Author: Formaggio Bambino

Not gonna lie: when you said you were having a casual “we’re all vaccinated” shindig at your place, I wasn’t sure what you meant? Ha, not like casual sex, right? HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. I mean, does casual refer to the attire? What does casual attired mean to me, someone who has been alternating between day pajamas to night pajamas and sometimes, hell, I just wear the same thing, in and out and back into bed again because time is meaningless, and who is going to judge me? Sorry, was I rambling? After a year trapped with the unfettered assery of my own thoughts, like a hamster running around in a plastic ball that it has repeatedly defecated in, I have forgotten how conversations work. Is it that I go and then you go again? Do we just take turns talking or what?

Sorry, should I be

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My husband’s Twitter account is a lot more professional than mine, because my husband is a lot more professional than I am. He’s also not really into PDAs, and so it’s pretty easy for me to embarrass him by simply mentioning that *lowers voice* we sometimes do adult things together.

So on a regular basis, I invade my husband’s Twitter mentions and tell him to stop whatever he’s doing and come suck face with me. Lately, he’s been working on instructional videos for his new company. While he’s great on camera (look, he just is! It’s not even me being biased because I think he’s a smokeshow!), actually doing the A/V work is pretty uncharted territory for him, so he gets on Twitter to ask people for advice on how things look, and what he should do differently. A lot of the answers are really helpful and supportive.

I also

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Last week, a friend showed up on our doorstep. He was there to go to a birthday dinner with us, the sort of thing that was commonplace two years ago but slipped into the realm of impossibility over the last 14 months, and now, somehow, is possible again. The dinner was on a restaurant patio, the tabletops adorned with dispensers of foul-smelling hand sanitizer, the servers wearing masks. I threw up from motion sickness on the drive there, because my body has forgotten how to be in cars. But other than that: normalcy, or something resembling it.

When our friend arrived at our door, Rand looked at him and said, “Hey, guess what? We’re all fully vaccinated.” They’d gotten their second shots on the same day, and the CDC recommended waiting time for antibodies to build up had elapsed. They hugged on my porch, and I stared like I was

Keep reading this article on Everywhereist.

Last week, a friend showed up on our doorstep. He was there to go to a birthday dinner with us, the sort of thing that was commonplace two years ago but slipped into the realm of impossibility over the last 14 months, and now, somehow, is possible again. The dinner was on a restaurant patio, the tabletops adorned with dispensers of foul-smelling hand sanitizer, the servers wearing masks. I threw up from motion sickness on the drive there, because my body has forgotten how to be in cars. But other than that: normalcy, or something resembling it.

When our friend arrived at our door, Rand looked at him and said, “Hey, guess what? We’re all fully vaccinated.” They’d gotten their second shots on the same day, and the CDC recommended waiting time for antibodies to build up had elapsed. They hugged on my porch, and I stared like I was

Keep reading this article on Everywhereist.

I cleaned out my office for the first time in *mumble mumble*, the final act in a string of procrastinations masquerading as chores. With the help of a friend, I hung a painting which spent the last two years lying propped up against the wall of the guest bedroom. I dusted the baseboards, and then I painted them, a spate of productivity than can only exist when you are avoiding something (in my case – writing). And then, finally, I tackled the pile of papers of my desk, and on every horizontal surface around my desk (the papers had spread over, like flowing lava).

I have heard that some people need a clean workspace in order to write – the unproven hypothesis that it promotes productivity. So I wince a little when I think of my office, a place where Rand will occasionally poke his head through the door and

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I’ve just gotten my second vaccine (the technical term: a full vaxxiccino) and have been reading the CDC’s recommendations for safe summer activities for the fully vaccinated. I’m two weeks ahead of my husband, something I hold over his head because he has better abs than me and is just a better person all around, and if Earth gets evacuated because the sun suddenly decides to explode, he is absolute getting on the good escape shuttle. But I got vaccinated first (thank you brain tumor and asthma! I knew you’d come through for me!), which I’m pretending is some sort of moral achievement.

The CDC has said that vaccinated people can gather indoors with other vaccinated people! We can hang out inside with our friends! Like we used to! Like humans have for centuries, and also like a bunch of raccoons probably do if you leave the door to a

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I got my second vaccination shot this past weekend, spent the day after nursing a sore arm and watching television, in the throes of something not quite like a hangover. The internet told me to expect the worst, as the internet usually does. I anticipated being laid out for 48 hours. Instead I had a headache, took two Tylenol, and then went for a walk. It was warm out, or maybe I was feverish, or perhaps it was a little of both. The burst of blossoms on the cherry trees outside felt almost aggressive, the lushness of spring in the northwest stunning after a grey winter. I had longed for it for months, and then it seemed to appear overnight.

Scrolling my social media, I see a stream of selfies; people receiving their vaccines, eyes smiling over their masks, a shirt-sleeve rolled up, something exceptionally vulnerable about that stretch of

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Look, I am going to confess something, and as I do, please, please, please do not hurl anything heavy, because odds are, due to the pandemic and the ubiquity of the internet, we will not be in the same room, and it will not hit me. You’re just going to destroy your own computer or possibly damage something in your house, rather than hurt me.

Or maybe have at it, I’m not your mother.

Okay … ready?

Rand’s pandemic hobby has been cooking.

PUT THAT SHOE DOWN, WE DO NOT THROW THINGS.

Look, I know, I know. This is the last thing that you need to hear about childless couple who normally travels but is now stuck in their home for a year. Ideally, you would like to be reading about how one of us snapped and cannibalized the other, or that we’re at least starting to

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I got my first vaccine shot on Easter Sunday, prompting all sorts of blasphemous jokes about being resurrected from lockdown, though it’ll be another five weeks (three to my next shot, and another two after that) before all those little antibodies build up. I felt fine in the aftermath, and still do now, though this to be expected after your first shot. It’s like tequila. The first one is fine, and makes you feel invincible, and you feel an inexplicable but intense love for everyone around you, especially those who gave you the shot or took one with you. It’s really the second shot that takes you down.

Vaccines are rolling out – slow at first, and now a steady trickle. My friends and I keep checking in on one another as we have for the last year, though the topic has switched from “You hanging in there?” to “Any

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CW: This post contains mentions of death/rape threats, some graphic language, descriptions of online abuse, screen caps of verbal abuse, transphobic and hateful comments. If you need a mental palate cleanser after just thinking about that, here’s a pic of Rand cooking. 

So, last week, or maybe two weeks ago, or three months (does it matter? Does anyone remember? Are we still keeping track? HOW IS IT STILL MARCH? IT HAS BEEN MARCH FOR A YEAR.) I did something that caught people’s attention on Twitter, and it amused some folks and rankled others, the way anything that catches people’s attention does.

And since it’s International Women’s Day, I thought I’d talk about it.

A little while ago, Lauren Boebert, a Representative from Colorado (she was the one who was livetweeting the location of several sheltering Democratic officials, including Speaker Pelosi, during the armed siege of the Capitol, and also vowed