Back in my Costco days

Back in my married, Orange County living days I used to do really adult things with my "husband"; like get high and go to Costco.  We would eat samples and Robert would return things that he had bought and grown tired of.

Most people return things only if they've bought the wrong size or if they've been given a present they'd rather not have.  Not Robert.  Robert keeps the receipts for everything and he knows exactly how long Costco's return policy is good for.

One day Robert told me we needed to go to Costco to return the table that was sitting outside on the back patio.

"Robert, you can't return that table, it's dirty.  They're going to know you've been using it."

Not to be dissuaded, Robert got a cloth and some soapy water and cleaned the table.

"Robert, you can't return that table, they're going to look at the receipt and say you've had it for too long."

Robert explained that Costco never questioned you when you brought something back to the store, as long as you had the receipt and brought it back within 6 months.

"Robert, you can't return that table, we burned a big hole through it with one of those candles."

This one gave Robert some few seconds of pause, before he flipped the table over, peeled off the sticker that had come with it, and slapped it over the hole.

"See," he said.  "This is why I always keep the original sticker."

That day we went to Costco, I let Robert stand in the return line on his own.

I drank my milk and all I got was fat.

My mom used to say, "Finish your milk so you can grow up to be fat and sassy!"  Us three kids tilted our glasses back and guzzled that shit.

I don't drink milk anymore because I aspire to be one of those little old ladies who wilt under the weight of their knit sweaters and break bones when the wind blows too hard.  Also cuz it makes me fat.

Milk is for baby cows.  Do you know how much fat they (probably) put in baby food?  Babies are nothing but fat.  They're like one big, wrinkled ball of fat except way less cool because they make lots of noise and wet themselves.

But I'm not a baby.  At least in the physical sense.  I don't need the delicious fat of mother's milk anymore, I need beans and rice and beer and shit.  I'm a grown woman and I'm tired of having that little extra on me that the boys seem to like so much.

I hate it.  I'll take a woman with a little on her but I don't want to be one.  Also I don't like boys.

The Graduate School

I work at The Graduate School, which is always capitalized, because it's Powerful.  I guess.  I've worked there since I was a freshman in college.  They finally gave me my own little office space where I can shut the door and hide from people and everything.

When I has hired to the new, improved, little office space job I moved to a department with far fewer people.  Only three in The Graduate School's building to be exact.  There are two other people in our department who are housed in a different building but that's it.

My boss and supervisor both used to be women but they left for greener pastures and I got stuck with two guys.  At first I was like, "These guys don't appreciate my feelings," but then I realized that they were guys and they just felt their feelings differently.  And THEN I remembered that I'm a big dyke and I totally get along better with guys anyway.

The other day I developed my boss's celebrity power couple name.  I like to imagine them as one powerful entity.  I've combined their two names and called them Markael.

The big boss, the one who works crazy hours and probably makes crazy money I call Markael the Mighty, while my supervisor, who works crazy hours as Markael the Mighty's personal slave, I call Markael the Tired.  (names subject to change as they grow more/less mighty/tired)

I like working at the same university I got my degree from because I can take walks on my lunch break and reminisce over fond memories while I take a tour of all the places on campus I've gotten high.

Here you go David

Across our bowls of Galen Center chili David the Vanpool Co-pilot fixed me with his best fatherly stare, "Do you really wanna be a writer?  Then you'd better start writing every day."  I hemmed and hawed about how this and that and that and the other thing but I knew he was right.  So here you go David.  Perhaps not quite what you had in mind, but I'd say this is a start.