spiral-bound.net( Perpetuating Our Culture of Narcissism )

My part-time jobs have equipped me with an alarming tolerance for tedious, repetitive tasks.

I like the sound of my voice better when I have a sore throat.

Whenever someone develops a new substance or material–for example, water-resistant, mold-resistant drywall–my first thought is that, in 20 years, we will discover that it causes new and more horrible types of cancer.

They must perfume tanning lotion so heavily to mask the scent of burnt flesh.

I love spring but the trash revealed by melting snowbanks is a scourge on the season.

The side part is the best thing that ever happened to me.

I love grocery store apple turnovers.

I am ready to trade my dry, cracked skin and cold feet for open windows, drinks on the porch, and night swimming in the lake.

This week’s batch of hard boiled eggs did not peel well.

I don’t usually paint my nails when they are this short. My sloppy self-manicure makes me feel like an unsuccessful child prostitute.

At dinner last night, I watched a very large man eat bread. Dissatisfied with the supplied accompaniments of hummus and pâté, he and his partner asked for butter and oil.

After several consuming several topped with oil, he spread a scoop of pâté–after testing the suspect ingredient with one huge finger–on another slice and then applied a liberal amount of butter on top.

I expected him to drop dead at the table.