absence makes the heart grow
exponentially larger than the cavity
which holds it, causing it to burst.
that's why they call it heartbreak.
bald-faced liars shave regularly
to keep up appearances
and so as not to obscure
the extent of their untruths.
cut to the chase
say what you mean
or hold your peace.
beating around the bush
only makes me want
to drag it out of you
and i've never been accused
of being overly gentle.
deep in thought
he comes up for air
and exhales a concept
but he can't prove
whether it's right or wrong.
enough already!
how many times
do we have to
go through this?
stop fighting me
on every detail.
whatever game
you're playing
will end in a draw.
fishing for compliments
he hooked a doozy
and smiled on his good fortune.
but looks can be deceiving
as can complimentary words.
giving a hundred and ten percent
is not only statistically impossible
it's usually a blatant lie.
only heroes care enough
to give of themselves till it hurts
sacrificing comfort and security.
and there aren't nearly as many
heroes out there as they claim.
hold down the fort
as best you can
it's been trying
to levitate
for weeks now
and we're running
out of ropes
to keep it grounded.
i beg to differ
but not too hard
because i do differ
quite naturally
and with aplomb.
just like riding a bike
i keep coming back to you
as natural as if i never left
i never forget the path
to your door. thankfully.
kick up your heels
and do a little jig.
i don't blame you
at all. i'd be happy too
if i'd just found out
i was somebody.
lay it on thick
add as many details
as you can. maybe
they'll believe you
if you seem sincere
enough. maybe not.
make my day
by making tracks
and causing distance
and never returning.
that's the secret
to my lasting happiness.
not my cup of tea
i ordered coffee
black, decaf
and piping hot.
somewhere
there's a bloke
still waiting
with his crumpets.
older and wiser
but still doesn't care
enough to change.
just goes to show
that you can't judge
a book by its author.
play me for a fool
but don't be surprised
if i start humming along.
i've heard this tune before.
quit while you're ahead
and you'll quickly
get off-schedule.
finish what you started
and you'll never regret
your perseverance.
rest assured
i am right here beside you
i'm not going to abandon you
no matter how much you hurt me.
say what you will
and i will answer you
with whispered words
of absolute assent.
the girl next door
isn't who you think
she is. i saw her
yesterday. her fangs
were out, and her
nose was sniffing
for blood.
unexpected twist
i am the one you didn't see coming.
you thought it would go as scripted
but i don't write like others do.
very real concerns
outweigh petty problems
in the grand scheme
of things left unsaid.
but it all depends
on who you ask.
watch your tongue
for long, and you're likely
to become cross-eyed.
better to hold it instead
and merely soil your fingers.
x factors in everything
weighs the alternatives
and realizes that the best
thing to do is to do nothing
and watch it all fall down
around him. how's that
working out for you, X?
you can run
you can hide
you can even
disappear
but i'll find you
and when i do
you're going to wish
you had never been
loved.
zzzzz
do not disturb
he's finally gotten to sleep
and he needs as much
as he can get, and any at all
will do. it takes a lot
to make him sleepy.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Alarm Clock Animosity
I haven't been sleeping that great of late. Maybe it's the thousand things running through my head all day that just won't settle down when I'm ready to go to sleep.
I can literally lie in bed for hours, doing my best to relax, reading something boring on the Kindle (I download certain titles expressly for this purpose), and still not get sleepy.
It's not that I'm not tired either. I am. Extremely. Probably due in large part to the fact that I'm routinely not getting much sleep. But I digress.
On further reflection, I'm sure it's all those thoughts that won't let me sleep.
I'm constantly thinking about the great remodeling project that's in its third (or is it fourth?) week and still isn't quite finished. There are tons of decisions to make every day on this, and most of them involve more money being paid out. Don't get me wrong -- the guy we've got doing all the work is extremely fair and honest with us. But unforeseen things happen. Like when you buy a standard counter top assuming it will work for your bathroom counters, only to find that your bathroom counters are in no way, shape, form, or fashion the standard depth, and what you bought won't work. Or when you (by you, I mean my clumsy-tail self) stub your toe on the toilet tank cover, which was leaning innocently against the wall, and break it cleanly into three pieces, then you find out you can't really buy just a replacement tank cover, you have to buy a whole new toilet. Great news, that.
Then I'm thinking about the two (or is it three? yes, definitely three) books I'm writing a little more of each day, and trying to craft them as best as I am able so people (like you, Faithful Reader?) will want to read them once they're published.
I'm thinking about work, and how I've missed several hours over the past few weeks, from waiting for or going to meet with our contractor at home, or making supplies runs to Lowe's on my lunch break, which inevitably take more than the allotted hour. And I'm wondering how and when I'm going to make all this time up, when I still have to do more of the waiting and meeting and supply runs over the next week or two, and I'm just going to be digging myself a bigger hole. I don't want to use my vacation time if I don't have to, because that's already limited enough as it is. Besides all that, I'm trying to tune out all this other stuff while I'm at work, so I can be as productive as possible while I'm there. That isn't always easy, either.
Whenever I'm not doing all that, I'm pushing myself to finish reading The Hunger Games so we can go see the movie while it's still in the theaters (I'm 65% done with it now, so I think it's going to happen, but we'll see).
All of this insomnia leads me to the appointed hour in the morning (usually no later than 5:30 am) when dueling alarm clocks wake me from slumber (which was eventually achieved, albeit not for long) and I rue the day (quite literally) before it's even gotten started. I must add that I don't say "dueling alarm clocks" flippantly. These things are somehow perfectly synced (we didn't do it on purpose, I swear!) that when the first one goes off -- "deet-deet" -- the second one immediately answers it -- "deet deet". It's almost like one big stupid alarm clock going off in stereo -- "deet-deet", "deet-deet", "deet-deet", "deet-deet", ad infinitum. I wake up -- eventually -- grumpy, unwilling, and unready to face the day. Not even hitting the snooze button helps, because eight minutes later the cacophony begins again.
And so it goes. I know I'm not alone in my animosity toward all things "deet-deet", my annoyance in unsuccessfully seeking slumber, and the rampant thoughts I'm unable to keep in check. But knowing I'm not alone doesn't make it any easier, or any better.
The remodeling project will soon be over. My books will soon be finished and ready to share with the world. One day I'll catch up on the lost hours and delayed work at my job. But until that happens, I'll have to power through this junk, suck it up, and just live as best I can. It's not like I can do anything about it anyway....
