The Randomist

“What are you thinking about?” “Eyebrows." “Eyebrows?” “Yes.” “Why eyebrows?” “Well, I mean, have you ever just thought about them before? They’re weird…” “No… I haven’t. How are eyebrows weird?” “They’re weird because… I mean, they’re really just random patches of hair growing on your face. Why not on my cheek instead? Would we do with cheek brows? Just a random patch of fur on your cheek instead of over your eyes. What is the point of eyebrows? They’re weird, but we would look weird with OUT them, but still. What purpose do they really serve? Did God get finished with a person and then go, ‘You know what? Something is missing… on the face… that’s a good five inches of head space, four would look better… hold on … wait a second, OH! Let’s put a line of HAIR across this area… there we go.’?” “Sometimes I worry about you”. “Maybe that’s why they’re called foreheads. God decided that the five head just didn’t look right, so He gave us eyebrows; to break up ...

Every weekend I tell myself I’m going to start working out on Monday and every Monday I take a nap instead. I obviously have my priorities straight. Everyone always says really negative things about fat, so I'm going to list three positive things. 1. Loestrin (the birth control that doesn’t make me throw up on a daily basis) has made my boobs borderline amazing. - Seriously. They’re close to being what I want them to be. Stairs are a little tricky if I try to take them with any amount of speed, but my God the bounce! Losing weight will only jeopardize this love affair I have going on with my boobs. I KNOW that when I lose any amount of weight, it will come out of my boobs. Karma is a nasty hag. 2. If I lose weight, my cheeks won't be so fat and I'll lose my dimply/creasy things when I smile. - My cheeks have always been pudgy, many people think that it’s endearing and like to pinch or poke them. I think it’s cute sometimes. Other times… I wonder what’s goin...

I could use being snowed in as the perfect opportunity to do some “serious writing” the way Nora Roberts did on that fateful winter’s day when she first put pen to paper in an effort to salvage her sanity and then went on to write an entire library shelf worth of books. But… I have a somewhat irrational fear that it will involve violence with roque mallets, a smashed door, and ultimately end with my icy death in the middle of a hedge maze. I’m also pretty sure that I just mixed details from the movie and the book, but both were so awesome that I can’t seem to bring myself to care. This brings me to a point, not THE point, but a point all the same… Literacy… can sometimes be overrated. Yes, I just went there. Without books my life would be a sad and meaningless cycle of sleeping, eating, smoking, mindless internet games and hours of mind numbingly stupid television shows. Except without being literate it would all be a big jumbled mess of frustration because I couldn’t ty...

So, people are making their New Year’s Resolutions with all the sincerity their little hearts can muster all the while knowing that after the initial week of doing good or at least better things is up, that they have absolutely no intention whatsoever of following through on any of them. Knowing that I never keep my resolutions prompted me to take a stand last year. I made reverse resolutions. I made resolutions that I did not ever want to keep with the hopes that, like every other year of my life, I wouldn’t keep these either. A short list of those resolutions: 1. Gain twenty more pounds. 2. Go completely broke. 3. Get raped and killed. And you know what happened? I kept them. Obviously with the exception of getting raped and killed, but I substituted that with “Getting attacked and almost killed” which is an acceptable alternative. I gained twenty more pounds. I filed for bankruptcy. I was also attacked and robbed. I lose at the Resolutions game. My resolutio...

I’m going to be completely honest here, as the truth will surface eventually, or on the first date if you supply me with enough alcohol (When I drink, I tend to tell stories that are hilarious to me, but may make others that don’t know me so well feel a little awkward). I’m 23 years old. I’m unemployed. I moved back in with my parents over a year ago and the prospect of me moving back out is a dim glimmer on the horizon of my rent-free life. I live at home with my disabled mother, idiotic and often ill-tempered step-father, and a fickle beast of a cat. I am going to school for something I only have a vague interest in so that I can graduate in two years and start making decent money right off the bat… I honestly have very little interest in giving pregnant women ultrasounds, especially when many of them are done internally and resemble acts of lesbian love. I am not skinny. Given today’s standards, I am what you would call “average”. Were I to grow another six inches, I would be ...

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. What the FUCK is that NOISE?!? Oh wait, that’s right. That’s just my BIOLOGICAL CLOCK TICKING! (Side note: why does no one ever say its tocking?) But seriously. How can this be happening? I’m only TWENTY THREE!!!! There are a multitude of reasons why this shouldn’t be happening to me right now. I’m not even going to try to list them all at this point except the most obvious, which is… I’m poor. No, seriously. I really am. I’m still like a small child… that smokes, drinks, and cusses like a sailor, but the point is… As mature as I am, I am still WAY too immature to procreate right now. I can’t even afford myself the majority of the time, so what the hell would I do with an extra human lying around? Unlike me, the baby could not subsist on cigarettes, Coke, and Velveeta shells and cheese for long periods of time. They need new clothes every five and half minutes because they either A.) Soil themselves in some fashion or B.) Have grown a...

Now, don’t get me wrong, I had many fun and memorable moments at the place I used to work; a place which may or may not sell various tractor components as well as a wide array of interesting things for those who partake in the rural lifestyle. Just today, I threw a book at an elderly gentleman as he was exiting the store, which had closed an hour before due to it being New Year’s Eve. I would not have thrown my delightful non-fiction comedy at this man if he hadn’t moved with the mental speed of a stoned turtle. The doors were closed… and turned off… but not locked. Ok, question time here folks, if you walk up to a retail store and the AUTOMATIC doors don’t open, what would you do? I, personally, would walk away, but does anyone here do that? NO! They pull the doors open and walk in. “Sir!”, “We’re closed!” I say. Elderly gentleman followed by wife proceeds into the checkout area. Wife, “Oh, you’re closed?” No shit Sherlock! “Yes ma’am, we’re closed, we closed at four to...