come closer and see/see into the trees
- Here’s something I will never understand: donating, or worse, selling, extremely small-ticket and random items on the internet. You see this on all manner of neighborhood social media, Craigslist, etc. “New-with-tags dishtowel, $2, porch pickup.” “Half-tube of diaper cream, free, message me mornings only.” “Picture frame, $4 obo.” “Free hot dog buns, we only used two.” How can anyone spend energy, both mental and otherwise, on making and replying to these posts? How can anyone lift fingers from keyboard—“Ah! Finished!”—wait for inbox to fill, respond, greet a stranger at the door, exchange dishtowel for wrinkled singles? Who is the person who replies and goes off to collect said dishtowel? Why was dishtowel not used? Donated? Draped over a fencepost? Thrown in the trash? Used to clean up cat barf and THEN thrown in the trash? Literally set on fire during a night of drunken merriment? The life-minutes devoted to microtransactions of this most worthless kind bother me more than they probably should.
- I had a very literal and wordy dream that a horror movie was released called The Unseen. In the dream this led to a lot of funny bad reviews (“I wish this movie had remained…Unseen”). Also, the Unseen of the title referred to an actual scary entity in the film, which caused a lot of dialogue problems.
There it is!
What?
The Unseen! I saw it!
But you literally could not have!
I did! The Unseen is real! And it was…seen!
- Last week I had to talk into a microphone in place of my boss, which is a lot more talking into a microphone at this type of meeting than I normally do. It was not a big deal except that the schedule got pushed around and we ended up with my bit being during the “working lunch.” This meant no lunch for me because I am not going to give a report into a microphone in between bites of taco salad; it is just not the most professional look. “If you’ll look at the graph on page 92 [guacamole noises].” I came home and ate a block of cheese, more or less.
- I also went to a fancy cocktail bar with a friend and had a gin drink I really liked. I did not put my drink on Instagram although that was what everyone around us was doing. This bar serves the kind of cocktails that have at least one ingredient you have to google (Singani 63? Veev? Gustoso?) and one ingredient that is not actually an ingredient at all but a feeling (insert the largest jerkoff gesture ever here). My not-an-ingredient was “rock and roll” and I really wanted to ask the bartender if that meant “jism,” but I refrained.
- On a not-really-related note, LT and I have a private bit we do where we pretend we are founders of a small sports-drink/Joe-Rogan-tough-guy-style beverage startup called Grizzly Jizz. We lament how we keep losing engineers and product managers who are mauled while trying to collect grizzly bear semen, and discuss how maybe we should consider using artificial grizzly bear semen, get some scientists to synthesize the flavor, but no, the real thing is what sets us apart from all the other ursine-ejaculate-based drinks out there.
- Thanks a lot for telling me that Katharine Hepburn was bisexual and possibly non-binary, internet. Like I’m not going to think about THAT forever now. Like I’m not going to put my chin on my fist and stare out the window dreamily for like an hour and then retire to my bed for a “nap.” Sheesh.
—mimi smartypants is going to get us all killed.