Top Six Baby Names (That Should Be Trending) for 2021

For those expecting in 2021, let's have your kid's lifelong existence reminisce on the great year that was 2020 with these perfect names (and if you don't like these, you can always revisit last year's)...

6. The days of naming your kid cute or inspiring names like Celena or Hillary are over. These days, we need Celery. It's important to be self-sufficient and learn to grow your own food.

5. Close quarters lead us all to quarrel quite a bit, so stop arguing with your live-in Tinder date that knocked you up about how dumb the name Tina is. Just settle on naming your baby Quarantina to remember the bad old days.

4. Some people want you to name your kid Ryan or Eliot, but you gotta take a stand and name your kid Riot. It means "mostly peaceful protest."

3. I don't care if it's short for Too Pouty or what -- call your kid T. P. and even though he's kind of shitty, you can never get enough of him.

2. You might have heard somewhere on the internet that Valerie or Maxine is a good healthy name for your kid, but let's be reasonable and relent to at least one Vaxine in the household instead.

1. Cole and David are classic names, but get with the times and name your son Covid -- he's sure to be famous.

I could only come up with six this time; it's been a rough year. Probably you shouldn't be having kids at all.

Smile, it's Christmas

December 24

9:26 PM I receive a text message from my aunt, inviting me to Christmas dinner in all of 16 hours.

December 25

2:47 PM My aunt asks me irritatingly specific questions about my friend's party later that I have no desire to attend and am only using as an excuse for why I can't stay long. I don't think she buys it.

2:56 PM Out of nowhere, my aunt gives me unsolicited advice about selecting an auto mechanic.

3:02 PM Out of nowhere, my uncle gives me unsolicited medical advice. Specifically, he advises me to try a certain horse paste. You know the one.

3:07 PM Out of nowhere, my aunt asks if I have a church I'm going to right now -- "no judgment." This same aunt when I was a freshman in college in a town where the buses hardly run on Sundays and I didn't have a car: WHy nOt?! HAvE yOU Not FoUnD OnE WhERe YoU agREe wITh tHe TEacHiNg?!?!?!

4:14 PM My single self is inexplicably asked if I would want my divorcée mom's diamond ring. Instead of attempting to answer, my body continues eating mashed potatoes.

4:36 PM My mom tells a story involving a couple she knows and specifies their races for no reason whatsoever.

5:04 PM I am given not one, but two unexpected gifts from the aunt who, last time she gave me something, made sure to tell me it was her favorite and that she didn't want to give it away, but insisted on giving it to me because she felt "convicted" -- despite that I didn't want it. I can't wait to burn this candle and fill my home with the smell of guilt for 75 hours.

5:28 PM I head home, where I will peacefully stay, because in addition to telling my family I couldn't stay because I had plans with a friend, I brilliantly also told the friend I couldn't go because I was with family. Christmas rules.

The Housekeeper

I hired my mom as my housekeeper and it seems like a terrible idea. Day one and she's just like I knew she would be: unloading the dishwasher when I specifically told her it wasn't necessary, outside sweeping the whole patio when I only wanted her to vacuum the floors, disinfecting my light switches while there was still toothpaste smeared in the sink.

My mom does not understand anyone else's point of view. Her way is the right way in every situation. And the frustrating thing is her logic does make sense, so you can't even argue with her, but usually her point is just so irrelevant. Yet this is why I hired her.

I always mean to sweep outside but never get around to it. Disinfecting the doorknobs during a pandemic is probably a good idea, but not one I would act upon regularly. And unloading the dishwasher is what my mom did on her break from the harder work. 

There are certain things in life I just don't want to bother with. I don't want a Subway sandwich I designed -- if I knew what I was doing with food, I wouldn't have to pay someone to do it for me; just make me something that tastes good! When I walk into a salon, just make my hair look good, don't make us talk about it first. And I expect my housekeeper to just do what needs to be done.

I finally found a way to tolerate -- nay, celebrate -- my mother's obstinacy. In the end, she got everything done that I asked, plus more. It's kind of sad that I like my mom better as a housekeeper than as a mom. But I'm happy that I finally found a role for her in my life that doesn't drive me insane. I don't know how long this arrangement is going to last -- she already put my measuring cup away in a logical place where I couldn't find it -- but as long as she's here, I told her she could take a real break.

