Resolution

“I resolve to write more letters this year. What about you Jared?”

“What are you doing?"

"It's my new years resolution, for the party. You need to fill yours out so we can get going."

"Okay. let me think. I resolve to grow a third eye!”

“What!?”

“A third eye... right in the center of my forehead! That’s my new years resolution this year.”

“...”

“Don't look at me like that Samantha.”

“Jared, don’t be stupid.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Try. First off you don’t need a third eye. Even if you did, you shouldn’t have it in the center of your forehead. It would serve you better in the back of you head. If you’re going to make idiotic resolutions they should be slightly sensible. Now, what is your real resolution.”

“I resolve to eat fewer peanut butter and pickle sandwiches!”

“That sounds simple enough.”

“I don’t want it to be easy. Okay...I resolve to be the first person in space...”

“Too late.”

“..dancing the polka.”

“Having a little trouble with your resolution this year?”

“To put it bluntly. Yes.”

"Sometimes its hard to identify parts of our lives that need improvement."

"Maybe that’s just it Samantha, maybe there’s nothing wrong with me. Maybe I can’t think of a resolution this year because I’m flawless. I don’t have anything left to change! I’ve done it! I’ve attained perfection!”

“Get off the table and write down your new years resolution! We're going to be late. It’s easy. Ahem, ‘I Jared, resolve to spend less time standing on the coffee table acting like an idiot.’ Now get down here and fill this out so we can go.”

“No really! Listen. Maybe I’ve done it. Maybe I’m perfect.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, I have a great job and I’m still in my twenties! That means I’m obviously very smart.”

“Or just plain lucky. I don't want to burst your bubble but you are the worst person at math I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe that’s normal for perfect people.”

"Jared..."

“Stay with me now. I’m in decent shape and hardly ever get sick”

“I admit you are mostly healthy but Jared, you do get sick.”

“I get stomachaches sometimes but that’s different. I mean like colds and flus and cancer and stuff. I mean, maybe I'm immune to viruses and things!”

“Jared. Are you telling me you don’t think you ever get colds? Why do all men think they never get sick? Is it some universal delusion of your sex?"

“I have natural charisma.."

"Hello! ALL MEN GET SICK! Plus you are also the biggest babies about it! It's always, ‘My head hurts!’ ‘My throat is sore!’ ‘I can't stop vomiting!’"

"...I have good looks..."

"On the other hand, men will drive a nail through their finger and just wrap it in duct tape! I don’t get it.”

“... and of course charm.”

“Additionally you’re also a good listener.”

“I heard you. Listen, I’m having an epiphany here."

"Jared..."

"Stand back and bask in my glow."

“Jared..."

"Turn your eyes and gaze on perfection!”

"Jared!"

"Yes?"

"I’m sorry to break it to you but you're not perfect. You have poor eyesight, you're slightly bowlegged and you’re too short to be perfect.”

“What! What do you mean I'm too short?”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just when I think of the perfect man I picture him as least as tall as me. Thats all.”

“Wow. That's nice. I had no idea you thought of me as short. I'm five eight. That's pretty average I'd say. I mean you're five foot ten. Maybe you’re just too tall!”

“Its not important, I’m just saying, you are not perfect.”

“Fine. The giantess has spoken.”

“Whatever. Hey midget, do you have a new years resolution yet?”

“I resolve to grow taller this year!”

“Good. Write it down! Let’s get going.”

Lazy Thursday Blues: Caption 13

It is once again Caption Thursday! I'll provide a picture and you provide the caption. This week I've picked two pictures for you to choose from. There is just something about that bottom situation that always makes me smile!

As always we need to adhere to good taste. Please keep it clean.

Hippie Arts and Crafts

Okay very funny everyone! Turn off the MRI! I'm wearing my metal insoles!



Stuff I've found this week:

Point and click adventure Haluz I just started but this is a lot of fun. like a flash version of Myst. Lemme know how far you get, I'm only on the third scene.

Boston Love. My sister has succumbed to the power of the blog. She has been a blog reader for months, but now is full on blogger. Additionally she has a very cute Boston Terrier who loves getting into trouble.

Secret Ingredient

My nose is captivated by the smell. Grabbed and dragged into the inviting mists of aroma that surrounds and comforts me. My eyes are enveloped by the menu items, each complete with catchy name and detailed photo. There is a certain quality to the food that I cannot put my finger on. I see by a flashing neon sign that this is none other than that august fast food restaurant, “Bucket O’ Grease!”

As a rule I’m not a fast food eater. It’s not to say that I feel that the cuisine is beneath my overly sensitive and developed pallet. It’s just that a majority of these establishments are hamburger joints. For the most part I’m not a hamburger person. I mean I like them well enough, I suppose, but I wouldn’t normally pick them. As such my fast food choices are a little more limited. Smallish greasy chicken pieces, or smallish greasy tacos.

