maybe i just don’t understand extroverts

“I love America
Her se­cret’s safe with me
I know her wicked ways
The parts you nev­er see
·    ·    ·    
I love America
But boy can she be cruel
I know how tall she is
With­out her plat­form shoes”
—David Byrne, Miss America

“It is worth re­peat­ing at this point the the­o­ries that Ford had come up with, on his first en­counter with hu­man be­ings, to ac­count for their pe­cu­liar habit of con­tin­u­al­ly stat­ing and re­stat­ing the very very ob­vi­ous, as in ‘It’s a nice day,’ or ‘You’re very tall,’ or ‘So this is it, we’re go­ing to die.’
His first the­o­ry was that if hu­man be­ings did­n’t keep ex­er­cis­ing their lips, their mouths prob­a­bly shriv­eled up.
Af­ter a few months of ob­ser­va­tion he had come up with a sec­ond the­o­ry, which was this – ‘If hu­man be­ings don’t keep ex­er­cis­ing their lips, their brains start working.’”
—Dou­glas Adams, Hitch­hik­er’s Guide to the Galaxy
 

To­day this Munch­lax is my mood. 

I can’t re­al­ly ex­plain it but it fits. He’s mo­ti­vat­ed just enough and knows ex­act­ly where he’s going. 

He got enough sleep last night and feels al­right. He knows his friends love him. If I had a Munch­lax one­sie right now I’d wear it.

 

I’ve been stand­ing in line at this flu/booster shot clin­ic less than five minutes.

Some­one comes up to apol­o­gize for the wait and the per­son be­hind us quips that they’re ca­pa­ble of giv­ing shots be­cause they have to in­ject them­selves every day.

Lis­ten­ing to Los­er by Beck.

I swear he just filled out a Mad Lib to write this song.
 

 

Some­one walked out and wished us all good luck. 

“Good luck everybody!”

I don’t even un­der­stand that com­ment. Why? Be­cause we have to wait? Be­cause we’re get­ting the vaccine?
 

Peo­ple who talk JUST to talk. 

Like, it’s im­pos­si­ble for them to pass a per­son or peo­ple and NOT say something. 

These peo­ple are also the same peo­ple who bitch about the Seat­tle freeze.

When­ev­er any­one bitch­es about the Seat­tle freeze. this is all I can hear:

EVERY­ONE OWES ME THEIR TIME AND AT­TEN­TION AND EYE CON­TACT AND SHOULD AL­WAYS SMILE AT ME EVERY­WHERE I GO AND BE WILL­ING TO LET ME TALK THEIR EAR OFF ABOUT ALL MAN­NER OF STU­PID POINT­LESS SHIT BE­CAUSE I HAVE NO RE­SPECT FOR BOUND­ARIES OR PER­SON­AL SPACE! ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME!!!

These peo­ple are not my people.
 

Idea for an es­cape room for men:

Leave the room with­out talking.

That’s it.

No Noise No­vem­ber. Every­one shut up.

This is the best idea ever.
 

“Noth­ing says free­dom like be­ing locked in­side your home so an­oth­er right wing mass mur­der­er can cos­play Rambo.”
—my good friend Justin Robinson

Fall in America.

 

—emi­ly duchaine

Flom­mist Emi­ly Duchaine lives in the Pa­cif­ic North­west. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and lis­ten to the Talk­ing Heads. She pre­tends to be a pro­fes­sion­al busi­ness­woman most days. Ad­di­tion­al con­text via Travis Woodall. Copy­right © 2023 Emi­ly Duchaine.

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