I received an excellent rejection yesterday. I know you want to hear all about it. There's this magazine I love (I only submit to magazines I love, because DUH) and they liked my piece but felt it lacked sufficient conflict. I get that. They want me to send more work, though. It was a very flattering rejection. I blushed all over. My hands were red like I'd been punching people all day.
My cell phone doesn't have a functioning camera. I don't have cable. I get water from a well. OK, not that last one, but can you imagine? Nothing I own is smart. My books are only smart if I read them. I have a bunch of crocheted artifacts, but they only move when I'm not looking.
I scrubbed a toilet today. There should be a robot for that. It should be smart enough to recycle the scraps of toilet paper that cling to the bowl. Don't ask me how this would work. Do I look like an engineer? The answer is no. I look like someone who buys their hipster clothes on clearance at Target. The flannel shirt I'm wearing was totally 70% off. RED TAG, BABY!
I made a new friend. Hooray! He's wildly inappropriate. I need more wildly inappropriate people in my life. My crazy tempers best with other crazy. This guy flattered me with compliments. He knows how this works. Food is the next step. I'm obsessed with lunches. Also, the phrase, "Let's do lunch." Sure, why not? How could you ever turn down lunch with me? If you were sane, you could not. Let's do lunch.
I just flexed my forearm and said, "I look like Popeye." Josh said, "No, you don't." Truer words, etc.
Speaking of Josh, he gave me an excellent haircut last night. Well, he says it's excellent. I've not tested it in the field. We'll see how many heads I turn when I finally leave the house. With the recent shaving accident, I'm afraid a pride of lesbians will confuse me for one of their own. My hair's all short and choppy, my face is smoother than a belt buckle, and my fashion sense is squarely between Rachel Maddow and anyone in line for a Sufjan Stevens concert. My lips also have a certain soft and full quality, despite their winter chappiness. When I drink, I look like one of those algae eater fish at the bottom of an aquarium--all lips, ass, and slobbery glass. Unlike algae eater fish, I do not get territorial with age.
I'm thinking this house needs a cactus. I'll crochet one. It'll look like a green and prickly penis, just like a real cactus.
I read this story today about a girl who covered a bleeding ghost in slices of white bread. It made me want to work on some of my weird fiction. I have this story about a harpy you wouldn't believe (and God, I hope you don't; it's fiction, after all).
Tell me the last time you felt like a fool. I need details, people, embarrassing details. I walked around all day with a dry flake of skin on my nose. That's not even the last time I felt like a fool. That's just something stupid that happened today. Give me the real deal.