The Password’s Lasagna.

Listen to your heart.   Thumpy thumpy thumpy thumpy thumpy.    Yay, you’re alive!

So, since my last post was pretty shallow, let’s move on to topics involving national security and stuff of utter importance.  And stuff.  Shall we?   I don’t know about you, but I used to think bald guys were cool.   They’re obviously very humble and they’re low maintenance.    They don’t need shampoo or conditioner, they don’t get tangles or bed-head, they aren’t constantly flipping their bangs out of their dreamy eyes...they’re unaffected by all the needs and problems of your average fluffy human.    Plus they all automatically look like Mr. Clean.     How attractive.    But that was before I was stuck sitting behind a bald dude for two hours last week.    I had time to memorize every pore on his scalp, and realized five things about bald guys that I’d never known before.  Are you taking notes?  ‘Kay, good.   1.    Scalps have pores.    2.    When you’re bald, they become visible.    3.    Also some people have skin folds on the backs of their heads, ditto number 2.    4.

I once read that humorists live small, pitiful lives.  Which is true, if you think about it.  It’s hard to joke about, say, sacrificing your life for the common good of your fellow humans.  Great people are rarely funny people.  Even when they have a sense of humor, what will they laugh about?   “Today?  Huh huh huh yuk yuk....Todaaay, I hugged TWENTY LEPERS and prayed soft prayers with them in the candlelight and three of them experienced miraculous healing!  IS THAT LIKE NOT THE MOST HYYYSTERICAL THING YOU HAVE EVER HEARDDD???  I mean, com’on!!!!!!”   On the extreme other end of the spectrum, you have, for example, me.  I will probably never pilot a spaceship to Mars and bring back a strange new mineral that cures all diseases.  But I will, with alarming regularity, experience trivial little setbacks in my journey up the vertical glacier of social acceptance.   Take today.   We had cake in the break room.   I’m positive that cake is common to break rooms simply bec

Yesterday I experienced line cutting for the first time.  There I was, waiting patiently in line at the QuickyBiz gas station convenience store mart.  All I wanted was a little bottle of milk that should have cost 99 cents but actually cost my first child and my soul.  Was it too much to ask? Apparently. Out of nowhere (truly - she might as well have been beamed down from above) a woman wafted in front of me in line.  She kept her gaze evenly trained on the horizon and feigned deafness when I pleaded with her.  By the time her transaction was complete, I was 30 seconds late in catching the Kindness bus trolley van, so I ran her down in the parking lot as she hovered vaguely toward her vehicle. I’m writing this from a safe place, but if the cops find me, I want you to tell the world:  Never buy milk from the gas station because it’s two dollars cheaper at the grocery store.  You’re welcome.

You know how I know that? (Yeah, okay, I looked at the calendar.) But I would have known anyway. Because. (Don’t tell anyone....) I have a super power. When Spring arrives, my hair instantly curls. (A lot.) Not a day sooner, not a day later. (Not a day!) Every single year. (Okay, fine.  It did THIS year.  That’s as far back as I can remember anyway.) And there you go, kids...that’s why it’s called “Spring.”  Winkedy wink wink.

                ...it’s okay to be lost.  If you always know exactly where you are, the world becomes small.  

Saucey sauce sauce!  Ha ha! You knew you could always trust me for great content, didn’t you?  And as always, I never disappoint! Sauce sauce sauce.  Yep, folks, I’ll be here all night!  Gimme a hand! (Memo to self - I am so hilarious.  The people are going to love that incredibly witty opening.) Okay.  That was fun.  But let’s stop fooling around and get down to the nitty-gritty reality of this thing we call life.  Life isn’t fair.  Life isn’t just.  People aren’t fair.  People aren’t just.  Sometimes they’re just stupid, but they’re never just just.  But sometimes a little hint of justice peaks out from behind the dark clouds of incompetent, anarchistic (Is that a word????  Memo to self - remove all memos to self before publishing!), man-made obnoxiousness we call the penal system.  I don’t know exactly what’s up with the penal system, by the way.  My mind gets hung up on the “pee” sound and I start snickering and my brain receptors shut down.  It’s people like me who makes the w

