Cowboys And Angels


“We’d like to welcome you to San Antonio, if that’s your final destination” the flight attendant intones as the plane taxis on the runway, seeking a berth. Final destination, you think, as in for the rest of my life?  You shudder. San Antonio is not your favorite city by a long shot. It reminds you of parts of your hometown Albuquerque: it’s very very flat, it’s the color of concrete and adobe and not much else, it’s largely conservative (on your last trip, your pale pink shirt made headlines for weeks after your visit), it’s only navigable by car, it’s a military city. This city is like the anti-Portland, and yet it has some of your favorite humans in it. One of them, your mom, texts you now: “Do you have any baggage with you?” “Only the baggage in my heart!” you cheerfully reply and wait. She does not reply. You then text, “No, just my carry on” and head to the arrivals curb. Continue reading Cowboys And Angels



“I love you” he says, softly and sincerely. Your eyes grow large, your breath catches, you stop what you are doing with him. He turns suddenly to you in the bed, his eyes also grow large.

“I meant…”

“No, I know that was accidental.”

“Oh shit.”

“No, it’s okay, I know it’s too soon.”

“Yeah I was just caught up in the moment. I meant to say “I love you being here” but ran out of breath.”


Your apologies and explanations stumble over each other, the walls recede, the bedsheets catch on fire. Somewhere in the distance a air raid siren starts wailing, the bomb goes off, and your last thought before you are vaporized into tiny particles is “thank God at least we wont have to talk about that tomorrow…” and the blast hits the building and breaks your body into sweet sweet gay radioactive ash. Continue reading Departures



“Maybe this is how it starts” you think to yourself, as you wait at the passenger arrival gate at PDX. This isn’t the first time you have had this thought, and you have even been close to being right before. You look at the faces of all the other people there: the gruff, hardened, emotionless middle aged man. The white family who has signs made for whomever they’re waiting for. The young black girl, she’s wearing a knit hat and coat maybe a little too large for the November weather. You love her the most, she’s also wearing headphones that may or may not be plugged in to anything, and a headset microphone in front of her mouth which reminds you of Janet Jackson’s Rhythm 1814. Your suspicion that she may be high-functioning autistic is reinforced when she lets out a loud squeal of pure glee when she sees who is probably her brother coming out of the doors, only then does she tear off the headphones. Continue reading Arrivals

The One


The leaves rustle, in the morning there’s a chill in the air, shopping bags start becoming aggressively seasonal, and I suddenly crave every pastry near me within a ten block radius. It’s fall, jerks! And I have never embraced my dadbod more: it is the daddest of bods. Wait is that appropriation?

The text from the guy comes at work while I am lifting a pastry up to my mouth in the break room at work. I consider telling my coworkers that this is my first cheese danish. It is, in fact, my third pastry, but really I only count it as my second because I had the first one before I clocked in. I look at my phone, log into social media, bury my face in the screen. I really don’t appreciate the stares they’re giving me, I can practically hear their whispers to each other as they giggle at the crumbs in my beard, their-

I lift my head. Oh. The break room is actually empty. Ahem. Continue reading The One

How to Get Ready for a Date

We’re hard at work on Episode 2 of This Ends Badly! It’s titled “From Bad to Worse” and people familiar with the classic 2014 post The Date With Myself will recognize a particular sequence.

In the meantime, please enjoy this short, “How To Get Ready for a Date”! Thanks to Colt Schafer and Hannah Brady for their help making this.

This ends badly.