#21
Calendars, Dog toy backstories and Underwear that fits!
I’m currently sat in the library, and a man came and sat next to me who smells of a complicated mixture of cigarettes, talcum powder and parsley. Maybe Le Labo has a new fragrance? Maybe he’s having a rough day. He just pulled out a can of condensed milk and put it on the table. I like this guy. Now he’s looking at a Chinese take-away menu! I think I’m gonna stay a little while, and see how this plays out.
Update: he sneezed without covering his nose, and then started eating a weird pastry, NOISYILY. We’re elevating him to enemy status!!!
Some things I’ve been thinking about recently are – Calendars, Dog toy backstories and Underwear that fits!
CALENDARS, they should be better! I’m willing for someone to steal this idea, as for some reason money is repulsed by me. Imagine this, if you can. You open the calendar, on your phone, of course, and the days that have passed are au-to-mat-i-cal-ly greyed out. Pause for stunned silence... In an instant you know which day you’re on. For once in your God-damn lives you can live in present time! We’d be living in a utopia if this was how things were. Why are all the days given the same gravitas, excepting a simple highlighting of number on the day we’re on, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. Those days could be gone, my friend. I’m begging Google to steal this idea, or even bring me on-board, for once.
DOG toy backstories are important, not just for your dog, but for yourself. Let’s face it, it’s not just the dog playing. We have a rope toy called Marcel. Full name: Marcel Proust. Marcel used to have a pumpkin head, but our dog, Egg, decided to go ahead and decapitate him, then rip his fluffy brains out. Marcel is canonically a criminal, in our house, and our dog is his tormentor and gaoler. However, Marcel, despite not having a head, loves to give Egg kisses. Secretly they are in love, but Egg doesn’t want the world to know. If she could read what I was writing here, she’d be furious! Egg likes to throw Marcel down the stairs, and pull at the bits of his neck that cling on still. Who truly knows about the intricacies this complicated relationship between dog and rope toy, but every day the story of Marcel unfolds.
ANCIENT underwear lingers in draws up and down this great country. For those of us who shun the laundry lifestyle, it can get to a stage where the only underwear that’s left in the drawer is the threadbare underwear with the elastic showing through. I bravely put some laundry on, the other day, but was left with no choice, in the interim, but to wear the ancient pants. Lo! How novel to find it’s slackened elastic to be a breath of fresh air against my waist. Perhaps I’d grown accustomed to the feeling of too tight elastic clinging to me in its safe grip. No longer did I have a muffin top, but sides that met the underwear in a natural form. Sure, there was a threat of them slipping down, slightly, but only a threat. I stood, marvelling at this most stunning revelation: Underwear that fits!
If you think someone would enjoy this little slice of life, send it on! I have left Twitter so here is the only place my unbridaled thoughts leak into the internet. If you wish to stop my thoughts from causing more harm, feel free to do nothing.
With that being said, I don’t know why you wouldn’t…