What Would You Do?

What would you do if you saw a man sprawled across a neighbor’s lawn on a ninety-five degree afternoon? 

A. Check on him and obtain assistance if necessary

B. Ignore him

C. Poke him with a stick and continue on when no response is forthcoming

D. Nudge him in the ribs with your boots and laugh, then ignore him

E. Other

Several passersby selected option B. It was disheartening to observe just how many people walked within two feet of the unconscious man that lolled upon the front lawn of the house across from mine, giving him nothing more than a careless glance, if that. Even more disheartening, though perhaps not that surprising, was seeing a teenage boy go for option C. By the time I witnessed a neighbor choose D I was ready to sell the house, abandon humanity, and live amongst the animals in the forest. M put an end to that notion, at least until the summer of 2012, but I still cannot figure out why, in the forty-five minutes that elapsed from when I first noticed that someone had keeled over directly across the street from my dining room window until emergency personnel arrived, no one but myself actually assisted the man. What do those who do nothing to help others anticipate happening if they should find themselves in need of a stranger’s aid?

Anonymous asked: Hey there, nice to see you have a new spot to chronicle your life. Is there any way we can comment on posts here, or should we stick to the "Ask me anything" button?

At the bottom of each post you should see a DISQUS commenting form. You can find it by clicking on the title of a post, then scrolling to the end, or by clicking the ‘X comments and Y reactions’ to the left of each post’s title. Let me know if you have any issues finding it!

Growing Up

Shall we begin with a headcount? Who has followed me here from that blog with all of the pantyhose obsessed weirdos? What have you been up to since I stopped bitching incessantly and regularly about the aforementioned weirdos? Any bets on how long it will take until this blog becomes equally neglected?

As some may recall, I was an English major and an aspiring writer. I am no longer either of those things. After landing a handful of writing gigs it became evident that what I actually aspired to be was some conglomeration of Stephen King, Joyce Carol Oates, and various other authors who don’t have to write shit unless they want to. Shockingly, blogging about serving beer to lonely men failed to catapult me to the levels of power and loafing that I imagine Stephen King experiences, so I essentially said ‘fuck it’ and started thinking about what else I could do with an English degree. The short answer is, of course, nothing. That is why I am now working on a degree that will qualify me to be a condescending know-it-all to people with health issues while wearing professional sweats. 

M and I grew tired of apartment living and purchased a small house that was built in the early 1900s. We have been playing at being grownups ever since. Convincingly even, I might add. I am the only college girl I know with a vegetable garden and a recently remodeled kitchen, though I counter this healthful adultness by continuing to suck whipped cream straight from the nozzle. Gotta stay young somehow, right? When I am not ignoring the weeds in my garden in favor of pressurized diabetes I can be found sating my obsessive-compulsive tendencies by cleaning Victorian era trim and multi-paneled doors, detaching the latest rescue kitten from the curtains, or wondering what the hell is going on with kids today and why the little bastards are on my damned lawn. If that’s not a sign of my burgeoning maturity I don’t know what is.