I’m Going Like This

I’m Going Like This

My husband does this thing. I tend to rush around my bedroom, jumping into clothes and multitasking, trying to accomplish some task and get clothed simultaneously. Sometimes I do this while conducting a business conversation via phone. As he sees me frenzying around, talking technology PR in a blouse and no pants, he invariably points and says, “You going like that?”

I drop what I’m doing and say, “Yes. I’m going like this.”

He and I will often conduct full conversations about our household as we change to go out somewhere, clothes flying. As I pull off a pair of jeans to transition to a different outfit, John stops mid-sentence and says, “You don’t have to get that excited.”

I do a happy dance about whatever ridiculously banal item we’re discussing.

After multiple years of this, I have gotten the hang of it. When his business line bounces to his cell phone too early in the morning and he hops out of bed to answer it, I mouth to him, “You goin’ like that?”

He silent-laughs at me.

Someday, he says, when we die, they should bury us together. Naked. And our headstones will read:

“THEY WENT LIKE THIS.”

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Winner:  First Place, Non-Fiction category in the Pennwriter’s Conference Flash Fiction “In Other Words” competition, 2016

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I Promised I’d Be Funny – The London Subway Platform

I Promised I’d Be Funny – Part 1

The London Subway Platform

I started this blog wanting to just write and be entertaining… what happened there?

My daughter recently disparaged a rowdy group of singing fraternity brothers on a solemnly-themed attraction at Universal Studios, Orlando, at 10:00 a.m. I confessed: If it were me as a young person, that would have been the crew I walked in with. Guys who were clamorous and ridiculous, re-enacting “Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure,” imitating Bugs Bunny, or reciting a Monty Python sketch verbatim.

I bulleted several of these wild-guy incidents as evidence, which involved:

1) Swinging from an elementary school flagpole
2) Leaning out the open door of a moving vehicle to yell at the driver behind us
3) Dropping a cooked chicken cutlet from a ski lift
4) Singing fight songs at full lung capacity on a London Underground platform at midnight.

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“I was going to call you,” Miles said when he picked up the phone. It was actually difficult to call me. I shared a single, card-operated phone with 70 people, located in the common room of a dorm. I mean a “flat,” as they called it in London. And his name was not actually Miles, but I’ll call him that for now. “You fancy going out with us Thursday?” (Men in England say “fancy.” And it’s all good.)

My two drinking buddies Miles and Jon, members of a championship London Ultimate Frisbee team, planned to visit a pub only a few tube stops from the flats in Egerton Gardens, where the American students in my study abroad program lived. It was our last days before they were to kick us out; the semester was over. We were prepping to go home….

CONTENT FROM THIS ENTRY HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED TO MY NEW SERIES,

“A Run In My Tights”

ON THE LITERARY PLATFORM, “CHANNILLO.COM”

Take a read!

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