Month: December 2012
Protected: I Don’t Put Much Faith in Algorithms
Retrobruxist Friday 12/14/12
Today, my problems seem so small compared to those of the parents of 20 kindergarteners in Newtown, Connecticut. I thought about suspending Retrobruxist Friday for the day, but in case you need a distraction (it’s a coping skill — for real, I learned it in group therapy) from your grief/confusion/anger/what-have-you, I offer you a few of my silly blog posts.
Three years have passed, and I’m dealing with the same shallow and/or generic messages from online dating prospects. Look, here’s one from today:
I wrote a story in five episodes two years ago. It spawned the Call Me Crazy category on the blog because, in it, I got kinda crazy about being crazy.
A year ago, I had writer’s block. History repeats itself — drought this week. Maybe the words will come rushing out with my menses. (Hark, the sound of people deleting Avid Bruxist from their RSS feeds!)
What, I Had a Coupon
Protected: Well
Come Here, You
When I first got baby Violet, my brother and sister-in-law drove an hour to my place to meet her. This was when I lived in that mill house in Hillsborough. Bruce is allergic to all things furry, so we decided to take the puppy for a walk — outside, he would be able to breathe at least a little bit. I put Violet’s tiny collar around her tiny neck and clipped her tiny leash to it (she weighed about 25 pounds).
On our stroll, she was, as puppies are, all over the place — zigging and zagging, chewing at the leash and getting under foot, too excited because of the smells! sights! air! life! to pee or poop. We were all delighting in the 100% present-in-the-moment-ness that is the life of a puppy. But as we headed back to the house, the tiny clip on her tiny collar popped open and she was free — FREE! — and she started to bolt.
I. freaked. out.
I’d had this dog for, what?, a day or two?, and already she was going to get lost in the woods across the road and starve or, worse, hit by a car? People drove so fast on my road! Panicking, I yelled, “Violet!” and ran after her. She thought that was pretty great and picked up her pace.
Behind me — histamine response be damned — my brother squatted, opened his arms wide, and said, “Come here, you!” in a decidedly silly-sweet tone. Violet’s head jerked around. She went bounding toward him, and he scratched her head, and she flopped on her back. And I walked to them and clipped her tiny collar back on.
I don’t know why my brain recalled this incident yesterday or then why it occurred to me that this, sweetness/silliness/arms wide open/”Come here, you!”, would be a much better approach to dating than the cynicism/fear/arms forming an X in front of my face/”Not this shit again” that is my current one. But it did.
So with that, despite the fact that I overdid it on Gluten Sunday yesterday thus I’m battling fatigue, and that I’m PMSing (bonus: pyimples!), I’m off to meet Mr. OBD.
Come here, you.
Retrobruxist Friday 12/7/12
I’m meeting Mr. One Big Duck next week. Like I said, it’s (with 95% certainty) a no-go, but I just have to. His message was/profile is so great, not to mention he’s real easy on the eyes — I just want to assure myself that prospects like him actually exist.
Plus, there’s that goddamn 5% chance that he’ll be so fantastic that I’ll overlook the duck.
Look at me, breaking my Don’t Write About the Good Ones policy. But it’s minimal and nebulous so it’s OK, right?
Speaking of OKCupid, I got fed up with it three years ago and posted a profile on Match.
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Two years ago, I over-indulged and wondered whether it was worth it. This continues to be a struggle. Nowadays I participate in a weekly event I like to call Gluten Sunday because Sunday means brunch, and you can tell me that an omelet or other eggy dish will do just as well but those are lies — LIES — because brunch means French toast and/or biscuits and/or pancakes and/or waffles. And I’m always groggy after, but it’s not so bad. As long as I can lay off the gluten the rest of the week. Which continues to be a struggle.
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Probably going to get somebody a flock of chicks again like I did a year ago but also a year of school. YEAR OF SCHOOL.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Protected: I Entertain Myself by Jerking Around Men
Protected: Back on the Horse
You bout 2 catch a beat down Minerva
A couple of Greek myth comics for you. First, the story of the ill-fated relationship, such as it was, of Apollo and Daphne (click image for bigger):
You may be having difficulty following which character is which, so…
Apollo: Im Apollo
Cupid: I shoot you, you Die
Apollo: Ill kill you with my Hands
Cupid: Ya (shoots Apollo with arrow of love)Apollo: No
Apollo: Im in Love
Daphne: ew No
Apollo: Yes
Daphne: No
Apollo: crying
Daphne: go Away
Apollo: man
Daphne: Bye
A couple notes: (1) Daphne, your hair look tight, girl. (2) “Im in Love” … “ew no” — fantastic!
Now that arrogant wench, Arachne!
Great speech bubbles? Or greatest speech bubbles?
(To brush up on your mythology, you may want to read Peguses, Athena’s Birth, and Hermes too.)