Other stuff I'm not sentimental about

We've already established that I'm not terribly sentimental about animals. As we pack up the house to prepare to move, I've realized that I'm also not terribly sentimental about a lot of other things. You would not believe the shit I was throwing away without a second thought.

I threw away whole photo albums

I was ridiculously skinny in high school. For a while, I had a bright pink streak in my hair. I went to prom both junior and senior year.

How many photos does it take to prove all this? Approximately three. So the rest of the albums with pictures from high school? TRASH EM. It's not like I'm gonna go through them some day and reminisce about that horrible awkward phase I went through, and that decision to frequently wear really short denim shorts. I DON'T EVER WANT TO REMINISCE ABOUT THAT.

NOT EVEN NOW.

IN FACT, I KIND OF WANT TO GIVE MYSELF A LOBOTOMY.

Look how skinny I was though, and how cool that streak in my hair was:

YEAH, YOU JEALOUS.

I threw away most of the shit in my "memory box"

I've had that memory box for a bajillion years. Over time, it morphed from being a repository for cherished memories to being a repository for important things like passports and green cards. So I decided to look through it and see what all was actually in there, and what needed to be moved to a more secure location.

Dudes, I threw like 3/4 of that shit away. Maybe more.

A ticket stub from a movie I don't remember seeing? Seriously? Must have been a first date with someone I don't remember dating. GOOD THING I KEPT THAT. But dude, remember when movies were cheap? Those were the days.

I had even kept a receipt from what I thought at the time was a notably expensive dinner.

If something from the past is worth remembering, I'll remember it without any help from bits of flotsam and trash. And if it's not worth remembering, then all those bits of flotsam do is make me want to give myself another lobotomy. Looks like the first one didn't take.

I threw away whole notebooks full of unsent letters and poems

Oh boy, I can't wait to have my kids read through and learn about the time I was mad at someone I'm no longer friends with! And live my teenage/young adult angst vicariously through some shitty poetry!

NOT.

I WISH I HAD A BIG INCINERATOR SO I COULD PERFORM A CEREMONY WHILE I BURN THIS CRAP.

I mean, yeah, letters to/from George Washington are really valuable and tell us a lot about his life. But I'm no George Washington. No one is going to miss these historical relics.

I do still have a lot of clothes left over from high school, though. But that's not sentimental -- it's practical. THAT SHIT STILL FITS ME!

Bam.

Plus, you never know -- maybe that prom dress will come back in style and I can wear it to the ball. Stranger things have happened.

Haha! No they won't. It will be years before you get there, kiddo. YEARS.

For the record, though, if I had a diary with entries like "Today I pooped my pants," I would have kept it. I swear.

Why I don't bake much anymore

I used to bake all the time. Mostly cookies -- I was a cookie master!

But then I stopped. Literally years went by without my touching the electric mixer. My coworkers learned to stop working up a sweet tooth before staff meetings; I started bringing tortellini salad to potlucks instead of peanut butter pie; my family wasn't as excited anymore for me to come visit at Christmastime. Something just changed inside me and the baking stopped.

This weekend, in an attempt to clear a few more things out of the pantry before we move, I decided to bust those electric mixers out one more time to whip up some peanut butter cookies. (and a cake that got mangled and will likely go straight into the trash). I was a little rusty, but I still remembered what to do. The cookies turned out fantastic and I brought to work whatever was left after Jesse got to em.

This successful cookie bake got me thinking: how come I stopped baking in the first place? It's pretty simple and enjoyable, and everyone loved the results. Why not bring back the baked goods?

Simple. There's just no nice way to say this, but ... I stopped baking because we're all fat enough as it is.

In college, I used to bake a fresh batch of cookies every Sunday night to share with my floormates. People would crawl away from their studying to come grab a few cookies in the common room, letting the sugar rush motivate them through the last of their weekend homework. I felt great, because everyone likes having a couple of fresh cookies. I was a hero. And since everyone was either athletic or had an eating disorder, they all stayed thin despite my weekly assault on their midsections.

But now? None of us can afford that sort of fat attack.

Cookies at Home

Cookies at home are dangerous. There are only two of us, and a single batch of cookies tends to yield around three dozen. Umm dudes, that is 18 cookies apiece, with only a few days to eat them before they get stale. If I baked weekly, here's what would happen to me and Jesse:

Soon, stick figures are not sufficient to capture our girth.

And in the final phase, this happens:

You'll notice we are actually too large to even fit in the frame.

So, no cookies are baked for keeping at home.

