and we all went on a hunt to find it. The enigmatic flashes of color danced all around. You could spot it from miles around.
A friend mused, “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if butterflies were somehow dangerous? Like they stung you or something?”
Yes, yes, it would. But that would be a different world, my friend.
The latest thing turning me green with envy is this awesome San Francisco blog, The Bold Italic.
Beautifully designed and featuring all kinds of hip, unique and entrancing tales from local SF Bay residents (like me!), reading it gives me a stomach ache.
I’m not sure what my favorite part is: the fabulous bios, fantastic content (like this lady who lived in a van by the freeway for two days and wrote about it and this guide to SF’s pop up restaurants), gorgeous graphics for EVERY story, or the fact that they ask us what they should write about and let us vote.
It’s so cool, it’s hot. It’s so hot…ohhh…my stomach.
Some day maybe I will be so cool.
Scene: BART from SF 16th St to Oakland. I’m tired and a little worn out. My dinner date had said, “I just want to give you a big hug! You look like the world beat you down.” This is after I went as far as to curl my hair to appear bright and chipper.
The man sitting next to me is really, really into his iPhone. I can tell that from the first second I sit down. He asks me a question about iPhones I don’t really know the answer to but I answer anyway.
Then he shares with me this cool looking astrology app and we both marvel at photos from the Hubble telescope like this:
Source: hubblesite.org
He tells me about this Nova you can see right now…brighter than all the stars in the Universe. The light we can see left that star before our galaxy was even born.
“It makes you feel pretty insignificant,” I say.
“Yes. I think that’s right,” he replies.
We were camping last weekend and, as usual, I made the entire camping party (including the two-year-old) play the Pick Up 40 Pieces of Trash Game.
This time about half way through I offered a “special treat” to those who went double or nothing and got 80.
I have yet to figure out what the Special Treat is. Any suggestions?
Moments later I was interacting with one of the Park Rangers who was cleaning the toilet. We had a pleasant enough interaction, but I couldn’t leave it at that.
No, I had to add, “I just had to tell you…collectively my group just picked up over 400 pieces of trash!!”
That’s when I started to feel really dumb. I started mumbling. “Cause..um..you know, I had the girls do it. And I used to be a Girl Scout. And you know Girl Scouts always leave places cleaner than when they found it.”
Brilliant, girl friend, brilliant.
Are you good at spotting trash? Find the offending garbage in this picture and get a special treat!
Do you see it???
is that maybe your dreams change almost daily.
Each dream might take just about everything out of you.
And then you start wondering…
was it that missed opportunity that was my golden ticket?
Is it this one? or that one?
Plan A, Plan B, or Plan C?
And why are there so many damn plans anyway??
This is my life.
And the most awesome on this bleary Tuesday after Labor Day Weekend is my great friend Cortney Rock who made me this youtube video. It rocks.
Cortney, together we will achieve TOTAL INTERNET DOMINATION.
It seemed like just another day. Got a new bookshelf, had some friends over for dinner. But then, the worst thing ever happened: there wasn’t enough leftover lasagna for everyone.
We all had a decent-sized piece, but not an American-sized piece, if you know what I mean. I made extra salad, but I could tell they were still hungry. Or maybe I was just paranoid.
The decision was made: cookies were in order. I got out everything we needed and made the magic happen. Just when the magic was being perfected, my friend Kat noticed there were little specks dotting the top layer 0f the flour….specks that were–on closer inspection–little winged insects.
Oh but what were we to do?? We baked them. We ate them. I let our friend Adam eat two without even telling him. Does that make me terrible?
And who is to blame for this debacle? I want to blame my Modular Mates Tupperware containers, pictured above in their bug-harboring glory. How could you do this to me Modular Mates? How could you ruin my cookies??*
And after everything I’ve done for you. Touted you on my online Tupperware store. Organized my pantry around you. And now this betrayal.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.
*To be fair, they were also mediocre for a number of other reasons. 1. We didn’t really follow a recipe. 2. I followed the advice of my friends and added an entire package of pudding. That was just crazy.
A case might also be made that it was my fault that the cookies were ruined for not noticing the bugs when I first scooped the flour. But again, there is someone else to blame. And in this case, that someone is booze, who distracted me and inspired me to make the cookies in the first place. Again, not my fault.
We saw it. We read it. We talked about it.
Does that mean I should buy an equally hilarious bench ad for Artsy Geek???
I know this is going to come as a huge, unwelcome surprise because you all voted for me so very many times, but I didn’t win the NYC Flash Fiction Microchallenge Contest. Or whatever it was called. I never really got that straight.
This loss is merely a bump on the road to Internet domination, but I found myself getting bummed about it late last night when I figured it out.
And then I remembered one of my stories that didn’t make it into the final round:
She gasped for more oxygen. Her sons were safe now. But she couldn’t escape the slice of the boat.
This is the true story of how Kirsty MacColl met her horrible and untimely death. I first met Kirsty when our friend William introduced her song, In These Shoes, on a mixtape back in 2005. I was instantly in love.
Her death is a tragedy unparalleled.
Gives you some appreciation for life and loved ones, doesn’t it? Every moment counts.
