Selections from the box
I keep an old Marshall Fields box next to my computer. In this box I toss scraps of paper that I don't want to throw away, but for which I don't have any immediate use. I will dig through that box and tell you what I find.
A leaf of lined paper from a mini legal pad. The wrinkling suggests that I used it as a coaster for a rocks glass. My rocks glasses usually contain gin and ice (I have learned, through bruising and/or waking up on the floor, not to use a tumbler). The paper reads "Schnuckiputzi was sexy b/c her angle matched his deformed penis." Google reveals that schnuckiputzi means "sweetie pie" or "cutie pie" in German. I'm a big fan of angle.
My income tax forms. Bobby Gates won't get a nickel from me. I kid. I paid my taxes. It cost me a shit-load to overnight all those pennies to Washington. In a box. With a sedated chimpanzee.
An index card reading "To me, a good end table and a fax machine have about the same value." How true. I'm still using the box with the fax machine in it as an end table. I do have an end table, but I use it to kill the neighbors.
The page that I sliced off the inside left of a Mother's Day card. It reads, "I've always loved you Mom! Thought I should tell you that, because there were times when you really must have wondered. I know I wasn't the easiest kid to bring up, but you were always there for me -- and deep down inside I was grateful..." I just couldn't picture myself yelling the first sentence. And deep down inside me, there's only blood and tar.
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A leaf of lined paper from a mini legal pad. The wrinkling suggests that I used it as a coaster for a rocks glass. My rocks glasses usually contain gin and ice (I have learned, through bruising and/or waking up on the floor, not to use a tumbler). The paper reads "Schnuckiputzi was sexy b/c her angle matched his deformed penis." Google reveals that schnuckiputzi means "sweetie pie" or "cutie pie" in German. I'm a big fan of angle.
My income tax forms. Bobby Gates won't get a nickel from me. I kid. I paid my taxes. It cost me a shit-load to overnight all those pennies to Washington. In a box. With a sedated chimpanzee.
An index card reading "To me, a good end table and a fax machine have about the same value." How true. I'm still using the box with the fax machine in it as an end table. I do have an end table, but I use it to kill the neighbors.
The page that I sliced off the inside left of a Mother's Day card. It reads, "I've always loved you Mom! Thought I should tell you that, because there were times when you really must have wondered. I know I wasn't the easiest kid to bring up, but you were always there for me -- and deep down inside I was grateful..." I just couldn't picture myself yelling the first sentence. And deep down inside me, there's only blood and tar.
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Labels: from the box
posted by JMH | 11:22 PM
4 Comments:
I like my fax machine. It keeps me company. In the middle of the night it receives faxes of junk mail. It's fabulous.
I've been using my can-opener to kill the neighbours. An end table probably requires fewer swings.
I always shout "I love you mom!" It both terrifies them, but at the same time really brings the message home.
Do/Did you end your phone conversations like that too? Especially those on public transportation.
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