Alex: Senior Poop Picker-Upper_Manic Monday_The Lovebirds_Seven Cliches Over Christmas
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Alex: Senior Poop Picker-Upper
In my hoity-toity neighbourhood, everyone picks up their dog’s poop whilst on their evening stroll. Albeit, with a cotton-gloved hand and a bio-compostable, tangerine-scented bag. There is a level of unspoken trust and pride in the air, which is justified by the price of the townhouses, that one ‘leaves it as one finds it’. The most common dog breed is poodle, or something-‘oodle’, whose poop only needs one delicate, pinky-lifted pinch to scoop up. After the sun has winked and tip-toed off to bed, and dusk has sauntered into the crisp suburbs, it is time for the ‘Oodles’ to own the pavement. B...
Manic Monday
"Mummmyyyy, Alfie hit me!""Mummmyyy she kicked me first," came loud cries from the living room as Jess prepared the children's breakfast in the kitchen. The song "Manic Monday" by The Bangles blared from the radio. Jess smiled at how apt this song was for the present moment. It was indeed a very manic Monday morning in the Robinson household. It had been a long weekend. Jess's husband, Tom, was ill with the flu and had been in bed for all of it. She was exhausted and had slept through the first alarm (thank goodness for the snooze function!). Today was her day off work, so after she dropped th...
The Lovebirds
“It can be anything. Anything!”“No.”“Chicken.”“There's nothing wrong with you. You're perfect the way you are.”“Oh, come on. You can’t give me one simple–”“Hey! Get back here.”“Just one thing, just whatever. Some little thing. I want to know!”“So you mean, a performance evaluation.”“It could be my performance. It could be my looks. Has to be something I can change, is all. Preferably without surgery. Something that just kinda bugs you.”“And then it'll be my turn, I presume.”“No, we don’t have to.”“Oh, really? Hardly seems fair.”“I like to worwww.onedoor.cck on myself, is all. Better myself.”“People don't ch...
Seven Cliches Over Christmas
[DRAFT] At the Mud Creek Saloon in Eagle River, I see American flags on the walls, pitchers of beer on the bar, and drawn-out guitar solos ring in my ears. From what I've seen on TV, this is the type of place where they kick the shit out of gay characters. Or shoot them dead in the parking lot.Not my idea of a good time. So to blend in, I pretend to enjoy the song that's playing-Sweet Home Alabama. We’re in Northern Wisconsin but it's a crowd favorite.“Don’t let anyone in Wisconsin know you stan Taylor Swift,” my coworker Justin said in New York when I left. “People like us, we are not safe in...