I’ll be honest. I have exactly nothing to write about. I won’t hold it against you if you just stop reading here, because the rest is only going to be word vomit.
Still here? Okaaayyy. I warned you!
Did you know that people have robot vacuums? Like…I remember hearing about it in passing some time ago, but I guess I didn’t really pay attention? There are vacuums AND mops that can clean your floors when you’re not even home! You can schedule the cleanings ahead of time. Like on Saturday, you can program the robot to clean everyday at noon. I’VE BEEN LIVING LIKE AN ANIMAL!
Remember when we were kids watching The Jetsons and thinking, yeah can’t wait for the year 2000 ’cause cars are gonna fly, sidewalks are gonna move, and ya girl is gon’ have a jet-pack to get wherever I need to go! And then 2000 came and we just barely got cell phones that were no longer the size of shoe boxes.
And then we were all like, “The Jetsons–what a bunch of bullshit! My car can’t fly!” But I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that a robot vacuum is better than a flying car. It just is. Vacuuming is the worst. I humbly apologize for maligning The Jetsons sixteen years ago.
These were two headlines in the Chicago Tribune on the same day:
A tale of two Chicagos, man.
I went to a French meetup where people who want to practice speaking French get together and eat some food. This is quite a reach for me because I’m an unapologetic introvert and new people freak me out. BUT this can’t be an excuse all the time, and I’ve come to terms with that. So I went to this French meetup. Alone.
During introductions, people were telling life stories. Like really personal shit.
“My dad cheated on my mom and, unwittingly, I picked a guy who cheated on me too.”
“My husband and I are going through a rough time. We had to file for bankruptcy.”
“I don’t have sex with my husband as much as I used to. So here I am!”
I’m silently screaming, What the fuuuuucccckkkk, when one lady turns to me and says, “So what’s your story?”
Everyone turns to look at me, and I don’t know what to say. But I finally settle on, “I’m just here to practice speaking French!” And I even tried to say it with a smile, because I’m TRYING TO BE SOCIABLE, DAMMIT.
This is not good enough for them. They just stare at me waiting for more. So internally, I’m like, what can I tell these freaks to get them off my back? I’m on my period? My boobs are sore? Probably need to re-up on a box of tampons on the way home. That seems just inappropriate and personal enough to allow me to fit right in. But I didn’t. Because I’m not a freak.
“C’est tout,” I said. That’s all. They looked at me like I was withholding personal info, and I was. Like a normal, mentally stable person.
I didn’t make any new friends that night.
OK! I think that’s enough stream of consciousness for one post, yes? I mean, I could go on and on, but I gotta save something for next week!