I can literally lie in bed for hours, doing my best to relax, reading something boring on the Kindle (I download certain titles expressly for this purpose), and still not get sleepy.
It's not that I'm not tired either. I am. Extremely. Probably due in large part to the fact that I'm routinely not getting much sleep. But I digress.
On further reflection, I'm sure it's all those thoughts that won't let me sleep.
I'm constantly thinking about the great remodeling project that's in its third (or is it fourth?) week and still isn't quite finished. There are tons of decisions to make every day on this, and most of them involve more money being paid out. Don't get me wrong -- the guy we've got doing all the work is extremely fair and honest with us. But unforeseen things happen. Like when you buy a standard counter top assuming it will work for your bathroom counters, only to find that your bathroom counters are in no way, shape, form, or fashion the standard depth, and what you bought won't work. Or when you (by you, I mean my clumsy-tail self) stub your toe on the toilet tank cover, which was leaning innocently against the wall, and break it cleanly into three pieces, then you find out you can't really buy just a replacement tank cover, you have to buy a whole new toilet. Great news, that.
Then I'm thinking about the two (or is it three? yes, definitely three) books I'm writing a little more of each day, and trying to craft them as best as I am able so people (like you, Faithful Reader?) will want to read them once they're published.
I'm thinking about work, and how I've missed several hours over the past few weeks, from waiting for or going to meet with our contractor at home, or making supplies runs to Lowe's on my lunch break, which inevitably take more than the allotted hour. And I'm wondering how and when I'm going to make all this time up, when I still have to do more of the waiting and meeting and supply runs over the next week or two, and I'm just going to be digging myself a bigger hole. I don't want to use my vacation time if I don't have to, because that's already limited enough as it is. Besides all that, I'm trying to tune out all this other stuff while I'm at work, so I can be as productive as possible while I'm there. That isn't always easy, either.
Whenever I'm not doing all that, I'm pushing myself to finish reading The Hunger Games so we can go see the movie while it's still in the theaters (I'm 65% done with it now, so I think it's going to happen, but we'll see).
All of this insomnia leads me to the appointed hour in the morning (usually no later than 5:30 am) when dueling alarm clocks wake me from slumber (which was eventually achieved, albeit not for long) and I rue the day (quite literally) before it's even gotten started. I must add that I don't say "dueling alarm clocks" flippantly. These things are somehow perfectly synced (we didn't do it on purpose, I swear!) that when the first one goes off -- "deet-deet" -- the second one immediately answers it -- "deet deet". It's almost like one big stupid alarm clock going off in stereo -- "deet-deet", "deet-deet", "deet-deet", "deet-deet", ad infinitum. I wake up -- eventually -- grumpy, unwilling, and unready to face the day. Not even hitting the snooze button helps, because eight minutes later the cacophony begins again.
And so it goes. I know I'm not alone in my animosity toward all things "deet-deet", my annoyance in unsuccessfully seeking slumber, and the rampant thoughts I'm unable to keep in check. But knowing I'm not alone doesn't make it any easier, or any better.
The remodeling project will soon be over. My books will soon be finished and ready to share with the world. One day I'll catch up on the lost hours and delayed work at my job. But until that happens, I'll have to power through this junk, suck it up, and just live as best I can. It's not like I can do anything about it anyway....
Monday, April 16, 2012
Things I Find Fascinating: Slightly Bizarre Instrumental Solos
Did you ever hear an entire song played on timpani – you know, those big booming drums in the back of the orchestra which are most often used to signal impending doom? Well, neither have I. But now you can!
What follows are links to videos of instrumental solos being played on musical instruments you don't normally expect to hear instrumental solos played on. But maybe they should be used more often, because for the most part, they sound great! I'm way too busy, tired, and justifiably lazy to comment a whole lot on these, so just watch them for yourself and see how you like them. Hope you enjoy!
1) Timpani (this gets old after about a minute, but it's still pretty fascinating to watch)
2) Glockenspiel (the "Last of the Mohicans" theme song has never sounded better)
3) Metallophone (which is actually a bunch of wrenches of different sizes laying on top of two metal pipes)
4) Flugelhorn (the "Titanic" theme song – how can you go wrong with that?)
5) Kazoo (okay, so technically this is a quartet, but they're all playing kazoos – except that one guy doing the human beatbox – anyway, enjoy!)
6) Didgeridoo (it has a nice beat, and you can dance to it – but why would you want to?)
7) Theremin (This goes out to all you old-school video-gamers out there – "The Legend Of Zelda" theme song played on the world's earliest electronic instrument – how does this thing even work, anyway?)
8) Balalaika (okay, so I'll concede the fact that in some parts of the world, it's probably quite common to hear a balalaika solo – but as an American, I've personally never seen or heard one of these before – plus, I like the word "balalaika" and needed an excuse to include this somewhere, at some time, and for some reason in a blog post, and this was it)
9) Sitar (this is the craziest-looking stringed instrument I've ever seen – oh yeah, I want one!)
10) Bassoon (I've never thought of the bassoon as a particularly beautiful-sounding instrument – a nice complementary sound in an orchestra, sure – but this video has changed my mind – this was awesome!)
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Mad Libs: "Edgar Allan Poe"
You've probably heard of or done a Mad Libs game yourself before. It's the one where you fill in a noun, adjective, verb, adverb, etc., not knowing where or in what context the word will be plugged in, since you haven't yet read the story or piece where the words will fit.
Being a big fan of word games, I've been playing Mad Libs for years, but this is the first time I've done one online. The subject of this one was Edgar Allan Poe. As it turns out, the poem was Poe's "The Raven." I botched it up big-time. Enjoy?
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I stalked frumpy and asinine
Over many a quaint and bulbous volume of crunchy lore,
While I shook nearly marveling suddenly there came a grinning
As of some one jauntily grieving grieving at my slippery raccoon.
`'Tis some wombat , I muttered, bragging at my slippery wombat -
Only this, and nothing more '
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the sporty December,
And each separate saying obstacle wrought its castle upon the floor.
Mostly I sauntered the morrow; - madly I had sought to borrow
From my geese surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the bubbly Joe -
For the skimpy and radiant sweater whom the trucks named Joe -
Special here for evermore.
