The Bloggy Blogface!

 Look, stop trying to bamboozle me, parmesan garlic popcorn. You inside your violet-colored bag, resting on that top shelf. Top shelf popcorn, you're goddamned right. And you probably deserve it too. I bet you're tasty as hell. I would undoubtedly eat all of you in one sitting, that empty bag collecting dust and dog hairs on the cushion next to mine for the next couple hours. Just inhale all of you, no regrets. All those tiny kernel bits caught in my teeth would totally be worth it. And if you weren't almost four dollars for a bag that's twenty-five percent air, I'd totally buy you - and a few of your friends behind you for that matter. There's something about a bag of snacks costing more than this price point that turns me off from them. For some reason, I set the bar at four bucks. Even when alleged deals are on the table, I'll scoff at the bargain. Two for eight bucks? Hell no. How about two for seven? Still seems excessive. Two for four? Now we're...

   Listen, you aren't the first person to do this, so I don't mean to target you. Or maybe I do, I don't care. Maybe you'll read this. Maybe you can't read. Maybe you, like the others, are just having a very difficult time grasping something that involves such little comprehension. I don't blame you, really. You're probably in a zone. Got all your groceries on the belt and what not. Big ol' tub of butter, bread, some greens, plus a bottle of wine. Just one bottle though! Have to pretend you have it together. But I know better. I know you're wound up so tight that slapping the grocery divider down like a clapperboard is very important to you. Shows you're in charge! And studying the bill screen like a damn hawk as the cashier scans each item tells me you're a penny-pincher extraordinaire. Nothing gets by you. My guess is you also want that border wall built. It's the only logical conclusion I could come to when you emphatically deci...

   I blame a longtime dresser that occupied my bedroom growing up. I remember this dresser because one time, I accidentally left one of the top drawers open, and our first cat managed to jump inside of it. The weight of the cat forced the entire dresser to topple over, banging up against the end of my bed and scaring the crap out of me as I lay there flipping through a magazine. The cat quickly got out once he realized how much peril he was in for, but all of the items that sat on top of the dresser did not make it. Papers, toiletries, loose change spilled all over the bedroom floor. Most of it, naturally, spilled directly under the bed I had to stretch and reach beyond my abilities to retrieve. And of course the cat was completely absolved of this heinous act. Seems like they always are, aren't they? The drawers to this dresser weren't too deep, but there were enough of them to hold all of my clothes. And this was important, seeing how I grew up without a closet. I would...