Coworker on A Tale of Two Cities

"Come on, Dickens, wrap it up already! I was done 100 pages ago! I use the book to jack up my car when I need extra space!"

a secret

I always feel pleased with myself when I read short fiction.

Like, ANYONE can read a novel. But it takes a certain special someone to appreciate a short story. Right?

So I was reading a book of short stories (this one), loving it AND nodding approvingly at myself in my head, until I flipped to the back cover to read the author bio.

"His work has appeared in the Atlantic Monthly, Esquire, Harper's, The New Yorker, Playboy and Story."

WHAT? One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong.

Or is being published in Playboy really a literary accomplishment? Or is that a joke?

So now I've gone from nodding approvingly to shaking my head disappointedly at the authors I choose to support.

Shame, shame.

p.s. the reason I didn't update this blog for 2 weeks was because I liked seeing that the blog had 111 entries when I looked at my dashboard. it's not because I'm an uninteresting person with a boring life. really.

but really. I'm lying. I'm a boring sack of boredom.

Keeping up with the Bournes

We have these friends named the Bournes. They look like this:


(I mean it. That is exactly what they look like.)

They have these green canvas bags that they use when they shop at the grocery store. They look like this:



We also have some green canvas bags. They look like this:


That is because we crumple them up and stuff them in the trunk when they don't have food in them. But I always feel sad when I see mine and remember how beautiful our friends' bags look.

I had to throw one of mine away because I accidentally left it in the hot car for 3 days while it was holding a bunch of spinach. It got all smelly and slimy.

Trust me, it was a disgusting nightmare.

Anyways, after I threw it away, I only had 3 green bags left, which is not enough. So we bought a new one.

And now, a month later, it looks like..............





THIS!!:

All bright and shiny from my careful folding efforts.

It's all part of our ultimate goal to keep up with the Bournes.

Someday, I will be as good at gymnastics as Saramarie is, and Seth will build a cooler model airplane than Andy can. And someday, our TV will be as big as theirs is. Until then, at least our grocery bag is keeping us in the game.

News Alert: Dani Saves the Fish

I put my fish in a 1-gallon ice cream bucket so I could move them safely to my new apartment.

Matt and Josh shown with Tervetuloa/Pulla (the orange one), who is now dead, in happier times.

I left them unattended, believing I could trust them, while I went about some business. (NOT eating donuts.)

Then I walked back over, happened to glance down at the carpet, and WHO should I find, but MATT*, writhing on the floor.

Not really Matt. Just a lookalike from the internet.

I screamed. Then I picked him up. Then I dropped him in the bucket. Then I sealed it tight. Then I kept screaming (on the inside).

I transported him and Josh and Frank the Creepy Shrimp to the new place and put them back in the tank.

And today, four days later, he's still kicking. (But not literally -- he doesn't have legs.)

I know. I saved the day.

But that night I had nightmares about hundreds of little Matts and Joshes dying on the floor.

still shot from my dream. too gross for a family-friendly blog?

---
*It actually could have easily been Josh (they're the same kind of fish). I didn't look close enough to tell. But I'm going with Matt for narrative purposes.