Item: Montblanc Meisterstuck Classique Rollerball
Color: Oxblood
Purpose: 24th birthday gift
Purchaser: My first love
Price: $150 OBO
Yes, the first man to win my heart gifted me a pen for my birthday. I wasn't even a proclaimed writer or so-called writer at the time. I'm surprised he didn't use it to stab me in the heart. After all, it would have elicited the same result as the words he used to confess cheating on me. Anyway, it actually writes really nicely. Also, now that I've hunted down some replacement ink, it appears Montblanc has expanded their color portfolio. Life is always more fun when you can use a ridiculously priced pen to dot the I of your first name with a lilac heart. Extra ink refill included.
Item: LaChapelle Land by David LaChapelle
Color: The rainbow
Purpose: 25th birthday gift
Purchaser: Self-absorbed, tongue-pierced, NYC-based, film-producing boyfriend
Price: $20 OBO
The pictures captured in this coffee-table book are, at times, mesmerizing. The crisp lines, unique celebrity portraits and bright colors entice and excite. If a bag of Skittles got it on with a Hollywood hooker, this book would be the bastard child. Though I was living at home when given this book, meaning I technically did not have a coffee table upon which to display it, the gesture was a teensy more meaningful than a pen. The front cover is inscribed with child-like scrawl depicting a sentiment of like-like. Love would have involved grand gestures like meeting me at Penn Station upon arrival to the city. Book comes in a useless cardboard box adorn with more of the artist's ego, I mean work.
Item: Life Fitness Treadmill
Color: Black and gray (if dusted)
Purpose: To make me less fat
Purchaser: Judgmental, superficial, DC-based boyfriend with a bald spot
Price: Free
The deck and orthopedic belt absorb impact quite nicely, unlike a hard macadam sidewalk. Fits easily in one's living room, occupying space in front of a television so as to taunt you while you sprawl across the sofa watching reruns of Sex and the City and bury your face in a pint of Chunky Monkey. Note: accepting a piece of workout equipment from a boyfriend might lead him to eventually confess he was trying to help you thin down (because he always thought you were too fat). Instruction packet and tools to dismantle are provided. Removal of treadmill can occur either out the condo door or over the second-floor balcony. Up to you.
Item: Canon Point-and-shoot Digital Camera
Color: Silver
Purpose: Gift to avoid lending $4000 DSLR and $2000 wide-angle lens
Purchaser: Emotionally constipated boyfriend who bonded best with moose
Price: $100 OBO
A light and compact camera that takes pretty darn good pictures. Though not as good as a high-powered lens attached to a DSLR camera. Meaning the frigate bird you snap while exploring the Galapagos will look more like a bloody black blur amongst scraggly shrubbery. The red, padded carrying case is included. As are the instructions, a 100+ page booklet I was told to read cover-to-cover while the giver transcribed patient notes down the hall. Related: the instructions aren't necessary to read to use the camera. Pretty certain all pictures have been deleted, including the photo of the boarding pass proving giver had cheated on me with a trampa from Tampa.
Item: Pre-hispanic, reproduction of a circa 700BC-1600BC bookmark stick-thing with frog detail and of Montenegro-orientation (according to authenticity papers)
Purpose: Memento from a trip I was originally invited, but then uninvited, to go on; Guilt reducer
Purchaser: 20-something, latino boyfriend who romantically told me I was an incredible mentor
Price: $5 OBO
A gold stick-thing with a frog at one end reportedly used to identify where one has left off while reading. Not Kindle compatible. Nor iPad compatible. Though does come in handy when prying the back off of a finicky work Blackberry to do a hard reset. According to the accompanying paperwork, item is gold-plated and was purchased at an airport gift-shop on the day the giver flew home (see 'AEROP.' stamp and handwritten purchase date on the paperwork). So, kind of on par with a ginormous Toblerone snagged at duty-free. Included is a used copy of A Hundred Years of Solitude, an overrated novel by an author whose primary talent is a unique ability to pen only incredibly unlikeable characters. Shipping not included.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Quantum Mechanics
That car accident you witness from a few vehicles back. The clash of crumpling metal and the screech of tires across macadam. It's an accident that could have involved you, if only you hadn't dropped your keys when you locked your apartment door. Run back in to make sure you unplugged the iron. Slowed up at a yellow light a mile back instead of gunning it to clear the intersection
That twenty-dollar-bill you find crumpled up in the parking lot. The absence of nearby cars confirms it is yours to take. Yet you could have missed it had the moron in front of you at the ATM not processed seventeen transactions. The newbie cashier had a formal grasp on keying manufacturer's coupons. The shopping cart had four functioning wheels so you didn't need to randomly pause to get them moving straight.
