And I have another big annoucement, although I already spilled the beans in the post title.
Yep, a ThoughtsFromParis newsletter!
Now, before you run away, I’m with you. Newsletters suck. Oh yes, yes they do. The ones you get from the online vitamin store, the Junior League, and that cancer charity you once donated to – all get instantly deleted. I know you how you do.
Mine will be different in that it will be awesome. A roundup of my favorite posts of the week, all in one place so you can read on your iPhone whilst using the corporate bathroom.
Here’s what the one you missed today looked like…
I’ll also be sending out special messages to my subscribers. I have things I’d like to roll out this year, and I need input. You’ll be my go-to group!
To subscribe, simple enter in your email directly below and click “send me the funny.” If you don’t I will hate you forever!
]]>I’m sure this goes without saying, but I hate spam more than you and would NEVER give your email to anyone for any reason. Unless they paid me a butt-load of greenbacks. Naturally. For reals, your info is safe.
Actually, that’s not entirely true as we had two cats when I was born but I think they bit me or my sister and were removed.
As a cat, Shadow was decent. Not a home run, but not a caught-looking-strikeout either. I hope that expression sort of makes sense. Since then, I’ve owned (yes, owned) three other cats, and they all have totally rocked balls. Great pets, cats.
The worst thing about Shadow was that she didn’t respond to cat nip. The best thing about Shadow was that she had about twenty random white hairs scattered about her fur.
I can’t tell you why, but I had to pluck them. It was pure ecstasy to me. I used to watch the hairs grow back months later, and I would wait until they were fully ripe, only to then be plucked again. I’m not exaggerating an iota about how awesome this was. My mom used to really yell at me for it, because it kind of bothered the cat.
Well, tough titties to that! I started plucking the hairs in private, bedroom door closed. I had to engage this addiction.
A few years later Shadow started peeing everywhere in the house and my folks gave her away to a nearby pig farm. She became an outdoor cat which probably sucked because she didn’t have any claws. It was very sad time for me.
My white hair pulling addiction did not get to surface again until I met my now ex-wife. She had a few white hairs along her part line. I noticed them one day as I was giving her hair the “sniff-test”.
In that moment my eyes glazed over and I suddenly lost all interest in her as a person. Her head became the most desireable thing on the planet. But I couldn’t just pluck one white hair without permission! Could I?
I totally fucking did.
She yelped, and I explained I just had to pluck it. It’s how I’m wired up. Ultimately she thought it was great because I was getting rid of white hairs that she didn’t want people to see. I would watch them grow back and wait for just the right time to harvest the crop. Every year her head would add about seven to ten new white hairs. It was like Christmas Day, as if they were a presents from the dead pigment and follicle fairy.
I don’t currently have any white head hairs, so I can’t indulge myself. I need a partner.
My current girlfriend Jessica happens to also love getting her white hairs yanked. This could not be more important to me, and I consider it an act of love.
We only see each other every six weeks or so, and during those weekends I spend at least twenty hyperfocused minutes going through each wave of hair on a treasure hunt for white gold.
Lest you think this freakish, it’s probably my only vice. I can live with myself.
Do you have anything obsessively wacky that you do? Unburden yourself! This is a place of safety and non-judgement. Reveal thyself and be set free!
]]>Really, I just want to feel less like a weirdo, so if you have to, make something up.