stomach distended as if from ingestion of beach ball
friends invite you to beach with one caveat: no eating the beach ball this time
burps smell like latex
lunch was pizza and a beach ball
the beach ball is missing and you’re strangely full
someone bet you $100 bucks you couldn’t eat a beach ball. you’re holding $100!
Who wants to play fun game which isn’t that fun and also isn’t really a game? You do!
Ok so I’m looking at the back of a bag of bean sprouts which has many delightful and delicious serving suggestions. In fact, in a fun font it says the following: Energize your menu with these delicious suggestions!
Guess which are the real suggestions and which are the ones I made up?
Flavorful side dish: Stir fry sprouts with onions, mushrooms, zucchini and buttons.
Add to omelettes.
Light and satisfying: Stir fry sprouts with tofu cubes and soy sauce.
Put under pillow and wait for the sprout fairy.
Use in meatloaf.
Nutritious crunch: Add raw sprouts to salads and sandwiches.
Less nutritious crunch: Add raw sprouts to butter.
Refreshing: Put chilled sprouts in sleeve to keep hands cool.
Toss with sesame seeds.
Hang bag of sprouts from string in the yard and take turns hitting it with baseball bat. Whoever hits the bag hard enough to open it wins bag of sprouts!
The Fuji Favorite: Microwave sprouts for 1 to 1/2 minutes then top with warm marinara or au gratin sauce.
I’m not going to lie: even when I’m boring I’m still pretty entertaining. Right?
Just kidding. These ten minutes couldn’t pass slower. Seriously: don’t watch this.
Wait, maybe do watch? No don’t. No do. Maybe?
My parents have begun speaking in a volume that I’d put somewhere between a prairie dog burp and a mouse fart. Which is to say, I can’t hear them. The exception to this is in the morning when my mom is having an argument with Tobey. “Tobey, NO!” she’ll scream, the windows rattling. “Tobey, I said NO!” she’ll thunder. Then Tobey will bark a tiny bit and then I’ll stumble into the room groggy and confused and she’ll apologize if Tobey woke me up. Other than this one time of day it’s all hushed tones. At first I thought it was me and that somehow my hearing had been compromised on the flight. “Something wrong with your ears?” my mom would say as I cupped the sides of my head. “No thanks, I don’t like beer,” I’d answer. I was upset about going deaf but getting drunk wasn’t going to solve anything.
And so it went for a few days: my parents carrying on in a way audible only to dolphins, me wondering if I should get a manicure before learning sign language, until I stepped out of the house and was commended on my incredible hearing.
Huh?
You see, all of my Costa Mesa friends used to play in bands and so their hearing is fairly terrible. “That alarm is going to drive me crazy,” I announced a couple days ago. “What alarm?” asked a friend in all seriousness. “Are you serious?” I asked, because I hadn’t read the previous sentence. He nodded and I shook my head in response. Then I clicked four times to indicate a boat on horizon. “There’s an alarm going off in the other room,” I explained. “It’s quiet but it’s been going off for about an hour.” He left to investigate. “Wow, that’s a frequency I no longer have,” he said upon returning. “That’s a shame… but you didn’t turn the alarm off,” I responded. Then I punched him. He never heard it coming.
And then I was at a party with two friends. “Wow, how can you hear that?” they asked when I said that one of the friend’s girlfriends was in the kitchen asking a question about guacamole. “I don’t know, I was convinced I was going deaf,” I said. Then they tried to claim that the reason I could hear and they couldn’t was because of angles and where I was sitting in proximity to the guacamole question versus where they were sitting. I’m not sure if they were right or not.
And… and now I can’t hear myself think because the paternal mouse farter is talking loudly on the phone. Do they just save up their volume for phone calls and yelling at Tobey? Or are they trying to gaslight me? I feel gaslit. Gaslighted? Gaslain?
Check it out you guys: guests on the show who aren’t related to me! In this episode I interviewed Matt Costa and Michael Rosas.
I don’t know if my IQ drops by about 20 points when I’m at my parent’s house in Orange County or if I’m just tired from all the lying around but I’ve been sitting in this chair staring straight ahead for a while now and I’ve yet to solve any of the world’s problems.
Problems I’ve yet to solve:
Why are ducklings so cute?
Why do I have a headache?
Why is everyone saying Entourage was so sucky? (I thought it was pretty good last night)
Why do I gain 45 pounds every time I come to CA?
How did I get to be so wonderful?
What’s up with that?
How’s it going?
Where do I come up with these things?
No really, where
Why did I first want to write that my IQ drops about 20 “degrees”?
Am I actually going to make the phone calls I need to make or just keep thinking that I need to make phone calls?
Should I wear a sombrero to the party I’m going to tonight because I’m not loving my hair right now?
Or should I paint a very small mural on my forehead to distract from the hair?
Should I get up from this chair?
If there was some kind of device that would push me out of this chair would it be a chair lift? But not the skiing kind of chair lift, just another chair lift? I could get behind that.
So you see, I’m getting a LOT of stuff accomplished over here.
In other news, I think I may have written two not-very-funny jokes last night. Although they’re obvious enough that I can’t believe I’m the first to think of them. Yet unfunny enough that I don’t think I’ve heard them before. Shall we?
Q: What did the drug dealer say to the junkie?
A: “You gotta get right back on the horse.”
Another one? Ok:
Q: Why was everyone mad at the junkie?
A: He kept talkin’ smack.
Get it? I don’t know why my jokes are heroin based, by the way. I didn’t even eat poppy seed muffins or anything!
I suppose I should take a shower since I have to be somewhere in many hours.
Ok then.
Also, I’m having that neither here nor there feeling I often get when I’m neither here nor there. Like, I could easily stay out here longer and that would be fun. And yet I know my life is in NYC and so I should go back. But it’s so easy here except for the way everyone’s always throwing avocados at you and trying to get you to have plastic surgery. “No more implants!” I yelled, as an avocado went whizzing past my new nose. It was scary and yet exhilarating. In New York they just throw metrocards at you. Also, before I came out here I was in a huge screaming rush and so I left my apartment in disarray. I’m not looking forward to going back to the way I left it although thankfully I filled the ground with a couple feet water, plugged the holes, and released a few Koi in there because I find tropical fish relaxing. I just hope my neighbor remembers to feed them through the window.