Let me be the first to jump on the bandwagon (*definitely not the first) to say that I am not perfect. I think unless you’re written into a story, no one is. I’m sure even Beyonce has snarted even once. I continue to fail at little things in my day to day life, and that’s OK. I refuse to succeed at everything. I will probably be that person at the high school reunion who turns up already drunk and hits on the straight guys I had crushes on in my youth, but hey, at least I didn’t have a dumpster baby.
No, NEXT Wednesday…
I keep having this ridiculous conversation with people which inevitably turns into a ridiculous argument with people about how to describe upcoming days of the week in relation to the inclusion or not of the word ‘next’.
Stay with me here.
Real Men Don’t Trim Their Monobrows
One’s monobrow is like a mole – you can either embrace it, try to cover it up or remove it. The only difference is moles have had their coming out, the monobrow however is still waiting for its Marilyn Monroe, its Cindy Crawford. Sure, it has its Frieda Kahlo, but she had a pretty rare sexy-spanish-artist card to play. Moles even have another name to differentiate them from the other excluded bodily oddities – all one needs do is spot your face with a marker and you have yourself a ‘beauty spot’. If one were to take an eyebrow liner and bridge the gap, I can’t see anyone scoring praise from society for having a ‘beauty smear’.
My Secret Shames
I was lying in a bath the other night when I had a horrible epiphany – what would happen if I died? Right there and then, just slipped under the water and ceased to breathe the breath of life. The thing is, my epiphany had nothing to do with my non existence and the waste of it all; it had to do with how I would be perceived when I was found.
There I was lying naked – that is how I would be found, and people of note would see. Sure, it’s not a Marilyn Monroe status death, but my housemates and the paramedics would get a glance, and I’m not in the best of shape. I haven’t trimmed my toenails in months and the fluorescent light in the bathroom is horribly unflattering.
Then there is the worst part – my secrets.
Single Man in an Electronic World
In today’s day and age single is the new black. Monogamy is as outdated as the plague and about as fashionable as corduroy and that seems to suit me just fine. I am a single man. As single as they come. I could be a freakin’ billboard for the cause. Greeting hugs aside; bumping into people at a busy intersection is probably the most personal interaction I get.
Stalk This Way
Everyone has firsts. There are unlimited possibilities of firsts in one’s life, some odd, some life changing and memorable, and some so casual you don’t even notice them, like the first fly to land on your arm. For me, the first time I attempted to stalk someone was a memorable event in my life, but whether it changed me or not remains to be seen. It definitely didn’t help with my creep-factor though.
The Loneliest Planet Sucks
I don’t know if anyone has bothered to watch this exercise in torture (starring poor Gael García Bernal), but this memo at my work pretty much sums it up.
#H
I’m Sorry, I Thought You Were a Tree Stump
You think you know yourself. You think you are a certain type of person, you have yourself sorted in the naughty and nice list. Then one day, one single act can juggle it all to shit and before you know if you are that guy who once spat on someone.
Continue reading “I’m Sorry, I Thought You Were a Tree Stump”
Another Winning Interraction With a Human
So you know that episode of The Simpsons when Homer eats that orange really fecocious and animal-esque? Well sometimes when I’m alone I like to eat my oranges this way and tonight thought I would treat myself when I was given a left over orange at work, and had some time to spare before closing up. I went to town on that orange, ripping with my teeth and sucking the juice and shredding what I could with my mouth and letting my bizarre animal nature take over. Satisfied, I pulled my head up from the massacre and found a little old lady staring intensely at me, poised to ask a question. Face covered in sticky sweetness, orange shards still in my teeth like angry pubes, I try not to freak out, swallow what remains in my mouth and say calmly, “Can I help you?”. She replies – “I was going to ask for the bathroom, but I actually think I’m ok”, and walks away.
…..Another day, another winning interraction with a human.
Give “Ugly Girls” a Chance
I don’t know if you guys have heard of the latest internet campaign but it’s one that I feel is a real issue in today’s society.
The “Give Ugly Girls a Chance” campaign.
Actually, Harry 
