When I first told Dave that I was drawing a narwhal comic, his reaction was: “Oh, you’re doing a mythical animal?”

Two truths and a lie:

1. It’s already 2014 (??)
2. My story took third place in the storySouth Million Writers Award! (If the site’s not updated yet, it will be soon)
3. There was a sidewalk sale for wigs ($10!) in downtown Tucson yesterday

Oh, I’m sorry. That was THREE TRUTHS.

I know I already mentioned this yesterday, both on Facebook and Twitter, but for some reason that wig sale really captured my imagination. It just seems that wigs…they aren’t really something you want to buy at a discount, from atop dirty-looking styrofoam head molds. But maybe that’s just my personal preference.

And in terms of the Million Writers Award: THANK YOU to everyone who voted. I’m thrilled to have placed, especially with such a high level of writing across the board (and by “across the board” I mean: among the finalists > among the Notable stories > in online journals generally). One of the best things about this contest was that, as I was repping my story & encouraging people to vote, a bunch of friends emailed or otherwise messaged me to say how much they loved the story, having not read it before. That is even better than a vote. (And I would be remiss if I didn’t once again give a shout-out to Carve Magazine for publishing the story in the first place: you guys are fantastic. Seriously, if anyone is looking to feel supported by an editor, try Matthew Limpede. He’s just wonderful.) Thanks also, of course, to storySouth for all their hard work in hosting the contest!

In other news from yesterday, a strange man on a tiny green bicycle became apoplectic with rage when I didn’t respond to his attempts to flirt with me by talking to my dog. I was wearing headphones, so I missed the beginning of the “conversation” (hint to dudes: if I am wearing headphones, there is a high likelihood that I do not want to make small talk), but I definitely caught the end, when he flipped me off, shouted an expletive and “sped” off as fast as his tiny florescent bicycle could take him.

This made me think of the other recent afternoon walk, when a fellow dressed all in black shouted “WHAT ABOUT ME??” at me several times across an empty lot, and proceeded to follow me for half a block. (My small, fluffy white dog being apparently less of a creeper deterrent than one might hope.) And the time in high school when I was wearing a heavy sweater and rollerblading around Greenlake with my gym class, and a middle-aged man shouted “Nice tits!” at me.

In other words: men of the world, get it together.