I have this friend C at school. I refer to her as my girl-crush because I absolutely dig the shit out of her in such a way that I alternately want to be her and want to makeout with her. She is wicked cute, has a terrible potty-mouth, and has a wonderfully ridiculous but gruff sense of humor. Whenever we happen to eat lunch together, she's always apologizing for eating meat/fish-stuff around me, which I think is sweet (though unnecessary). I think she finds my veganism kooky but intriguing.
Anyways, a couple weeks ago, we're coming in from a smoke-break together, and there's this fat black ant inside the doorway. C promptly squishes it with her shoe. I reflexively blurt "Awww! What'd you do that for??" Immediately, C apologizes to me. "Oh man. I'm sorry. I just thought it probably shouldn't be inside..." I know she feels bad, so in return, I jokingly say, "Way to be mean."
A few weeks go by. I've completely forgotten about the incident. On Monday, we're outside smoking again. She says to me, "Oh hey. I thought of you the other day. I went outside and my son was smooshing ants. So I said, Hey, what're you doing? And he was like, What, mommy? And I told him, Don't smash those ants. They're just trying to get home to their mommies. And he said, They're lost? And I said, Yeah, honey. They're lost. So you should be nice to them." How fricking boss is that?
Sometimes I'm not in the mood to ramble wittily/sexily/droolingly/evilly/awesomely/suspiciously about food. So I've decided that, for shits and giggles (and to keep people reading, even when I'm not so much in the mood to write), I'm going to occasionally post a picture of a certain aspect of my life and/or living space.
Today is one such day, so I post the first installment.
This is my wall of camp:
to get a better look at the postcards)
It is located in my kitchen.
It began with the metal poster you see in the middle which I bought about five years ago. Then people began to send me campy postcards when they'd stumble across them. My sister got me the Flying Eyes one. The Lantzer got me Satan was a Lesbian. (Which is, of course, biographical nonfiction.) I nabbed a few myself. And the crowning glory was courtesy of my friend P: Naked on Roller Skates. One day, I was sitting in my kitchen, and I thought to myself, Damn. My wall of camp needs ONE more postcard to fill up that stupid empty space and make it symmetrical. I'll have to look around for one this weekend. Next day: Naked on Roller Skates showed up in my mailbox. Talk about cosmic/psychic powers.
The Shitty Sandwich
This was a delicious amazing sandwich in theory (nayo, roasted garlic, winter pesto, fresh basil, and tomatoes), but somehow ended up tasting just really kind of boring. It was nonetheless photogenic, so I share that at least.