Thursday, July 30, 2009

A sign of the times.......

Is is just me, or does time seem to be going faster? The number of times I have heard someone say something about how fast time is moving in the last couple of days, makes me think maybe it actually did speed up. I know that's what happens when you get older. When you're 5, one year is a fifth of your life; when you're 35, one year is a thirty-fifth of your life. Doesn't it still seem like someone has moved the clock hands forward a little each time you look away?
I still remember lying in the back window of my parents 1974 Buick, and baking in the sun. Today, they would have been arrested for allowing such a thing. Have to restrain children in seats these days. Is that because our cars are no longer built like tanks? Most barely even have any real metal in them now. I remember my family being rear-ended in the Buick, on the bypass in Marion when it was still two-lane, buy one of those little new cars. Wasn't much left of that poor guys sub-compact. In fact, that's exactly how it looked, COMPACTED. The Buick's damage amounted to a dollar bill sized chunk of rubber missing from the back bumper.
Yes, I spent many of hours in that back window. Why not? It was bigger than my bedroom. I remember my oldest sister learning to drive, while I slept in the back window, only to wake up in the floor of the back seat when she took the stop sign at 10th and main a little too hard.
Remember the heavy doors on those cars? Took both hands to shut them, and they would most definitely take off fingers if you weren't careful. I remember riding with that same sister in her 1978 Monte Carlo on main street, when that door swung open on a corner. As I was leaning up against it, out I went. She caught me right before my head hit the bricks. That made up for the stop sign episode.
Times are definitely different now. Now, we gather our kids up and head inside when returning home. Heaven forbid WE fall asleep on the ride home when we were kids. Our parents would just crack the windows and head inside. Hours later, after waking up in the huge sauna of a car, we would make our way inside, sweat soaked clothes and all. Maybe that's why I stayed so skinny as a kid?!?! Could that change in parenting styles be the real cause of childhood obesity today?
Maybe things have changed. Maybe our parents just sucked and needed CPS called on them. (Sorry MOM!) Whatever the case, times change and time changes everything. Somethings get better with time, like wine and cheese. So don't, like bread and birthdays.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Dimpled Balls, Long Shafts, & Funny Pants

Golf. Nothing like the game of Golf. Where else do you get to drive on the lawn in a funny car, while wearing outrageous clothes, unless you work in the circus and wear a red nose. Granted the times and styles have changes. There are purists out there, who still seem to have an affinity for brightly colored, checkered pants.
I used to play golf regularly, but not lately. When I was playing, I would dress more conservatively or contemporary. However, I still appreciated seeing the purists in their Flamingo pink and orange pants.
Golf is definitely a man's game. Even a lot of the terms used in the game sound like things overheard around a men's urinal. In the interest of being non-offensive, I won't offer examples, but I am sure you can run through the list in your mind. Also, how many other games do you get better at the more you drink? Golf has to be near the top of that list.
Golf is a sport that can be played by anyone of any age. Just look at all the Golf courses in Florida. You thought it was because of the nice weather? Wrong. It's to give the people in God's waiting room something to do until their time comes. After all, one can only play so much Shuffleboard, which really isn't even a sport.
I used to hate golf, until I played. I didn't get the point. Chasing around a little ball, hitting the ball, and chasing it again. Wouldn't it be easier to just put it in your pocket, drive to the hole, drop it in and go to the next one? You could finish a round of eighteen in about 10 mins vs. 3 1/2 hours.
It's really about being out in nature, and taking out your frustration on that little white ball. Some people have Nike or Titlest or Maxfli printed on their balls. I sometimes will take a sharpie and write the boss's name, or the guy who cut me off, or even draw a little picture of something that made me angry that day on the ball. I think I even wrote $4.26 a gallon on one once. It's a form of therapy really.
I must say, golf is better played than watched. Golf on TV works better than Tylenol PM or Turkey at inducing sleep. Maybe it's the way the announcers "whisper" all the action. Why is that even? Are they afraid they are going to throw off the golfer who is teeing off 1000 yards from their truck if they talk normal? Do we even need play by play IN golf? It's GOLF, for par's sake. It's not horse racing! I think I could do without hearing about the choice of club, the lie of the green, or the wind speed while watching. It's not like I'M playing.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Stairs & Escalators

