I think she’s dead, now. While that doesn’t make me happy, exactly, I can’t say that it makes me sad. If I hadn’t been raised better, and if I didn’t harbor irrational fears of swift and merciless punishment from above, I would probably exult. Just a little. I don’t...
Maybe it’s dog owners I dislike, rather than dogs themselves. The undisciplined ones. The ones who laugh when Pokey (the size of a horse) sticks his nose in your crotch or leaps up and leaves claw marks on your chest. Childhood trauma haunts me. There were no leash laws...
I don’t even like donuts, particularly. My comrades already eye me with suspicion, since I’m not fond of dogs or guns, either. This donut admission may push them over the edge. Mind you, I’m not being righteous. My weaknesses are savory – crusty bagels loaded with cream cheese or...
So an obsessive neat freak in Japan makes millions telling us to throw everything away and suddenly we’re all aspiring to lives of austerity. She also tells us to spend hours twisting underpants into origami. She tells us to thank our socks for their service as we roll them...
How long do you have to wait before you can delete your dead mother-in-law’s contact info from your phone? I’m asking for a friend. It’s a tricky question: There she is, popping up under Recent Contacts when she should be staying six feet under. Wiping her from the database...