Petty annoyance #3,744:

I really hate when the phrase "Oh Baby!" is used in mass media in reference to pregnancy/actual babies.

When this happens, I will read "Oh Baby!" I imagine, like, Marilyn Monroe cooing. Then I find the phrase followed by a pitch for a diaper's absorbency or pictures of pregnant celebrities. It is just abrupt, you know? If there was some graceful way to lead the mental imagery from a sexy-sex suggestion to a baby shitting, then maybe it would be okay to use, but that doesn't work for me.

Hm

If a lumpy tube of meat had a small but very present cancerous growth at its top, it could double as the profile of my nude torso.

Karaoke

Fuck, my throat feels bleedy.

Granola in the mail!

I got granola in the mail. I hope no one poked a syringe full of disease in it. That would be tragic (right?) See, I only slept for 2 hours last night. I opened the package the granola came in. But I'm so tired I can't remember if the sticker sealing it shut looked as grimy as it did when I received the package. Had it been tampered with? I looked for little holes. I didn't see any, but my eyes are unreliable.

But I don't feel very useful right now so if I go via poisoned granola, so be it. Please destroy the files of my delicate short fiction and burn everything else. I want my funeral to go like this:



Just kidding. Please don't kill me.



This is why I slept for 2 hours. I will sound like an ass, but I want to share the good things. I had Proust Club (I mean, I promised I would start Swann's Way and then I have been reading other things that don't intimidate me so I didn't but then they asked me to come anyway and it was great.) I had two chocolate stouts on an empty stomach with the great conversation. When I came home I started Swann's Way. Then I got distracted by the internet because I wanted to look something up and someone posted this Raymond Carver story. Normally I'm not so much into him, but I liked it and it sort of reminded me of this Mary Gaitskill story (this version is a lil diff. from the version printed in Don't Cry), probably just because of the waitresses, the physicality, something like sexual currency, so there, who knows what my exhausted, mildly-drunk mind was a-cobbling, but there you go. Two nice stories. ENJOY.

FALAFEL+COFFEE MADE MY TUM HURTZ

1. Old people - why do you push me into the tall bushes when we are walking opposite each other on the sidewalk? Don't confuse my youth with flexibility.

2. Pubs: I think we might have overdone it with the vampire books this season...!

3. How I love Mishima. He makes me so happily devastated.

Someone said something nice

After deriding my age and sensing I was unhappy about that because I began to ignore him, a teenage boy assured me the other day that I am "cute, but in the same way that a brontosaurus is cute" and I wonder if that means I am still fuckable or just a dumpy, fraudulent assemblage of bones?

(I'm holding out hope for fuckable.)