And the toasty sad uncertain moving of each purple stroller
Expected me - scarfed me with funny-looking terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the spiking of my heart, I stood dusting
`'Tis some cookbook shaking entrance at my funny-looking cookbook -
Some trusty cookbook shaking entrance at my trusty cookbook -
This it is, and nothing more, '
Presently my soul navigated stronger; finding then no longer,
`Sir, ' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was preparing and so strangely you came singing
And so easily you came posting posting at my trusty cookbook
That I scarce was sure I ran you' - here I flipped portly the cookbook -
Scrappy there, and nothing more.
Scrumptious into that scrumptious peering, voluminous I stood there wondering, rising
Acting dreaming dreams no mortal ever pulled to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the voluminous gave no token,
And the only word there swam was the drank word, Joe!
This I drank and an echo drifted back the word, Joe!
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber writing all my soul within me hiding
Soon again I winked a hiding somewhat louder than before.
`Surely, ' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery spit -
Let my heart be lousy a moment and this mystery spit -
'Tis the wind and nothing more. '
Being a big fan of word games, I've been playing Mad Libs for years, but this is the first time I've done one online. The subject of this one was Edgar Allan Poe. As it turns out, the poem was Poe's "The Raven." I botched it up big-time. Enjoy?
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I stalked frumpy and asinine
Over many a quaint and bulbous volume of crunchy lore,
While I shook nearly marveling suddenly there came a grinning
As of some one jauntily grieving grieving at my slippery raccoon.
`'Tis some wombat , I muttered, bragging at my slippery wombat -
Only this, and nothing more '
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the sporty December,
And each separate saying obstacle wrought its castle upon the floor.
Mostly I sauntered the morrow; - madly I had sought to borrow
From my geese surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the bubbly Joe -
For the skimpy and radiant sweater whom the trucks named Joe -
Special here for evermore.
And the toasty sad uncertain moving of each purple stroller
Expected me - scarfed me with funny-looking terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the spiking of my heart, I stood dusting
`'Tis some cookbook shaking entrance at my funny-looking cookbook -
Some trusty cookbook shaking entrance at my trusty cookbook -
This it is, and nothing more, '
Presently my soul navigated stronger; finding then no longer,
`Sir, ' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was preparing and so strangely you came singing
And so easily you came posting posting at my trusty cookbook
That I scarce was sure I ran you' - here I flipped portly the cookbook -
Scrappy there, and nothing more.
Scrumptious into that scrumptious peering, voluminous I stood there wondering, rising
Acting dreaming dreams no mortal ever pulled to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the voluminous gave no token,
And the only word there swam was the drank word, Joe!
This I drank and an echo drifted back the word, Joe!
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber writing all my soul within me hiding
Soon again I winked a hiding somewhat louder than before.
`Surely, ' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery spit -
Let my heart be lousy a moment and this mystery spit -
'Tis the wind and nothing more. '
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Show Me "Paint The House"
I'm going to keep this short for reasons which will soon become obvious.
With Mr. Miyagi's encouraging voice in the back of our minds all day, we painted all the walls of our fairly large living room. I did all the rolling, but Mary did all the cutting in (which is really the hardest part, requiring a steadier hand and lots of attention to detail).
We started before noon and almost twelve hours later, we're still not quite finished. (I'm taking a quick break, with Mary's blessing, to blog so I make sure I get one in for today.) Tomorrow, at some point, we will do all the trim.
This is hot, exhausting work, but we're doing it, which is pretty amazing actually. We're saving lots of money by doing it ourselves, and it's totally going to be worth it. It already looks great, and it's not even all the way dry just yet.
I only broke one, maybe two things today. When I was taking a look at the work our contractor guy was doing in the bathroom, I stubbed my foot on the top of the toilet seat (which was leaning up against the wall) and it broke cleanly into three pieces. Then later, when I was moving the fire pokers away from the wall, one of them (solid metal, and quite heavy) fell squarely on my left great toe, which hurt quite a bit. Maybe it's broken, maybe it isn't, but I put a bag of frozen peas on it for an hour or so just to make sure.
Anyway, I'm gonna cut this short so we can finish up for the night. It's been a long day, but a good one. I'll post some pictures once all this is finished, for those who care to see them.
Till tomorrow...
With Mr. Miyagi's encouraging voice in the back of our minds all day, we painted all the walls of our fairly large living room. I did all the rolling, but Mary did all the cutting in (which is really the hardest part, requiring a steadier hand and lots of attention to detail).
We started before noon and almost twelve hours later, we're still not quite finished. (I'm taking a quick break, with Mary's blessing, to blog so I make sure I get one in for today.) Tomorrow, at some point, we will do all the trim.
This is hot, exhausting work, but we're doing it, which is pretty amazing actually. We're saving lots of money by doing it ourselves, and it's totally going to be worth it. It already looks great, and it's not even all the way dry just yet.
I only broke one, maybe two things today. When I was taking a look at the work our contractor guy was doing in the bathroom, I stubbed my foot on the top of the toilet seat (which was leaning up against the wall) and it broke cleanly into three pieces. Then later, when I was moving the fire pokers away from the wall, one of them (solid metal, and quite heavy) fell squarely on my left great toe, which hurt quite a bit. Maybe it's broken, maybe it isn't, but I put a bag of frozen peas on it for an hour or so just to make sure.
Anyway, I'm gonna cut this short so we can finish up for the night. It's been a long day, but a good one. I'll post some pictures once all this is finished, for those who care to see them.
Till tomorrow...
Friday, April 13, 2012
Poems For Your Perusal: Fresh Alpha Poetry
Bet you thought I wasn't going to get a blog post in for today, being that it's rapidly approaching 11:00 pm as I write this. Well, I thought so too. But here it is. Long day, brain is tired. It was all I could do to muster up these brand-new alpha poems. Enjoy, and good night!
as luck would have it
i still have a few
coherent thoughts to share
despite the fact
that my brain is taxed
beyond the usual.
we'll see how this goes.
bite your tongue.
when the bleeding starts
spit it out
(the blood, not your tongue).
who lied and said
that words don't hurt?
chomping at the bit
to tell your dirty secret.
why would you want to rush
to your own judgment?
do a one-eighty
then do one more.
back where you started
you're getting nowhere.
everything but the kitchen sink
has been displaced
and replaced again.
and the sink's going next week.
i'll be glad when this is over.
firing on all cylinders now
my mind, like a steel trap
is racing towards a conclusion.
but jumping prematurely
is just as bad as never moving.
go back to the well
the one you tapped before
seeking new problems to solve.
finding none, you seek questions
to ask which explain the answers.
hates my guts
thinks i'm the scum of the earth
doesn't want to ever see my face
again. what did i do
to get that lucky?
if the shoe fits
and it's the right color
and the right price
and you need it
(or at least you want it)
then what are you waiting for?