That friend you met during your sophomore year of college after transferring from another school. It is a friendship that has shaped you, made you a better person, and blossomed into an unbreakable bond spanning decades. But it is a friendship that could have never happened had you transferred instead to Duke. Had you actually been placed in the dorm you requested. Had you been off exploring the campus while she poked her head into open doors.
That Charleston cocktail party your college friend invites you to attend. Though you know only one other guest, you find yourself chatting with a Connecticut man in town visiting his father. But that meeting in the garden would have never occurred had you kept your original plan of visiting the week prior. Had he canceled the trip when his girls' school shortened spring break to make up for snow days. Had you remained by your friend's side in the kitchen, quietly admiring portraits and eavesdropping on conversations.
That business trip to Manhattan. A coworker asks for assistance and you welcome the chance to revisit a city that has always felt like home. It is a trip that opens the door to laugh with a friend over manicures, sip French press coffee in a charming Grammercy cafe, and partake in a date with that man you met in Charleston. It is a trip that wouldn't have happened had you had other work commitments. Had you agreed to help a friend move. Had you determined it would make an already hectic travel schedule unbearable.
That Thursday evening date in Manhattan with the man you met in Charleston. You buy a dress, get your tresses tamed, and practice walking in heels in anticipation of making him weak in the knees, again. It is a date that had immense potential, had his Texas-based client not insisted on extending his visit through dinner Friday. Had his recent thoughts not included confusion about his unraveling marriage. Had you not evolved to the point of wanting nothing less than one-hundred percent of a man's attention, love and support.
That twenty-dollar-bill you find crumpled up in the parking lot. The absence of nearby cars confirms it is yours to take. Yet you could have missed it had the moron in front of you at the ATM not processed seventeen transactions. The newbie cashier had a formal grasp on keying manufacturer's coupons. The shopping cart had four functioning wheels so you didn't need to randomly pause to get them moving straight.
That friend you met during your sophomore year of college after transferring from another school. It is a friendship that has shaped you, made you a better person, and blossomed into an unbreakable bond spanning decades. But it is a friendship that could have never happened had you transferred instead to Duke. Had you actually been placed in the dorm you requested. Had you been off exploring the campus while she poked her head into open doors.
That Charleston cocktail party your college friend invites you to attend. Though you know only one other guest, you find yourself chatting with a Connecticut man in town visiting his father. But that meeting in the garden would have never occurred had you kept your original plan of visiting the week prior. Had he canceled the trip when his girls' school shortened spring break to make up for snow days. Had you remained by your friend's side in the kitchen, quietly admiring portraits and eavesdropping on conversations.
That business trip to Manhattan. A coworker asks for assistance and you welcome the chance to revisit a city that has always felt like home. It is a trip that opens the door to laugh with a friend over manicures, sip French press coffee in a charming Grammercy cafe, and partake in a date with that man you met in Charleston. It is a trip that wouldn't have happened had you had other work commitments. Had you agreed to help a friend move. Had you determined it would make an already hectic travel schedule unbearable.
That Thursday evening date in Manhattan with the man you met in Charleston. You buy a dress, get your tresses tamed, and practice walking in heels in anticipation of making him weak in the knees, again. It is a date that had immense potential, had his Texas-based client not insisted on extending his visit through dinner Friday. Had his recent thoughts not included confusion about his unraveling marriage. Had you not evolved to the point of wanting nothing less than one-hundred percent of a man's attention, love and support.
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