The Fort Collins Pube Fair.

111 pages deep into 1Q84, and Murakami describes a woman’s pubic hair for the second time.

“Pubic hair like a poorly tended soccer field.”

Then, another 71 pages later, Murakami can’t hold in the urge to shoehorn in another uncomfortable simile about pubes.

“Her pubic hair grew like a patch of grass that had been trampled by a passing army.”

I’m currently on page 275, anxiously awaiting to see how much more abstract Murakami can get in his descriptions of women’s pubic hair. Between those 93 pube-free pages, there have been swells of chests and tight sweaters. Nothing as bad as Simmons’ “Her nipples, he could not help noticing…” line.

Continue reading “The Fort Collins Pube Fair.”

Imagination.

Six weeks into my sabbatical, the Question of the Day remains unchanged.

What do I want to do today?

First, I’ll have some toast. While seemingly everybody I know needs an hour or two before eating anything, I wake up excited to eat toast. I have access to oatmeal (instant and delayed), apples, yogurt, eggs, and a whole bunch of other unconventional breakfast foods, yet every morning, I feel in my heart — and stomach — that I want toast. Options concerning breakfast do not overwhelm me.

Toast moves me.

As soon as those two pieces of toast are inside of me, the day unleashes its torrent of options.

In real life, I’m the least likely to choose this one.
Continue reading “Imagination.”

How to Win Friends (food and video games) and Influence People (drugs and alcohol).

The tournament is over. Which Cup determined the winner? Mushroom Cup? Shell Cup? Flower Cup?

In the race to get all the party decorations and snacks ready, I won. I was left with enough time to add extras to my already-extra party arrangements, such as crafting a dry-erase arrow spinner for course selection between facing off players.

A few minutes before the first guests showed up, I slipped a non-carcinogenic sheet of stickers next to the disposable cups, giving guests an opportunity to express themselves.

Continue reading “How to Win Friends (food and video games) and Influence People (drugs and alcohol).”

The door hasn’t closed.

Effective today, I am an unemployed bum without a bum.

Two weeks ago, the boss sent an email to all mechanics asking if any of us were interested in a seasonal layoff. The selling point was that we’d be eligible for employment insurance. Around this time of the year last year, I was working ~20 hours a week. I often came into the shop to do something other than fix bikes, such as organizing the nuts and bolts in the tiny drawers: it was bleak. Why have a repeat of that?

Before booking it from the shop, I made the boss pinky swear to rehire me in four months. He had a splinter on one pinky finger, but the other one still had loyalty coursing through it. Our right pinkies intertwined, manifesting an unbreakable contract.

I have a long list of arts and crafts projects I want to do. This sabbatical should give me the time to build a toddler, ie. learn how to crochet, finish sewing my first pair of pants before it’s shorts weather again, and tone up my glutes.

I spent almost the entire summer wearing shorts with an elastic waistband, thus postponing the realization that I’d lost weight. This has bumped up my power-to-weight ratio and also robbed me of whatever butt I had.

There’s very little meat on these bones.

Continue reading “The door hasn’t closed.”