I missed you! Did you miss me? Don’t answer that! To address the gorgeous elephant in the room: I missed March and April’s issues. I apologize to my cry babies. But sometimes even beautiful women with big hair, bigger tits, and the biggest personalities get behind on their to-do lists. We’re too top heavy! We fall down a lot! Anyway, I’ve put on my big girl pants (a bra) and I’m ready to cry in public again. After all, crying without an audience is just no fun.
‘Tis the Season
Spring flew by! Like a one-dimensional female character in an action movie, she was bold, bright, and boisterous. Spring is the best.1 But much like the aforementioned female lead in an action movie, she’s served her purpose so we’ve killed spring off for a newer, hotter season: summer! I can’t wait for longer days, beach vacations, and time in the sun – all hail Ra the Sun God!
Summer dances across the senses. Summer tastes like sunscreen, ice cream in the afternoons, and $30 cocktails with big pieces of fruit. It sounds like the thrumming of bars with patios, music you can only listen to on a boat, and the buzzing of locusts signaling Ra’s return. Summer feels like wearing white without your mom’s judgment, getting into your car and exclaiming owowow-hot-hot-hot, and sore muscles after spending the day erecting sun temples in Ra’s honor. It looks like spending the day people watching for unsuspecting tourists, selecting the most virginal one to make the ultimate sacrifice, and perfectly timing that tourist’s demise to the Summer Solstice (when the sun sets evenly between the Sphinxes as Ra rides his barge across the heavens). Summer smells like tequila, coconut, and bloodlust.
So enjoy summer because it might be your last– I mean, enjoy summer while it lasts! And don’t forget to use sunscreen.
A Thought Experiment: Serenity Soon?
You have only had two massages in your lifetime. The first one was nice, but the male masseuse talked to you the entire hour and tried to recruit you to join AA. Granted, you were suffering from a new year’s eve hangover and he probably smelled the alcohol coming out of your pores. Plus, you have one of those faces that screams “save me!!” to god-fearing busy bodies. Relaxation rating: 2/10.
The second time you have a massage, you request a lady masseuse. You suspect that a talkative masseuse is more of a dude thing. Unfortunately, they only have male masseuses that day. Fortunately, the male masseuse is the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. He has hands like a sailor and you think impure thoughts. Of course this masseuse has no interest in saving you (or ruining you). Relaxation rating: 2/10, but for different reasons.
For your third massage, you want to get it right. You weigh the many massage options that Los Angeles has to offer. Do you want to pay too much for a crazy fancy spa with all the fixings, or do you want to pay too much for a crazy sketchy spa with no yelp reviews? You settle for the middle of the road and you pay too much for just the right amount of fixings– white sheets, the feeling that no one will murder you, and a scalp massage add-on for only $15. What’s that? Your phone’s ringing. It’s the masseuse confirming your appointme– oh, the masseuse is sick? They need to cancel? How’s a month from now… Relaxation rating: -1/10, for the promise of relaxation that was taken away from you.
Is relaxation not meant for you? Does God not want you to know peace? Or maybe you are stronger because of the tension? Maybe it's the tension that drives you! The tension makes you the uptight diamond that your friends adore, coworkers fear, and strangers have secret crushes on. Or maybe you should check out Groupon just one more time…
Sophisticated Words for Big Brains
Hoi Polloi (noun): the masses; the common people.
If Elyse continues to buy $10 matcha lattes with oat milk from the vegan Italian cafe down the street (thank you, Los Angeles!), she will be so poor that she will rejoin the K-cup drinking hoi polloi.
Poetry Corner: Eclipse
My airplane chases the moon East to west, we race
I say hello to the sun It plays its own game Riding the horizon
It’s beautiful To see the moon and the sun play The eclipse was this week And they played a game of hide and seek
Until Next Time!
Another fabulous issue by me! Tied for first with every other creative endeavor I’ve ever pursued. Thank you to my Cry Babies for reading and for always keeping me humble. And if you have any gorgeous, gifted, and overly dramatic friends– I don’t want to hear about them, they sound desperate and annoying. But maybe they’d like Town Cryer. You should share it with them!
Narcissism check: is your favorite season also the same one that holds your birthday, or are you normal?
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Back and hotter than ever!!! Love you Eboo!