Festering childhood memories.

Okay. I’m in love.

I’m in love with Ponyboy, which means Rocky got sold. I’d posted Rocky on Craigslist and UsedVic over a month ago, and go no bites. Was it that the bike was too expensive, or people have terrible taste? Then Rocky ended up on Facebook Marketplace via someone else’s account. First week: nothing. Then, last week, the sun was shining and all of a sudden people were interested.

Before I knew it, Rocky was gone. I wasn’t even around for the transaction. It was awesome of my co-workers to help sell the bike so that I didn’t have to organize a meet-up only to get ghosted. I genuinely had so little hope that the guy would show up on Friday and actually buy the bike. So, I’m showing my gratitude by flooding the shop with baked goods.

Yann asked me if I missed Rocky yet. I don’t, but it is weird knowing that the bike isn’t mine anymore. I’ll probably still see it around the city, possibly being mistreated by the new owner. It’ll be easy for me to spot as I haven’t ever seen another bike like it in Victoria. Or France:

Rocky before Rocky before an armless lady with meaty thighs. (Banyuls-sur-Mer, France.)
Continue reading “Festering childhood memories.”

Foto Phlurry.

I don’t think I can claim to be anti-social media now that I’m a Redditor. I love my friends, but most of them don’t have hours to talk nonsense at any time of the day, so I get my fix on Reddit. R/AskReddit is a fountain of thought-provoking but mostly pointless questions that get answered by oversharing enthusiasts such as yours truly. Many of these questions inspire a trip down memory lane:

“What’s the weirdest compliment you’ve ever gotten?”

That is a tricky one because I am a woman on the internet, and there are thousands of photos of me online. My Flickr account turns 16 this year, and I’ve been objectified for some oddly specific reasons. Sometimes I’ll go through my Flickr archives and wonder why the permissions for some of the photos have been set to Private until I read the comments. Rather than sending my brain down the darkest lane of my annals, I reflected on real-world instances.

When I worked at Value Village (thrift store) many moons ago, my job consisted of digging through dusty, old stuff. Naturally, there was a lot of sneezing going on. A co-worker I was starting to be friends with told me that I had the cutest sneeze. From that point on, whenever I’d sneeze, she’d giggle and go, “Aww!”

And you know, COVID has taken this away from me because there’s no way I could charm someone with my baby mouse sneezes ever again.

That was also the year I learned that hearing people add sound FX to their sneezes. This friend also confessed that she was afraid of pink dolphins because they “look like people”. She was cute and I miss her.

But I still have cute friends. I call this one Tammy:

Wait, what’s she doing?

Continue reading “Foto Phlurry.”

When to yell at a deaf person.

I feel like the increase in demand for instant gratification has stripped people of the patience to communicate with me.

I had a dream this morning about getting into an altercation with two unfamiliar old ladies who insisted on communicating with me verbally through their masks. I responded, on paper, reminding them that I, too, would love to communicate seamlessly with the public, but because I dared to get sick as a child, I don’t get to do this. Think about it, I continued scribbling, you can’t deal with what I have to do 99% of the time, for five minutes. One of the ladies started bleeding at the fingertip and scribbled her response in blood, accusing me of being disrespectful, thus summoning the manager.

What a sinister bitch!

But that was a dream. In reality, I’ve had many people simply walk away from me upon learning that I can’t understand them even if they start yelling at me from behind their masks. The correct response from me is: “Fuck them.” But when it starts happening regularly, there are some days where I go, “Fuck me, right?”

I don’t like that I’m a misanthropist, but it’s hard not to be when you’re confronted with rude, ignorant people routinely. On the contrary, when strangers do something as simple as sign “thank you,” it brings me joy. This is an everyday interaction most people are accustomed to, but for me, it’s like, “Wow, you’re treating me like everybody else. You’re practically the kindest stranger I’ve interacted with all day. If not all week.”

Continue reading “When to yell at a deaf person.”