For some reason lately I have been drawn to fast food. I have not given myself over to the urges but I must say it is getting harder and harder to resist!

“Come to the dark side Peter.”

“YES, NO! wait...”

“We have a pail of seasoned curly fries! And a 67 ounce soda option! ”

“AHHH!!!!”

The thing is recently I have been trying to watch what I eat. The trouble with watching what you eat is that you also spend a lot of time watching what you cannot eat. I find that while I’m eating my healthy and nourishing dinner, things that wouldn’t normally even appeal to me, like burgers, sound better than they ever have in the past. While I normally would be quite turned off by the idea that a guacamole jalapeño bacon burger even existed, I find it dancing in my head as I consume my chicken salad with light dressing.

I believe that the real draw is the wanting and not the having. I cannot recall ever being happy after consuming my weight in extra crispy chicken, that is once I regain consciousness. For some reason though it is hard to remember that when my car unexpectedly veers to the left and I find myself puzzling over which sides to choose. My only conclusion is that there must be some secret ingredient, beside the treasured 1000 island dressing.

Why else would I be willing to risk my pocketbook and another three day bellyache, for the least satisfying meal in America? It might be for convenience, ease, or possibly price. More than likely it's for the double-double burger with onions, well done animal style fries and a cold, thick, chocolate ice-cream shake!

Whatever the secret is I hope that I can continue to resist, though I’m not sure for how much longer. All their full sized ads, mail-in coupons and super size options are calling to me. As far as fast food is concerned the only real clarity comes with the aftermath. When the grease soaked bag lies in the trash, the jumbo gulp is gone and all you have left is a body of discomfort, and a knowledge that you have once again succumbed to the secret ingredient.

Bridge Street

"I said take Washburn Ave."

"I don't want to take Washburn, I want to take Bridge."

"Steve, you can't get to Madison from Bridge."

"Molly, I've been going Bridge to Madison for ten years, will you please stop trying to tell me how to drive."

"You should have taken Washburn."

"How is it you can't find your way to the grocery store unless you're a passenger in my car!?"

"You're just like your father. Steve, before I married you - LOOK OUT!"

-WHAM-

"Steve, what happened?!"

"We hit something. I think it was a dog. Get out Molly, lets see if it's hurt."

"Oh. Its not moving. Steve...is it dead?"

"Should we poke it with a stick?"

"Don't you think it's gone through enough! What is wrong with you! Get down there and see if it's still breathing!"

"Fine. ...He’s not breathing."

“Does that mean he’s dead?”

“I not a doctor Molly! I sell children's raincoats for a living! I don’t have a clue. Look, he’s not breathing and he’s not moving I think it’s safe to say he’s dead.”

"You should have taken Washburn."

"[sigh] Should we try and find it's owners?"

"Look at him Steve. He's clearly a stray, no collar, straggly, worn and tired. You should have taken Washburn!"

"Stop saying that! You don't think they have strays on Washburn! Look it was an accident okay! I'm sorry, I wasn't aiming for him Molly! I already feel horrible, you aren’t helping anything! Help me move him to the side."

"Steve,"

"Yes?"

"We have to eat him."

"WHAT?!"

"We have to eat him Steve. We have to eat this dog."

"Molly, what in the world are talking about. Look just get in the car, I'll be there in a second."

"I'm serious. Look at this dog Steve. It looks horrible, like it was never loved. Liked no one cared for him, and before he got a chance to ever find happiness we come and hit him. We stole all his chances. We don’t even know his name! We need to eat him.”

“I feel bad about hitting this dog but I don’t see how eating him is going to make up for it Molly.”

“It will be a way to show him how we appreciate him. That we cared, that he meant something to us.”

“Like the worst memory of my life, followed by the worst meal?”

“I’m serious Steve.”

“So I am I! You are obviously traumatized by this and I understand. Please just try and relax Molly. I’ll deal with this. ”

“No Steve, I’m perfectly rational, and serious. I just couldn’t stand knowing that you and your stupid driving sucked the life out of this animal and the we just threw him to the shoulder and went on with our lives. He deserves to be loved and right now the only way we can do that is to eat him. Steve we have to do this!”

“This is ridiculous. People don’t eat dogs Molly! What if he’s diseased? What is someone finds out?! How would you explain this to your mother? Molly what if he tastes horrible.”

“I doesn't matter it’s our duty Steve.”

“Molly-”

“-Steve if you don’t do this I’ll never forgive you.”

“Fine. Molly. Fine. I’ll load him up into the trunk and we’ll take him home and eat him. I feel like some crazed redneck out on a hunting expedition. I just need a plaid shirt, five less teeth and a hat with those ear flaps!”

