One of my favorite moments as a teacher is when my most irresponsible, lost-in-the-sauce, never-paying-attention-to-a-word-I-say student comes to school wearing his Harvard sweatshirt.
Aim high, brotha!
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Let’s Define “Need”
Looking around our studio apartment, which, now that Eric has moved in, is stocked to the brim with crap.
Me: “Remember when I said you should only bring over things you absolutely NEED, and just store the stuff you don’t need, since we’re going to move to a bigger apartment in August, and this apartment has no space?”
Eric: “Yes. That’s what I did. Everything I brought here, I NEED.”
(Moments later, a thud)
Eric: “Ouch!”
Me: “What happened?”
Eric: “I tripped over my bag of didgeridoos.”
“You know what? I actually think I made a huge mistake.”
— Eric, on how he is now going to answer people when they ask “So, how’s living together going?”, because he thinks it’s a ridiculous question.
Eric Doesn’t Understand How Living Together Works
Me: “Ok I’m going to get a haircut, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
Eric: “But wait, what am I going to do?”
Me: “I don’t know. Stay here? Go out? Either way, just generally continue to be your own person.”
(Long pause)
Eric: “I don’t understand.”
How You Know You’re Fat
“Your hands smell like cheese snacks.”
— woman giving me a hand massage at the hair salon.
The Worst
That asshole who takes up the ENTIRE sidewalk with his unnecessarily large umbrella.
(His name is Eric)
Fitness Hacks
Eric challenged me and his friend Ari to a “Workweek Hustle,” so I spent all week strapping my FitBit to the most hyperactive kid in my class.
#strategy
A Jewish Mother’s Take on Garry Shandling’s Death
Translation: “You better get married.”
Famed restaurateur Danny Meyer has started a whole new movement in the restaurant industry, where he is raising prices and, in turn, asking customers not to tip their servers.
“So just keep doing what you’re doing,” Meyer instructed Jews.
A Fun Little Experiment
My therapist suggested I try a “fun little experiment” where I cut out all alcohol on the week days and log how it affects my mood and exhaustion levels.
So now I find myself staring at the stocked bar in my kitchen on a Friday morning, wondering if holidays still count as week days. Or if ANY Fridays still count as weekdays. I mean it’s FRIDAY. That’s basically the weekend. Even if it’s morning.
And that’s when I realize that this is no “fun little experiment.”
It’s an intervention.
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