Skip to main content

Noodles: Tra-comic procrastination.

Hey World!  
I spent half of this week on a trip home (or, there and back again), which means I’ve found myself with four blog posts to publish in one day.  Fortunately I’m a super genius and wrote them all ahead of time.  Except this one.  And the other ones.  Lettuce just say that this morning I found myself frantically pounding out words, trying to think of funny stuff that wouldn’t leave you drooling into your keyboards.  This desperation led me down the age-old path of self-searching that all humorists encounter at some point in their lives...that is, asking myself, “what have I done lately that was very, very, very stupid?”  There were a terrifying amount of options, but the first to come to mind was this:  I’ve been meaning to mail a Christmas gift to a friend since before Christmas.  It’s been sitting on my counter, wrapped and taped and addressed, for the last month.  And yet, I have not sent it.  Why this negligence, you ask?  I will tell you.  I am procrastinating for one reason, and one reason only:  I haven’t had any cash on hand, and am not sure if the post office takes checks (why I use checks instead of a card is another topic for another time...ha ha!  Not!  This isn’t a finance blog, sucker!).  Anyway, I can’t see why the post office wouldn’t take checks.  But I would have to ask.  And they’d say “yes”, and that’d be an end of it.  Still.  Asking a total stranger a question is just a little more social interaction than I can handle on any given day.  I didn’t tell you this was going to be a funny story.  It’s more of a tragi-comedy.  Is that a thing?  Or is it a comic-tragedy?  Does everyone die, and then it’s funny, or is it funny until everyone dies?  Which leads to the question, if we have “rom-coms”, why don’t we have “tra-coms”?  It’s not catchy, I get that, but it seems like favoritism to me.  Life isn’t all bubbles and puppies.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Noodles: Just another downside of being a genius.

Since I’ve got a pretty long post in store for you a little later this week (and yeah, it’s Saturday, I know...so that means in about five minutes), I’m gonna make this quick and just share with you one of my finer moments.  Possibly the most brilliant highlight of my entire career as a human, if I may say so.   Recently I was trying to center a picture on what was supposed to be today’s post.  Suddenly, my cursor...is that what the little vertical blinky line is called?  If it is, wow, what an intense name for such an innocent little thingy.  Anyway, you all know what I mean.  We’ll just call it the cursor and hope for the best.  Kay.  So, my cursor started moving.  It was traveling across the page all alone!  It had a mind of its own!  Because I’m super suspicious, my first thought was that someone had hacked my computer, since I was in a pretty crowded public place.  There were some nerdy guys in the corner who looked cap...

Sauce: Bike.

I called about a bike the other day.   It was listed in the paper, For Sale, Used Bike, $45, In a Town Near You.   I assumed, based on the word “bike” that it had a seat and handlebars, which was all that really mattered to me.  The integrity of the brakes was negotiable.  I figured I could fix them if I had to, because had I just changed a tail-light in my car and it took only three weeks and two hours and five sets of wrenches of varying sizes, and I’m pretty sure it’s practically back to how it was before I began.   “Hello,” a woman answered the phone. “Hi, I’m calling about the bike you listed in the paper?” “Ok.” “Can I ask you a few questions about it?” “Ok.” “Oh...okay.  Great!  First, is it still available?” “Which one.” “There was only...one?  The used bike?” “Ok.” “So is it available?” “It can be.” “Great...So....do the brakes work?” “It’s used.” “I gathered as much from the ad.  What kin...

Spinach: Zombie Sheep (part 1).

There are people in this world who don’t quite fit into society.               If people were puzzle pieces, they would be the unidentified extras, the empty gaps,                     the soggy chewed up pieces that fall off the table and get noshed on by the dog.    T hey live their lives feeling unnecessary, lost, destroyed.  In a world that celebrates conformity, if not uniformity, allowances are made for puzzle pieces to be different shapes, colors, and sizes. But if they don’t fit together, they’re either pounded on until they do, or thrown away.   Rejected.   Not because they’re of less worth than any other piece.  All puzzle pieces are simply shaped bits of cardboard, after all.  But because their purpose is not immediately visible.   Okay, that said, I’m not a fan of misfits, myself included.  They’re ...