How do you take stairs? Not why or where . We now the why, because it's safer & easier than jumping. And the where is to get to the other level, be it up & down. But how? Is it grudgingly and scornfully? Is it carefully and methodically? Or is it like the building's on fire and the elevator is out?
I'm more of a building is on fire kind of stair person. Seems I fly up or down regardless of the number of flights. I guess, subconsciously, I think it is good exercise. Like running up or down that single flight, required to get to and from my office, fills my burnt calorie quotient for the day. Or maybe it's the same reason I drive fast. I don't enjoy the journey, it's just in the way! I gotta hurry up and get there! Either way, I run up or down stairs.
Sometimes, if I'm feeling really creative, I'll take them 2 at a time. Better yet, even when I'm tired and not feeling like running, I will climb at a slower pace, but will still assume the look. Kind of like running in place. After all these years, I have finally realized how absurd this is, but will most likely continue to do it.
These past weekend, I entered a Dick's Sporting Goods in Indianapolis. Their up escalator wasn't working. As I looked up at what would normally be 3 or more normal flights of stairs, I almost said "Forget it", and turned around. But as I stood at the bottom, and was passed by several older yuppie-like gentlemen on their way up, and I noticed that the down escalator was still working, I decided to go. After all, everybody knows that if you have to manually move up or down a non-working escalator, the up one is the safest. So up I went, in my normal style, like the devil was right behind me. I walked around on the second level for about 15 mins, then headed for the down escalator.
Whatever problem they had or maintenance they were doing was now extended to the down escalator! I began to panic. Everybody knows it's not safe to walk down a down escalator. Especially not at my pace. I thought I would wait awhile and see if it came back on. I thought about asking an employee if the problem was permanent. After realizing that I might be stuck up there, and the thing was not going to be working anytime soon, I began to build myself up for the trip down. Then I noticed, there went those same yuppie older gentlemen, and they weren't having problems. I could do this!
I began slowly. One step, then two, then three. I began looking down. Without realizing it, I had returned to my normal breakneck pace. I began focusing on the on-rushing steps, with their metal teeth craving my flesh. The optical illusion of the lined steps began making it harder to judge the distance. I stumbled, grabbed the sides, tripped, grabbed the sides, missed a step, almost died, stumbled again, almost fed the metal teeth, and finally reached the bottom. I made it! I had to resist the urge to raise my arms in triumph, as the store was packed. I am sure if someone like me was watching, they got a rare belly laugh from that.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Laughter....and lifejacket wearing monkeys

Recently, I was viewing an email sent by an old friend. Finding it rather amusing, I shared it with some coworkers. It was various pictures with humorous captions beneath. Anyway, some of them were so good that one friend I shared it with doubled over with laughter, then began coughing and grabbing his chest. As he is an older gentleman, I immediately thought he was having a heart attack. Thankfully, no. But that got my brain working.
Is laughter truly the best medicine if it causes sudden death? I mean, yeah, you'd go out with a smile on your face. But wouldn't be easier to see your doctor and receive a lollipop or sticker afterwards like my kids do? They leave with a smile on. Usually.
I love laughing. I rarely do it anymore. Whether it's because of chronic depression, or because I have desensitized myself to humor after years of devouring all things comedic in nature, I don't know. But, there is nothing like a good belly laugh. I am talking the knee slapping, hunched over, red faced, almost crying, mouth open w/o sound, borderline hysteria kind of laughing. They are few and far between, but always worth the wait.
Nowadays, I usually find this kind of amusement in watching other people, as opposed to jokes, pictures, comedies, etc. Yep. Your fellow man can be a virtual comic strip character come to life.
Trips, stumbles, "accidents", fashions, gaffs, the accidental passing of gas, walking into stuff, it doesn't matter. Not necessarily slapstick stuff. Just the unplanned, unrehearsed, unscripted, everyday things that humans do. Maybe that means my friend having a heart attack WOULD have been funny. It sure was funny watching him get close.

