holycrapimyourmom

Recently at a store I frequent I had an interaction with the checker I always chat with. He's a nice guy, young, stoned, friendly. For a dude who's constantly baked his memory is impeccable. He always asks about my daughter, and our dog, Dave, and wants to hear about the thing I told him I was going to do the last time I saw him, etc. You get it. Just as I was about to say goodbye he asked if he could check out my engagement ring, since he was in the market and wanted some ideas! And even though I fucking hate it when other people do this, I squealed and jumped up and down a little bit. It seems it's an involuntary response. I asked about his girlfriend. Dude: "She's super cool, very chill for a Caucasian." Me: "Oh, that's good. Most white people are the worst." Dude: "She's like a hippie chick, but not a Vegan or anything." Me: "Thank God." Dude: "And she wants to have kids one day, which is awesome!...

If there is one thing I know about myself it is that I simply can't eat an ice cream sandwich with any sort of dignity. If there is a second thing I'm sure of, its that I am not emotionally healthy enough to handle the children's book The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. That book sends me into a sobbing fit so powerful I need my inhaler to pull me out safely. Every time I open the book I am cutting myself emotionally, and this post is a cry for help. If you're not familiar with this classic let me give you the cliff notes. It's about a boy and a tree. When the boy is young he loves the tree and hangs with it all the time, and the tree is so happy. They play and he climbs and he eats her apples and sleeps in her shade. The tree even allows the boy to carve their initials into her side that's surrounded by a heart. She loved this boy so much she allowed him to brand her permanently. Things were pretty awesome for a long time, until the boy got a...