Tissues

Each time I prepare a fresh tissue for a runny nose I am faced with two options: do I blow my nose into an unfolded tissue so that I might be able to use it again or do I fold the tissue in half so that I reduce the risk of blowing through the tissue?

Always being more efficient than safe, I never fold the tissue. This is always followed by regret. I instantly make plans to get to the nearest sink. Can I open the door with my elbow? How do I get my headphones off without separating my hands? Are my roommates in the hallway?

How will I put on pants?

No Homo

Dear Homophobic Rapper,

I understand that whenever you plan to be violent to another man, you rap about it and then say “No Homo.” I understand that you say this because you do not want your lyrics to make it sound like you are gay. I do want to ask you though, why is it that the violence always involves penetrating the man in some way? It makes people wonder if you are, in fact, “No Homo.”

Simply through better planning, I think that you could illustrate your aggression in a way that is clear and doesn’t lead people to misunderstand your intentions. For instance, you could run the man over in your car. You could hit the man with a baseball bat. You could throw him off a cliff. All ways that are very clearly not suggestive of your deeply hidden homosexuality. You could even punch the man.

As long as you do not use the word “fist” as a verb.

Yours truly,

Jake

Screen Cleaning

I freely admit it wasn't the best idea to clean my computer screen while eating my lunch. But while the office microwave was warming my spaghetti, I stumbled across the office cleaning supplies. How could I say no to a "Notebook Screen Cleaning Wipe"?

I'm pretty sure there are plenty of supplies to get sauce out of a keyboard in the same place I found the wipe.

If not, a key or two might always be sticky, but I don't really use the number pad much anyway.

FREE Futon

I just got back from picking up a free futon from a curb and let me tell you, it was harder to disassemble than I thought it would be. That might have been because it was already dark outside. Also maybe because of the unhappy dog on the other side of an invisible fence from me.

It's possible loading furniture into a car at night while a dog is barking to high heaven looks suspicious, but I hadn't thought about it that way. In the end, I just had to show the cop my registration, my license, and the piece of paper taped to the futon that read "FREE" in big sharpie letters and he let me "immediately leave the neighborhood."

I hope that collie chokes on the wing nut I lost.

Rent

Rent is due at the ol' house in Maryland and I decided to stop by my landlady's office to drop off the check instead of mailing it to her, since I was driving past her place anyway. Or, I thought I was. Fifteen minutes after I got lost in several tiny subdivisions, I didn't find her office. In fact, the address was to her home. Cautiously, I tried to slip the envelope in the door-side mailbox, in fear of being made to come in and have awkward coffee.

I imagine a stranger lurking around one's mailbox at night must be disconcerting, but seeing a little woman peer out a door gripping an aluminum baseball bat is not much fun either. Her mood did brighten when she recognized rent-paying me.

If there is one thing I've gathered about my landlady, it's that she firmly believes there is no such thing as too many porcelain Virgin Marys on the inside of a house, nor too many porcelain sparrows on the outside.

I've already licked next month's stamp.

Justin

I am not a fan of Justin Bieber. I wish I could say I can't stand 99.99% of his music, but Wikipedia tells me he has only come out with 20 songs so I can only accurately say I dislike 95% of his music. I really wish I could say I abhor 100% of his discography. However, there is one exception: Bieber's high energy single "Somebody to Love."

When I am alone in my car I play the song, turn up the speakers and turn into the person I imagine an average sixteen year-old girl to be. I sing, I dance and, as of two hours ago, I make sure no one can see me. I figured if someone caught me grooving to the likes of JB it would be a macho guy and his friends, who would laugh and speed off thinking I must be embarrassed of myself - a risk I acknowledged and shrugged off. But I did not think that other sixteen year old girls would be the ones in the car next to mine.

I didn't account for the jarring reality of a group of teenaged girls rocking out to my stereo as genuinely as I was. I didn't account for my bad skin and lack of facial hair that made me look like a high school senior. I didn't account for them trying to talk to me when we sat in traffic.

The shocking experience may have only lasted fifteen or thirty seconds in reality, but in pop music, that's the whole chorus. And as traffic cleared, I replayed the song alone and at a lower volume and thought that the chorus is so the best part.

Trousers

At the end of a semester things can get hectic. Other things, let’s call them "lower things" can get forgotten outright. For instance, yesterday I forgot to brush my teeth at night when I fell into bed.
Today, it’s possible someone forgot to put his pants on.

I think it should almost be viewed as an accomplishment. I made it to my car before realizing.