November 23, 2011
I have this little necklace I wear most days. Point of fact: I'm wearing it right now at this very minute. Is your head spinning faster than Linda Blair's? I bet it is. It's a lot to take in all at once. All the Algebra 2 you once knew was just pushed right out of your brain to make room for the fact that I wear the same necklace very often and/or currently. Who needed Beowulf anyways?
Above us now lurks the monster itself, and a terrible picture of it if I may add but a lovely one of my decolletage. It's also the only one I have so, that – there it is! My delicate little silver morphogenesis. Also, I vote. Yes I do. Be captivated by my artiness and fartiness and beautiful hairs. I am an optimal citizen.
I often receive compliments about this particular necklace, more than probably any other piece of jewelry I've ever owned. I'm pleased as pie that people are snookered in by its bohemian appeal. Hell, I myself am mystified by its unanticipated charminess. It's the Gilmore Girls of necklaces, the perfect balance of irritatingly punchably idyllic and yet somehow irresistible. On the other hand when I notice them noticing it always precede the awkward explanation of what the hell it is exactly.
Oh, it's a bus token. I found it on the ground.
(Incredible! Amazing! Revolutionary!)
(Wait, the bus? They have tokens for the bus?)
(COOL! What a neat old–)
No, it's not old. I found it like a month ago. Totally still a thi–
(But I thought...)
(Are you sure that...?)
(Did it already have those holes in it?)
Yeah I just found it on the ground and–
(But... really? No.)
(I can't believe that! It must be old.)
Okay, here. You wanna go ride the bus? Trust me, just take this.
Tell them I sent you, they'll understand.
Unless of course the person is a working class local who lives in the city like the rest of us, ie mostly normal and then the conversation goes like this instead:
Is that a... bus token? Why the fuck are you wearing a bus token?
I will show you a miracle, marvelous, rare
i'm a moron|nablopomo|things|