(i'm not talking about shoes.)
joined at the hip
they walked in separate directions
and soon parted painfully.
should've seen that one coming.
know where you stand
if you're at the precipice
of a bottomless pit
knowing could save your life.
last ditch effort
i'm only going to ask you once.
go or stay, come or go
decide and do it
fence-sitting is for losers.
make a long story short
by suspending your belief
in happy endings.
works every time.
no brainer
i am uniquely qualified
to answer this question
defined by what i lack
(or possess, but choose
to use unwisely).
on a soapbox shouting out
my stun-gun manifesto
agree to disagree
and you could get
the shock of your life.
pencil you in for a 10 o'clock
and shrug when you don't show.
i knew i couldn't count
on your cooperation.
quick bucks come easy
but when you get caught
you'll pay through the nose.
don't blow it!
rest on your laurels
as though the past
is guaranteed to repeat
itself, like history.
it doesn't always
work that way.
sick to death
of half-hearted efforts
give it your all
or keep it to yourself.
take it to heart
or leave it alone.
take it from me
i wasn't using it anyway.
it works fine
but i don't need it.
it's all yours.
under the gun
to make something happen
i scrape the edges of my mind
and see what sticks.
small miracle if anything does.
variety is a spice
that tastes like everything
and nothing all at once.
life is what you make of it
or what was planned
in advance. more likely that.
when push comes to shove
someone will rush in
to break up the fight
and you're left standing there
shadowboxing with ghosts.
x marks the spot.
hidden treasures found
where no one even thought
to look. that's what they get
for being narrow-minded.
you had it coming
if anyone ever did.
you got exactly what
you deserved. and i
couldn't be happier.
just being honest.
zig when you should zag
it's all about looking ahead
and you can't see clearly
with sand in your eyes.
as luck would have it
i still have a few
coherent thoughts to share
despite the fact
that my brain is taxed
beyond the usual.
we'll see how this goes.
bite your tongue.
when the bleeding starts
spit it out
(the blood, not your tongue).
who lied and said
that words don't hurt?
chomping at the bit
to tell your dirty secret.
why would you want to rush
to your own judgment?
do a one-eighty
then do one more.
back where you started
you're getting nowhere.
everything but the kitchen sink
has been displaced
and replaced again.
and the sink's going next week.
i'll be glad when this is over.
firing on all cylinders now
my mind, like a steel trap
is racing towards a conclusion.
but jumping prematurely
is just as bad as never moving.
go back to the well
the one you tapped before
seeking new problems to solve.
finding none, you seek questions
to ask which explain the answers.
hates my guts
thinks i'm the scum of the earth
doesn't want to ever see my face
again. what did i do
to get that lucky?
if the shoe fits
and it's the right color
and the right price
and you need it
(or at least you want it)
then what are you waiting for?
(i'm not talking about shoes.)
joined at the hip
they walked in separate directions
and soon parted painfully.
should've seen that one coming.
know where you stand
if you're at the precipice
of a bottomless pit
knowing could save your life.
last ditch effort
i'm only going to ask you once.
go or stay, come or go
decide and do it
fence-sitting is for losers.
make a long story short
by suspending your belief
in happy endings.
works every time.
no brainer
i am uniquely qualified
to answer this question
defined by what i lack
(or possess, but choose
to use unwisely).
on a soapbox shouting out
my stun-gun manifesto
agree to disagree
and you could get
the shock of your life.
pencil you in for a 10 o'clock
and shrug when you don't show.
i knew i couldn't count
on your cooperation.
quick bucks come easy
but when you get caught
you'll pay through the nose.
don't blow it!
rest on your laurels
as though the past
is guaranteed to repeat
itself, like history.
it doesn't always
work that way.
sick to death
of half-hearted efforts
give it your all
or keep it to yourself.
take it to heart
or leave it alone.
take it from me
i wasn't using it anyway.
it works fine
but i don't need it.
it's all yours.
under the gun
to make something happen
i scrape the edges of my mind
and see what sticks.
small miracle if anything does.
variety is a spice
that tastes like everything
and nothing all at once.
life is what you make of it
or what was planned
in advance. more likely that.
when push comes to shove
someone will rush in
to break up the fight
and you're left standing there
shadowboxing with ghosts.
x marks the spot.
hidden treasures found
where no one even thought
to look. that's what they get
for being narrow-minded.
you had it coming
if anyone ever did.
you got exactly what
you deserved. and i
couldn't be happier.
just being honest.
zig when you should zag
it's all about looking ahead
and you can't see clearly
with sand in your eyes.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Literary Experimentation: Three "Drabbles"
So here I go again, trying something new. Not a bad thing, really. It stretches the mental muscles. What follows are my first attempts at writing "drabbles." Don't know what a "drabble" is? Well, according to Wikipedia.org it's "an extremely short work of fiction of exactly 100 words in length...The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in an extremely confined space." I found a website which gave some helpful drabble prompts – groups of three seemingly unrelated words or phrases you can use as a jumping-off point for your drabble-writing experience. The prompts I chose are in bold/italics below. I don't really know what I'm doing here, but I always like a good writing challenge, so here we go...
Let me know what you think of these. Feel free to comment with your own drabbles, if you feel up to the challenge! :)
concerned, buried fruit jar, sleeping bag
I'm starting to get concerned. I can't remember where I buried the fruit jar last winter, and it's time to bake the pie. The dog could help, but he's curled up on the sleeping bag like he doesn't have a care in the world. Which he doesn't, lucky dog. Maybe I could use fruit concentrate. But it's just not the same. There's nothing like the taste of fruit you canned yourself. Maybe I'll bake the dog in a pie instead. Never mind, it would take too long to fillet him, and I don't have much time. I'd better keep digging.
knights, hubcap, baby
Clarissa's in the driveway practicing her cheers. "Go Knights, go!" and all that jazz. All she really has to do is remember to smile. She wishes she could get her braces off sooner. She thinks her smile looks like a big hubcap with lipstick. (It doesn't – it's pretty.) Time to call it a night. Mom'll be bugging her to come change the baby any time now. Clarissa wishes she could change the baby...into a dog. But Mom won't let her have one just yet. Says it might try to bite the baby. Yeah, right! The baby'd bite the dog!
skateboard, noodles, chocolate
Well, I've gained another five pounds. I guess it's time to start hitting the old skateboard again. I know I've been eating too much chocolate lately, but I can't help it. I've been under a lot of stress at school. I still don't know how I'm going to tell Dad about the "D" I made on the science test yesterday. He said if I didn't start applying myself, there would be heck to pay. (LOL, Dad!) But when he finds out about the extra weight I've gained, he'll put me on that Ramen-noodles-only diet again. Ugh, just shoot me now!