Nice Things

In case there was any question stubbornly lingering in anyone's mind, it's confirmed: I am not having kids. I just bought a white genuine sheepskin rug. Probably I am not even having kids in my house anymore.

In the old apartment, I had seen a YouTube video about how to make your own faux sheepskin rug, and I optimistically went to JoAnn's and bought some furry fabric, but I skipped the step of attaching non-skid material underneath and went straight to cutting the fabric in a squiggle like a dead animal with too many limbs. Also, the fake fur was kind of brownish-gray because that's what was on sale. I'm not sure what kind of animal it resembled, if any. I used it as an extra patch of rug, since my rug wasn't big enough. It was more for looks, which is sad if you think about everything I just disclosed, since it was hazardous to actually step on the slippery thing. It doesn't look any less pathetic in the new place, under my luxurious new chaise lounge.

This sheepskin rug was the most expensive impulse purchase I've ever considered making. I realize it's not an impulse purchase if you didn't actually make it, and only considered making it, plus it was already on my mental list of things to buy someday, but I did end up going back and buying it so if I had bought it when I impulsively considered buying it, then it would have been. But I digress.

I bought it at Costco. As I am leaving with my rug and my frozen box of too many pot pies, the guy whose job it is to drag his Sharpie over my receipt asks excitedly, "Do you own a fireplace?" An odd choice of words. Not only do I not own a fireplace, I do not even rent a fireplace. I do not have a fireplace or a spouse to veto my impulse purchase or any kids at all to spill grape juice on this rug, not that it's any of your business, Sharpie-dragger. But I have been caught red-handed, arrested, forced to defend myself while I watch the permanent black ink mar the thermal record of my purchase in slow motion. I consider lying: Not Guilty. "...because that would be perfect!" he finishes.

"Oh... yeah." 

But excitement about my new rug is already deflated by this employee's excitement for it. Who am I to be buying a sheepskin rug? I don't even own a fireplace. I own twenty-four frozen pot pies that are disgusting, that I will eat alone, that I will regret buying. This is not the saddest part of the story.

This is the saddest part of the story: the part where I go home and look up Sheepskin Rug on Pinterest to make sure that a fireplace isn't required. I am satisfied to find that I can't even find one picture with a fireplace. Then I remember that cheery Costco guy writes a black line on a piece of paper over and over again for seventeen dollars an hour, and wonder what made him think of a fireplace.

Squatty Potty, part 2

I realize this is now going to be my second post about buying a squatty potty at Bed Bath and Beyond. The first time it really wasn't for me. 

This time I was shopping online. Bed Bath and Beyond let me know that This item is frequently purchased with: and then showed me poo-pourri (so far I'm following), a 7.5 inch strainer that looks like a smaller version of what you'd skim a swimming pool with, and a platter. Excuse me?? Which one of you is purchasing those items together, and what are you doing with them?! I don't like this story you're telling me, Bed Bath and Beyond.

Time Travelers

Time Travelers of Oregon showed up on my credit card statement for a supposed transaction on June 14, and my first (completely logical) thought was as follows: Wow, in the future, time traveling will be a popular pastime, so popular that each region will have their own Time Travelers club! And the Oregon branch of the Time Travelers has stolen my identity and is paying $24 worth of club expenses with my account! 

Then I looked at my calendar to see if I would remember what I bought that day, but I mixed up the numbers and thought the transaction was from the 24th and was like HOLY SHIT the time travelers spent my money in the future! but then I remembered I shouldn't be that impressed because they're time travelers and also I went antiquing that day but that was NOT the name on the building.

Gifts from my Neighbor

Items my upstairs neighbor has left me on my patio and in my vegetable garden over the course of our time together:

• 17 beer cans
• 2 cigarette cartons
• 4 tennis balls
• 5 dog bones
• 2 tennis balls
• water from 1 overturned dog bowl, 2 feet from my head
• 1 used disposable glove
• white paint splatters that have made "bird poop chic" a permanent part of my patio aesthetic
• 2 rotting limes
• 2 plastic bags
• 1 half-full can of spray paint
• 1 mechanical pencil
• 52 cigarette butts
• 1.5 peanut shells
• 1 half eaten orange
• orange peels
• various plastic bits
• constant sense of dread

Goodbye and good luck, the slum.