“Thank you Steve, we’re doing the right thing!”

~~~

"Molly"

"Yes?"

“This is the worst Christmas dinner I’ve ever had.”

“You should have taken Washburn!”

Lazy Thursday Blues: Caption 12

It is once again Caption Thursday! I'll provide a picture and you provide the caption.

As always we need to adhere to good taste. Please keep it clean.



Suzies toy was missing. All those on the naughty list were checked, twice!

Fun Christmas Flash Games:

Turkey Shoot Bag some Christmas dinner!

Santa Ski Jump A Classic!

Rudolph's Rooftop Challenge 964.7 is my best... very odd game...

Fear of Fruitcake

It’s that time of year again. Time for holly, ho-ho-ho and happy times with family and friends. Christmas is also the time for that thoroughly maligned little dessert. The most unwanted, uncared for and misunderstood baked orphan. The ever feared fruitcake.

Johnny Carson once said “The worst gift is fruitcake. There is only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other." This is funny on many levels. One is that many people feel that fruitcake will never go bad, and so it could be passed around for an eternity. The second is that most people would never think of actually trying the bar of confection if anyone did send it to them, so no one would know if it had gone bad. Some else once said "There is nothing dangerous about fruitcakes as long as people send them along without eating them."

I sometimes feel that I’m the last person on earth who actually likes this heavy little Christmas treat. I know a lot of people who claim to be fruitcake haters but haven’t ever tried one. There is something trendy and appealing about saying you dislike it. Sort of a way to fit in with everyone. Yeah, I wear designer jeans and hate fruitcake, I'm cool. In it’s own way fruitcake has a thick wall of prejudice built up by naysayers. This isn’t surprising as it tends to be the ugly duckling of Christmas. It weighs a ton, looks like a hodge podge of leftover refrigerator items and is about as dense as crazy Uncle Fred. What is a cake to do against all this injustice?

Luckily it’s tough enough to take it. Despite the fact that its name is now synonymous with insane, and people fear that loaf like package under the tree, it may surprise you to hear that fruitcake sales continue to rise every year. I’m not sure if these are maybe closet fruit-cakers, protesting disgust and then running home to their dirty secret. Possibly people are buying them for gag gifts, or even more likely, maybe they are being used as pothole fillers in the federal highway system. Who can guess?

My folks would make fruitcake every year when I was growing up. Starting near the end of November the house would be filled with the smells of candied fruit and rum. It was a long process that literally took weeks to get the fruit to the point of being ready to add to the batter. I have great memories of think slices of fruitcake, toasted in the oven with a pat of melted butter on top. There were no upturned noses for the fruitcake in my family. I was blown away when I reached adulthood and found the animosity this cake endured.

Of course there is nothing saying you have to like fruitcake. I’m just saying, why not give it one more try? In the end if you still don’t like it here’s a nice way to get rid of it.

Ode to a Frozen Car

You just have one purpose
You just have one task
To get me to work
And to get me there fast

I spring from the house
At a quarter to eight
Fifteen minutes to work
I cannot be late

You sit there and smile
You’re all covered in ice
I can’t see through the windshield
Now isn’t this nice?

I work my key in the lock
And I open my car
like a small icy tomb
I’m not going far

I start up the engine
Pry my hand from the key
Feels like everything frozen
And sticking to me

I engage the wipers
They stress and they strain
“We can’t break through this ice,
What is wrong with your brain?”

The garden hose frozen
No bucket, less sun
I need to get going
Something has to be done

So I take out my charge card
And I scrape a small square
Now driving five miles an hour
...I’ll never get there.

-Peter Brown 2006

Intersection

Waiting at the intersection can be one of the most enjoyable experiences in life. You might find that statement a little odd but I assure you it’s true. That is, if you know what your doing.

People watching is a very engaging pastime. Some places are better than others. Weddings are good, amusement parks are great and supermarkets are superb. You need to find that place where they feel that they are in a protected bubble. Somewhere that there is both a level of privacy for them and a clear view for you. I submit that the car driving through the busy intersection is just such a spot.

When you are alone in your car you are at liberty to do some of the most outrageous things. I find that while I’m at the stoplight I get to see a dozen vignettes pass by at high speeds. Like the collection of various blooper reels all pieced together for my enjoyment.

Leading the show is the juggler. To watch the expressions on this mans face as he simultaneously, turns on his left turn blinker, shift into first, works the steering wheel and tries to finish that last bite of cheese burrito is worth a full priced admission to the movies. His performance only lasts for a second of course but it is followed up with a fellow who believes he has totally privacy until he looks over and sees me giving him a huge grin. This wouldn't be so bad if he hadn’t had his finger so far up his left nostril that I could see his hair moving. Luckily he’ll never see me again and if he does he will not remember me. As for me, I will have his face etched in my memory till the day I die.

