I have a knack of always beating the rush to a line, but I never really checked to see if I was actually just holding up the line and making it longer.
…Nah. That’s impossible.
A lady in a wheelchair asked me “are you using this chair?” A part of me wanted to say, “don’t you already have a seat?” But the bigger part of me just stammered and shook my head; more so in confusion than in reply. She towed the wooden chair across the tile floor of the coffee shop, turning heads and whatnot, and then plopped it in front of a cushy armchair in the corner. She neither sat in the wooden chair, nor the cushy armchair. She was waiting for a friend, which cleared up my confusion about someone chair-bound asking for a chair, but when her friend came, she sat in the cushy armchair and the wooden chair just stood there, staring at them. After a few minutes the woman in the cushy armchair set her purse down on the wooden chair. I was still confused as to why the chair had been brought over, but at least it had a purpose, so I got back to work.
You know when it’s super quiet at the library, or a quiet spot in a movie, there’s always that one person that thinks if they unwrap their crinkly candy wrapper r e a l l y s l o w l y then you won’t be able to hear it? It’s more distracting when you’re trying not to draw attention to yourself. It’s going to make a noise either way; don’t drag it out. Just do it quickly and get it over with.
I am now promoting my twitter account, @allmostrelevant. It’s funny and keeps you notified.
…There
Analyzing a joke is like telling someone cake is unhealthy. You don’t ever hear a comedian say, “does this joke make me look fat?” Just laugh and eat the cake. You can’t talk and chew at the same time.
You know at baggage claim when a bunch of the people from your flight are all waiting around because your bags haven’t come yet because maybe one of the baggage cars got unhitched and meandered onto the runway or something. Either way, everyone’s kind of in this daze, but not because they don’t have their bags–I think it’s because there’s always that one big bag that looks kind of old or is a bright gaudy color, that keeps doing laps around the carousel. And so everybody just watches it, licking their lips, half jealous to the point that they consider grabbing it so they have something to go home with, but really you just can’t help but wonder, “what’s that guy doing?” I know they didn’t miss the flight ’cause it was full, and it’s been a half hour, did he get stuck in the lavatory or something, or did he have to finish his in-flight entertainment ’cause he just had to see how Lincoln was going to end. And they couldn’t have taken someone else’s bag because there’s no possible way two pale green corduroy suitcases were ever made. This one was certainly a mistake. Maybe that’s why it’s been abandoned. There’s probably nothing in it. The owner probably just checked it so they could leave it at the airport and not have to deal with it anymore. If I ever try to leave my baggage at an airport like that I’ll at least have the decency to tape a “4 Sale” sign to it so someone else can grab it.
The Mona Lisa is really beyond art at this point. It’s kind of turned into a monster, or rather, turned the common viewer of art into a monster. You can’t even see the Mona Lisa anymore because it’s behind so much glass, and you can’t even take a picture of it because they’ve put some sort of anti-picture technology in the glass… that is to say if you can even get a decent view of it and manage to hold the camera still amongst all the elbows that are bumping into your elbows. There is a huge crowd around the Mona Lisa fighting their way to look at her that she has to be put behind bars in order to be kept safe. That isn’t art. She can’t even be seen anymore. How is that art? Or at least, now she isn’t even being used for her intended purpose, or being seen in the same way the artist imagined. Other painting in the Louvre you can just go up to and even touch if no one is looking, but the Mona Lisa is trapped; with an armed guard even! Now she’s a freak show–some sort of sick performance piece. People don’t want to take the time to appreciate her anymore, they just want to get a glimpse of her just to say they have.
There was some group that showed up in my facebook newsfeed called “I’m not creepy, I just have a really good memory.” Thinking about it for a minute, how can you say you’re not creepy? I know on occasion I have pointed out details to people from years in the past, and people find it kind of creepy that I can remember such randomly specific details. To me it’s not creepy, but to others it might be. But one thing I can’t do is tell that person that it’s not creepy; then I’d just be asking them to lie to themselves. I can’t tell someone that reciting 100 digits of pi makes me smart, I can’t tell someone that my jokes are funny, and I can’t tell someone that giving them flowers is romantic. You do what you do, but you can’t tell other people what you do; it’s up to them to see it, and it’s up to you to show them.
I had friend with my lunch the other day and he asked me for financial advice, like what stocks are good to invest in and what’s the best sort of loan to get for this situation and that. I gave him the best advice I could, but remembered that I’m poor, and reminded him that if I were in his position, I wouldn’t take financial advice from me. I don’t even have finances. I don’t even have a financé.
allmostrelevant 