Mishmash

Gender reveal parties—I just discovered what those really are. I thought these were about coming out as who you really are.

• Some folks announce that they’ll be transitioning to the opposite side.
• Some tell their buds that they feel most comfortable in the middle ground.
• Me? I’d tell everyone that I’m really actually a woman despite not wearing make up or styling my hair. Despite my occasional suit and tie wearing and no heels, etc., etc.

 Seemed like a fun and important event.

Nope. This is where giggly pregnant adults disclose the birth gender of the baby they’re expecting.

Jesus Pampers Christ, this is all about making sure your friends, who will def consult your baby registry, buy the right colored rompers and accessories isn’t it? It’s focused, subtle extortion.

Make sure no one dares to get little Penelope or Frederic’s sex wrong! Be certain that infant Cindy gets pink tiaras and Jim gets a baby baseball mitt in pale blue. Ya know which toys are appropriate for infants no matter the sex? Love, affection and wee, plush stuffed animals. Personally, I highly recommend octopuses and kangaroos.

Fuck those gendered rompers, those pink and blue baby blankets!
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How can you tell you’re spending too much time on the iPad/Phone? The graph in the book you’re reading is too small, so you put your thumb and index finger on the page and spread them. This is your attempt to enlarge it. Yes, I really did that last night.
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By the by, I’m now reading Hyperbole and a Half:: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened written and drawn by Allie Brosh. Great comic illustrations (but only the women have stick figure arms and legs—why is that?) And fab witty, insightful and intelligent writing. I’m gonna get her second book when it comes out in paperback.
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I had a dream last night (early, early this morning to be precise) that I was moving out of my parent’s tiny house and heading to Boston. This was a one way commute—I already had a job and needed to be there by start of shift at noon. Here’s the thing—Hillel was going to give me a lift but his car broke down. Instead he was picking me up on his bike and was running late. I’d never make it on time, especially since my parents lived in Western Pennsylvania and Boston is close to 10 hours away by car.

Janice just happened to be driving by and said she’d give me a lift (Allegory party? Table for two—Allegory?). We arrived in record time.

As I was heading over the hill from Fenway Park to Kenmore Square I ran into my wonderfully kind and giving pal Craig. We stopped at a bookstore cafe for brunch where he ordered bacon on a baguette. He meticulously rearranged the bacon before taking the first bite.

What’s this all mean?

• I’m WAY overdo for a visit with Hillel
• I’m WAY overdo for an appointment with Janice
• I’d really like to connect with Craig again soon. He lives in San Francisco and I’m 3,000 miles away in Boston though. If the pandemic ever ends I could visit him. In the meantime? EMAIL! 

Also, bacon? In my dream? I don't get the symbolism here at all.