murder on the northeast regional

What I plan to say when someone asks if they can sit next to me on the train:

“Please don’t. I’m feeling claustrophobic.”

What I actually say:

“No.” In a disgruntled tone, preceded by a sigh.

I have no balls sometimes. Mental balls. I never have physical balls.

Also, there are children sitting behind me. Talking. Nonstop.

I can’t wait to have my own children, because if these were my kids, I could say “Be quiet!” And they’d say “Why?” And I’d say “Because I said so.”

I have no delusions that this would actually make them be quiet. I would just take comfort in knowing that at least I’d made the effort.

Or I’d punish them. That’s the worst thing about other people’s children. You can’t punish them.

dumb death

I recently heard about a young man who died falling off a roof at a St. Patrick’s Day party. A college classmate of mine died trying to jump between roofs.

And I couldn’t help but think “what a dumb, pointless way to die.”

I hope I can become the kind of person who doesn’t think things like that. It doesn’t seem terribly magnanimous, or generous in spirit.

Also, I hope I don’t die in really dumb, pointless way.

(What? Personal growth doesn’t happen all at once).

Q&A at the gyno

Q&A 1

Q: Contraception?
A: Condoms.
Q: Married? Single?
A: Domestic partner.
Q: Male or female?
A: …see answer to first question…

Q&A 2

Q: Do you ride a bike?
A: Rarely…
Q: If you do ride a bike, do you wear a helmet?
A: Oh! Yes. I was waiting for the gynecological relevance.

Q&A 3

Q: Your ovaries look awesome. They’re perfect.
(Not actually a question, just a good opportunity to brag a little).