"It is the most shattering experience of a young man’s life when one morning he awakes and quite reasonably says to himself, ‘I will never play the Dane.’”
Got a call in the middle of tech from my parents saying that Elvis had died this afternoon. He was going to run up the stairs, but missed the first step, and slammed his chest into the railing and stopped moving. My parents took him to the doggy emergency room and found out that he had some neurological issues that were either caused by or worsened by his collision. He wouldn’t be able to walk straight, jump or generally be a dog anymore, so they chose to “let him sleep”, as my dad told me.
Elvis was the strangest looking dog I’ve ever seen, and he had a personality to match his appearance. We loved him very much, and he loved us.
Now that my two childhood dogs are gone, I suddenly feel like I’m all grown up.
I also feel like I want to go home.
Everything I know I’ve learned from men in dresses.
I’m constantly amazed by the amount of men who go out of their way to street harass/cat call/whatever me up here in the North. Those Southerns really were gentlemen, I suppose. In Savannah, everyone just smiled (occasionally they would literally tip their hat) to anyone on the street, but making eye contact with a stranger up here is an invitation for leading conversation. One guy stopped me in a Wells Fargo vestibule and really insisted on taking me to Red Lobster. He was pretty mad when I said no, and so was I: those cheesy biscuits are delicious.
Tonight, walking home from work in a jovial mood, I sweetly nodded to some street man standing in front of a pizza shop, and he immediately started walking beside me. He just led with, “You’re cute and I’m really attracted to you,” which, despite my feminist eye rolling, I was still mildly flattered by, to be honest. Like, if weirdos are going to hit on me on the street, at least this one was doing it nicely!
The point is, I just really enjoyed his attempts, because he continued with, “You just seem like one of those quirky girls.” And I was like, do you mean gay? (but only in my head, because I don’t want to go down as a victim of a hate crime in Hartford, CT). My favorite thing he said was, “Do you always wear glasses?” And I almost actually told him the whole story: no, I don’t always wear glasses because they annoy me at work, but I’ve run out of contact lenses and my prescription is expired and I’m too lazy/don’t have the time to go do an eye exam, so that’s why I’ve been wearing my glasses lately. But, somehow I knew that he wouldn’t care about all that, and that’s when I knew it would never work out between us.
Pretty sure that my straight girl roommates spend 85% of their time helping each other compose text messages to boys.