As for the monkey.....well, that was from the email. Since I already wrote about monkeies, I'll skip this. Besides, that picture wasn't very funny. No barrel or anything.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Black Jesus

It's a record. Two posts in one day. Well, I did skip yesterday. An not long after I finished that crappy one on Time, I had this thought and wanted to share it before it was gone.

I friend and co-worker of mine has a little Black Jesus on her desk, which I find hilarious. Seems that most people have traditionally thought of the Lord to look like themselves. Be it white, black, whatever.....I even saw a painting the other day, from Japan, of an Asian Jesus surrounded by disciples wearing Kimonos and those little Japanese hats.
I have discussed this with my friend who really believes Christ was Black.....and she even backed it up with some "verse" that says he had "hair of wool". That sounds more like he was a sheep, than THE shepherd.
I, myself, think of Christ as he was HISTORICALLY.......Jewish. Not white or black. More olive skinned, I guess. Of course, I am talking about the color, not the green or black things on Pizza. Otherwise, he would be an alien-if green, or my friend would be right-if black. No, I would say kind of like the majority of the people from the middle east today. Or similar to a Paula Abdul or Moriah Carey color.
However, then my friend mentioned that at Christmas time, her family pulls out their BLACK Santa's. Come on! That whole legend is based on a man from the Nordic or upper region of Europe. Not too many black people up there.
This was all sounding silly. I know to each his own, but what about historical accuracy?!?! Could this be reverse racism? If my friend is reading this, you know I love you, but "REALLY?!?!" What's next, little Black Abe Lincoln statures?
Maybe I'll start acting this way as well.........Pull out my little WHITE Martin Luther King Jr figurines......My kids will say, "Daddy, We thought he was really a great black civil rights leader?"...and I'll say, "That's just what the BROTHER wants you to think."....or, "Just during the month of February. After that, he's really white." .....
Why do we give so little attention to Truth, Facts, and History. True, not all of it's pretty, but does trying to change these types of things really better the world or ourselves?
Now, if you'll excuse me....I have to go polish off my little white Gandhi and Buddha.


Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin.....into the future.

Where else is it gonna go, I mean without Doc and Marty McFly around?
They say Time is relative. It must be a relative of money, cause I never seem to have enough of either.
And how come its always "running out". Where does it have to be in such a hurry? Does is take a coat?
The Bible says God's time is Eternal. I'd like to see the size of THAT watch!
Why does Time always hang around Space? Are they married? Physicists seem to think so. If that's the case, I'm going to start blaming Space for my being late, cause you know Time won't do anything without her say-so. Otherwise, he'd NEVER hear the end of it.
Time is so important, he has his own stamp, just like Date. Which, technically is another form of Time. Oh great, he's also a shape-shifter.
I guess he feels the need to shift shape cause he's always being measured.
He might just be a superhero, cause he can Fly also.
Think about it......can invisible......can cause things to age......moves really fast, or super slow........yep, he's special.
I bet if he were a superhero, the logo on his chest would be an hour glass.....or a clock-face.
Where ever "Father Time" is portrayed, it's always some really old man with a long white beard. That sounds more like someone whose time is almost UP.

(If you haven't noticed yet, these posts are the ramblings from my crazy mind which often gets sidetracked and goes off on tangent's.)

I would write more, but I'm out of ....................

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Magic underpants in the middle of the freeway.

Sometimes I think up unusual inventions. Just now I thought about underwear that would please every mother and clean themselves if you were ever involved in a trafiic accident. Of course, assuming you started the day with clean ones, they probably wouldn't stay that way if you were involved in an accident. As the old joke goes, "First you say it, then you do it!" And we all know how important cleanliness of undergarments are to our parents in such situations.
I can honestly say, after years of working in healthcare, I don't remember anyone being refused emergency medical treatment due to having soiled undies. I am sure the temptation is there, but most healthcare workers are bound by oath and love of service. They typically treat the patient, then just share their disgust with friends later.
And, as everyone knows, that is always at the top of everyones list of worries. Yeah, bleeding and broken bones, along with damage to property and insurance rank up there somewhere, but having nice shorts takes the cake.
So, what would it take to create something of this nature? Maybe lining them with waste digesting bacteria? Maybe creating them out of some super-absorbant material......wait, that sounds like a depends, which could cause a whole new level of questions and embarrassment. Maybe adding a little pocket to carry a tiny fairy who would spring into action and wisk away the nastiness? Underpants by Disney?
Now, how to create little magic fairies.......hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

That seems too difficult. Besides, I would rather have my mother ask the hospital workers, "Was he wearing clean underwear?", as opposed to, "Was he carrying his little magic fairy?"