Let me know what you think of these. Feel free to comment with your own drabbles, if you feel up to the challenge! :)
concerned, buried fruit jar, sleeping bag
I'm starting to get concerned. I can't remember where I buried the fruit jar last winter, and it's time to bake the pie. The dog could help, but he's curled up on the sleeping bag like he doesn't have a care in the world. Which he doesn't, lucky dog. Maybe I could use fruit concentrate. But it's just not the same. There's nothing like the taste of fruit you canned yourself. Maybe I'll bake the dog in a pie instead. Never mind, it would take too long to fillet him, and I don't have much time. I'd better keep digging.
knights, hubcap, baby
Clarissa's in the driveway practicing her cheers. "Go Knights, go!" and all that jazz. All she really has to do is remember to smile. She wishes she could get her braces off sooner. She thinks her smile looks like a big hubcap with lipstick. (It doesn't – it's pretty.) Time to call it a night. Mom'll be bugging her to come change the baby any time now. Clarissa wishes she could change the baby...into a dog. But Mom won't let her have one just yet. Says it might try to bite the baby. Yeah, right! The baby'd bite the dog!
skateboard, noodles, chocolate
Well, I've gained another five pounds. I guess it's time to start hitting the old skateboard again. I know I've been eating too much chocolate lately, but I can't help it. I've been under a lot of stress at school. I still don't know how I'm going to tell Dad about the "D" I made on the science test yesterday. He said if I didn't start applying myself, there would be heck to pay. (LOL, Dad!) But when he finds out about the extra weight I've gained, he'll put me on that Ramen-noodles-only diet again. Ugh, just shoot me now!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Short Story: "Nothing To Write Home About"
This is a new story I just wrote, based on a self-imposed writing prompt. My challenge to myself was to take a well-worn cliché and use it as a title to write a story around. This (hopefully) humorous piece is what I ended up with. Hope you will enjoy reading it...
Dear Mom + Dad,
Thanks a lot for sending me to this stupid summer camp! I'm having TONS OF FUN so far!
Firstly, I'm not getting any sleep at night, which you've always said is important for a growing boy. (Do you feel guilty yet? Wait for it – you will.) The main reason why I'm not sleeping is that I am being forced to share a room with three other boys – Marshall (who smells funny), Dawson (who looks funny), and Tobie (who thinks he's funny). I talked to the camp director and told him how much I – like most kids my age – value my privacy. But the camp director just said, "Tough noogies!" and walked away. (Is it even legal to insult an innocent child like that? I think not!) Also, the bed is made of a very hard wood frame and is covered by a "mattress" that's as thin as two pancakes (not the fluffy, scrumptious kind that Grandma makes, but the flat, burnt ones that you're good at, Dad).
Secondly, contrary to what you told me before I came here, I have not met lots of nice people, nor have I made any new friends. I can sort of have a conversation with Marshall, as long as I can stand at least four feet away from him (upwind) and still hear what he's shouting. But then about five minutes into our conversation, Marshall will let one rip and they will have to evacuate the whole cabin again (this has happened six times so far in the three days I've been here). Every time I try to talk to Dawson, I accidentally take a look at his face, then I get queasy, and have to make another unplanned trip to the bathroom to ralph up my lunch. (More on that later.) Frankly, I don't enjoy barfing three times a day; therefore Dawson will not be making the cut on my "new friends" list. Whenever I try to talk to Tobie, he says, "Knock! Knock!" and I try to change the subject, but he keeps saying, "Knock! Knock!" over and over again until I say, "Who's there?", then he says something stupid like "Atch", to which I reply, "Atch who?" to which Tobie says, "Gesundheit!" Then I'll try to walk away, but he'll grab me by the shoulder and start telling me some other dumb joke. Ten minutes and twenty-plus groans or (if I'm feeling kind) fake smiles later, and I'll finally think of some excuse that'll get me out of there, like that I have contagious rabies or something.
Thirdly, the brochure said that we would enjoy "delicious, piping-hot meals three times a day." They were lying to you. For breakfast, they give us donuts – and not the good kind either. The kind of donuts that taste like they were made three days ago by somebody who doesn't even know how to make donuts, and doesn't really care that their donut-making skills are sub-par. I'm pretty sure they don't even add sugar. It's disgusting! Even you wouldn't like them, Dad, and Mom always says you're a human garbage disposal because you'll eat anything. (Was I supposed to repeat that, Mom? If not, I apologize.) For lunch, we get hamburgers that we have to patty out ourselves and cook over a campfire (they say doing it ourselves builds character, or some junk like that). The clothes hangers they give us with which to hold the burgers over the fire aren't very sturdy, so more often than not our burgers drop in the fire and get ashes all over them. And then when they're finally cooked – if they even make it that far – they refuse to give us buns, because (they say) this is a carbs-free camp – which, if you think about it, is kind of stupid since they feed us donuts for breakfast. Unsweetened donuts, mind you, but donuts nonetheless. Whether or not we get supper each night depends on how well we do on the daily challenge. For instance, yesterday we were doing this ropes course (which I wasn't real excited about, since I'm scared of heights). For every obstacle or element that you conquered you earned one boiled potato (these were piping-hot, so there was maybe a tiny bit of truth to the brochure). If you got all the way through the course successfully, you earned ten potatoes. I did okay on the low course, but when it came to the high-wire stuff, I was scared so I just quit. I earned a total of four boiled potatoes, which didn't leave me hungry but certainly didn't make me full.
