win.

Timing and direction

I looked for someone to fall in love with and all I got was a quick-talking new friend who is maybe as smart as he thinks he is.

I think everything happens for a reason, and we meet the people we are supposed to meet for a purpose. I could never date someone who expected life to just work out 50/50 all the time, but I can be friends with just about anyone. Read: I like the way you talk pointedly but you never kissed me.

I love an ambitious, smart man just ask much as the next girl but who is more emotionally intelligent – the accountant or a bag of carrots? Read: I wish you would have kissed me so I would have known if there was (a lack of?) something there.

I’m not necessarily private about my life but I do not bring up anything about myself unless directly asked. Read: Did you know I got into all of the universities you covet and did you know I have twice the ambition of your jobless, immature ex?

But I’m always a good listener, and you can talk an ear off. I think you spoke for us both too soon. I am cool, and I am much more. But you’ll never know now because we’re going to become the best of friends and I will always keep you at an arm’s distance. You’ll never know anything concrete about me, but if you did, I bet you’d fall to your knees and your glasses would fall off your face from the shock. Read: I hope the pavement tastes like regret, like trying to text me after revealing too much.

Maybe if you’d went in another direction. Maybe if it was a different time.