dear jared:
please wash me.
you're wearing me for the 6th day in a row today, and though that might be lost on everyone else, it's not lost on me. I need cleaning, I need it now.
Exhibit A: black smudge mark, sector 3 (left hip)
Exhibit B: whitish streak, sector 4b (right, rear calf)
Exhibit C: increasingly suspect smell (pervasive)
Exhibit D: wrinkles...everywhere.
you wouldn't not clean yourself for 6 days -- why should I be treated any differently? I cover your ass, literally, on a daily basis. and I'm cool with that; I just need a bit of liquid tide and a spin cycle or two.
i'm aware that being leader of the pack comes with certain requisites: starting everyday, matching nearly all shirts, serving as your pseudo-dress pants. truth is, I don't even mind that you don't throw me a warm press every now and again. the tan khakis on the other hand, well... and the jeans? sure, jeans get all the fanfare, but are your jeans out there in the rain?
I hardly mean to complain, man, it's just -- you haven't been yourself. skipping showers, drinking tea, going to art museums. what's wrong with you? i hope you wake up soon from this wannabe, ex-pat, neo-"bohemian" fantasy that you're indulging. you're not yourself, dude.
toss me in the washing machine, jared. now.
Anxiously,
A. Greenish Chino
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v. pandas
what we do/what this is
over the course of the past several months, steph and i have been the subject of frequent inquiry, scrutiny and speculation. "what are you doing back (in laramie)?"; "how's living with your parents?"; "how long are you here for?"; and my personal favorite - "what field are you in?"
we've also been wondering what precisely it is that we're doing. partly because of the occasional existential anxieties these thoughts have induced (i.e., what field are we in?) and partly because our days here are often filled with oddities, absurdities and ennui, we've decided to start writing about our lives in laramie.
we've also been wondering what precisely it is that we're doing. partly because of the occasional existential anxieties these thoughts have induced (i.e., what field are we in?) and partly because our days here are often filled with oddities, absurdities and ennui, we've decided to start writing about our lives in laramie.
kids really do say the damndest things...
1. "i'm going to cut my rib out - and die!" -1st grade
2. "if you choose the right shape, a pink bottle can make a boy look cool." - 2nd grade
3. 1st grader: "I'm so stupid!"
teacher: "No, you're not stupid at all. You're very smart."
1st grader: "Well, I'm a little stupid."
teacher: "No, you're not even a little stupid."
1st grader: "No, a little stupid is ok!"
2. "if you choose the right shape, a pink bottle can make a boy look cool." - 2nd grade
3. 1st grader: "I'm so stupid!"
teacher: "No, you're not stupid at all. You're very smart."
1st grader: "Well, I'm a little stupid."
teacher: "No, you're not even a little stupid."
1st grader: "No, a little stupid is ok!"
1 comment:
Now I understand why I heard someone talking last night about pigeon poohs on Paris public benches, it was not you, it was your pants that were complaining about it!
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