BY Jodi

12/01 Direct Link
Is there a word for when you see a word in print and you pronounce it in your head one way, as a word that doesn't even exist, until one day you see it again, and realize what it is and you're, like, "How the hell didn't I see/read that word correctly?" and then (this part's optional) you marvel at your own ridiculousness ? I'm not talking about minor mispronunciations. I mean stuff like this:

Misled, as "MY-zuld".

Denier, as "dee-nee-YAY" (à la française).

Redefine, as "reh-de-FEEN".

In a knee-slappy, rip-roarin' hilarious twist, "Misled" has misled me many, many times.
12/02 Direct Link
I gave up wearing all black about 14 years ago, but after this year's debacle of an election it's all I seem to want to wear. I have so many groovy outfits in lovely colors, and when I leave home for non-gym-related stuff, I usually choose them over black. But now when I put something colorful on, it feels false and uncomfortable. I feel like wearing color in an attempt to cheer myself up, is the kind of "Gee whiz, chin up, buckaroo" stuff I despise. Meanwhile, here in my home cocoon, my pajamas are full of whimsy and cheer.
12/03 Direct Link
Oh, that moment when you look over at the TV and see the Netflix DVD that's been languishing for who the hell knows how long, so long that you're not sure you even remember what it is, and then, when you check, inspires in you a less than overwhelming desire to watch, but you feel like you really should because you've had it for so long and it would seem like a waste if you didn't watch it but you're not in the mood for it now and wonder if it's wrong to pay $2.99 for something on Amazon instead.
12/04 Direct Link

I'm in bed, about to open my Kindle to resume a book I've just starting reading in an attempt to restore some semblance of literacy.  My cat skulks over and stares at me until I have no choice but to ask what's up.

"I have a story for you."

 "Do tell," I say.

"Once upon a time I was cute."

She pauses.  I wait.

"Is that it?"

"And the next day I was cute," she says.

Pause.  Wait.


"And the next day I was also cute," she says.


"That's it.  The end."

"That's the best story.  And true!"

12/05 Direct Link

Every time I have popcorn after an extended popcorn hiatus, borne solely of an absent-minded failure to replenish, I marvel at how much fun it is to make in my Whirley-Pop, how delighted I am turn its crank and listen to the sound of the popcorn getting even cuter than it was to begin with, how thrilled I am when I dump the contents into a big bowl and introduce it to salt.  But of course not is all fun and games, and I get sad when I liken the sound of popcorn popping to that of a lobster screaming.


12/06 Direct Link

Parker tells Melanie he'd give anything to smell a freshly-mimeographed social studies quiz again.  Even his near-mint condition poster of Farrah in the red bathing suit that's been hanging in his study since they moved in together and she told him no way was she allowing it to be the focal point of the living room?  That's a good question, he says, and gets back to her in an hour with an affirmative response.

 So now Melanie's standing at his desk with a freshly-mimeographed quiz, sealed in Tupperware so he can't smell it.  He prays it's just a math quiz. 

12/07 Direct Link

What kind of grown man goes around telling people he's a panda with all the matter-of-fact tone of voice that would accompany, say, telling someone that, yes, that's coffee in your cup and not tea?  And not just that, but to not act like someone would think a panda would act (tumbling around a bit clumsily, being generally cute) but acting like, "Yes, pandas eat toast and pandas waste time on Facebook and pandas wear belts with pants that require them and pandas also don't know whether it's 'doughnut' or 'donut'"?  Carl, the sweater vest guy from accounting, that's who. 

12/08 Direct Link

I won't be talking about the PO(ETU)S here on 100 Words, because I don't want to sully my entries.  I'd rather write about picking off a scab from my knee, starting at the edges, and peeling it up a little with a bit of a wince and grimace, revealing a slightly gooey pink bit of skin, or about a baby's phlegm, or the squish of maggots that writhed beneath a tombstone my sister lifted in a graveyard next to a house my parents were looking at as a possible home for us.  I would rather write about mold and lint.