Just when I though it couldn’t get any better the next car in the parade is one of my favorites. The singer. It looks very funny to see someone belting out a very energetic song complete with clapping and head wagging while you can only guess what it sounds like. This particular performance is even more fun for me, because it is one that I frequently engage in. When I see the singer drive by I laugh both for how odd it looks, and knowing that additionally how much entertainment my silence singing has given to others.

That car was followed by a commercial break. It was a huge shipping truck with a very dull but obviously dedicated driver. Since I had nowhere to go I waited for the regular programing to return. I was not disappointed.

There is something amusing about two passengers faces when they don’t think the other person can see them. The man was driving with a very disgusted look on his face, as his female passenger used her left hand as an outrigger and with her right she applied a very think layer of mascara to her eyes. Make-up while driving. This activity is one of the most daring you will see as a motorist watcher! To put your entire days appearance in the hands of a whole road of bad drivers is as daring as it gets!

Then the light turned green and ended the show. I was a little disappointed but really had no choice but to continue on my way. Of course I knew that there was also a good chance I would hit the upcoming light just right and get stopped again for an encore performance at the next intersection.

Service

“Alright Bob, let's stop. Um..What are you doing?”

“Playing tennis with you.”

“This is not tennis, Bob. I don’t know what you think we have been doing for the past fifteen minutes, but we haven't been playing tennis.”

“Frank, what are you talking about!? I love tennis. I've been playing for years. Look don’t I have the tennis shorts on?”

“Yes. Yes you’re wearing very nice tennis shorts. You also have a nice shirt, and very expensive tennis shoes. Additionally you’re wearing a headband.”

“Sweatband, Frank. It's called a sweatband.”

“Right. Do you know what’s odd about that?”

“What?”

“You’re not sweating! Do you know why you’re not sweating? I’ll tell you Bob. Because you haven’t moved one step! I’m sitting here serving tennis balls to you and if they aren't right next to you don't even try and return them. I not even sure you’ve hit one of my serves to you!”

“We’ll...That’s tennis for you!”

“What?!”

“You’re just not as good as me Frank. It’s no reason to get sore.”

"Not as good as you?! Why do you think we both have these huge sides of the court?"

"So it's harder for you to hit the ball to me! Clearly you're not doing a very good job of that as I'm winning this match."

“Winning this match?! What do you think the score is Bob?”

“Forty, love”

“WHAT! I haven’t scored! Are you insane!? I’ve been acing serves and you don’t think I've scored? Bob you have to return the ball to me in order to make points! Not that you could with the way you’re holding the racket!”

“What do you mean? Haven’t you ever seen a traditional grip?”

“Look I don’t even care. You want to hold it over your face like that, it’s your choice. You just look like an idiot. I mean you look like we're in a fencing match. Why did you ever tell me you had played before? Why can’t you just be honest with me Bob, you haven’t got a clue what you’re doing.”

“Frank, it’s not my fault you’re not up on the latest tennis trends. Now can we please get back to the game? I’ve almost got you beat!”

“Latest trends!? Got me beat!? BOB! You don’t know the first thing about tennis! ... Bob”

“Yes?”

“Do you see all the courts to our left?”

“Yes.”

“Do you notice anything strange?”

“They aren’t playing.”

“Right. What are they doing Bob?”

“They all appear to be slack jawed and staring at me.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“Hero worship?”

“Bob this is my tennis club. Do you have any idea how much money I spend every month to come out here and play?”

“No”

“Plenty. Now I will be embarrassed to even get an orange juice at the snack bar. Do you know why?”

“Because you lost to an amateur?”

“BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL SCARED OF YOU BOB! You’re turning me into a tennis club freak. I will be laughed right out of this club and will have to start going to a different club. It will take me months to live down the humiliation you have caused me in the last fifteen minutes!"

"Wow, not a very friendly bunch are they?"

"No. Bob, will you please, just for my own sanity admit you have never held a tennis racket, let alone played a round, before today?”

“Okay, Frank I'm sorry. I’ve never played tennis before...”

“Thank you. Thank you for being man enough to admit that.”

“...but you should see me at racquetball!”

Lazy Thursday Blues: Caption 11

It is once again Caption Thursday! I'll provide a picture and you provide the caption.

As always we need to adhere to good taste. Please keep it clean.


Here's the one to get it started:

The year Rudolph lead the famed reindeer strike!

Stuff I found this week:

Sling Shot Santa 250 is as much as I've managed.

Cell Start Start your car with your cell phone.

Pretty Challenging Christmas Quiz I cheated...