Dwangela, no, you are not going to be the Mom whose house every kid on the block wants to eat at. The only reason people keep eating the food you make is because you practically force-feed us and then fish for compliments. Your way of life is not better than anyone else’s. You are not a fitness guru. Your magical thinking will not make you any more happy tomorrow than you are today. It is frustrating to watch and your cupcakes are no more tasty than anyone else’s. Actually they’re not that great anyway. This persona you’re playing at—the nurturing one, the helpful one, the goddess of the hearth—I’m not buying it, and I’d be surprised if anyone else were.
Midway through last week, my fridge broke for about a day. My landlord (who had already rescued me once last week after I doltishly locked myself out of my apartment at 9:45 p.m. when I went downstairs to change out my laundry…in my rather low-cut nightie) came to fix it, and then said it was still under warranty, so he would have the fridge people come and look at it and fix it, which I thought would happen mid-week.
Today I got home, checked the foyer for the magnifying glass package which was supposed to have arrived, and when it wasn’t there, I went upstairs to my apartment, slightly disappointed. I opened the door and found the package inside my apartment. Which means: Landlord and Fridge Person put it in my apartment when they were were here to fix the fridge. So they not only saw my apartment at its messiest, but also:
—my diva cup (clean, but still) was lying on a cloth by the bathroom sink
—I had not taken out the trash
—or the recycling
—I think there was a pad wrapper on the floor
—it turns out they REPLACED the fridge, so they had to take out all my gross, spoiled or spoiling food and the put it back in the new one (and somehow managed to do this without moving my junk, which should probably be an Olympic sport)
—clean dishes in dishwasher, which they had to move off of the old fridge and put on the new one
—at some point they seem to have tried to scrub something, which worries me because I’m pretty sure the scrubber they used was in a toilet at some point
—what nasty thing of mine did they try to scrub, OH GOD?!!
—last night when I closed my window I spilled—and then did not pick up—my box of condoms, which were strewn all over the floor.
The only thing missing was weed. I don’t have any weed, but I really feel like it should have been there. I would almost rather have had a weed stash for them to find instead of having my helpful, completely fix-ity landlord see what a goddam slob I can be. Oh and dead flowers. There are also dead flowers! Talk about lipstick on a pig! Fuck!
It’s official. I cannot complain about Stinky Ex until I can go at least a month without making my living space look like this.
Edit: they definitely got the scrub brush from the bathroom. I really hope it was the floor they were trying to clean. It’s likely…it probably would have been the only space available.
During the packed panel at San Diego Comic-Con, the Saga writer noted that while today, Joss Whedon and George R.R. Martin are considered cultural monsters for killing off beloved characters, death used to be a more common feature of popular fiction. One problem, he believes, is that too many characters live in the hands of corporations and are therefore considered too precious to kill. Vaughn feels that takes away one of the things that makes fiction so valuable.
Maybe not MONSTERS…I sort of think it’s a “hurts so good” kind of thing. Before my first Whedon experience, I had never felt so attached to a character that I felt a real loss at that character’s death. When you’re reading a book or watching a show, you can often be sure that the main character won’t die, and this can be comforting at points when he or she is in danger, but sometimes it’s a little boring—the safety removes the suspense. And if you are partaking of this entertainment, you’re probably already safe—you’re sitting in a chair in a room in a house, probably with your dinner or someone you love—why do you need to feel safe in the story? At some point during the first several episodes of “Agents of Shield,” there was a character who was put in mortal peril and when this happened, I had this delicious, masochistic, panicky moment because I knew that with Joss Whedon I couldn’t rely on the rule. So yes—they kill people, and when we get mad it’s because they made us love those people. It’s a kind of joyful rage—the story is SO GOOD that we must grieve, and how many times in your life do you get to suffer a scary loss and grieve in a way that is FUN? Monsters, we love you.
Mistake fixed—no one need know. And then I decided to rearrange everything and I lifted a WHOLE bunch of boxes and no one will believe that I did it all myself. Or my supervisor will go into labor and no one will notice I did anything. Or just plain no one will notice. But I still did it! Phew.
Also I went back to the book fair and I bought more books.
When commoners registered for Cambridge University it was necessary for them to place sine nobilitate, without nobility, after their names. This was shortened to s. nob. and soon became “snob,” a pretender to position.
After a slightly trying day that came with the realization that I have to work on a Saturday, I took a walk on my way to the train. It was one of those moments where your feet tell you to turn left, even though the train lies to the right. These are my spoils from the Newberry Library Book Fair. You see before you (or before me) a compact Oxford English Dictionary WITH magnifying glass. And when I got home, someone had left the entire Stieg Larson trilogy and a thesaurus up for grabs on the mail shelf. I am a Book Psychic!
It’s official. I suck at my job. Totally suck. There is not enough suction in the world for how much I suck. Even outer space is not a large enough vacuum. (Well, okay, MAYBE outer space is.)
I was going to clean my apartment this weekend. I was going to cook. I was going to sleep. I was going to write or draw. Now I have to come in and fix yet another epic fuck-up (thankfully, it doesn’t seem like even Hawk-Eyes Dwangela has noticed this yet). Good god.