12/09 Direct Link
There is a difference between being "outspoken" and being a filth-spewing stack of festering sewage who doesn't know when to shut up or to keep it zipped from the get-go. I'm so sick of people who brag, "I just calls 'em as I sees 'em!" and use the ol' "I don't care what people think of me!" as a sort of blanket statement to cover their asses, hoisting the First Amendment above their hate-filled heads like a flag, thinking that makes it all right to be a hateful loudmouth lout with zero impulse control and a childish refusal to filter.
12/10 Direct Link
Using my time more wisely: Calling my mom in a few minutes to discuss the season finale of "This Is Us" (which will include, natch, me stating at least 50 times that Sterling K. Brown needs to marry me immediately) rather than poking around Twitter and stating at least 50 times that Tr*mp needs to fuck off immediately. This is like choosing a volcano of homemade hot mashed potatoes and gravy over a plopped ladleful of reconstituted boxed potato flakes topped with some goo from a jar. Also, nothing quite beats making her laugh to the point of tears. (Hers.)
12/11 Direct Link
Recent success stories:

After peeping through the "Magic Eye" on my front door to make sure no one was in the hallway, I dashed out to get my mail, and just as I re-entered my apartment and shut the door, someone entered the building from outside.

I managed to exit the gym without one of the front desk "kids" calling out, "So long! Have a great day!", thus avoiding having to sort of turn around and acknowledge the rote acknowledgment with a half-assed one of my own.

The mail lady delivered a package without buzzing me to take possession.

12/12 Direct Link
If I wake up tomorrow and find out this monstrous election debacle and everything associated with it was all an elaborate, protracted April Fool's hoax, I won't know what to do first: Punch the stuffing and crap out of whatever cruel bastard devised it or jump up like Archimedes from his bath, shouting, "FUCK YEAH!" instead of "Eureka!", dash from the house without noticing if my shoes match or even caring if I'm wearing any at all, and hop, skip, and pirouette to Broadway to grab everyone and anyone to dance with me atop cars like in the movie "Fame".
12/13 Direct Link
I have a serious embarrassing question almost as bad as your mom standing in front of the TV with a Cathy mug brimming with Maxwell House International Cafe Suisse Mocha, asking how to get the beta player to stop flashing "12"00" already. On the Spotify app, which symbol is "shuffle" and which is "repeat"? Trial and error while running on the treadmill (which is the only time I remember I need this information) is fruitless and Internet searches are frustrating. I don't ask for much. Just want the ability to play "Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine" ten or 15 seamless times.
12/14 Direct Link

"You're the prettiest girl in all the world," I say.

 "Yes, but am I attractive?"

 "Yes, you are.  You're the finest feline in all the land."

 "Does that mean pretty?"

 "Yes, it does."

 "Does that also mean attractive?"

 "It does."

 "So pretty and finest and attractive are the same thing?"

 "Not exactly, but you're all three."

 "Which one am I the most of?"

 "You're all of them.  I can't make a pie chart of it."

 "Am I also pie?  Is pie good?"

 "Pie is good, but you are not pie."

 "I'm confused."

 "I know, kitten," I say.  "So am I."


12/15 Direct Link

Now that I don't go to the gym downtown anymore, I no longer have that hour-plus walk home.  I know I can use that time to take a walk elsewhere, at some other point during my day, but it just doesn't seem the same when it's not a walk whose main purpose is transportation with a set goal.  The gym I go to now is literally a five-minute walk from home.  I suppose I could walk around for an hour or so when I'm done, but it doesn't seem the same, and that stresses me out in a bizarre way.