Monday, July 20, 2009

Hokey-Pokey in church?!?!

The minister at the church we have been attending recently thought it would be a good idea to have everyone in the congregation stand and do the Hokey-Pokey! Seems he felt it would be the perfect wake up during a Sunday morning service.
I must say, I found it rather amusing to watch all these staunch old Presbyterians dancing around with their hands up in the air. It actually reminded me of some regular sights from my childhood spent attending various Pentecostal churches.
The exercise did go along with the sermon, which was about the need for more enthusiasm in worship without feeling ashamed or embarrassed. After all, Presbyterians are more known for sitting on their hands during worship, than for their dancing.
This also got me thinking, why not more enthusiasm everywhere? Yes, it does liven up worship. But why confine it to Sunday mornings? Maybe it would do good other places as well. How about a little from your doctor during a colonoscopy? "We are gonna shove this long tube up your butt, and it's gonna be GREAT!!" Or, maybe at that hotbed for enthusiastic customer service, the DMV? "We are gonna take as many pictures as you want, and then I promise to put the WORST one on your license. It'll be HILARIOUS!!!!" Maybe at the express lane checkout? "You have 13 items in the 12 or less lane. How bad do you want that number 13?!?! Come on, do a little dance for it! Otherwise, it's the self checkout for you. Now, come on, DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!" Maybe even the Hokey-Pokey would apply in some situations. You get busted for DUI or something, and as your being locked-up in the cell, the arresting officer says, "Put your left foot in. Now take your left foot out. Now put your left foot in and shake it all about........." I guess that would actually be the Hokey-Pokey-POKEY!
Regardless, people spend too much of their life going around like expressionless robots bent on completing boring tasks without any hope of having fun. In other words, don't treat everything else like you do your regular JOB!

Friday, July 17, 2009


A friend recently had a new baby, well actually his wife had the baby-he just contributed in a small way and earned a new tax deduction for his efforts. Anyway, after seeing such deduction I have judge it to be quite cute. Now, most women will tell you there is no such thing as an ugly baby, but women lie. Not on purpose mind you. I don't say that to be derogatory to women, but they are unable to see the ugliness due to their motherly hormones and innate love of babies.
Having worked in a Pediatric clinic twice in my life, trust me, there are some ugly babies. Ugly! It's not their fault. They may turn out, with a lot of luck-work-money-surgery-etc, to be beautiful people. They just so happen to enter this world making it hard to determine which end to put the diapers on.
You know, or should know, if you have one of these. People are always saying stuff like, "They're a special little thing", or "They look just like their daddy/mommy"-who happens to be a little short changed in that department, or maybe "Aww, how precious! I wish my eyebrows were that thick", or even, "Everybody should be so lucky as to have an extra ________" (extra parts unlike extra credit are not a good thing). These don't always indicate ugliness, but look at the person's facial expressions when they say such things. Do they have a slight wince? Do they look somewhat fearful? Maybe they are plastered with that fake smile that the restaurant hostess has. Maybe they are fugly themselves, thereby making them a poor judge.
Regardless, some babies are just ugly. If you got one, maybe God decided you needed some humility in your life. All you can do is love your little gremlin and pray. And DO NOT get cute and give it a name like Summer, Lovely, Eve, Aphrodite, or Adam, Adonis, David....or some other name that implies Beauty. You shouldn't be mean and give it a name that reflects it's future as a layaway department attendant, either. You know the one's I'm talking snicker everytime you hear them. Besides, then they may grow up to be a really hot person with a name like Matilda....or Madusa.....or Beelzebub......or Butthead.
So, if you have an ugly kid, don't be ashamed, just blame your partner. Preferably when they are not around!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


