Today I Went to the National Gallery of Art

...and drew this sketch of my time among the monuments on the Mall.

Sometimes I Wish My Cat Could Talk

And then sometimes I don't.

A dream in pictures, because the thousands of words its worth will take too long

Tell me your dream in one sentence. Or less.

I recently heard on an episode of This American Life someone's mother describe her rules for conversation topics and the particular ones she bans. This woman expects all polite conversationalists to steer clear of menstruation stories, detailed lists of directions and streets taken, money, diets, and a few others. One listed taboo topic that I've restricted since high school (when I was discovering a whole host of types of conversation that bored me--ones about jobs, getting drunk, college applications, what my friend and I termed "adult humor"--e.g. "Working hard or hardly working?") was dreams.

I hated then and still hate when people tell me their dreams. My problem isn't with the content--dreams are the coolest, completely unpredictable and fantastical--it's the storytelling technique. Or rather, the lack of technique. No structure, no unifying theme. I love the ideas buried in dreams, but there's always so much nonsense surrounding it that makes it hard to listen to dream-telling. Since there can sometimes be cool stuff in dreams, I came up with a compromise. Tell me your dream in one sentence. Boil it down to one sentence and, if it intrigues me, I'll ask for more.

And even better, since they take take even less time to enter my brain, pictures of dreams work too.

Example: This one is called "The plans of aliens, who invade Earth and shoot beams of light from their UFOs that make people grow roots into the ground and eventually turn into trees, are thwarted only by jumping on a trampoline, ceaselessly, to stop the roots from touching and therefore taking ahold in the ground."

More Food Puns!

Now with more sacrilege!

Restaurants are so loud these days.

What did I ever do to America?

U Street in DC on a Friday night. My friend and I were out on the sidewalk when a cab pulled up in front of us and deposited an exuberant young man. He triumphantly yelled out to the cosmos: 

He saw me looking at him and faltered in his enthusiasm. 

He pondered for a moment.

And then he decided:

Time for America. But not for me.

Cacophonous Vomit, Or: Having an Older Sister Builds Character

I stayed home sick this past Monday, and it reminded me of when I was little and would get sick. On quite a few occasions, I'd wake up in the middle of the night and run to the toilet to throw up. Much to my sister's displeasure, I wouldn't close the door behind me. Awakened by my vomiting, she'd gently offer this suggestion:

Granted, my upchucks sound a lot like a Wookie getting punched in the stomach.

The next day, I'd stay home to leisurely enjoy my intestinal purging, and I think my sister resented this vacation that she didn't get to share. She'd sometimes call into question the authenticity of my illness:

My sister was so compelling in her rhetoric that I'd often wonder myself whether I was indeed faking it. 

Nowadays, I still hear my sister's voice in the back of my head when I call out sick, and I wonder, "Am I really and truly sick? Is it really so bad that I can't go in to work today? Or is my sister right? Am I, as I've always feared, a faker?"

But then I say fuck it and go back to bed.

It's Been Awhile.

Sometimes my cat Archibald sits in the sink and watches me poop.

It's times like these that make me feel like I have less control than I should.

I should be able to poop without having my cat judge me;

I should assert my authority over him.

Instead, here I cower.

It is he that has the power.

And he slyly grins

While I shit.

Perk of Being a Shameless Attention Whore #93

Birthday parties are a perfectly acceptable time for demanding compliments. 

Last weekend my friends threw me a surprise birthday party. Besides strong-arming guests into complimenting me, I sang a song with the lyrics "Me! Me! Me me me! This is a party for ME!" 

It's testament to how awesome my friends are that anyone stayed for cake.   

Celibacy by Rejection

Horses Are Such Majestic Creatures

My friend and I recently went camping on Assateaugue Island. There are wild ponies on Assateaugue Island. One morning, a wild pony came very close to our tent while we slept.

It was the loudest sound I've ever heard.

Pop Quiz: What kind of dater are you?!?!?!

After a terrible date, do you:

A.) Seek solace in a tub of ice cream.

B.) Drunkenly text ex-boyfriends.


C.) Decide human interaction and companionship go against your nature, forsake the world and everything you've ever known, and abandon the ones you love in order to take on the mantle of the people's crusader, specializing in rescuing women in the midst of terrible dates and relocating them to a safe space where they can eat ice cream and text their exes.

More food jokes!

 A few nights ago, I came upon the following tableau in my living room:

 

My roommate K was laughing hysterically while my other roommate T looked at her with an expression of uncomfortable puzzlement. While K wept with her uncontrollable laughter, T told me what had happened:

"I was making my lunch for tomorrow and all I had was a bowl of quinoa I had made earlier. So I asked her what I could add to it, how I could 'dress up my quinoa.' And she said, 'You could make them tiny tuxedos.'" 

At this point, the narrative was accompanied by K's shrieks of "Tiny tuxedos. Tiny tuxedos!" She was very proud of herself.

Now, this was a funny joke. How to dress up quinoa? In tiny tuxedos!

Quinoa tailors have tiny, nimble fingers.

What was even funnier, though, was my roommate's reaction to her own joke. Others may have never experienced this particular kind of self-inflicted meltdown, but I have. I was at work, surrounded by my three office-mates when I tried to explain why the phrase "Swiss Chad" is the funniest joke in the history of the world. I got as far as saying, "Swiss Chad! Swiss Chad!" before I broke down into hysterics. With very little poise, I ran out of the office--tears streaming down my face--leaving my three co-workers bemused and slightly terrified, I think.

I give my office-mates plenty of reasons to ask each other, "What the hell is wrong with her?"

What they failed to understand was that "Swiss Chad" is how someone with a Boston accent would say the name of the leafy green vegetable "Swiss chard."

I imagine a guy named Chad in the Swiss Alps, his arms full of chard. Some Boston tourists come across Chad with his chard and proclaim, "Swiss chard!" which sounds like "Swiss Chad!" Chad from Switzerland is very confused as to how these strangers know his name and his nationality. 

See? Hilarious.

Perk of Being Rude #29

You never have to discuss topics that don't interest you.

Vegetable Astrology

When the spoon is in the Hollandaise 

And vegetables lie on the grill

Then peas will grow in gardens

And mouths will have their fill.

 

Order today!

I created a line of greeting cards featuring a grouchy yet lovable back-country clam.

Hulk Hobby

Realizing  his activities are solely destructive in nature, The Incredible Hulk decides to broaden his horizons and explore different hobbies.

The Incredible Hulk knits a scarf.

The Incredible Hulk plants a tree.

The Incredible Hulk auditions for Hamlet.

Perk of Having No Shame #17

You always get the last cookie.

There are no atheists on toilets.

After eating an entire box of chocolate-covered chocolate chip granola bars, which contains a total of 8 chocolate-covered chocolate chip granola bars, I feel like:

All of the above.


*WARNING: Consuming multiple pounds of granola treats may cause death. Buoyed by the sudden onslaught of so much sugar and bloated with oat-fueled fearlessness/powerful gas, you may experience feelings of invincibility. However, these feelings will prove tragically erroneous if you engage in epic feats, like bear-fighting.

Time Flies When You're Having Pun.

Serious Cloud

Ball Punyan.

Silly Yak's Disease