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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy but I like you."
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It's true. Some people write in the loo.
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March 20, 2005
What I have always thought about kindness is this: it is not the same as niceness. Being nice is more of a social thing, often an obligation. Kindness comes from the heart. Niceness is a smile that fades too quickly once the back is turned to you; kindness is a prayer or good intention someone holds in their heart for you, because they have paid attention and seen something you need that they don't know how to give you, and they want it for you as much as you want it for yourself.
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March 17, 2005
People mowed their own lawns back in the 70s. On the weekends. Now maybe one person in every neighbourhood mows their own lawn. People drive by, wide-eyed, mouths ajar, staring in disbelief that a person could possibly humble themselves enough to sweat in their own yard. It's similar to the way people look at you when you're walking the shopping cart back through the parking lot to its proper holding place. I'm just trying not to come to the conclusion that people are weenies.
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March 14, 2005
I found a typo here in the Loo that was meant to read "I am fairly certain" but instead made it to the page as "I am fairy certain," which I enjoyed for some reason. I guess being fairy certain would be sort of magical and extra solid, like a pinky swear. I could really go for being fairy certain about some stuff, that's for sure.
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March 14, 2005
My friend told me over the phone today, "I've got a pad in one of my pockets, so I'm going to put my phone in the other pocket to try to even out the pad bulge," to which I replied, "Every good girl has pad bulge," which reminded me of the "Every Good Boy Does Fine" way of remembering the treble clef lines, which I am hereby changing to "Every Good Broad Deserves Fruition," mainly because the guys have certainly had their recognition all these years and now it's someone else's turn.
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March 13, 2005
Sometimes you just want to tell people to get to fucking off. But we don't because we're either related to them, sleeping with them, working with (or for) them, or afraid they'll hit us across the face with a varnished two-by-four. Why not just say it anyway? Sometimes people need to hear it. So, I'll just go ahead and get it off my tits. Fuck off (not you).
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March 12, 2005
I quite enjoy crashing proms. I know, I know, I'm sort of past prom age, but there's a real kick you get when you waltz right on into a prom, all wigged up and dazzling. People don't care that you're not a student or an official chaperone. They just don't.
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March 11, 2005
By the time I am 40 years old I will have a book I have written published by a well-known publishing house, and this book I will have written will be on the New York Times bestseller list for many months. Just thought I'd put that out there.
In present-day news, a French company called Valrhona makes a dark chocolate called Le Noir Amer with 71% cocoa, and it is the most amazing bittersweet chocolate I've ever tasted in this lifetime or any. I would make love to this chocolate. And no, you can't watch.
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March 10, 2005
When I get it right everything will be OK. When I get it right everything will be OK. When I get it right everything will be OK. But it's OK now. Wish I could remember that.
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March 9, 2005
I would like to announce this is the first Loo entry to ever be written in the tub (a slip of the finger made that tug, and that, well, that just wouldn't make sense unless I was referring to a tugboat, but I'm not currently on a tugboat). When I was younger I would often write in the bathtub. Letters, mostly, but never a Loo entry. So this is a first. And to celebrate the occasion I will make up a very, very bad poem. No, it seems I have vetoed that idea. Well, let's see, how about a truly scandalous confession? I don't really have any of those, unless you count that time with the eggs and the toilet paper, but everybody does that at least once. I hope. We could eat cake I guess, but we haven't any cake in the house because of the whole not-eating-wheat thing, which I must say makes one's complexion look positively radiant. Hey, I know! I'll knit a celebratory banner in commemoration just as soon as I learn how to knit. Yeah. Maybe it'll spark the birth of "Notes From The High Seas" which will just be a terribly dramatic way of saying "Notes From The Tub."
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March 7, 2005
You know you're really moving up in the world when someone names a salad after you. But please don't let it go to your head because people may tire of your constant boasting, which could cause them to stop ordering your namesake salad. And just how would you feel if the restaurant updated the menu and removed the salad altogether? You'd be like, "I was once on the menu, and now I'm not. This is so embarrassing." So, just enjoy that people are getting their greens and go on with your life.
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March 5, 2005
Everything has been said. I sometimes try to come up with sentences no one has ever before uttered, like "Once I ate a monkey that was covered in Epsom salts, baby powder, and grated lemon peel on a raft made of wicker and old toothpicks, and man was that fine dining." I doubt that has been said before but have no way of checking. Still, I believe originality is alive and well, perhaps masquerading as something to which we wouldn't give the time of day because it doesn't resemble more of the same.
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March 4, 2005
In grade school there was a kid who was so funny, I'd write down the things he would blurt out in class and take those notes home to my mom and recite them. "Guess what Morris said today!" After hearing the latest Morris-ism she would state, "That boy is hilarious." The summer after we graduated high school a bunch of us, including Morris, got together and went to a movie. After that night Morris and I hung out a few times, always with other friends. We were never dating, but somehow he decided we were and also came to the conclusion that I belonged to him. His possessiveness was disconcerting, so I chose to politely decline his next offer to hang out, which prompted him to stake out my house in his parked car down the street for an entire afternoon and evening, and then call me repeatedly over the next few days demanding explanations. I can't seem to remember what calmed him down or distracted him long enough to stop stalking me, but I must say I still remember that boy fondly. And I hope his loneliness is a thing of the past.
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March 3, 2005
You know how you'll be in the middle of talking but your thoughts sort of don't match what you're trying to say, so what comes out of your mouth sounds goofy? Well, the health food store Whole Foods sells organic chicken broth in 8.45 ounce cartons (they look like those little juice containers) which are sold in packs of three, and these little cartons have an area on the top left corner with a scissors illustration, indicating to open it you'll need some scissors. On the top of the box near that illustration, there is what appears to be a straw hole, so my darlin', who was lovingly preparing some chicken broth for me, says "What is this, so people can drink it unheated with a straw?" And I said, "Ew." And then my sweet love says, "Maybe it's for people with totally vegan households; you know, without scissors." And that's when I knew something had gone awry with the thoughts-forming-words process. Either that or they're still making scissors the old way: with beef.
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