12/16 Direct Link
I couldn't give two shits about "celebrity" gossip even before this monstrous election debacle and everything that's ensued and that's on the horizon. You'll excuse me if I care even less than a rat's ass and a flying fig and/or fuck about anything having to do with any imbecile Kardashian or any housewife of any county or state or however those things are named. I don't care who's married to whom or who wore what or OH MY GOD, look how much this celebrity has aged over the past 50 years. I think I need to go far, far away.
12/17 Direct Link

At first it was distracting and cumbersome, having a "punky" trailing him everywhere he went, but after a while he didn't notice and came to appreciate the services this minuscule monocle man provided.  Martin suffered from chronic runonascia extremis, a condition that inhibited his ability to break his speech into manageable sentences complete with pauses.  But now with his private punctuation professional (far superior to those supplied by the state), he is able to communicate with people without fear of seeing a large Cooper Bold question mark above their heads every time he utters a compound sentence.  Life is good.

12/18 Direct Link

"Okay, Lola," I say, inserting myself between colorful layers of bedding,  "it's time to go to slurp."

She instantly appears by my side and blinks her eye.

"You mean 'sleep'," she says.

"No, I meant 'slurp'," I say.

"But you mean you're going to sleep."

"I mean I'm going to slurp."

"I don't see a drink anywhere," she says, "let alone a Slurpee."

"That's because I'm going to sleep."

"Did you have a drink or a Slurpee?"

"Earlier I had several drinks."

"Did you slurp them?"

"No, I didn't.  That's gross."

"Is this supposed to be funny?" she says.



12/19 Direct Link

After years of presenting as a woman, including wardrobe and hormones, even going so far as to get professional approval for more drastic steps, my friend has decided to live again as a man.  It is not for me to question but to support, although of course I'm curious.  Now, however, I don't feel quite right going to England for a visit as we'd been considering, because I don't want to be traipsing around unfamiliar countryside with a man I've never met face to face, no matter how platonic.  A transgender lady in a statement necklace, though?  That I'd do.

12/20 Direct Link

I'm doing nothing for "the holidays".  Stop asking me, everyone.  It's not that I'm depressed about it or even marginally sad about it.  It's that I don't care about it.  My family hasn't done "the holidays" in ages, not even Thanksgiving since my dad left this world in 2012.  It doesn't mean anything to me.  These days are just another day or two, and the best thing about them is that I don't go to the gym and I stay home with my darling little cat wearing old torn jeans and a T-shirt.  That in itself is enough celebration.  Joy!

12/21 Direct Link

Three years have already passed since I spent a weekend in Philadelphia with two friends from our mutual years of living there and my then-boyfriend.  We hopped from place to place, visiting lots of old haunts, introducing my boyfriend to them and some new ones, and ran around like crazy kids from a John Hughes '80s movie (which of us was Molly Ringwald?).  Although the giddiness and almost painful laughter of the nights was incredible, my heart belongs to dashing around during the day to a bunch of boring historical stuff actually made fun by sharing it with my fella.

12/22 Direct Link

I'm onstage in my snappy vintage super shiny silver mini dress and matching belted jacket, silvery tights, and white gogo boots, singing my silvery heart out next to my friends Mark and Ryan, also decked out in silver and white.  Have we strayed a bit from our harmonies in "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In"?  Of course.  Are we flying high, practically dancing, and having an absolute blast?  Even more so.  Am I glad I didn't cancel and left the house and traveled down to Judson Memorial and braved the horrors of the ladies room being used as a changing room?  Yes! 

12/23 Direct Link

My Etsy acquaintance, X, from whom I bought something a while ago, is sending me half a dozen hand-knit hats in the same style but with varying proportions of black and charcoal gray in the patterns, to try on in anticipation of buying one.  She didn't require payment upfront or a commitment, only that I return the hats I don't choose.  The cost of my return shipping will be reflected in the price of the hat I do choose.  This exchange/transaction is so delightfully trustful and old-fashioned that it makes me want to wear the hat in a town square.

