My pants and sandals are falling apart. You may or may not be aware that I take great satisfaction in repairing things, and while I don’t claim to be good at it, I am usually good enough. And ‘good enough is perfect’ as they say, so by this philosophy you could argue that I am a perfect repairman, despite sucking.
The simple act of eating ice cream can lead to all kinds of insights…
Building a snowman all by yourself. Because your friends are lame, your parents are busy, and snowmen are awesome.
Building a snowman isn’t quite as easy as we all seem to think. You might be saying: “I made snowmen when I was 5!” True. But your Dad was helping you. And when you were older, you (probably) had friends.
But what happens when you get a bit older, and your friends don’t want to make snowmen anymore? Could you still do it? Think about it: can you lift that 2nd snowball onto the base snowball all by yourself? CAN YOU??
I am in a car, in Tunisia, on my way to do a hike, in which we will walk along a mountain pass with a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains and the lake below. For some reason, instead of stopping for lunch on the sunny flat trail with a view, the organizers will choose to hike into the brush and set up our picnic on sloping damp ground, where the canopy will drop foliage into our food, block the sun, and obscure the view. We will be sitting next to a (supposedly) dead grenade from the French war.
My friend, who has been in search of a natural purple dye for the past two weeks, will sit in fallen wild olives and find her pants stained purple — but in her grief over her damaged pants, she will not realize that this is exactly what she wanted. When she laments over the possibility that it will stain, I, not realizing that she had failed to appreciate the significance of the event, will say “I hope so,” and will look like a pretty big jerk until she realizes that if it does stain then the dye will function exactly as required (but the pants will certainly be ruined. Or, at least, purple).
Before these events will come to pass, however, we will stop and ask for directions on how to get to the view that we will not enjoy under the sun that will not shine on us. I am left alone in the car with a cute Tunisian girl who had, in the past, demonstrated (perhaps inexplicably) some romantic interest in me. After the last door closes, she turns to me and says. . .
She turns to me and she says:
“Did you bring your penis?”
“I’m glad you don’t have a garden, because you would make the flowers sad.”
I actually said this, once, to a girl I knew. I don’t remember why exactly I said it, but I do remember that I believed it to be true, and that I really meant it. She took it surprisingly well, and neglected to restate her well-established aspiration to put sand in my mouth while I slept.
Little did I know that in a few short months her boyfriend and I would be dragging a frozen carcass through a remote mountain in Spain, in an effort to bury it.
“A lovely hostel. 8 dinar/night. Secure, and centrally located. Checkout is at noon but sometimes the owner will barge into your room at 9am, take your mattress, put a new crappier one in its place, and assure you that you can go back to sleep.” This is the review that Donna Wheeler failed to write for my hostel in Nabeul.
And let me give you a piece of advice for dealing with me: if you want to stay on my good side, do not wake me up with a loud knock on the door, shove your way into my room with two other people, assure me that ‘this will only take 30 seconds,” take my mattress, explain it’s necessary because there’s a truck outside, and then appear very confused as to why I’m pissed. (“But the truck is outside!”) It will not help your case if you are an idiot that talks too slow and fails to pronounce your words in any meaningful way.
This gem of a panel is from the story Ghost Manufacturing Machine in Astro Boy Omnibus 2 by Osamu Tezuka; pg 91, panel 2 (first published in a 1957 supplement edition of Shonen magazine). This was one of only two English books in my hostel’s library. The other was War and Peace. It did not prove to be a very difficult decision (and I’m sure, for this, I will be judged).