I realized on my ride back home yesterday that I had forgotten something at work: my bag of dicks. Before the pandemic froze the world, a friend mailed me a rainbow of micro-penises to attach to valve caps so that I could make the cycling world a gayer place. (The same friend gifted me dog testicles stuffed in an olive jar years ago.) Since it was just me and Yann in the bike shop, I figured it’d be the perfect time to mix up a drop of epoxy to fuse the caps and dicks together.
But, the epoxy had been put away after the ski season ended, so I couldn’t get that done. I don’t know my co-workers well, so I’m not entirely comfortable with them finding out that I carry around a bag of dicks.
Whoever had gotten into the bike shop first this morning put aside the bulging bubble mailer. When Yann arrived a few hours later, there was no need for him to ask, “Excuse me, have you seen Laura’s bag of dicks?”
He had to deal with receiving a text from me that asked, “Don’t forget my bag of dicks!”
And, when he came home, he was able to gloriously proclaim, “I have your bag of dicks in my bag!”
I could have called them novelty valve cap covers, but where’s the fun in that?
As much as I appreciate Yann, he’s no Yan of Yan and Henck fame.
Continue reading “Henck and Yan Appreciation Post.”
I’m confused about how I feel about being back at work. I got too used to not being around people so I forgot how awkward the public can be around me, which in turn, makes me feel awkward.
The best part about wearing a mask at work is that I don’t have to figure out what to do with my mouth around people. I’ve noticed that some of the staff at the local supermarket have full-face visors. I’d like that, but tinted–or a mirror finish so that all those bumbling hearing people can see how they look then they react to my deafness.
No, really. The two-month quarantine period really did fuck me up socially. Anyway, we’re living in a time where wearing something like this is now socially acceptable:
Continue reading “Intangible interactions.”
Now that I’ve been reintegrated into the real world, I could ditch social media again. I was glad to have my Insta back over the two months, where I had face-to-face interactions with only one person.
Yann’s been a trooper, but sometimes my questions are a little too much for him. A few weeks ago, I asked select friends via Insta, “If you could shoot silk out of your butt like a spider, would you tell anybody?” I relished the diversity of the responses that followed.
A few days ago, I tested a hypothesis on my followers.
Continue reading “People are real?”
The new phone has arrived. Way before the shoes I ordered a month ago, too. Here’s my review of the Galaxy S10e:
Continue reading “My new phone wrote this blog post.”
A week ago, my phone bricked. It was kind of my fault: its decline began in 2018 when I bailed off my bike with it in the back of my jersey pocket. The glass separated from the phone around the edges, and over time, pocket fluff began to accumulate under the glass. This created a permanent diffusion filter for my front-facing camera, giving the illusion that I was always in a sand storm. The fluff was likely also interfering with the ambient light sensor, causing my screen to flicker.
Life is pain, I know.
Nowadays, smartphones have up to 14 different sensors. With a replacement phone on the way, I’ve been looking at phone case options. Yann suggested the Otterb*x (I’m protecting you from ads), which suggests that he thinks I subject my phones to drops of 100 feet. (Oh, please. My previous phone died from firmware failure!)
I went with a biodegradable hippy-dippy case made from ground walnuts and eggshells, bound together by dried tree sap. When my next phone does die, I can plant the case and it’ll turn into a mighty oak. I admit the company eco-guilted me into going with them, instead of something cooler-looking.
I’m hoping this purchase will offset the environmental impact of discarding an $800 phone after under three years of use.
Continue reading “I lost my tracking device.”