Seriously, our nation is never going to be on the same page on issues like gun control, welfare, the economy, the environment, etc. I doubt we’ll ever come to terms on tastes great or less filling and hybrids versus Hummers, and there will always be Yankees fans and Red Sox fans, and never the ’twain shall meet. Fortunately, all it takes for us to be of one mind is some buttercream frosting.
Over the summer we chatted one night while Angie stripped a bed, changed wet sheets, comforted and repajamaed a toddler, and chased down a car of speeding teenagers while shaking a brick at them, never once interrupting the conversation or setting down her margarita. The only reason this woman isn’t president of General Motors is because she’s chosen not to be.
The living room is a monument to my impulsive spending habits. I’ve got more than two hundred DVDs, including cinematic greats such as Monkey Bone, Corkey Romano, and A Night at the Roxbury, leading me to believe not only do I have awful taste in films, but I also have a Chris Kattan fixation. What I don’t have is $4000 earing intrest in a money market account.
Ultimately, my goal in life is to arrive at the finish line without having regrets.
At my age, I feel like I’m halfway to the finish line and life’s too short to do what I’m sure to hate.
If I may, I’d like to take a moment to praise Mark Zuckerberg’s parents for not procreating sooner. Praise be to all that is holy that Facebook didn’t exist when I was that age and the Internet then was but a Usenet group for Star Trek fans. I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have grown up when cameras used actual film because the only thing that stood between infamy and me was the clerk who developed photos at Walgreens. Thank God for him.
Today, we’re a beeper generation in a smartphone world.
Butterflies are a lot like rainbows: They’re phenomenally beautiful in real life, yet no graphic representation can do them justice; ergo, it’s best to forgo.
I used to have to hunt for hard-boiled eggs when I was a kid. What was the point of that? Was I supposed to be, ‘Yay! I found them! Egg-salad sandwiches for everyone!’ I was seven! I wanted chocolate, not bioavailable protein.
The thing about mass transportation is that it transports the masses.
No one gives out Congratulations on Not Being a Douche-Canoe medals, because good behavior is part of the social contract.
I’ve always feared growing older because I thought I’d run out of interests, but what this project has taught me is that I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I could try next.
Couple this discovery with the realization that my things shouldn’t own me and that life’s meant to be lived, not displayed on Pinterest, and my sense is I’ve finally achieved something close to balance. I feel excellent about actually having.
Can I tell you something about Seattle? Everyone there is a filthy liar. They’re all, ‘Don’t move to Seattle – it’s so rainy!’ And yet every time I’ve been there, a tiny amount of rain falls before the whole sky explodes into rainbows and sunlight. Seattleites mean to hog up all the stunning vistas and good coffee and flowering bushes for themselves. Bet on it.
I’ve always wanted to take a swim wherever it is they snap those screensaver photos – Fiji? Bora Bora? The Maldives? – and sleep in a hotel room that’s more of a hut built on a dock over the water. After reading The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, I’m dying to see the sun set in Botswana. I want to visit Indian temples and volunteer at an elephant sanctuary.
The difference between social media and a social life is the difference between eating a marshmallow Peep and dining on a tomahawk-cut rib eye: one is substantial and nutritious; the other is just a momentarily satisfying puff of sweetened air, offering no long-term benefits. I can enjoy the fluff, but I can’t subsist on it.
Or how about when a person publishes something along the lines of, “This has been the worst day EVAH,” but then gets all closed-lipped about why it’s been so bad. This is attention-seeking at its worst.
Dessert is my reward for having met my goals during the day. Really, dessert is an event rather than a specific item.
This way, when I do have something like special-occasion engagement cake, I can enjoy the whole damn thing without a twinge of remorse. I.
Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to say yes, only to have my plans fall through at the last minute and I can take off my regular-people clothes and redon my paint-splattered yoga pants.