Fourthly, this girl Felicity won't leave me alone. I think she likes me or something. Don't get me wrong – she's real pretty and everything, but I'm 12 years old – I'm not ready to settle down yet! She was like, "Be my friend on Facebook," and I said I would once I got back home to a computer, and she was like, "I'm going to write on there that we're married, and all you have to do is confirm it on your page." And I was like, "That's just gross, Felicity. Only old people get married – you know, twenty-five-year-olds." But she didn't listen. She said some junk about how time and distance mean nothing when two people are in love, and I asked her who the other person was who was in love, and then she slapped me. I thought that'd be the end of it (this happened last night after the ropes course), but then this morning Felicity insisted on eating breakfast with me, and she showed me this list of names she'd written up and tried to get me to pick which ones I liked best for naming our future children. I know it wasn't a nice thing to do, but I did shove a few donuts in her mouth when she said that. Not a ton of them, just enough so she couldn't talk anymore. Then I ran back to my cabin and locked the screen door.
Fifthly, they're making us row a canoe across the lake tomorrow. As you well know, I have an irrational fear of lake monsters, a fact which I also mentioned it to the camp director this afternoon. But he just said, "Deal with it!" and walked away. If this is the last letter you ever receive from me, it will be because I have been eaten by a lake monster. If I am killed, please remember me fondly, and know that I will miss you both very much. Also, please don't mention to anyone we know that I was once a huge Power Rangers fan. Even in death, I would like that painful truth to stay buried.
Sixthly, it's extremely hot here. I haven't stopped sweating since I got off the bus. The cabins are not only not air-conditioned but also barely ventilated, the showers and sinks only spray out hot water, we cook our lunches over open flames, plus they make us wear these heavy fleece sweatshirts and sweatpants at all times (they call them our "fun uniforms", which is not quite the words I would use to describe them). I'm pretty sure that this would qualify as cruel and unusual punishment, though it is quite "usual" around here.
Seventhly, you owe the camp $1.50 for me having written this letter. They said that the Camp Terms & Conditions agreement you signed clearly states in tiny print that "camp fees do not include any materials used for the writing of letters to parents, friends in prison, or Congressmen while the Child is at Camp, and any materials needed or used for that purpose will be charged to the account of the Child's parent, legal guardian, or parole officer." The $1.50 is actually the price for a whole pack of paper, but the camp director said he would not have had to open the pack or "break the set" (whatever that means) if it had not been for me, so the entire cost of the pack must be charged to you. Sorry about that! If it makes you feel any better, I'm making this letter extra-long in order to get your money's worth out of it.
Eighthly, I understand that I am a good seven hours away from home and that gas is expensive, but please, please, please, please, please come pick me up! I hate this place with every fiber of my being. I'm not real happy with you two for sending me here, but I promise to forgive you immediately if you'll just come and get me! I don't like hanging out with kids who smell funny or look funny or think they're funny. I'm tired of donuts, hamburgers, and the occasional boiled potato. I don't want to get married and have babies with anyone until I'm at least thirty-five. I don't want to be eaten by a lake monster. I crave air conditioning, thick mattresses, cold water, and lightweight clothing. I promise I'll do my homework whenever I have any, I'll wash the dishes without complaining – I'll even clean my room! Just please don't make me stay here another day!
Your son,
Robbie
Dear Mom + Dad,
Thanks a lot for sending me to this stupid summer camp! I'm having TONS OF FUN so far!
Firstly, I'm not getting any sleep at night, which you've always said is important for a growing boy. (Do you feel guilty yet? Wait for it – you will.) The main reason why I'm not sleeping is that I am being forced to share a room with three other boys – Marshall (who smells funny), Dawson (who looks funny), and Tobie (who thinks he's funny). I talked to the camp director and told him how much I – like most kids my age – value my privacy. But the camp director just said, "Tough noogies!" and walked away. (Is it even legal to insult an innocent child like that? I think not!) Also, the bed is made of a very hard wood frame and is covered by a "mattress" that's as thin as two pancakes (not the fluffy, scrumptious kind that Grandma makes, but the flat, burnt ones that you're good at, Dad).
Secondly, contrary to what you told me before I came here, I have not met lots of nice people, nor have I made any new friends. I can sort of have a conversation with Marshall, as long as I can stand at least four feet away from him (upwind) and still hear what he's shouting. But then about five minutes into our conversation, Marshall will let one rip and they will have to evacuate the whole cabin again (this has happened six times so far in the three days I've been here). Every time I try to talk to Dawson, I accidentally take a look at his face, then I get queasy, and have to make another unplanned trip to the bathroom to ralph up my lunch. (More on that later.) Frankly, I don't enjoy barfing three times a day; therefore Dawson will not be making the cut on my "new friends" list. Whenever I try to talk to Tobie, he says, "Knock! Knock!" and I try to change the subject, but he keeps saying, "Knock! Knock!" over and over again until I say, "Who's there?", then he says something stupid like "Atch", to which I reply, "Atch who?" to which Tobie says, "Gesundheit!" Then I'll try to walk away, but he'll grab me by the shoulder and start telling me some other dumb joke. Ten minutes and twenty-plus groans or (if I'm feeling kind) fake smiles later, and I'll finally think of some excuse that'll get me out of there, like that I have contagious rabies or something.
Thirdly, the brochure said that we would enjoy "delicious, piping-hot meals three times a day." They were lying to you. For breakfast, they give us donuts – and not the good kind either. The kind of donuts that taste like they were made three days ago by somebody who doesn't even know how to make donuts, and doesn't really care that their donut-making skills are sub-par. I'm pretty sure they don't even add sugar. It's disgusting! Even you wouldn't like them, Dad, and Mom always says you're a human garbage disposal because you'll eat anything. (Was I supposed to repeat that, Mom? If not, I apologize.) For lunch, we get hamburgers that we have to patty out ourselves and cook over a campfire (they say doing it ourselves builds character, or some junk like that). The clothes hangers they give us with which to hold the burgers over the fire aren't very sturdy, so more often than not our burgers drop in the fire and get ashes all over them. And then when they're finally cooked – if they even make it that far – they refuse to give us buns, because (they say) this is a carbs-free camp – which, if you think about it, is kind of stupid since they feed us donuts for breakfast. Unsweetened donuts, mind you, but donuts nonetheless. Whether or not we get supper each night depends on how well we do on the daily challenge. For instance, yesterday we were doing this ropes course (which I wasn't real excited about, since I'm scared of heights). For every obstacle or element that you conquered you earned one boiled potato (these were piping-hot, so there was maybe a tiny bit of truth to the brochure). If you got all the way through the course successfully, you earned ten potatoes. I did okay on the low course, but when it came to the high-wire stuff, I was scared so I just quit. I earned a total of four boiled potatoes, which didn't leave me hungry but certainly didn't make me full.
