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