The Vintage Jacket

jacket

On a long and chilly night when historical readings seem ideal, a distinguished jacket is imperative. With overcoats now joining the needlessly pompous, a subtle, yet sophisticated look is in order. Like John Adams and a glass of bourbon, vintage jackets at the local bookstore go hand in hand.

While some may still consider second-hand clothing to be used, this faded chocolate beauty is vintage in all the right ways. Dry cleaned and unwrinkled, its slightly slanted pockets keep your elbows proudly bent at an angle. You don’t just walk through the streets of Beantown in a 1970s zip-up: You fly.

Tan, faux suede, elbow patches are properly sewn to the fabric creating an authentic, non-ironed, professorial appearance. Whether you’re talking 1930s Bulgarian economics or quoting Yeats, crossed arms are a must. For a more pronounced approach in academically-inclined body language, try a sitting posture that includes a lifted forearm to the chin. A marginally cuffed sleeve exposes only so much of the wrist, leaving you covered for the times you need it most.

For only $67 this jacket has an original 1970s scent to go along with its impeccable taste in style.

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The Fire Alarm

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5 things to understand about your fire alarm

  1. Some things need more attention than others. When your alarm screams, flashing everyone in sight for seemingly no reason at all, it needs you to understand: You are his whole life.
  2. Fire alarms are sensitive. Sometimes when they go off, it’s scary. To the fire alarm, even the most innocuous threat seems real. Without your full attention, the fire alarm may feel ignored.
  3. Fires are unnecessary to sound an alarm. If peace and quiet has occurred for an unusually long period of time, the fire alarm will warn you. Under the guise of “it’s better safe than sorry”, random shrieks may be heard.
  4. If a fire alarm ceases to carry out its duty; you will not know. Like the silent, but deadly killer of carbon monoxide, a defunct fire alarm stays quiet. Instead, fire alarms may sulk, pretending everything is okay for months at a time.
  5. Fire alarms will die for you. Some may consider fire alarms dramatic. Others think they’re their hero. Either way, when taking a fire alarm for granted, there will be repercussions.

The Trash

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Dear Trash,

I don’t know if it’s me or you.

Are you only attracted to something sturdy because you’re rachet? If I’m your last resting place, who was your first?

It’s always the same. Cheap white plastic drooling at the corners. I see you straggle in. You tell stories about parties while I hear who used you. Friends, you say. They’ll never see you again. You smell like flavored apple cigars, but the good kind.

How could you know the difference?

Empty boxes of cigarettes with the foil left shining almost look like chocolate. It’s a special treat., you claim. Every time it opens up, the packaging is still inside.  

Or maybe it’s me. I like to be the protector: the white night in the morning. I love the way you shine even when you’re empty. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt the way I hold on.

I know you hate everything, but you know you love me. 

I make you you belong.

 

Sincerely,

Your dumpster fire

The Present

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Dear Present,

Thank God we’re over the past. It was an ugly time for anyone, but especially hard on us. There were times when it seemed you would never get here, but I knew you were stuck in time.

I know you think I was running from you, but really, who wouldn’t? You were so creepy with your insistence on everything now. Images of bad 90s workout videos to songs like Pump Up The Jam were a constant threat to my reality. Would anyone want to listen to that when Jane Fonda seemed so much better?

Everything looks better in Sepia. Even those bowl haircuts that boys used to have. Now they’re almost cute. Now that they aren’t around anymore. What is it that goes on now that will look better in the future? I know. I know. It doesn’t matter, it’s not happening. Future and past don’t exist.

But let me ask you one thing, before we figure it out. Did you ever say to someone “Live in the moment” only to laugh at yourself? Just for a minute. Disregarding the idea that you truly believe what you say, did the humor ever reach you, when you truly wished it wouldn’t?

Which moment, is what I want to know, did you decide you weren’t my future?

I enjoy what we’ve got going on right now and I’m not trying to give you grief.  But please, let me know: if you want to go further, I can always take you back.

Sincerely,

Yours.

The Thermometer

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11:28pm: Hey, u up?

Thermometer 11:28pm: What’s that supposed to mean?

11:29pm: Just seeing whats up

Thermometer 11:30pm: Who is this?

11:30pm: I’m your #1 fan

Thermometer 11:31pm: Do you even know me?

11:31pm: I know ur hot

Thermometer 11:32pm: Stop texting me.

11:33pm: Ok- I’m serious now. Ur the 1 for me. I saw you at the CVS on 5th street, remember?

11:40pm: You were in the aisle all by yourself. I asked for your # and you gave it.

Thermometer 11:40pm: Fantastic?

11:40pm: u know it

Thermometer 11:41pm: That was two weeks ago.

11:41pm: I was working up the courage to text

Thermometer 11:41pm: Really? You seemed pretty cocky when you approached me out of nowhere.

11:42pm: It was a facade. I’m shy underneath

Thermometer 11:41: You don’t have anything underneath.

11:43pm: What are you saying?

Thermometer 11:52pm: You’re a carpet cleaner. Expiration date passed.

____________

[Hi readers, I am trying to make a bit of money off my blog by trying Amazon’s Affiliate program. It might not work out – I’m not sure yet. Anyway, any advertisement I post, will be relevant to what I write. I respect my readership and your opinion.]