This is the story of a potato.  No, I’m kidding, it’s not (though I do have a potato story...remind me to tell it sometime when it sounds less boring).  This is actually the story of an artist.  Specifically, the story of me, as an artist.  A metamorphosis story, if you will.  It began a long time ago, on an unknown day, when I was first given a marker.  I drew an astonishing picture.  Because my parents failed to realize its monetary worth at the time, it has been lost to the crumbling echoes of history.  However, here is a wan representation:  If you’re weeping from ecstasy now, take a minute, get a Kleenex, have a sip of lemonade, calm your fluttering spirit, and then read on.   Recognizing true talent when I saw it, I groomed my natural gifts until they shone.   Or, rather, glowed.   I had a keen eye for color, a delicate taste for nature’s palette: Finding paltry inspiration in the natural world alone, I turned my starting eyes and tingling fingers to a nobler s

At least...as far as I know... ... ...

I apologize for any incomprehensibleness, typos, errors, repetitiveness, repetitiveness, or psychedelic ramblings in my previous post.  Mistakes were nearly unavoidable, considering the environment in which I’m working.  The only good news this afternoon is that librarians everywhere are breaking free from the stereotypes that have so long imprisoned them!  The rest is bad.  Very bad.  It can be summed up in five key words:  Loud Librarians Conversating together, mostly just Complaining, and Eating. (They were also playing bagpipe music really, really quietly.) (If it had been louder, their language of primal screams would have seemed more appropriate.) PS Overheard snippet from aforementioned conversation:  “Oop!  It’s five o clock!  WHEN did THAT happen?” I dunno.  Maybe like...at five o clock???  Maaaybe??? (Except it sounded like this:  “OOPPPPPPPP!!!!!!  IT’S FIIIVE O CLOCKKKK, HOMIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WHEN DID THAT HAPPENNNNENENENENNNNNNNNNNNNN?????????????   RAA

Hey world.   I have a confession to make.   I never actually bought a stuffed dinosaur.   It was a black, black lie.    I’m sorry, Armageddon!  You called my name, but I was  afraid to take you home, because I was too cheap to buy a little kid birthday card along with you to cover up my movements should a cashier prove judgementally curious!  And now, thinking about you, I weep.    Abrupt segue:  Have you ever noticed how we go through life always doing things, or not doing things, simply because of what other people might think of us?  Is that a legitimate way to live life?  No!  It’s not!   To prove it, I’ve  sacrificed my own life experience upon the alter of science by writing several alternate endings to the story of Armageddon.  (I don’t know what that means but it sounds super selfless and heroic.)  These are all things that could have happened if I’d been courageous enough to take him down that checkout lane (by the by, you might think I spend all my

Right?  It may be minus four degrees and the snow may be stacked in piles of crusted despair.  But there is sun.  And where there’s sun, there’s hope. *applause* Thank you, thank you. *encore* Yes, as I said.  Where there’s sun, there’s hope.  Thank you, thank you.  Yes, yes.  *bows*

There’s a man at my workplace.  I don’t know who he is.  He appeared at the break table last week.  I guess he works in a different department, but it has not been explained.  He is usual in every way, except for one strange quirk.  When you’re talking to him, he responds to everything you say with “Mmm hmm.” When you’re not talking to him, he just says “Mmm hmm” to himself.  I’m not sure if it’s a non-articulate way of talking to himself or if he’s hearing voices in his head, or if he just has a general appreciation of life, but when you sit next to him, this is what you hear: “Mm hm.” Pause. “MMM HM” Pausity pause. “Hm?  Hm hmm.” Pause. “Mm hmm!” Pause. “Mmm....hmmm?” And so on. I’d try to milk the subject for more humor, but I’m afraid I might hurt something.  Mmm hmm.