We are walking to Rite Aid when a mother and her daughter cross the street near us. My daughter points to the girl who, in my view, is kind of a really mean, not at all nice little kid.
She says, “Hey that’s my friend.”
I ask, “What’s her name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should know your friends’ names?” I ask.
After a pause, she says, “All I know is that she’s really good at not sharing.”
We’re at the farmer’s market. My wife, seeing that the coffee guy is there, says: Hey you want to get some coffee?
Her: What? How come?
Me: It’s good coffee and all, but last time—it takes him a while to make your cup and so he starts talking to me about roasts and blends and flavors and stuff.
Me: It was awkward.
Her: That doesn’t make any sense.
Me: Well. So, imagine your crack dealer started talking to you about different varietals of cocaine, when really they should be saying, This shit’ll get you messed up.
I’m sharing my sandwich with my daughter.
Looking at the meat, she says, “Is this chicken?”
“No, baby, it’s ham.”
“Yeah,” she says, “but is it chicken?”
“No, sweetie, it’s ham.”
“Why isn’t it chicken?”
“Because when you use a pig to make chicken, you get ham.”
For people who drink from nip bottles, I’m just curious:
Have you ever—and I mean ever—tried using trash cans?
I was just wondering.
—a curious citizen
This morning, around seven. I’m putting on my shoes and getting ready to go out.
My wife comes in, rubbing her eyes. She slept all right, she tells me. “How about you?”
“I had the weirdest dream—”
“—people kept dying and designating us as their guardians.”
“That’s sad,” she says, finally giving in.
“But then, I get an email from another kid—this has to be the third one we’ve been named guardian of—that says something like, ‘Why have you abandoned me at school?’ So, hours later, we drive over to the school, and there’s some kind of party happening.”
“Yeah. So anyhow, we finally find the kid and—”
“It’s our daughter.”
“No—it’s got the body of a really raggedy stuffed animal, and the head of—”
“No. Roberto Benigni.”
“I don’t even—”
“I know, right?”
Later, I’m walking to work, and I’ve got this Maroon 5 song stuck in my head. (“In the dayyyyyliiiigghht, etc.)
Then, finally, I see a rabbit and the excitement makes it go away. Then, I’m like, “Hey! I got that song out of my…IN THE DAYYYYYLIIIIIIGGHHHHHT….”
[Insert Rage Face here]
Her: Hey, what kind of bird is that outside the window?
Me: It’s a mourning dove.
Her: I wonder what he’s doing.
Me: He’s the lookout.
Me: All the others are eating right now.
Her: How do you get to be the lookout?
Me: Easy. You only have one arm.
Her: You’re still asleep, aren’t you?
To the person who took the cup of coffee that I’d just set down at a table at my local cafe for the purposes of marking the space, while I went to retrieve my backpack: Apparently you didn’t notice my cup was full of still very hot coffee. I guess you didn’t see it, or bother to—I don’t know, look around maybe?—to see if anyone was, in fact, sitting there?
To whomever it was, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you are eaten by a shark on your way home.