Fourthly, this girl Felicity won't leave me alone. I think she likes me or something. Don't get me wrong – she's real pretty and everything, but I'm 12 years old – I'm not ready to settle down yet! She was like, "Be my friend on Facebook," and I said I would once I got back home to a computer, and she was like, "I'm going to write on there that we're married, and all you have to do is confirm it on your page." And I was like, "That's just gross, Felicity. Only old people get married – you know, twenty-five-year-olds." But she didn't listen. She said some junk about how time and distance mean nothing when two people are in love, and I asked her who the other person was who was in love, and then she slapped me. I thought that'd be the end of it (this happened last night after the ropes course), but then this morning Felicity insisted on eating breakfast with me, and she showed me this list of names she'd written up and tried to get me to pick which ones I liked best for naming our future children. I know it wasn't a nice thing to do, but I did shove a few donuts in her mouth when she said that. Not a ton of them, just enough so she couldn't talk anymore. Then I ran back to my cabin and locked the screen door.
Fifthly, they're making us row a canoe across the lake tomorrow. As you well know, I have an irrational fear of lake monsters, a fact which I also mentioned it to the camp director this afternoon. But he just said, "Deal with it!" and walked away. If this is the last letter you ever receive from me, it will be because I have been eaten by a lake monster. If I am killed, please remember me fondly, and know that I will miss you both very much. Also, please don't mention to anyone we know that I was once a huge Power Rangers fan. Even in death, I would like that painful truth to stay buried.
Sixthly, it's extremely hot here. I haven't stopped sweating since I got off the bus. The cabins are not only not air-conditioned but also barely ventilated, the showers and sinks only spray out hot water, we cook our lunches over open flames, plus they make us wear these heavy fleece sweatshirts and sweatpants at all times (they call them our "fun uniforms", which is not quite the words I would use to describe them). I'm pretty sure that this would qualify as cruel and unusual punishment, though it is quite "usual" around here.
Seventhly, you owe the camp $1.50 for me having written this letter. They said that the Camp Terms & Conditions agreement you signed clearly states in tiny print that "camp fees do not include any materials used for the writing of letters to parents, friends in prison, or Congressmen while the Child is at Camp, and any materials needed or used for that purpose will be charged to the account of the Child's parent, legal guardian, or parole officer." The $1.50 is actually the price for a whole pack of paper, but the camp director said he would not have had to open the pack or "break the set" (whatever that means) if it had not been for me, so the entire cost of the pack must be charged to you. Sorry about that! If it makes you feel any better, I'm making this letter extra-long in order to get your money's worth out of it.
Eighthly, I understand that I am a good seven hours away from home and that gas is expensive, but please, please, please, please, please come pick me up! I hate this place with every fiber of my being. I'm not real happy with you two for sending me here, but I promise to forgive you immediately if you'll just come and get me! I don't like hanging out with kids who smell funny or look funny or think they're funny. I'm tired of donuts, hamburgers, and the occasional boiled potato. I don't want to get married and have babies with anyone until I'm at least thirty-five. I don't want to be eaten by a lake monster. I crave air conditioning, thick mattresses, cold water, and lightweight clothing. I promise I'll do my homework whenever I have any, I'll wash the dishes without complaining – I'll even clean my room! Just please don't make me stay here another day!
Your son,
Robbie
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Things I Find Fascinating: When Animals Sneeze!
I've never been one to follow trends all that much, preferring to dance to beat of my own drum – a little off-rhythm and not very well-coordinated. But one trend that's hot right now, not only on the internet but on television too, is videos of sneezing animals. In particular, the sneezing baby panda video (see #1 below). Well, call me a bandwagon jumper if you want, but I find these videos not only fascinating but hilarious. If you've seen them, enjoy them again here. If you haven't seen them, prepare to laugh. And hit "Replay" a few times. I know I sure did. Enjoy!
1) Sneezing Baby Panda – You might have seen this one before, as it's been making the rounds just about everywhere. But if not, here 's the best one of them all. Pay close attention to both the baby and the mama panda in this one. The first few times I saw it, I thought that the mama panda was doing the sneezing, but it's actually the baby – which automatically makes it ten times cuter, of course! But the mama panda's reaction is priceless!
2) Sneezing Baby Elephant – This little rugrat sneezes so hard and loud he scares himself and runs to mama. What a shame since he was smiling so nicely at the camera before that happened. Oh, well!
3) Sneezing Cat – Finally, another cat besides my Mikey whose sneeze sounds like a kazoo! Get that poor kitty some amoxicillin – stat! Bless you, Poki, indeed!
7) Sneezing Bear Cub – Somebody give this little guy a Zyrtec! But you might wanna give it to him and run, cuz those little teeth of his already look pretty sharp!
8) Sneezing Parrot – When an animal sneezes, and you say "Bless you!" and it replies "Thank you!" – well, that's an animal that is okay in my book! Check out Morris the Parrot here. I hope this isn't fake; if it's not, it's quite awesome!
9) Sneezing Kangaroo – Either this is some really strange mating call, or this marsupial needs a Kleenex. This one cracks me up big-time!
10) Sneezing Zebra – One great thing about going on a safari (I've never been on one, but I'm just guessing here) is being able to get up close and personal with wildlife. This unfortunate videographer did just that in a way she probably didn't expect. Since "zebra" is the most commonly searched-for term which directs people to my blog, I figured I'd end this list with a zebra sneeze. Enjoy!
1) Sneezing Baby Panda – You might have seen this one before, as it's been making the rounds just about everywhere. But if not, here 's the best one of them all. Pay close attention to both the baby and the mama panda in this one. The first few times I saw it, I thought that the mama panda was doing the sneezing, but it's actually the baby – which automatically makes it ten times cuter, of course! But the mama panda's reaction is priceless!
2) Sneezing Baby Elephant – This little rugrat sneezes so hard and loud he scares himself and runs to mama. What a shame since he was smiling so nicely at the camera before that happened. Oh, well!
3) Sneezing Cat – Finally, another cat besides my Mikey whose sneeze sounds like a kazoo! Get that poor kitty some amoxicillin – stat! Bless you, Poki, indeed!
