Camp Fun’N Stuff

The next morning our parents handed us each a backpack filled with a brown bag lunch, a thermos, sunblock with an SPF of 75, and although we weren’t sure what it was for- a sponge. We got picked up in an old Dodge minivan by a guy named Todd. He wore a tee-shirt that said, “If We All Had A Bong, We’d All Get Along”. Somehow this didn’t seem to concern my parents and off we went that Tuesday morning to either our summer camp adventure or our imminent abduction.

I’ve become that weird single lady who uses a special pillow for her buttocks

I’ve become that weird single lady who uses a special pillow for her buttocks. As I sit here decluttering a corner of my house, I’ve had some important Saturday realizations. First off, I don’t know about you, but over the past two years, I’ve done more sitting than a Las Vegas poker player constipated from the hotel buffet.

Woman Seeking Torso

From time to time I have dreams of Peyton Manning pulling me into a power hug while in a confined space such as a small kitchen or an elevator in a second-tier Las Vegas resort. And in that moment, when my head is pressed firmly into his larger-than-life, Superbowl-winning, Hall-Of-Fame, most-seasons-with-at-least-4000-passing-yards, chest cavity, I feel all my worries completely disappear.

I Would Do Anything For Love But I Won’t Do That

I mean, what could it hurt for me to have an innocent conversation about one of the most controversial religions in modern history? If I could endure a lecture on Pastafarianism and Worshippers of the Flying Spaghetti Monster for a free plate of Bolognese, I could weather a few minutes of hearing about Xenu, The Dictator of the Galactic Confederacy. This guy was (most likely) handsome, and clearly eager to make new converts. I mean, converts. Wait, what I meant to say was, converts. Dammit, autocorrect, I mean, converts.

Friends. He was eager to make friends.

All I know about Chanukkah, I learned from Charleton Heston

When I find myself in a conversation trying to draw upon any Jewish history, my first thoughts always take me to an old movie I saw as a little girl, the 1950’s epic saga, The Ten Commandments. I was probably six or seven at the time. I had been allowed to stay up past my bedtime to watch it while next door my parents rocked out to Barry Manilow. I credit the entirety of my musical style to having heard the somber, celebratory, and terribly confusing mashup of, “The Lord’s Prayer” and “Copa Cabana”.

The Smell Of Farts And Desperation

This is not a story about covid. This is a story about when I decided to adopt a dog while recovering from covid. You get to decide which has been more stressful. I thought a dog would mean unconditional love and cuddling and yes, an occasional poop in the living room. And also sometimes he would go to the bathroom in the house. But I think I actually got catfished by the dog formerly known as, “Inmate Number 799.”

Who Wants Muffins?

By day three in quarantine I started to develop some odd symptoms. I initially chalked it up to your run-of-the-mill anxiety attack: racing heart, sweaty palms, brain fog. Then by day four, I was hit with such extraordinary fatigue, I thought I’d been kicked by a horse, dragged behind it for twenty miles (or 32 kilometers if you’re un-American), left to barbecue out in the middle of the desert, doused in someone else’s cold sweat, barbecued some more, then electrocuted by the horse’s owner who was mad at me for stealing his horse, then forced to wear a child’s-sized helmet for the next thirty-two days straight. All while being chased by a mob of angry land sharks.

Aim For The Middle

You know how people say when someone starts day-drinking, it’s a red flag for depression. My version of that has been, day watching. Lately, you can find me mid-day, binge-watching old episodes of Star Trek while eating burnt home-made cookies.

God Is Classy

You know you’re in for a good toilet experience when you sit on a device solely dedicated to making your bottom feel happy. With cleaning options like, “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened”, I knew something special was about to occur.

Funny People Are The Worst

Have I become one of those people who always has to be funny? Because I hate those people. You know, the ones at parties who use air quotes. And all you can think is “Give it a rest Seinfeld, just let me eat my cheese plate in peace.”