Wrap your head with this material...

"Stop trying so hard. He doesn't like you. Jesus, don't kiss an ass if it's in the process of shitting on you." "M has very few life skills. One of them includes being able to tell when a person just got a haircut." "I was making dinner. I asked M to get the cookie sheet. He runs out of the kitchen and comes back and says... 'Mom, I checked the closet. We don't have any sheets with cookies on them!" ' "I dreamt I was a large African American woman married to someone Big Black's size. We slept on 2 beds: a full size and queen size pushed up against each other." "OMG, what if you got this from a dirty unicorn whore. Have you been soliciting unicorn eye fucking in back alleys? I think its time to evaluate the safety of your decisions, Gina. I mean, just because it has one horn and wants to poke you in the eye, doesn't mean you should let it. It could be a transequineism. You know where horses dress up in trashy u...

I was in a meeting this morning and got sidetracked and told the director of Social Services that I'm creeped out by body builders. (sorry if you're a body builder, but you're orange and greasy and I just don't get it.) Then I side tracked myself further by saying that I'm creeped out, BUT I would really like to do a pull up on one of their arms. You know while they've got it all flexed in the air? My coworker pointed out that it would be slippery because of all the baby oil and I told her "That's part of the challenge, Wendy." I'm totally getting promoted. Except now when I searched for pictures of bodybuilders to add some sparkle to this lurvely post, I picked this picture. Which totally made me remember that there are black bodybuilders too who could not possibly be made orange and now I'm racist. Shit. I'm sorry to black bodybuilders everywhere. You are not as creepy as white bodybuilders which is still probably racist but ...

Its wild how you can share these incredibly intimate moments with people you don't really know. Whether its the song you sing to me and the way you can carry me around on stage and I can feel my soul bouncing off walls and through amps and fingertips when we've never even shared a name. Or the person who caught me when I was about to pull into oncoming traffic when the horn beeped to snap me to and I owe this person whose eyes I've never connected to their breath so much for my in tact ribs. Or the person who inserts an IV on the scene to never be met conscious by a patient who dreams their way through these moments of intimacy. And I wonder, does the person know how they've touched someone? Does the singer know I felt her voice? Does the slap feel the sting like my face? Because we all see the same gathering drops on a window and feel the rain is alone with us. We all construct our personalities from a mix of junk that we see sitting around. Something an older brothe...

Last year for Mother's Day we went out to breakfast and had a great time. A couple of days later is when I found out the baby was dead. I have really mixed emotions about being wished a Happy Mother's Day this year. The baby moves every day and Rob even felt it for the first time on Friday night. I'm happy about it and not all that worried. But still, it makes me kind of want my mommie.

You ever notice how much we downplay fun? If someone's talking about a really good time they had, their eyes crease with joy and they get all lit up about it but if there's something serious going on, they'll excuse themselves for talking about something trivial. I wonder if the trivial thing isn't the serious one. If focusing on the whimsy and joy of the little things is really what makes for the spread of benevolence and joy. And isn't that meaningful? Is there anything more meaningful? Next time you throw a water balloon or see a funny movie or go sledding or play a joke on a friend or make a child giggle, tell me what's really important.