Spinach: Prepare to be inspired in a cliche way!!

Live for the moment. Which moment? Not sure. THE moment. I assume we’ll know when it happens. Unless it’s already over, in which case...would you like some Kool-aid?

And here is a trippy picture of swirling colors which looks a lot like an oil spill, now that you mention it. But hey, anything for you, readers.

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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...

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 ...

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...

The Password’s Lasagna.

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