Cookies at Work

I could bake cookies to bring into work. But then, I'd face THE GUILT TRIP.

Guilt Trip Part 1: Jesse is mad I took away all the cookies.

Guilt Trip Part 2: Coworkers in my department are mad I am tempting them to break their diets.

Guilt Trip Part 3: If I share the cookies with the rest of the floor, then suddenly that three dozen cookies (more like two dozen by the time Jesse and my department-mates get done with them) looks paltry and offensive. Only the first-comers get any at all, while the rest of the floor gets nothing.

Cookies for Potlucks

I've noticed that most potlucks seem to pull in about 60% actual food and 40% desserts, as shown in this pie chart (ha!):

This means a vast majority of the desserts don't get eaten ... which means they must be taken home ... which means we're right back where we started.

WE DON'T NEED TO EAT COOKIES.

WE GET FAT ENOUGH FROM BEER, THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

And here is a picture of a cookie looking excited about a very large beer:

And just to be an asshole, here's another picture I found while Googling:

And just in time for lunch! You're welcome. Also, I looked into how many points they are. it's bad.

Things I Won't Miss About DC: Part 2 -- The Metro

I have been riding the Metro to and from work every day for over five years now. At first, it was cool: I lived in Rosslyn so it wasn't that far, and I didn't have a car so I appreciated the 'convenience' of having a network of public transit at my disposal.

Then there was the infamous red line crash of 2009. Then I moved to Van Dorn, near the end of the line. And then they raised prices while the system continued to deteriorate.

Now, I can't wait to never ride that godawful excuse for a rail system again. EVER. Here's why:

1

It's Expensive As Fuck

When the Batmobile costs less on a per-mile basis, you're doing it wrong. And trust me, riding in the Batmobile is wayyyyyyy cooler than dealing with shit like this every day.

2

Nearly Everyone It Employs Is Either Stupid, Mean, or Both

It's like they have a personal vendetta against every single person who rides in the system. Dealing with them is something you want to avoid like the plague. I always feel bad for the tourists who ask them questions, not knowing any better. It's the ultimate "welcome to DC" middle finger.

He'll wake up when it's break time, but not a moment before then!

3

Shit is All Busted

This applies to everything Metro-related. The tracks are all busted and trains like to derail. The trains are all busted and are either 500 degrees inside or the doors don't work and you get to offload. Onto a dangerously crowded platform. And try not to get pushed onto the rails.

And sometimes you have to wait ten minutes to make a transfer during rush hour, which inevitably means you arrive just in time to watch your bus drive away. This leads to a level of rage I cannot properly describe in words.

My personal favorite bustedness is when my SmarTrip card gets fucked up, because it always leads to a wonderfully awkward situation: having to piggyback out of the system. Allow me to 'splain.

Where I get on the train at Union Station, it's all kinds of crowded:

People are going through the gates at world-record efficiency, lining up nuts to butts to lay their cards on the reader and dart through the gates. But if my card doesn't read properly, I may unknowingly get through the gate on the card of the person before me (well, it's unknowing until the gate slams shut halfway through, giving me a savage and painful dead-leg). This is called "piggybacking" and is not allowed.

But I'm not about to go wake up the Metro employee to tell them something went wrong with my card. So I just skip on down to the train and start psyching myself out to piggyback again at my destination -- intentionally this time.

Here's the thing though: Van Dorn station isn't nearly as crowded as Union Station. People don't line up nuts to butts. And you really only have like one second of extra time before the gate closes on you ... sooooo ...

I get to be the ONLY creeper trying to hump the person in front of me. But I have to make sure it looks unintentional.

It's quite a feat, and when it's done right, you score yourself a free trip.

TOTALLY RIGHTEOUS, BROTHER!

AND TOTALLY NOT WORTH THE TROUBLE!

4

The Bad People Want to Rob You

Think you're going to spend your commute listening to music and surfing the web on your iPhone?

THINK AGAIN BECAUSE I JUST STOLE THAT SHIT! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

5

Goddamn Tourists

In their matching shirts with their lack of escalator etiquette ... GO BACK TO KANSAS YOU COUSIN-FUCKERS!

After my last Metro ride on Friday, I think I'm going to throw my SmarTrip card in a fire or something. Unless someone has a better idea of how I should destroy it. Something really cathartic and awesome. Low-grade explosives? Ripped apart by hyenas? Chopped into a million small pieces with a very large ax?? Because seriously -- I am never riding that death trap again.

Pride of our nation's capital!

I've got a better idea, anyway.