12/24 Direct Link

Next month I'm eligible for a cell phone upgrade and I'm so excited about it that I have stars in my eyes like Davy Jones in The Monkees. (Or was it hearts?  Either way, I've got something in my eyes that indicates huge thrills.)  I'd been tempted several months ago to do an early upgrade and pay the $50 fee, and several times almost caved because I'm a baby keen on instant gratification.  But I persevered like an adult and now the reward is that much sweeter.  Apparently it does not take much to make me happy.  Commence moronic flailing.

12/25 Direct Link

I'm not saying Patricia played favorites among her grandchildren, but what was I, as a mere observer of this family's dynamic, to make of the fact that this year for Christmas she gave the oldest one a check for $20,000, the middle one a year's worth of weekly gymnastics lessons with an ex-Olympian, and the youngest a plastic card from Starbucks that, if redeemed by the end of January, would yield a free mp3 from iTunes, or that when they visited her she served them chocolate milk in a silver chalice, a crystal goblet, and an old mason jar, respectively?

12/26 Direct Link

My battery-powered toothbrush ensures that I brush four minutes daily.  This is six hours per year, a full one-quarter of a day.  If I wanted to do it all at once to get it over with, that'd be quite a test of stamina.  Thus, I settle for daily brushing.  Often, however, I'm lazy and don't want to engage my upper body for the duration.  Tonight I laid on my back on the bed, held the brush in place, and moved my head instead.  This was quite taxing, but I persevered.  This is not, I discovered, a suitable or effective alternative.

12/27 Direct Link

Quarterly Report has never found it hilarious that his parents named him after his late great paternal grandfather, but he supposes it's better than his mother's first choice, to name him after her father, who's still kicking and has been stuck with "Humperdump" for 75 years.  At least with Quarterly Report he gets to be a "second", and he's gotta admit that being known as QR2 among his classmates, especially chicks, is kinda cool and sets him apart from all the humdrum Jasons and Brians and Marks and stuff.  He could do without the nickname of "Queer Too", though.  Ugh.


12/28 Direct Link

I have no aspirations of becoming a world-class bread baker.  Knowing how to make this one variety, with only four humble ingredients, by the easiest method, is all I need to delight me insofar as bread-baking is concerned.  It's my favorite kind of bread:  round, simple, with a nice crust.  (I don't dare denigrate it by using the word "artisanal".)  It goes great with homemade tomato sauce and tofu "ricotta", sweet potato spread, hummus, my famous "fegg" salad.  And it's enormous fun to just tear apart, especially minutes after done, and eat by the fistful like a carb-craving crazed caveman. 

12/29 Direct Link

In April my ex-boyfriend married his girlfriend of eight months.  They had known each other for years online but had never met face to face until 2015.  He didn't announce it until very recently, on Facebook, saying he "forgot" to mention it.  Many of his fans/friends thought that was amusing and mock-chastised him in comments.  Not only did I find it completely unamusing, I found it odious.  That nonsense would never have flown with me.  It was just another ploy for attention, another way to show the world how zany he is.  Sorry, my ex-love, but it's tacky, not wacky. 

12/30 Direct Link

We all know that 2016 has been kind of a dick, for reasons we all know.  Because I like to focus on the positive whenever possible, here are some things that made it not totally suck:

Meeting my favorite 100Wordser, OSD, in the flesh and getting along with him so well that I wish he would move to NYC, like, pronto

Delivery of Ethiopian food, contrary to being a mess and "not worth it", was not a mess and a fantastic value

My cat continues to be awfully cute

I am drawing breath on a regular basis

Thank you, 2016!



12/31 Direct Link

The delivery guy hands me the bag of Ethiopian food, and because it's heavier than I anticipated, my excitement is even greater than it had been.  I dash to my apartment, tear it open like a Christmas gift, and gasp at the sight of injera that could double for freshly-fluffed pillowcases and enough glorious food to accommodate a normal person's appetite for three separate occasions.  Half an hour later, I vow that "next time" I won't attack it with the limb-frenzy of a starved octopus and remind myself that the sight of leftovers the next day is just as delicious.