The Password’s Lasagna.

I learned how to lie when I was seven years old.  There was a boy in my class who I hated. I’m not a name dropper, so I’ll just call him...“Jeremy”.   “Seven years old!” You say, aghast, “and you already hated someone?   Whatever for?”   I’d love to give you a great answer, but it was probably for a very inconsequential reason.   Possibly because he’d apparently made it his goal to throw a huge ball straight at my curly side-lined head every time all the kids except me played dodgeball (I remember sitting to the side and trying to convince teachers that no, I really did not feel left out, and no, joining the game would not make me feel better).    Or maybe it was because he liked to dip goldfish crackers in Koolaid.    Or maybe I took a random dislike to his haircut.    Whatever reason, just trust me.   I really hated this kid.    He made my upper epidermal layer do unnatural things, like crawl.   ...

Be true to yourself.    You:  “Self, don’t lie to me, did you eat allll the ice cream last night or did you share one tiny spoonful with your dog?”   Self:  “I ate it all but I let him lick the container.” You:  “Oh really?” Self:  “...After I licked it.” You:  “Thank you for your honesty, Self.”

Overheard today...  Gruff-voiced, flannel-clad old man, in backyard, shouting towards the house:   “Got that match ??  And the butter spray ?”  It’s grilling season, my friends! Also, there’s a certain melodiousness to those words which inspires me to burst out into a spontaneous song of beauty:   Yo!  Got that match and the butter spray?   I’m gonna fire up the grill today. The wimmen work and the children play,  But I’m gonna cook dis meal my way - Meat on the grill an’ meat in mah mouth, Meat’s all I eat and it’s... Headed south... Wimmen like ice cream and spinach soufflés, But a man eats meat all the time, always. Real men grill and it gives ‘em a thrill,  There ain’t nothing hotter ‘cept a lighter fluid spill, You can say I won’t but I say, I will!  A real man’s always got time to kill.   (And cows to grill, baby.   Uh huh.)   Yo, we’re gonna eat like kings t...

Some people live life on the edge.   They walk the line.   They waltz with death every day and look him right in the eye even when he steps on their toes.   They are truly aware of their humanity, and yet they rise above it and somehow, again and again, conquer mankind’s greatest dread.   And then... there are people who get their thrills from dropping and regaining a craisin without dying in a head-on collision during their commute home from work.   Not gonna name anyone specific, but let’s just say, at least it wasn’t only a stupid peanut

Spring, and love, are cruel to geeks.

Dream big.    Just try not to dream big monsters, if at all possible.