What I Thought Then: Baby helps people and now that she knows how to dance, she and Johnny will change the world together. Her father’s such a tightass. Relax old man!
What I Think Now: In the span of a day, her father discovers he not only financed a felony, but his teenage daughter is sleeping with a grown-ass man she just met. Give him a minute, Baby.
Revenge of the Nerds
What I Thought Then: The smart kids beat the jocks through superior intelligence, wit and a bitchin’ new wave rap song. Way to go nerds!
After meds and coffee time, the children are hilarious.
Weighted blankets are not a scam.
When Mommy’s Lizzo shirt can walk around by itself — that’s when it’s laundry day.
Low-sodium pasta sauce is passive-aggressive bullshit.
An executive-level decision no one agrees to is fascism.
“Woah, pump the brakes there, pal” makes you sound like a douche.
No one hears you unless you knock.
“I read it somewhere” is not an acceptable source.
Trickle-down economics is a goddamn lie, whether we’re talking about national policy or family finances.
Audible digestion is a choice.
It is only when we don’t understand…
The year before quarantine, my fiftieth birthday loomed large.
I wondered how best to celebrate.
A spa day?
A themed party with black and white balloons and Sassy Handpainted Wine Glasses® filled with my favorite Orange varietal — wine of choice for my new demographic, according to r/menopause.
Or maybe hide under a weighted blanket and buy editing software to finally do something about my headshots on Instagram.
Lighting and three different filters only go so far.
I’d been reading books and articles about the benefits of psychedelics.
They’re not for everyone, but people suffering from trauma, addiction, medicine-resistant depression…
No one’s arguing.
No one’s cousin is butchering the lyrics to Down in the Ground Where the Dead Men Go.
No one mutters “’tis herself” in a slightly aggressive way when you show up late.
No one bans green beer.
No one’s mother asks why you have a face on you.
No one’s smoking while coughing up a lung.
No one says “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” when Nana’s soda bread cracks a tooth.
No one pronounces Smithwick’s correctly.
No one’s aunts are in the corner debating ham vs. corned beef.
No one is talking shit about Notre Dame.
Everyone deserves a good death.
1. Restaurant owners, comedians and forensic sketch artists often say they got started in their chosen fields because someone believed in them. Said they had talent. A gift. Same here. Friends and relatives have often said that hearing me speak makes them want to die. I thought to myself, “Why not charge a fee?”
2. Act One: Writer and political activist. Act Two: Mom. Now that my children are off in college and I’ve got some extra time on my hands, I decided my Act Three needs to be just as fulfilling and twice as…
Backstory: When my son was a toddler, he didn’t like yogurt. Who the hell knows. Something about texture. I did my best, using a series of talking points, in the hopes he’d one day enjoy fermented milk blended with live bacteria. Like a normal person.
He wasn’t about it. As an adult, he feels a similar kind of way about online dating. This is me. Still trying.
1. I won’t force you, kid.
2. This is supposed to be fun.
3. You didn’t like cupcakes at first, either. Now you can’t get enough of them!
4. I would have loved…
How you been? Hanging in there?
I’m doing okay. Still self-waxing and no longer on speaking terms with my plants. Just last week I discovered the eighth stage of grief: binge-watching Cobra Kai and actually enjoying it.
On a positive note, my meds seem to be working.
I was poking around on social media recently when I saw an old friend acting a bit nutty. He’s posting in support of white supremacists, their conspiracy theories, bad haircuts and Nazi-inspired symbols like the stage this week at CPAC. …
My twin sons recently turned 21 and I wrote this guide. You know. To help.
Here’s what your signature drink says about you:
· American beer, any brand — You’ll change your major every other month and blow tuition on Draft Kings.
· European beer, any brand — You’ll support underrated Premier League teams, write “colour” or “favour” even though you’re from Florida, and speak with vague, foreign accents.
· Asian beer — You’ll write fan fiction under five pseudonyms.
· Mexican beer with lime wedge — You’ll post pictures online of your feet with the beach and/or sunset in…
I’m a writer and activist. In my spare time, I investigate missing socks. (1287 found since 1995) Follow me on Twitter: @cdurkinrobinson