Henck and Yan Appreciation Post.

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.”

Lemme talk to your kids about drugs.

The majority of Gen Zers have left behind a digital trail of their former selves, as many social media platforms have been around for more than 10 years. My blog posts from 2000 would have been long gone had I not been meticulous about preserving my e-history.

I have first-hand accounts of my late teenage years, written as they happened; however, I did not straight-up publicize most of my more intimate moments and thoughts.

I was bullied during the last year of school but never published my experiences, knowing that my bully was hate-reading my blog. I also did not discuss the mess that ensued after my breakup with my first boyfriend, knowing that he was reading it. (It used to be easy to determine who my readers were by matching up their IP, which I had grabbed from old emails, with what the web tracker would log.) Instead, I had to disguise my anger and hurt as metaphorical posts.

But, this post is actually going to be about mind-altering substances! I did not start tripping as a teen, as many people did. I was already openly weird and drugs and felt that their involvement was unnecessary. It irked me how drugs absolved my friends of the outrageous things they’d say and do while under the influence.

HOW IS THIS NOT CHEATING?

Continue reading “Lemme talk to your kids about drugs.”

I’m an approachable snob.

My 2nd week back at work is done with. It’s gotten easier being on my feet all day, but as apparent from my last two posts, returning to the public eye has been agonizing. After a year of getting away with being a plainclothes employee, I’ve been ordered to wear the work-issued tee. I don’t have any complaints about the tee itself: it’s tasteful, but I do not like that it makes me more approachable. I haven’t been this unapproachable, mentally, in years. Yann is the only person who I can comfortably make eye contact with right now.

Yet, I also suggested that Yann use his sewing machine to make alterations to the t-shirt, making it smaller every week so that it’ll look like all the training I’ve been doing at home has paid off.

Do I want attention or not?

Imagine customers coming into the bike shop and seeing us in “work-issued” crop tops? But I jest. I still dream of getting a tinted full-face shield.

Continue reading “I’m an approachable snob.”

Intangible interactions.

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:

A yellow button reads PLEASE STAND BACK 6 FEET WHEN TALKING TO ME.

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People are real?

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?”