I used to say that when I want an intelligent conversation, I just talk to myself. Yes, that may seem egotistical, but I just think of it as having a healthy self-image. I feel that most people probably think they are smart, or think they are smarter than they are. Do people really walk around saying, "Hi! I'm an idiot!". They may say to themselves, "Well, that was dumb." But deep down inside, they don't really believe they are stupid.
What better way to judge yourself than to talk to yourself. Of course, you could ask your friends their opinion, but they are your friends after all. They will either like you enough to lie to you, or are your friends because you're smarter than them, or are your friends because they are smarter than you and can easily manipulate you and will therefore falsely build up your confidence in order to get you to do their bidding later. Or maybe they will be brutally honest with you because they are your friend, or because they are the type of person who likes to put other people down, in which case begs the questions, "Why are you friends with that person?" Let's face it, they are in the same boat and secretly think they are the smartest person.
They used to say that the definition of crazy was not talking to one's self, but answering one's self. That was probably started by a crazy person. I am sure they were probably talking to themselves when they came up with that.
I say the real deciding factor is what you address yourself by when talking to yourself. Do you call yourself by name...all third person style which is silly,...or do you say "self" if someone else was listening,...or maybe you're one of those oddballs who use "I" or "me". I say you shouldn't use any address, because you know who you are talking to.
So, is it healthy to talk to yourself? I say YES........unless you're an imbecile.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009


Money is good. Money is bad. Money is the root of all evil. Money is just paper with ink on it, it has no value until you spend it. Money, money, money....blah,blah,blah.
We have heard them all. Which one is it? All of them at some point. Maybe money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure makes it easier to buy things that make you happy. Unless you had confederate money after the Civil War, then you were just screwed!
Our economy is currently "in the toilet". Does that mean our money is Sh*t? Some countries think so. There has been talk of other countries no longer using the dollar for international trade, but instead switching to the Euro. That sounds good until they start another World War over there, then they'll be screaming, "Give us back your Sh*t paper!".
Why do we even use paper money? Think of all the dollars it cost us to make and print those dollars. I think we should use leaves. They are green and they DO grow on trees. Their value would be determined by their size. Big leaf, big money. Little leaf, little money. It might stop people from cutting down all the trees, and would most likely get people to plant more. Plus, you wouldn't have to worry about raking your yard in the Fall. In fact, your neighbors would probably be happy to do it for you. That is assuming you had any leaves left come Fall. Every winter we could just pretend we were in a recession, which would keep inflation in check.
They used to call money...bucks. That goes back to when the fur traders used buckskins to pay for things. Good thing we no longer do that. Most people would have no idea how to skin a deer. People would just be dragging around a bunch of dead animals all the time. You go into the store and the cashier would say, "Cash or credit", and you'd say,"Neither. I'm using the 12 pointer in the back of the truck!". Or you're driving along with the wife and kids and a dear runs out in front of the car and you scream, "Hold on kids! Olive Garden here we come!", as you mash the accelerator.

Monday, July 13, 2009


Ever wonder why all the great comedians have therapy issues? They either talk about being in therapy, have therapy jokes, mention something their therapist said, or just exhibit a fondness for couches. Maybe they are more messed up than most people. Maybe they just want someone to try their jokes out on.
Why is it people go to therapist anyway? Do we really feel like we are somehow better by telling complete strangers our problems? It's like we take our baggage to them and say,"Would you mind carrying this for me?My arms are tired." What drives people to be a therapist? I am sure it is some misguided desire to help people, or maybe they wrongly think they can make a difference in peoples lives. Other then that, and undergoing a boatload of boring college lectures that one day produces a little piece of paper for their wall, what really qualifies someone to be a good therapist? Extreme patience when presented with the monotonous? The ability to undergo hours of incessant whining? A natural tendency to tell other people what is wrong with their lives, without offering any real solutions to fix them? hmm.....I know several people who fit that bill......Maybe it's the love of hearing how messed up other people are as a way of feeling good about one's self.
I personally think a good therapist should have big ears. Mainly for two reasons: 1) a la big bad wolf..."The better to hear you with my dear", and 2)It would give you something amusing to stare at while talking to them.
Having worked in a Psych office, and knowing several therapists, I found out a little secret. Most therapists have their OWN therapist. What's with that?!?! Are they as screwed up as everybody else? If so, are they really qualified to be hearing our problems? Maybe they are screwed up FROM hearing our problems. Maybe we are just contributing to their problem by unloading ours? Maybe it's really our fault they are so screwed up....... Man, they should really see somebody!
Think about this....We take our baggage to them....They take our baggage to their therapist.....who takes it to their therapist...on and on and on....until it gets to a therapist who maybe doesn't have their own, so they take it out on their staff or spouse...who we cut off in traffic or in-line at the grocery store...who then gives it right back to us! It's a never ending cycle. The baggage just won't go away!
This all reminds me that there is an appointment I need to make.

