The Button

“Like” used to be more optimistic. It was happy with high school reunions, weddings, and job interviews. Nestled at the bottom of something grandiose, it was a humble smile. A thumbs up for success.

“Like” made its way through family albums, 18th birthday parties, and dinners with old friends from college. “Like” was there for the video of your friend playing with the lobsters before supper. It was a funny gesture, something admirable. “Like” valued this.

But then “Like” became popular. “Like” hung out with girls in stilettos. “Like” went to see My Morning Jacket in an abandoned warehouse. “Like” started focusing on other people’s boyfriends.

Everyone wanted a Like for their party. That smiling selfie you took, gazing up at a cell phone camera with newly applied makeup? That was liked. A filter with cat eyes and pointy ears? “Like” enjoyed the stalking.

“Like” showed up to all the biggest parties.

The Halloween bash where your friend threw up all over the backseat of your mom’s car? That party was liked. The obituary of a distant relative that was met more than once? That was liked too.

“Like” became snarky. Hard edged thumbs felt more like middle fingers. That trip to Nantucket? Liked after three days. Kids dressed as NPR hosts for a costume party? Liked at 1AM.

After years of polite smiles and bouncy enthusiasm, “Like” had finally met its match.

Dislike was approaching the horizon.

The Battery

Noise Complaint Filed

Washington City Park 

Loud sounds coming from the field behind Jungle Jim. Second report in 2 weeks. Suspicious activity noted. 

Police Report

Full name: Grey Poupon

Date of birth: 8/12/1988

Time: 12:15pm

OFFENSE

Disturbing the peace

Additional notes:

Does not take responsibility for Britney Spears music. Says screaming was due to unruly guests and denies wrong-doing. When asked name, he gave Grey Poupon. He is yellow and in a packet. 

Police Report

Full name: The Can Opener

Date of birth: 2/17/1999

Time: 12:29pm

OFFENSE

Assault/battery

Attempt to flee the scene

Additional Notes

Appeared very angry and in an agitated state. Was still at said “picnic”. Did not show any remorse for hitting baby one more time. Battery appeared fine, but bruised.

Police Report

Full name: Battery

Date of birth: 4/25/2000

Time: 12:40pm

OFFENSE

Destroying property

Additional notes:

A boombox was destroyed between 12pm and 12:39pm. Apparently direct damage was not intended. When battery left, the music died. Noise is kept at a minimum. 

The Sofa

OtherDoor

When Neighbors Start Walking

unREALcouchpotato1966: New to 8th street

Hey guys,

I’m new here as you can probably tell by the moving boxes set out on the curb. I was going to call someone to remove them right away, but then I thought about the neighborhood. I thought, why get rid of my old treasures when somebody else might enjoy them just as much as I did?

So here’s what we’ve got. 

  1. A rainbow throw blanket from the 70s. This is real. The guy I used to live with gave it to me when he was in college and there’s minimal damage. Blanket may need a wash, but I’ve found a lot of people like the scent. 
  1. Round pillow speaker. I don’t know if you remember, but these were really popular about twenty years ago. You can fall asleep listening to music on a soft plushie. The speaker still works, but there is a high, whale-like, sound every few minutes. I think Britney Spears had one.
  1. Gold. This might not be real gold, but it could be. I found it inside one of my pockets the other afternoon and I’m guessing one of the kids from the old house shoved it in there. But it could be real gold.  
  1. An assortment of buttons, coins, and movie stubs. These are antiques. The only reason I’m not saving them is because of my allergies. 

Again, I’d totally call someone to haul this stuff for me, obviously it’s not a cash-flow issue, but I just figured, sharing is the neighborly thing to do.

Comments (5)

SarahDandtheKttens: Are you the house with a metal rocking horse in the front?

AnneCommings1953: Isn’t there a dumpster on 7th?

UnicornMadness: I don’t appreciate the depiction of horses as simply tools for riding. I have a horse and she is very intelligent. 

AnneCommings1953: I really think the dumpster is empty. Nobody uses that dumpster. You could put the horse in there too.

LampShade: Are you selling the buttons individually?

The Gingerbread House

1 Room Gingerbread House  

550 Pinstripe lane

Bangor, ME

Enjoy a safe distance away from the bustling streets of downtown Bangor with the perfect home. This cozy studio-cottage has all the charm of Christmas. All year round. Located near the Blueberry School for Boys, this district is highly coveted for its snow removal program. 

