She was, in fact, too next to me.
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If it hadn’t happened to me, I would have wanted it to. Because I love desperate people, people who are in dire need of belonging to Something: a group, a party, a conversation. They’re simply fascinating to watch in public because they have no radar for ridicule. Enter: Me. The Radar. I’m not always “in your face” about things, but it takes all kinds, I know, and I respect those who are. For me, I’m much more like a Dorothy Zbornak; I like to fight with my wit, when I have any. Like that girl, last night, whom I’m supposing I met thought I...
"I hope you're not wadding," she said.
Here is a list, far from exclusive, of things that aggravate me: people on cell phones behind the wheels of cars; vomit; I cannot stand pudding, at all, and other things that fall in that category include meringues and Cool Whip; individuals who misuse (or use at all) the conveyor belts in line at the grocery store, except when absolutely necessary; and cheap toilet paper. Again, this is far from an exclusive list. Of the things listed above, several have affected me in the last 24 hours. Last night I dreamed I couldn't quite get up this rather large hill. It was exhausting,...
I'm addicted to crack (machines).
There's an epidemic in Starkville. I know because I'm very attuned to these things. Like any hypochondriac. It's crack (machines). I speak from experience. (And I'm pretty sure it's not an epidemic of One, but if it is, that's ok, because the army is an Army of One, and I know for a fact that there's more than one person in the army. I'm stepping forward to speak today because I'm no longer afraid to confess that I'm addicted. Perhaps, I can speak as One for us All. Perhaps, my story will help others). I could hardly write that last sentence without giggling...at least,...
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