Garrett Harris 4 p.m., July 31
Diary of a Diva
“Holding a baby skunk is on my bucket list,” I said. Bob shot David an Is she for real? look, and David assured him of my sincerity.
I learned that Frank was the first reporter at the scene of that horrific PSA plane crash in 1978, the one I grew up hearing about. He won a Pulitzer Prize for his reporting. How had I not known that?
Disappointed by a less-than-honorable Marine
“It’s just — who does that? What kind of person smashes up someone’s parked car and then leaves without making any attempt to find out who owns it?”
Gary held out his arm and called, “Habibi!” Gasps traveled like a stadium wave as the falcon, rings affixed to its ankle, swooped low down the aisle and then landed on Gary’s glove.
“Did you know that some vanilla flavoring is made from beaver anal secretions?” The word “secretion” is inherently gross to me. Add in excrement, and you have a recipe for scrunch-face.
“I find it funny that all the solutions popping up to address tech stress are technological ones...here are more apps to help you combat the effect of dealing with too many apps.”
“How do you plan to police this? Is this all honor system?” Bill nodded. “Those are my two favorite words,” I said. Bill smirked at me. “Because to you, ‘honor system’ means the same as ‘sucker system’?”
“Obviously, as kids we didn’t know the story, and if you don’t know the story, you don’t know how extraordinary, how incredible, how...horrible it is.”
I was brushing my teeth and weeping. “Great, now you’re crying,” David said sharply. And that was when it happened. The lava-like angst that had been roiling within me all day finally erupted.
Great eavesdropping and peeping from the new kitchen
“You like to know everything that’s going on,” he said. I was about to balk when he added, “You’re always trying to find patterns in everything, and that gives you a sense of comfort.”
“You don’t even have an ex,” David said.“You act like it’s some kind of shortcoming that I nailed this relationship stuff the first time around,” I joked.
I might compliment her and she’ll say, “Are you manipulating me?” I’ll say, “No, of course not.” And she’ll look distressed and say, “Are you just saying that to manipulate me?”
Report from Snohomish
The mayor assured us it had happened, the great frognosticator let out a croak, thus proclaiming an early Spring for the friendly, frog-worshiping citizens of Snohomish, Washington.
Social media train-wreck
Watching someone have a meltdown or witnessing a drama unfold by way of updates or comments is just as popcorn-chomping engaging as watching train-wreck reality television.
Why had they come? Why had we not been warned? We’d been sharing dishes, tasting drinks; they were laughing and spitting and double-dipping. What the hell?