Pinstripe is a friendly neighborhood. Although the area is not currently on the Bangor power grid, this means little to the community. Many houses are connected by an old-fasioned “string and dixie” line. This fascinating form of antique communication involves only two cups and a long string to attach to other houses of your choice. Since most communication is nonverbal, many neighbors still prefer to nod or wave from their own property. Either style creates a socializing haven for those outside Bangor.

Speaking of property, this gingerbread house has one of the best lots in the area. Underneath real walls of ginger, the cottage sits on authentic, stone slab. This slab was originally used in Bangor for tourist season. It is now a symbol of growth and development.

If interested in a one story gingerbread house with high, lofted ceilings and frosted windows, please call one of our agents ASAP. While the current tenant is still there, he is extremely flexible.

The Gift

Is My Child Gifted?

Many parents with exceptionally talented children wonder if their child may actually be gifted. Since there is no official diagnosis, gifted children can vary in their abilities. Any child can be gifted for a fee, but there is no guarantee they will be received well. 

What Does It Mean To Be Gifted?

According to the National Association for Gifted Children, children are considered gifted when their ability is significantly above normal range. According to the Post Office Association, a child is considered gifted when they reach the front door of any house, apartment or place of residence.  

They do not need to be gifted in one particular specialty such as math or science. They can be gifted in multiple areas of interest including Alaska, Iowa and the IGA. Florida is off limits. 

Common Traits of A Gifted Child

All children are unique in their own way, but some are more distinct than others.  Two specific traits are often seen in many gifted children.

  1. ) A developed sensitivity. Certain children are sensitive. This can be a sign of a gifted child or something else. Many gifted children who excel at math and science are often bothered by loud noises or certain fabric. Children who are gifted must be wrapped in non-styrofoam peanuts for the majority of their transition. Upon arrival, crushed velvet is preferred.  
  1. ) Puzzle play. Abstract thinking that involves complex problem solving abilities can be seen in the early development of gifted children. Gifted children may have been subjected to confined spaces and complex postal systems. This may be particularly disturbing during the holiday season. Many gifted children prefer to find a way out as soon as they are gifted.  

Early Testing

Parents can and should opt for testing. If you suspect your child is gifted, they may seem strange and out of place. To better detect any possible diseases, fleas or emotional disturbance, testing is recommended for any child that thinks outside the box. 

The Books

books

Once upon a time there were books. Hard angled, sharp cornered rectangles with slivers in between. Slippery inked characters ran the page black and white. No color was necessary for pictures made of letters.

The books were complicated. Happy, but conflicted. Arrogant with the self aggrandizement that can only come from small sizes, the books had something to say.

“The History of Mankind”. Medical journals devoted to all aspects of the chest. The hunger of a whale.

“Don’t forget,” they all seemed to say. “I’m still here.”

Books went into shelves and then several cases. Crammed together with no structure, The Most Beautiful Woman in Town sat next to Lonesome Dove, stale Atlantic covers and Allure magazine. Too many words clanged against one another.

“This is too dusty a life these days,” McCall could be heard complaining.

“Have you tried page whitener?” Beauty magazines were shoved to the back.

The direction was unclear. There were words of self help. “Don’t think: Just Do.” mixed with fairy tale warnings, “always listen to your mother-in-law.”

When the book cases were full, they were kept in kitchen cabinets. Out went the dishware. Out went the pans. Words stayed in cramped spaces and roll-out drawers for silver.

When the kitchen was taken over, books piled under the bed. The sneaky books took to hiding. Narcotics Anonymous. How To Be Single. Ipod for Dummies. Quieter, but ever present, there they stayed. All the books. Softly chattering throughout an apartment worth of sentences.

Once upon a time there was not enough space. With every story came inches lost. Ingested into the head, they moved from the physical sphere to the mental and when it was time to go, they came with. Boxes of characters in square structured places. All books find a home.

The Fabric

jcrew

How is this possible? You’re telling me, I can’t sit on the grass, collar popped and comfortably breathe in the fresh air? You’re telling me the polo match is canceled? What about the vineyard itself? Is it, too, closed to the public?

And what is “public” anyway? Children in stained shorts? Walmart? What about the private sector? What about the natural, organic spread of pure material? 100% wool vests? Unmixed cotton? You’re telling me we’re no longer invited?

