Obsession-Compulsion by Calvin Klein Smells Like Clean Hands

i’ve realized i’m obsessive-compulsive in my own special ways. for instance, the dishes. that’s right. the dirty stinkin’ dishes. ima gonna talk about ’em. i can’t stand them in the sink, can’t tolerate them for more than the instant it takes to shift them, quickly, quickly, children, hurry, we mustn’t delay, into either the dishwasher (a purgatory of sorts) or wash them snap-crackle-pop into the clean section of dining heaven.

i think if i were a dishwasher at a restaurant, my very last nerve would SNAP one night at the piles and piles of fossils of meals consumed. and as i slaved away, more would arrive in their place until finally i’d put the steamer on high heat and stick in me head! ahh darkness, clarity, completion.

my eyes, my eyes!

smiling servicemen. today a cup of coffee was purchased by me. time: 2ish after the lunching hour. location: downtown. flavor: hazelnut latte. manner in which it was served: joyously. this chap had a smile that twinkled up through his tousled head and all the way through his dimpled eyes and past the solar system of his pearly white planets. every little gesture he made towards me, whether it was to point out the creamer and milk, or to ask me to sign at the rump of my receipt, was done with the graciousness reserved for spontaneous random acts of adorable cutieosity.

he wasn’t the muffin man, but he was DARN close.

i must see him again. if only to realize he wasn’t a dream. i will then order 5 cups of steaming joe and a toasted muffin, and see if he changes like a flipbook into a conniving, scheming cad. stalking shall be the order for the rest of the week! oh, to have purpose!

correspondence. i must deliver the letter the sooner the better. if it needs writing/making, it will take me an eon to write it/create something. but once it needs to go, it must make haste. it must make haste from my fingertips to the door. to the mail slot. i hand everything over to the USPS with nary a concern. no insurance, no delivery confirmation, no priority (lies for emphasis). if it doesn’t get there by hook or by crook, it wasn’t meant to be seen. a cinderella letter getting stuck in a seedy pumpkin envelope, somewhere in the midwest. stranger things have happened.

this is why postal people get cranky

p.s. i lectured my parents on their excess use of cups and mugs yesterday. save water! save dignity! use less cups! stop polluting the community sink. my mother blamed it on pa. pa blamed it on ma. i sent them both to their respective corners without a spot of tea/ovaltine and not a crumb of biscuits was relished!

mater and pater, circa yesterday

4 thoughts on “Obsession-Compulsion by Calvin Klein Smells Like Clean Hands

  1. Chris Doucette says:

    The comic last night said something like, “And if pirates are minorities, shouldn’t we expect them to be working at McDonald’s?”I think that’s the line that you missed. What a weird night of comedy it was…

  2. Aparna says:

    bryan anthony — hmm jury’s still out on that one.chris — ohhhhh. wow. now i understand the reaction SO MUCH BETTER. ugh my sets are sucktastic these days!

  3. Chris Doucette says:

    No problem. And you’re right – you didn’t have a great night. But bad sets are like rain…you need to have them in order to grow.OK, I’ve got to go kill myself for saying something so treacly.

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