Mom and dad named me Jordana Elana - 'tree' in Hebrew - and I love them for it. I take lofi photography, write prose and short fiction, watch film, and walk barefoot as much as possible.
- Me:
- I basically realized that I have the emotional maturity of a ten-year-old boy
- Melissa:
- Yeah?
- Me:
- I mean, I could completely relate to all of his outbursts and abrupt emotional reactions. It was like therapy.
- Melissa:
- And?
- Me:
- And, well…that’s it. I mean, it was a ten dollar ticket so it was ten dollars worth of therapy. I-discovered-I’m-a-ten-year-old-boy, that’s it. That’s all you get with ten dollar therapy.
- Melissa:
- …what now?
- Me:
- Well, I guess I need to call...I should probably…I need to find a wolf suit. First thing.
- Melissa:
- Bingo!
- Me:
- I know!
- Melissa:
- Are you going to find a wolf, gut it and crawl inside it?
- Me:
- No, if you kill it the shelf life of its coat drops down to mere days and where’s the ROI on that? I mean your boyfriend’s in banking just ask him.
- Melissa:
- …yea…
- Me:
- …
- Melissa:
- You could sell its wolf meat.
- Me:
- I could sell some and give some to charity. They’d like that, right?
- Melissa:
- Yeah, I mean people eat turtle soup.
- Me:
- I’ve never eaten turtle soup. I just think its fucked up when a turtle is just sitting on the beach and someone grabs it and pour soup down its shell… and then the person makes the turtle poke its head out to mouth to mouth feed him.
- Melissa:
- But you know what. The turtle does die when you pour soup in it. And it’s actually the turtle’s wife that feeds you.
- Me:
- Hmmf
- Melissa:
- Yeah, I know.