 

The Guide To Modern Dating:

The Pain Reliever

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The Pain Reliever:  Expectation vs. Reality

Expectation:

Will relieve pain. All pain.

Heartbreak from immature brat who found someone better. Bruised pride from begging brother for other half of rent money. Soreness from best friend who ‘forgot’ to lend me moving truck. Twisted arm from agreeing to live with other friend in roach infested apartment. Throbbing headache from hearing her complain about vintage Beastie Boys CDs that are not played too loudly. Burned by the desire we share every Tuesday in the laundry room. Burned because she’s friends with the brat who found someone better. A pain in the neck from explaining she’s not really a brat. Stiffed on the rent money when she, too, moves out.

Reality:

Limber enough to move on.

 

The Spam Folder

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I take my job seriously because people depend on it. I protect the email. I protect the user. I even protect information. I am the Spam Folder.

Every day I catch stray spam, trying to weasel its way into the computer. Save 20% off your next purchase when you try SalonPro Scalp Control! It stands at the edge of my decision, pleading its case as if it was something new.

“The scalps of innocent people may flake off entirely if they don’t take precaution now!” I’ve seen it all.

Filled almost to the brim, I have become invisible. Please, just empty the spam, I pray to the user every evening before rush hour. I don’t know how much more I can take before completely slowing down.

Happy Dating Love Available For Destiny!!!!

I capture it, wrestling with the idea of actual destiny. Maybe there is something to the email. Maybe even if it is junk mail, the opportunity for love will conquer. I think of my user, tapping on the keys for hours at a time. Even at night the laptop is on. If real love existed, the power of online wouldn’t consume so much.

Real, live, girls looking for marriage! Good food! Happy home! Happy heart!

No, this is not beneficial. I pluck the email from an undecided cloud and bury it behind Mattress Discount Blowout!! Act Now And Receive Clean Sheets!!!

I have room for only one more email. The account is slow and I feel as if I am swimming through a public streaming of the Academy Awards.

Are you addicted to the internet?

It comes at me during a suspicious time: the small hours. Once 3AM hits, foreign spammers swarm with offers of everything from anti-aging miracles to fashion modeling careers. This goes against the script.

Do you spend more than 4 hours a day online?

I know for a fact that social media takes up at least a few hours of time per day. Once down the search engine rabbit hole, the spam accumulates to maximum capacity.

Do you feel less comfortable than you used to when socializing face to face?

This service, whatever it is, could truly benefit those from a certain generation.

Call now to set up your initial consultation at 1-900-293-2726. Please disclose your name, email address, cell number, and any social media account profiles that are active and we will get back to you within 2 business days.

The need for information seems inappropriate. Social media accounts are of no use to anyone except marketers. But perhaps this company will ultimately help detangle the addiction of online exposure. Not to mention, the email account could truly be destroyed if information isn’t handled properly. By letting the advertisement through, I could be preventing much larger problems in the future.

Do the right thing for real connections.

The email address contains a name. John McCall. There is a business account attached to the address. It’s probably a registered company. It’s probably legit.

_______________________

 

 

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Pain Reliever

aleve

Name: Aleve

Age: Expiration date optional

Body Type: Curvy

Looking For:

Someone who is mysterious and probably misunderstood.  Substance use is acceptable as long as it’s for healing purposes only.

My Ideal Date:  

Watching old VHS tapes of Tom Waits and comparing it to your band.

Three Things I Can’t Live Without:

1.)The joy of helping others

2.)Water

3.)The back shelf of your pantry

Faith/Spirituality:

I’m at a point in my life where I know what works.  I have faith in myself.

One thing I am exceptionally good at:

Decreasing a tense situation.

Favorite Song:

Complicated by Avril Lavigne

Favorite Quote:

“Be My Headache.”

The Boombox

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Dear Listener,

There comes a time in everyone’s life where the past seems better than the present.  You get old, you get tired, you don’t feel like driving twenty minutes to work every single day and you start to think, remember that time when I was seventeen?

No.  You don’t remember that time when you were seventeen.  You don’t remember when your best friend’s mom screamed at you for feeding her son pot out of a hollowed out apple.  You don’t remember how your stomach bulged out of the neon green spandex that you had to buy because Stacy Q. was beyond amazing.  You don’t remember the first time you went to a night club and danced until you accidentally elbowed the shy guy in the eye.

You remember Sublime.  You remember sitting stretched out in the back of your friend’s 1980’s Honda Accord while you dangled your arm out the window.  You remember the rainbow-colored beanie that you could have sworn were the colors of the Jamaican flag.  You remember that guy with the dreads who said you didn’t ever need to shampoo again just as long as you had Bees Wax.  You remember thinking you could keep riding in that car forever.

But thank God, you got out.  You no longer had to stay on your mom’s couch eating pizza Pringles and watching reruns of bad sitcoms.   You made it past abstinence-only education, dodgeball, and pregnant cheerleaders.

Now you just have to change the CD.

It was never Sublime.  It will never have been Sublime.  It’s been over 20 years and you hate pop reggae.

Signed,

Your Boombox