Monday August 28, 2017
In the bathroom stall at the gym, I stick my fingers up myself to help stimulate my bowels. My cousin, Trina, taught me this trick one day during the commercial break for Days Of Our Lives. I was eleven and she was thirteen. “You’d think twice a week would be enough but it’s not. You’d also think you should stick your hand up the back but this is way more forgiving!”
Trina showed me a lot of things. Like how to make out with the silky skin in the crook of my elbow for practice, or how not to move the shower head from my clit the second I started to like it.
Without thinking I let slip a tiny groan. The woman in the stall beside me sighs.
“I get it, girl. Been trying since Tuesday over here.”
Sunday August 6, 2017
Jonah’s got a case of the Monday’s and it’s not even noon. He asked Trev for a BJ to get the day started and Trev just looked at him like, “WUT?” They were out of eggs so Jonah couldn’t even have his “in it to win it breakfast”. Screw you, Monday.
Ever since he quit his job and started freelancing, Jonah tried his best to work from home for the first part of the day and then he went to Grump’s three blocks away. He likes the music they play. Nothing too heavy. He can’t work with anything too heavy playing
Tuesday August 1, 2017
From a GOLDEN artist colours box
I collect plastic bags from the library and when no one’s looking I practise the breathing exercises that Jovi taught us. Did you know that the library gives away free plastic bags? None of that five cent baloney that everywhere else seems to have adopted. Jovi said to use a paper bag but those are hard to find with a mushroom phobia. All the plastic bags are all over the living room when Marnie comes over to pick up my contribution towards the stupid gift basket for Curtis – he has never said any one word to me and now I’m supposed to give a homemade item for his retirement gift basket, I mean COME ON.
“What happened here?” Marie asks in her nasal voice. Blow your nose, Marnie, I think. I hand her the chilli oil and scowl.
Friday July 7, 2017
Overheard at Vancouver international airport
Marylou is sure that the recycling bin needs to be on the curb by 7AM.
She drinks her smoothie (banana, coconut water, pineapple, some protein powder) and wonders if Derek is going to take it out or if she should. Again.
Marylou sees Earl across the street wheeling out his and Anne’s bin. He’s whistling. Marylou wonders what his bum looks like, under his khaki shorts.
Friday June 9, 2017 at Ideal Coffee
The Globe And Mail
When Maggie feeds her snake, she says a prayer for the mouse. It actually isn’t her snake, it’s Tova’s, but Tova is in Switzerland and Maggie isn’t sure when she’ll be back so as far as she’s concerned the snake now belongs to her. It was actually Tova’s sister’s boyfriend’s snake, but his landlady lost her mind when she found out a snake was in the apartment, so what was Tova’s sister supposed to do? Take the snake. And then Tova’s sister, ever the pacifist, couldn’t get over the feedings so Tova took pity and said she’d take the fucking snake.
Saturday June 3, 2017
From the Microsoft home-screen
Huddled in the closet where your mother keeps bleach, baking soda, laundry detergent, you whisper in my ear that there’s something you need to show me.
I’m wearing purple shorts and a black T-shirt with Phantom of the Opera on it. You’re wearing jean shorts and a stained white hoodie.
“I ate a freezee in less than thirty seconds,” you’d told me earlier, referencing the orange drips. They look like tears, I’d thought, before running to the washroom to check if I’d peed a few drips – sisters.
It’s dark, except for the slit of light reaching under the door. You reach for the button of your shorts.
Tuesday May 23, 2017
From a YouTube comment on a Mariah Carey music video
When the voices told her to steal, Julianne heard a high pitched sound before she did it. Club Monaco just opened on Princess St. The voices asked for a black crew neck T-shirt and a blue and white striped sweater. Julianne was worried. Club Monaco was expensive. Club Monaco sounded like a place the Kardashians would stay, someplace in Aruba, or Mexico, or France. Shoppers was easiest. Mac, the security guard, had loved Julianne since they were five years old and in the same senior kindergarten. He let her go last Sunday when she took three foundations (varying skin tones), an expensive face wash and some almond butter. “You gotta stop it, Julianne,” Mac had said, behind the rolls of toilet paper and dryer sheets. “You really gotta stop.”