I demand a refund. I wasn’t made to sit, holed up in some closet, only to wither away from society. The public pool may be closed, but my family owns a house on the lake. No, not the lake you’re thinking about. The lake. I’ve been going for years.

You can’t tell me to close up shop. I live in Tyson’s Corner. I was born for a high end lifestyle and I won’t tolerate quitters. You think you can tell me what to do? Who’s your boss? I want to speak to the manager.

The Platform

viral

 

Viral Service Briefing

Platform Site: MyHome

Tag Line: Where going viral is fun again!

 

Brand History: We, at MyHome, started off as a small site mainly used by shut-ins. By providing moment-to-moment, live analysis of Car Talk and People’s Pharmacy, a healthy community was born for folks interested in learning the social world of the wide web.

While other social media platforms emerged with their own messaging software, we stuck to classic chatroom communication for minimalist information such as  A/S/L. Gradually, as an increasing amount of users divulged more information, they grew bored with the same advertisements targeted specifically for them. At MyHome, nobody knows what kind of paid content they might see.

Demographics: MyHome is currently designed for those who are stuck indoors. Whether self-quarantined or living without a car in an assisted living or hospital facility, social distancing does not require isolation. Those who particularly enjoy MyHome are roughly 50-75 years old with limited cooking ability. Instead, they prefer to upload blurry, digital pictures of home-made, boxed brownies and post them for friends to see. These friends then re-post the homemade brownies, assuming others won’t know it’s somebody else’s photograph. Once the homemade brownie photo has been shared multiple times, another cooking success must be documented. This information, while somewhat misleading, will inform everyone that everyone is baking.

Our Sponsors: Sponsors include products that, while not technically relevant, still exist. Duracell, SanDisk, KikWear and Sharper Image are just some of the important brands we find crucial to our development.

Quarterly Goals: MyHome does not strive for large economic growth. Instead, MyHome is a process that explores the inner depth of communication through online existence. Without a physical presence, we feel MyHome can break down the boundaries of fiction and nonfiction in an effort to build the ultimate viral performance. For this quarter, MyHome nurtures the motivation of many would-be bakers and cat-owners to upload the most generic photos possible so that anybody could be responsible for their content.

Emergency, Get-Out Plan: Should our platform cause any political, social, financial or ethical complications within an online or physical reality, we are fully able to infect MyHome with a mutated virus. In the event of a pandemic, all social-distanced socializing can be heard over People’s Pharmacy.

 

The Candle

candle

 

It’s okay. This crisis wasn’t really about me or her. I’m just concerned about everyone else.  In fact, from a very young age, much younger than most, I realized the sacrifice that some of us were going to have to make. Really, I’m okay with that.  I’ve understood for as long as the earth.

In these trying times, fear not. I will be your light. I can do what no other can. From my ability to see beyond the darkness, I have come to share my wisdom from the humblest of desires: Please. Use me for your guidance. 

I will show you the depths of the shadowy underground that lurks beneath humanity. At first, I thought it was just my ex best friends who were diagnostically inferior. Their facebook pages filled with all the things they can do, but Flash Lights are cheap: too fake for any real intensity. With so many tacky, inspirational quotes, one would think they’d be embarrassed to publish.

“In this horrible aftermath that has taken so many lives, I just want to say thank you. For everyone that believed I can shine.” And then, a day later: “It is during our darkest moments, that we must focus to see the light.”

That was my line. Or it was supposed to be, before she posted it with a photograph of herself standing in the middle of a field with her light switched on. Who wants to gaze at the stars now? Flash lights aren’t free and spontaneous. Flash lights belong in the basement.

But then hundreds of Likes started pouring in. “You’re my rock,” someone commented. She posted a photo of herself nestled up against some parking lot gravel. A dozen hearts appeared. It was horrifically garish at best. 

Out of respect for those in mourning, I refrained from such posts. Instead, I worked on myself. Long nights burning bright on a bedroom table, I watched over those in need. A less glamorous position, some might say. But my power doesn’t come from a button. 

One morning, about a week later, everything became illuminated. In this Chiroscuro lifestyle of selfish extremes, I know how to handle a crisis. I will get us through this. I have  the ultimate glow. 

So to all of my misguided followers out there, fear not. It is not the light we need, but the fire.