Aug. 30
So I'm using the ice dispenser on my refrigerator and a piece of ice hits the floor. I stop dispensing for a moment, lean down, procure the wayward ice cube, and toss it over my shoulder, watching the kitchen's reflection in the refrigerator's surface to see if the ice cube made it to the sink. The ice lands at just the right angle to not only land in the sink, but to use the force of gravity and
its own near-frictionlessness to Tony Hawk its way back OUT of the sink, across the room, and down the back of my shirt. At first, I am surprised, then awed, then suddenly depressed by the sight... the latter because the coolest thing I will have ever done in my mortal life on earth has just happened, and the rest of my existence now means nothing.
It was REALLY cool, though.
Sept. 4
Hey, married couples! Stop telling me you can't understand why I'm not like you (i.e., not married to my dream girl already)! It's really condescending! Have a nice day!
Oct. 8
If I were to be a pagan god, I'm not sure what I'd be a god OF. Mischief? Humor? Parties? And what would my symbol/artifact/totem be? A Grammar Hammer? A jug of some kind of alcohol? A really fancy hat?
These things keep me awake sometimes.
(Note: I was told that if I were a god of humor, I'd have a megaphone. Other suggestions for my "god of" status were "orgies" and "gingers".)
Oct. 12
Think of my hairy nipples as the dials on the radio of MANLINESS. That extra manly patch in the middle is the speaker. Count the hairy armpits and suddenly it's SURROUND SOUND.
Oct. 14
I think I'm going to schedule some time, hopefully for a period of one solid week, where I don't tell a single joke. Not be mean, of course; I'll still be pleasant, polite and personable, I will just also go out of my way to not be funny. Might turn out to be an interesting experience, and maybe I'll shake off the funnyman's curse for a while.
A reminder that you're a product of the Adventist Mafia: Someone walks up to you and greets you by your name, asks warmly how you and your family are doing, and out of politeness you ask the same in return, and part ways expressing best wishes -- during which entire time you have no idea who it is that is mining such intimate details from you but so genuinely wishes that your mother hears that the speaker bade her hello.
Oct. 28
I'm starting with the man in the mirror.
Well, I'm REALLY starting with the man in bed who's groaning about how he doesn't want to get up. Then it'll be the man on the toilet, followed by the man in the shower, then probably the man rooting around in the dresser for clean socks, and at some point after THAT I'll get to the man in the mirror. Seems like more logical a progression than starting with the man in the mirror and expecting everything to go as planned.
Nov. 2
I have missed the dim light of the misty dawn, and the freedom to claim it as my own for at least a moment. The drowsy night-moon lagged behind this morning; not only to rouse her brother sun, but to bid me good-morning just because I'd been kind enough to look her in the face at this gray hour. She appreciated the effort, it seems, and I appreciate her smile.
Nov. 22
I'd love to gnaw your breasts and nibble your cranberries... but most of all, I'd REALLY love to split your thighs open and stuff you like you've never been stuffed before, until it's time to serve up a creampie.
I love you, turkey! And I also love the desserts!
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Nov. 24
I must be less rested than I thought. In coming up with a name for an underwater research lab, I came up with the Biological Observation Outpost/Geological Exploration and Research Station... which came out as the acronym "BOOGERS". Then I thought that not only was the acronym satisfying from a literary perspective, but that it was a perfectly acceptable name for an entirely credible scientific endeavor.
Then I giggled a lot while saying "boogers" over and over.
Nov. 25
Who is the man behind the mask, they wonder. I say to you that the mask is all the substance there is to him. The insubstantial thing behind that mask is not called a man.
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