(just click on the link above –
the video wouldn't load properly)
4) Sneezing Dog – This must be what a dog inside of a salad spinner or perhaps a washing machine might look like. Hilarious little fuzzball, ain't he?
5) Sneezing Baby Elephant Seal: This tubby guy doesn't let a little thing like sneezing interrupt his day. He just does it where he lies, kicking up dust every which way, and making a sound much less like sneezing than flatulence. Funny stuff!
6) Sneezing Chicken – Maybe she's allergic to the corn? I dunno. But it's funny!
7) Sneezing Bear Cub – Somebody give this little guy a Zyrtec! But you might wanna give it to him and run, cuz those little teeth of his already look pretty sharp!
8) Sneezing Parrot – When an animal sneezes, and you say "Bless you!" and it replies "Thank you!" – well, that's an animal that is okay in my book! Check out Morris the Parrot here. I hope this isn't fake; if it's not, it's quite awesome!
9) Sneezing Kangaroo – Either this is some really strange mating call, or this marsupial needs a Kleenex. This one cracks me up big-time!
10) Sneezing Zebra – One great thing about going on a safari (I've never been on one, but I'm just guessing here) is being able to get up close and personal with wildlife. This unfortunate videographer did just that in a way she probably didn't expect. Since "zebra" is the most commonly searched-for term which directs people to my blog, I figured I'd end this list with a zebra sneeze. Enjoy!
Monday, April 9, 2012
Sometimes You Step In Dog Poo
Some days are great. Yesterday was one of those. After a meaningful Easter sunrise service, a time of finger-food fellowship, then morning church, and a nice brunch, we spent most of the rest of the day just relaxing. A little work around the house, but not too much. The errant nap or two. It was Easter Sunday, after all, and we enjoyed every moment of it.
Some days you step in dog poo. Today is one of those. I don't mean that I literally stepped in dog poo, mind you – though I wouldn't be at all surprised if it happened, especially now that I've mentioned it. I use this extreme example to describe the kind of day where anything that could go wrong does.
The kind of day when you're finally leaving your house to get to work in time after countless days of being horribly late, and you get halfway down the road in front of your house, wondering what's that strange thumpa-thumpa-thumpa noise, and you get out of your car to see that, oh yeah, your tire's flat.
The kind of day where you go to the ABC Store to get more empty boxes for packing (and you're sure that someone you know is going to see you walking in or out of the store and get the wrong idea) and you come out balancing eight empty boxes far more gracefully than you would normally do, only to have the wind blow them out of your hands not once, not twice, not thrice, but four separate times – so much so that the ABC Store clerk has to come out and help you load the empty boxes into the van for you because you're so pathetic.
The kind of day when the van's gas light comes on just as you're arriving home, and your wife was planning to load the van with already-packed boxes to haul away to the storage unit once you're back at work, and you realize she's going to have to stop and get gas with a loaded-down van before she can even make it to the storage unit.
The kind of day when the donut tire which AAA has thankfully come and installed on your car starts going thumpa-thumpa-thumpa about a third of the way back to work, and you're certain it's gone flat, too, only to find that it looks perfectly fine once you arrive at work (having driven 25 miles per hour for nothing), and you realize you could have stopped and gotten a bite to eat after all, if you'd only known it wasn't flat.
The kind of day that, when you finally get back to work from lunch (almost twenty minutes late), you bump your elbow on the door frame outside your boss's boss's boss's office and spill half a can of Mountain Dew on the floor right outside his door.
This is that kind of day. I'm sure you've been there. It's not fun. In fact, it's horrible. Of course, it could be worse.
A log truck could have released its cargo through your windshield on your way to work, and you'd be not only deceased but decapitated, and your car would be totaled (not like you'd ever know).
A dirty bomb could have been dropped on your city, and you could be only hours away from dying a horrible, painful death at the hands of heartless terrorists.
Or you could finally get lunch after missing out on it earlier, only to find that a small mouse has died in your hamburger.
There's always something worse. But this is bad enough. I would like to respectfully ask for a rain check for the remainder of this day, and just sail on through to tomorrow. It's gotta be better than today – doesn't it?
Some days you step in dog poo. Today is one of those. I don't mean that I literally stepped in dog poo, mind you – though I wouldn't be at all surprised if it happened, especially now that I've mentioned it. I use this extreme example to describe the kind of day where anything that could go wrong does.
The kind of day when you're finally leaving your house to get to work in time after countless days of being horribly late, and you get halfway down the road in front of your house, wondering what's that strange thumpa-thumpa-thumpa noise, and you get out of your car to see that, oh yeah, your tire's flat.
The kind of day where you go to the ABC Store to get more empty boxes for packing (and you're sure that someone you know is going to see you walking in or out of the store and get the wrong idea) and you come out balancing eight empty boxes far more gracefully than you would normally do, only to have the wind blow them out of your hands not once, not twice, not thrice, but four separate times – so much so that the ABC Store clerk has to come out and help you load the empty boxes into the van for you because you're so pathetic.
The kind of day when the van's gas light comes on just as you're arriving home, and your wife was planning to load the van with already-packed boxes to haul away to the storage unit once you're back at work, and you realize she's going to have to stop and get gas with a loaded-down van before she can even make it to the storage unit.
The kind of day when the donut tire which AAA has thankfully come and installed on your car starts going thumpa-thumpa-thumpa about a third of the way back to work, and you're certain it's gone flat, too, only to find that it looks perfectly fine once you arrive at work (having driven 25 miles per hour for nothing), and you realize you could have stopped and gotten a bite to eat after all, if you'd only known it wasn't flat.
The kind of day that, when you finally get back to work from lunch (almost twenty minutes late), you bump your elbow on the door frame outside your boss's boss's boss's office and spill half a can of Mountain Dew on the floor right outside his door.
This is that kind of day. I'm sure you've been there. It's not fun. In fact, it's horrible. Of course, it could be worse.
A log truck could have released its cargo through your windshield on your way to work, and you'd be not only deceased but decapitated, and your car would be totaled (not like you'd ever know).
A dirty bomb could have been dropped on your city, and you could be only hours away from dying a horrible, painful death at the hands of heartless terrorists.
Or you could finally get lunch after missing out on it earlier, only to find that a small mouse has died in your hamburger.
There's always something worse. But this is bad enough. I would like to respectfully ask for a rain check for the remainder of this day, and just sail on through to tomorrow. It's gotta be better than today – doesn't it?
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