I have a prejudice against Las Vegas. There’s the “something for nothing” attitude and all of that excess which goes against all the hard-earned money ethos that was hammered into me by my parents. So, when Snuff and I were talking about a our friend’s honeymoon plans, I got defensive… in my own passive aggressive way.
Me: “Las Vegas? How cliche.”
Snuff: “What do you want? She’s 100% Polish (American) and he’s 100% Italian (American) where else would they go?”
Me: “Austria?”
Apropos of clearly nothing, my dear friend Roseld sent me a most wonderful and somewhat rare gift.  A mint condition children’s backpack from licensed with Binney & Smith’s trademark, Crayola.  The elation from sheer uniqueness of which I am still getting over was tempered by the fact that there was no way that I could strap this onto my back, nor do I have the charity to give this to a deserving child.
A need to change laptop bags and a purchase of a ridiculously expensive luxury bag gave me a great idea to finally use the backpack.  I purchased hardware and polyester seatbelt material and fashioned a strap.  I looped the squared O-rings through the arms of the backpack.  No sewing or altering of the backpack was needed; I didn’t want to spoil or alter it in any way.  Gravity and the weight of the contents of the bag keep the shoulder strap in place, et voila – one of a kind laptop case that even a hipster would have to be envious of.
Late one evening, we were chatting with our straight friends over the objet d’art and the chotzkies in our home. We complained about the overflowing cupboards full of dishes, glasses, cups, and pottery; yet Snuff and I talked about the junk stores and the art fairs that we frequent. In the self-deprecation I blurted out “we’re such crockery fags”, and the expression stuck.
Our crockery fag day started today with a lovely brunch, a drive in the park, and then a quick trip to Pewabic Pottery [link].
Amy Wolfe (Student) Not For Sale
Pewabic Pottery
Then I found these pieces which I found cool but I’m not posting the artist nor the price. Go into Pewabic to see for yourself, they’re brilliantly $$$.
Some people ascribe to the old saying “my ears are burning” nor “are your ears burning?” when talk is somebody who was not present but is the topic of discussion. However it’s 9 o’clock hour in the Philippines right now, the late dinner hour for my parents. I know they are talking about me.
Some parts of Asia think that one sneezes when being talked about behind their back.
I’m sneezing… I woke up sneezing, I’m sneezed on my commute, and I continue to sneeze here at work. I have a feeling that my parents are laughing it up… talking about me and shoving food in their mouth. Yuk it up mom and dad, I know you’re proud of me but I took a Claratin and you’ve got to go to sleep sometime.