Hitler in the Kitchen

I decided to read this book about Hitler and it turned out to be a million pages, so I was making very slow progress. Meanwhile this huge hardback has just been sitting at my table, keeping me company. I started talking to Hitler instead of my plants: What should we have for dinner, Hitler? I've been using Hitler as a computer riser when I have an interview, and he does a great job. Hitler's a real pal.

The inside of the book is pretty good, too. I'm still at the beginning part where Hitler is just a nobody and I don't think I'm supposed to feel inspired by it? I mean he was really floundering there for awhile. 

Hitler went back to the library today and I'm really gonna miss that guy. We spent 6 renewals together, which is something like 21 weeks. I only made it to page 61 of 2,937,533, but maybe that's for the best.

How the Job Search Is Going

My job search so far:

• One recruiter sent a message to all applicants, exposing our competition's identities and contact information to each other.
• A temp agency that used to call me with jobs called me with candidates instead. I feel like I'm moving up in the world. Also, if I need to fall back on them for work, I already know who my competition is.
• 90% of recruiters ghosted me, one after four interviews, including a case study that I spent hours preparing for.
• "When you start you'll just be putting out fires." Points for honesty?
• One interviewer told me I would actually be logging in to Salesforce and sharing my screen and that the interview would be recorded. The amount of notice I had about these details: None.
• One interviewer did not say words. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to conduct the interview or what. I inexplicably tortured myself with a second interview with him, during which he was again mysteriously mute unless he was giving a one-word answer to the questions I felt compelled to fill the silence with.

To be fair:

• I told one interviewer I don't like their products.
• I may have been kinda high during a morning interview.
• I joined a Zoom interview with a giant pair of underwear as my background.

Working at Sea

I got tired of interviewing for good jobs so I started looking at crap jobs instead. I clicked on an ad for being a seafood processor at sea and OH MY GOD did I go down a rabbit trail. Sixteen hour days, seven days a week. So you get eight hours to sleep which is probably fine since you probably just fall asleep immediately. 

I wasn't done yet -- I checked out the other jobs on the ships and thought Housekeeper, that's got to be easier. But it turns out they work sixteen-hour shifts too. How about Data Manager, surely that's gotta be -- nope, they work sixteen hours too! How much Data is there to Manage?! And not only that, they are also responsible for providing medical assistance to injured and ill crew members! I think they are going to be bad at one of those tasks and I hope it's not the medical assistance!

The contracts are all 65 days, I assume because that's as long as human beings can stand to live in a constant fish-scented manual labor trapped-at-sea environment with no weekends or free time whatsoever. Instead of clicking away at that point, I was doing the math and trying to figure out the pay, which varies a lot based on whether you're at the low or high end of the range. Either way: Not. Worth. It. They have a statement about equal opportunity for women and it also says you're living in close quarters and sharing bathrooms and stuff and, I don't know, I just don't think they're set up for women.

I suddenly feel a lot better about being merely unemployed.

Hairy Sexy Winter Sunday

I decided not to shave my legs for the entirety of covid winter, and I was looking forward to a break from the burden of shaving, but, surprisingly, I miss it. Unfortunately, now it's, uh... past the point of no return. A full wax in spring is going to be my only path back from werewolfery.

Previously, my no-shave record was about three weeks, but I have entered a new world altogether. It now hurts to wear leggings just like it hurts to wear a ponytail all day. Also, when I walk through my house with no pants, I can feel the whoosh of air blowing through my leg hairs, in a way that would feel glamorous if they weren't my leg hairs. It's disturbing. No one tells you these things.

I fully intended to keep this experiment contained to the leg area, but then I missed a couple days of armpits and, well, at that point I figured I may as well go all in. This is even worse than the legs, somehow. Putting on deodorant is a nightmare and it's not even grown all the way out yet.

Unrelatedly, I recently declared a weekly Sexy Sunday, on which I must wear a matching bra and panty, just to make sure covid winter doesn't render me a complete slob. (I may have worn crotchless panties to the grocery store.) The only problem with Sexy Sunday is how perfectly it overlaps with Hairy Covid Winter. Sorry for that visual.

This is really doing a lot for my suicidal ideation, though, since I definitely don't want to die right now and have my body be found like this.