Facebook rantings and ravings

Sometimes when I share a smile with a relative stranger like a cashier at a store, I get a lump in my throat. Not a sad lump. More of a ‘Wow we are all one despite how separate we all think we are’ kind of lump.


if i’m not kissing my cat’s stomach or wrassling with the dog on the living room carpet or dancing wildly in the kitchen or writing ridiculous nonsense on facebook, then something is wrong. so i am correcting that right now.


Bc the NY times says that it’s eye contact that promotes more sympathy and empathy between people, I’m just gonna put this right here.



I just mowed the lawn walking backwards. There is a reason for this. Although … It doesn’t really matter. The neighbors prob still think I’m crazy. Except maybe Faye?… 🙂


even though the world is imploding and population is skyrocketing and i’m barely doing anything to impact anybody with my little life in a little corner of the world, i need a moment of pointlessness bc it gets me through and here is my question: “when oreo makes doublestuff cookies, what happens to the other side of the cookie that doesn’t get used? it seems like a lonely life for that unsmeared cookie half.” and now back to death and destruction.


fat. very very very fat.
we love her for that. her fat.
she is soft and smells good, but mostly… it’s her fat.
soft and round, plumpy and yummy like fresh ground round.
willow oh willow.
how we love thee.


I’d rather hear about the zit on your nose than a nytimes magazine slick perfect life.


I need to get a tattoo on the palm of my hand so when I run into people I can wave and they can read my tattoo which will say: “Even though I may get your name wrong, I still care. I promise.”


I put on a bit too much patchouli today.


I realize this is a first world problem but I’m gonna say it anyway. Nothing against my friends who work at walmart but I’m convinced that Walmart hires mystery shoppers whose sole purpose in life is to fuck up whatever checkout lane you’re in so no matter how high falutin and lofty your goals are in refusing to use the self checkout, eventually you cave in and give up your prized place in line and accept the dehumanizing path that will eventually make all human cashier jobs extinct.


i think i could live on hummus and tomatoes. good tomatoes. not those crappy, mealy ones with no flavor. and i would build my little adobe or possibly tiny house on the hummus/tomato concoction. i might throw in a glutino cracker now and then for variety’s sake but that’s about it. cats and dogs would be essential. possibly a chicken or two but really i could just live on it and i wouldn’t even need internet or a smartphone. nope. just me and the hummus/tomato. i’d take baths in it, brush my teeth with it. wash the floor with it. i’d be very happy.


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