They're creepy and they're cooky, quite churlish and so spooky

I've taken to grading guys as I see them. Some degree of discretion is given, maybe they're a C or C- depending on how inebriated I am. In defense of my scale, it rarely gets a B+ or more.

In college, I had a professor of Baldwin who had an acid flashback in the middle of class one day. It was unusual because she was otherwise rather strict and rigid. I mean, she insisted that our final papers be delivered to her office by a specific time, left under her door. And I recall racing across campus that morning to deliver it to an empty office, under that door.

Since having shed the fat after my massive, life-threatening infection last fall, it's so nice to be able to wear t-shirts again.

Abercrombie and Bitch

The progress on my health has been infinitesimally slow and steady. On the plus side (and there are actually several plus sides, all things considered), I stop by Subway to get something to eat after the infusion. So, there's a treat for myself if ever there was one.

I had a feared teacher in middle school who, whenever anyone would sneeze, would continue teaching, but bring a tissue to the person. We always thought this was hysterical, though in retrospect, it was just polite.

Sometimes when I walk by certain people on the street, I like to imagine their internal monologue or a soundbite from their life. Granted, it's not usually very nice.

No hard stops

Since my life has become 60% Prime and Netflilx now, I've realized from many shows that it's easier on the ears when they transition from a song playing in the foreground to one of the characters listening to it on earphones or in their room, so I now try to mirror this in my own life when I come home by turning the music down first before turning it off.

Have you ever walked by someone who smells like a combination of fabric softener and a fart?

When people use air quotes, even appropriately, it gives me a headache.

We was all at the Met Ball havin' a good time

Sunday's visit to church with Zela, for all the anxiety I produced over it, was fairly uneventful. She seemed tolerant of the event, took pics of some of the pastor's quotes shown on the screen, and declined to meet him and the family pastor afterwards. We did lunchies afterwards and caught up, then parted ways. No biggie, and I don't get the sense that she'll be joining me again.

I spent the night at my best friend Ralph's house in fifth grade, and the next morning, we were having breakfast with his dad. Ralph said something untoward, and his dad blew up at him, saying, "Christopher, you have a wild hair up your ass this morning, and I suggest you pull it out!" I'd never heard that phrase before, so started laughing uncontrollably while trying to gulp down my cereal. But it got so bad, I had to race to the bathroom to get my guffaws out in private before I could return to the table.

I greatly look forward to the day when we have solar-powered cell phones.

The more, the scarier

I invited Zela to church with me this week as part of my church's Bring a Friend thing, and she's coming. We're doing lunchies afterwards. I kind of got an inkling that it was meant to be when I ran into her the other day walking down the street. I had started off on my side of the street, and crossed over to the other, which I don't normally do. And lo and behold, there she was on her way to some kickboxing or Bikram class. I asked her by text last week, and had felt mildly anxious about it, but it may actually be nice to be there with a friend. For once.

My first quarter in college, I had a professor named Professor Kallet-Marx whose class was seventy five full fucking minutes long. Hence, I referred to her as PKM 75 for the rest of the quarter.

It was only the other day when I noticed some well-dressed dude riding a scooter up a hill that that's once again a thing, lest we forget the Razor craze of the early 2000s.

And mama used to say Beyoncé

I was on the bus the other day, and some old man at the front got into it with the driver. I didn't hear what they were saying, but I turned down my music just long enough to hear the old man yell back at him, "Nonsense!" I died.

I'm on Target's do not rehire list. I worked there for a hot minute in the nineties just so I could afford enough to buy a new pair of contacts while being reprimanded left and right by the old biddy lifers, and didn't give the required two-week notice. I'm hoping this doesn't become an issue later on in life.

I wish someone would put together a supercut of Bad Janet from "The Good Place."

Perspicacity sounds like a black girl name, huh?

I had a forty-something co-worker when I was a teen who bought me and my friends alcohol one or two times. It was awesome at the time, but I can't say I'd return the favor today.

Sometimes things are going so well for me that I like to imagine a hellish world where demons are always at me knocking down drinks, tripping me on the sidewalk, forcing the wrong button on the keyboard.

I like Anna Kendrick and all, but find her to be a touch insufferable in those Hilton commercials.