Tag Archives: The NeverEnding Story

To Coach A Mockingbird

To Coach A Mockingbird

BOBBIN

In summer 2013, Atlanta home values skyrocketed, increasing by 17% on average. My landlord decided to put her house on the market and kick my husband and me out despite our flawless rental history. I arrived home one evening to find all the shades open, my favorite coffee mug broken, and my vibrator lying in the middle of the bedroom floor. Apparently a professional photographer had trudged through the house taking pictures for the online listing. Did the wayward dildo make the bedroom look more peaceful? I don’t understand the artist’s logic.

Accepting A Rude God Implicitly: How My Tiger Lost An Eye At Summer Camp

Accepting A Rude God Implicitly: How My Tiger Lost An Eye At Summer Camp

When I woke up in my sleeping bag and realized Chris’s glass eye had fallen out of its socket in the night, I began to scream. I screamed like a man awakening to find his best friend’s hollow, bloody socket staring at him across the smoldering ashes of last night’s campfire.

Chris was my stuffed tiger. I’d named him after a kid who’d convinced me to ride my Big Wheel in the street, even though riding tricycles in the street was forbidden by my mother. Like any cyclist with a “share the road” mentality, Chris (the kid, not the tiger) believed the onus was on the motorist not to crush our tiny child-sized skulls with their enormous 1980s car grills.

Good Hair

Thanks to Chris Rock’s movie about black ladies’ hair, I know more about weaves than I ever dreamed I could. I almost feel qualified to start my own weave business. What do you say, ladies- ready to come get your weave put in by me, an enthusiastic young man who just saw a movie about it?

As it turns out, weaves are crazy expensive. They are like the iPads of the black hair world. They should put wifi and web browsing capabilities into hair. If you have an email, your bangs glow blue, if you have a facebook friend request you can tug on your ponytail and your hair says the person’s name.

If you want to tweet you can just say, “Hair, I want to tweet” then say your tweet out loud. I feel like the Steve Jobs of fake hair.

When I was in high school I had long straight hair down to my shoulders. Girls told me I looked like Atreyu from The NeverEnding Story from the back. Well, with my iHair invention you can WATCH The NeverEnding Story from the back of my head. Strange girls would come up behind me and run their fingers through my silky hair, especially in the arcade. Damn, girl I’m trying to play Street Fighter II!

Then I cut off all my hair and said hello to my great aunt in the mall and she didn’t recognize me. She was so startled she damn near called the cops on me. I kept saying, “It’s me! It’s me!” Guess in retrospect that’s the kind of thing a crazy person would say if they were about to drag you to their van in the mall parking lot.

Nobody ever touches my head anymore.