Dear Darling Ones, I have a love/hate relationship with tiny, travel-sized items like toiletries, itty bitty booze bottles, and a third thing I can’t think of right now. As a humanlike creature I am hardcoded to adore tiny things — babies (once they’re like nine months old), kittens, LEGO replicas of popular sitcoms from the early aughts, and travel-sized everything. From the time we start to exist we are taught…
Hi Darling Ones, How are you? I’m alright. Grief continues, abated for the most part. Friday was the first Friday since my dad died where I didn’t spend the entire day saying, “Dad died X weeks ago today.” I realized that on Saturday and felt wretched. In return he’s haunting my dreams. Seems fair. Aside from that, I stacked up a few good days in a row mood and work…
Hey Darling Ones, It was one of the summers of 2017-2019 when I was really invested in dating and dating apps. I get like this occasionally, where I tire of waiting for Prince Charming to hack through the brambles, find me half asleep in my castle, kiss me. Fairytales are never not creepy as fuck. When I get like this I sign up for all the dating apps and spend…
Dear Darling Ones, I just finished five hours of work,* put on Waxahatchee’s “Saint Cloud” record, and promptly burst into tears. Gee whiz, Jodi’s crying again. Shocker. After all, my dad just died! But these were not grief tears. Not happy tears or tired tears or oh my god I’m hilarious tears or hangry tears or bored tears or horny tears or lonely tears or frustrated tears or rage tears….
Hi Darling Ones, I’m being held hostage by avocados and grief. My plan for today was to work a bunch (still behind due to dad death), make chicken fajita rice burritos for dinner, and then tuck in with The Go-Go’s documentary while I still have my free trial of Showtime. However, the 48¢ avocados I bought on Thursday have other plans. Namely, the “we’re gonna wait to ripen until a…
Hi Darling Ones, When I tell my friends or family that I’m bad at watching TV they laugh politely and then go on to talk about whatever show they are recommending to me. It sounds dumb, but I am bad at it. For example last night I signed up for a free-trial of Showtime so I could watch the Sinead O’Connor documentary “Nothing Compares.” It took me three hours to…
So, Darling Ones, I had a tiny rage meltdown today. When I checked the mail this afternoon there was the usual printed spam, the electric bill, a package containing 300 teeny, tiny phallic-looking stitch markers, and a letter/offer/advertisement addressed to my mom. An advertisement from a monument company addressed to my mom but sent to my house. I went from having a so-so day to incandescent rage in about thirteen…
Hey Darling Ones, Before I get into today’s nonsense, I’d like to point out the header image. It says, BOOBS in numbers. As soon as Sister #4 popped that calculator out of her box of Dad’s crap he hauled home from my parents’ apartment I put in some batteries and did the time-honored tradition. The poor children of today probably don’t get to experience the profound joy of spelling BOOBS…
Dear Darling Ones, I was supposed to go back to work today. I really need to go back to work. I have at least three projects now overdue and one more soon to be overdue. If I do not work I do not get paid. Unfortunately, the dad’s death did not turn me into an obscenely rich heiress. My inheritance was 157 wheat pennies and an old, inoperable Kodamatic instant…
Hi Darling Ones, If you’re an avid consumer of any kind of media — books, tv, movies — you’re familiar with this trope. It’s the one where you learn of someone’s death and you do not cry. For my entire life as a well-known and copious cryer I thought this was some writerly bullshit. Kind of like letting go of a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in…
