i wonder what my life would have been like as a dan. who is dan. cooler in high school? probably some kind of fun law student? lives in a loft? owns a dog? addicted to heroin? dan, no!!
you know when a girl’s profile picture is of her with a guy’s arm around her, but it’s cropped so you can just see her and the arm? that arm always belongs to the same guy. i don’t know how to explain it. that’s the same arm in every picture. many cropped profile pics, one guy, one arm.
it’s kind of weird how women change their last names when they get married. like i just figured out how i like my signature. if all of a sudden someone was like, “hey marry me” and then i had to start getting used to like a capital “s” or a “g” or something i think it’d be a no go. it would completely ruin the aesthetic. half the signature would be all nice and then the second half would look like a fifth grader took over.
i can’t pour a new gallon jug of milk without spilling it and it ruins my life. i don’t know what the deal is, whenever i try to do a pour before the jug is 1/4th of the way down it’s like a disaster. did i just not develop the motor skills necessary to do this? it always does that thing where it runs down the side of the jug and oh man, i cannot deal with that. jug runoff milk taints the whole glass. have you ever seen a jug of milk? they’re filthy. it’s like they’re grown in dirt and then harvested. can’t deal. i dread opening a new jug of milk. i put it off for like a week after buying it. i know bagged milk is pretty much a joke to 90% of people but i swear i have never once in my life spilled a drop of milk that came in a bag. the only downside to that is finding clear little plastic corner clippings all over the floor.
a while back i mentioned to my mom how i don’t really have a lot of mirrors here. a few weeks later she sent me a package and one of the things in it was a plain white hand mirror. let me tell you, no matter how long you look at yourself on your phone or webcam nothing beats the feeling of pure narcissism that comes with gazing into your own reflection in a hand mirror. like this device can’t record my image, it can’t post anything, this is just for me. this is for me to look at me. i’m doing like cleopatra levels of gazing here.
i’ve never been able to use my calendar phone app in a way that makes me feel like a cool, busy person. i remember once i put an alert for a job interview in it and then zoomed out to month view and it looked so sad and pathetic, like it was the only thing i had to do my whole life, so i just took it out and remembered when it was because it was the only thing i had to think about.
do you ever think you have a loose tooth for some reason so you start poking at it with your tongue like, “is it moving? why do i think it feels like it’s moving? i feel like it’s moving a tiny bit. do teeth just have some natural give? what does a loose tooth feel like again?” then you just go crazy.
i think i always notice bald guys right away because my dad is bald and i’ll probably go bald too eventually. like i just sympathize with them a little more. like a while ago when i was still working at that bakery this guy came in with his family and ordered donuts and i was like, “look at you, bald dad, with your rich guy clothes and hot wife and three sons who will all probably be future bald dads themselves. good for you. enjoy these donuts and continue on in this crazy, hair-centric world.”
i was walking out of the subway last night and saw this crackhead in front of me, and i knew he was a crackhead because he was talking enthusiastically about crack. like the term “crackhead” sounds almost harsh when you hear it, but then you see one and you’re like, “he is beyond ‘fan.’” like i was in his presence for maybe ten seconds and in that time he said six unique things about crack. anyways the thing that stuck out to me was that he was bald. and in that really exaggerated drug addict way where it’s like, super smooth hairless top, and then the thickest, most voluminous hair on the sides. never seen a crackhead with a full head of hair. that’s basically what this comes down to.
trying to get someone to pick up my idea for a column called, “food critic who hasn’t eaten all day.”
"oh my god, fuck, it is so good. i haven’t eaten all day. the last thing i ate was like, last night when i had that samosa. i’m totally coming back here. i should get a menu, nah it’s probably online. oh my god it’s so good, fuck me.”
the tooth fairy, if you really believe in it as a kid, must be a weird thing to think about. like there’s this fairy that comes and takes your teeth and leaves you money, and that’s like a thing for a few years at least, but then you lose your last baby tooth and it’s just bam, over. tooth fairy’s fucking done with you forever. no like, forms to fill out, no mailer. no comment card. “half the time the tooth was just on nightstand near pillow.” santa brings people stuff their whole lives, even the easter bunny is like, “sure, here, eggs, you post-pubescent individual.” tooth fairy is all business. “we’re done, services rendered. i got some teeth, you made, i don’t know, 25 dollars total depending on how rich your parents are? it’s a whole demographics thing.”
if i ever have a kid i guess i’ll do it though? play along? because the alternative sounds strange now. just sitting at the kitchen table. “what? it came out? okay here’s, what do i have on me, two dollars? oh no i don’t want it. no i think i’m set on teeth knocking around my nightstand drawer. i guess you can hold onto it? or just throw it away.” is that a sad image? a seven year old throwing away his own tooth in the kitchen garbage. landing on an empty chicken nuggets box.
did you know that the japanese actually have a word for that thing that’s like, it’s like, when it’s night and you look up at the sky and there’s like this big glowing white thing floating there? man, what is that thing.
last night i ate a burrito so bad i had to close my eyes and think about much better burritos i’ve eaten in the past just to finish.
do you know how much money i could have made selling knockoff clarinet and oboe reeds to other band kids in middle school. those things were as durable as dried plants. “i think this is a yellow piece of construction paper rolled up and stuck into a wine cork.” whoa whoa whoa tough customer, you get two for one. look who just funded his end of year class trip and latin club dues.
a really embarrassing moment for me was when i visited my elementary school in toronto at night and thought, “i’ll go through the jungle gym now and it’ll feel so crazy being able to fly through these obstacles i couldn’t do as a kid.” and then i proceeded to be worse at both the tire bridge and the monkey bars. like i don’t know why i thought i’d just be stronger. i’m just a proportionally weaker 22 year old. on the tire bridge all i could think about was how over the the last 14 years i had become incredibly aware of my own mortality. also a tire bridge isn’t fun. it’s just not a fun aspect of a jungle gym. you can’t have a slide and swings and then just throw a tire bridge into the mix. that’s like boot camp equipment.