sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole

so. every year, the second (?third?) week of june, I do an event called STAIRSWEEK. instead of my normal blog content, all content is replaced by stairs.

the stairs happen once every 60 minutes, every hour, 24 hours a day, for one week straight, with a grande finale on the last day, saturday.

no other content besides stairs occur during this time outside of textposts.

it begins this sunday at midnight.

you are welcome to unfollow, or you are welcome to partake.

"how do i participate?"

great question! on saturday, the hashtag for this year will be revealed. when you come across stairs in your daily life (or maybe go out of the way for cool ones) you will post the stairs to your blog with the hashtag for this year. i will go through daily and queue all stairs and posts in this tag, and they will become memorialized and added to the stairs list for future years to come.

equine -> horses

bovine -> cows

murine -> mice/rats

porcupine -> porcupines

wolverine -> wolves

marine -> marmosets

saline -> salmonella

cosine -> cosmonauts

citrine -> citrus

combine -> combs

famine -> your fam

bromine -> your bros

palpatine -> your pals

alpine -> alps

christine -> christ

asinine -> asses

machine -> the speed of sound

landmine -> explosions

migraine -> migrants

trampoline -> tramps

dopamine -> dopes

medicine -> the Medici family

praline -> prey

masculine -> mascara

feminine -> femurs

latrine -> latissimus dorsi

fettuccine -> fetuses

poutine -> sadness

turbine -> turbans

engine -> england

supine -> soup

valentine -> valence electrons

- the menu at a restaurant is not an ingredient list you can use to create new dishes we could hypothetically make for you instead of the choices on the menu

- we do not have omelets on the menu because we do not make or serve omelets

- yes, i know we have eggs on the menu, but we still do not have omelets.

- yes, i realize omelets are eggs, but not all eggs are omelets, and the eggs we serve are not omelets.

- you cannot out-logic me so that i cave in and ring in an omelet for you. i am better at arguing than you are.

- there are no omelets here. there have not been, and will not be, omelets here. if you want an omelet you will need to go somewhere else.

- i can also promise that you do not want an omelet cooked by line cooks who have not been trained how to make omelets. because we don't sell omelets.

- no, i am not going to single-handedly put service on pause for the next twenty minutes while three cooks google how to make an omelet and then proceed to fuck up multiple omelets that our kitchen is not set up to prepare, so you can have an omelet.

-and we both know you'd bitch if it takes longer than six minutes to come out anyway.

- no, you may not just go back into the kitchen and make yourself an omelet. the line cooks do not take kindly to trespassing. also, what the hell.

- i hear that you want an omelet. that does not change the fact that we do not offer omelets. if you want to eat an omelet, you will need to go to another restaurant that does have omelets on the menu. this is not negotiable.

- i am the manager.

literally today a woman came in to the restaurant i work at, looked at the menu, looked around at all the tables eating, watched us take orders, watched us run food out to table. and then she approached me and asked "is this a restaurant?"

i thought for sure i misheard her, but no. she was asking "is this a restaurant?", almost as if maybe she had heard of the concept of restaurants but had never experienced one for herself, and she needed to get confirmation from somebody else.

i could not control my face. i had to walk away and another coworker had to step in to kindly explain that yes, the restaurant is a restaurant.