Thursday, July 9, 2009


Sleep is a confusing thing. Sometimes it's while driving....or sitting in the Jury box....or in class (especially when you're the teacher). Sometimes it's on a rainy day.....or when you haven't had any in awhile......or during surgery.
Sometimes the determination of good or bad depends on your perspective. Are you the sleeper? Maybe you are trying to wake the sleeper? Maybe you just wish the baby WOULD sleep. If you're the baby, sleeping is the last thing you want to do, until it happens, then waking is the last thing you want to do. Of course, if you're the baby, you probably aren't reading this.
Zzz.............sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, sleep. Just think about all the stuff that goes along with sleep.......the dreams.......the nightmares......the snoring.........the funny clothes..........the unusual places. Why do we need beds? Some people sleep on couches......some on floors....some in boxes. I slept standing up in boot camp.
I think that sleeping gets a bad rap sometimes. If a person was promiscuous, people would say "they are sleeping around". Like that's the bad thing they were doing. We all sleep around when we go on vacation. They should say they are "sexing around". At least then sleep wouldn't be stigmatized.
One more thought, the funny clothes. I guess not everybody wears Feety-pajamas, but why do we insist on dressing differently for sleep. You might think that it's to be comfortable, but that's not really the case. If you are tired enough, you will sleep on broken glass with a blanket made of porcupine quills wearing sandpaper pajamas. Trust me, I've tried it.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


Sure, we all start out as kids, but does that make them any less hilarious? The things they say and do could fill a blog, a book, a library, or even a show with Bill Cosby as host. Sometimes, I think God gives us kids to make us laugh or to make our days a little brighter. Okay, maybe not all kids have that effect on people, but the GOOD ones do. Okay, maybe even the good ones don't have that effect on ALL people, but some people suck.
But think about it, God created us, and he could just put us here as adults, while completely skipping the whole baby stage. That just proves that God has a sense of humor. Or, maybe he just wants to keep us humble. We basically start life just like we leave it.....confused.....messing ourselves.....relying on other people to feed, change, and take care of us.....curled up in the fetal position. That's how we are humbled throughout life. Baby....self explainatory, adult...taking care of babies and old people, and elderly.....see above discriptions. Maybe that's also why babies and grandparents get along so well, they have so much in common.
I am sure it's some mixture of the two.....humor & humility. Plus, birthing an adult would be quite the ordeal. Besides, would we really want to see an adult walking around in a blue or pink onesy? Not to mention the laws that would be broken by breastfeeding.
Given all this thought, the idea of a "Benjamin Button" type event doesn't seem all that interesting. In fact, it's somewhat common place, if you think about it. We come here just like we go......pooping our pants....being feed by others.....being clothed by others....needing help to walk....on and on. So, maybe it's really elderly people that I find hilarious afterall.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Happy belated 4th of July!

Well, the summer has officially started and ended all on the same weekend. The 4th of July is the craziest holiday. Every year I think about how the limey brits are missing out on the celebration. I, mean, they have a 4th of July in their calendar, but to them it's more of a day of mourning. I don't know that forsure, but I figure it should be. Otherwise, it's just a Saturday.
I found my new favorite activity to do on the 4th. Ride in the parade. You get to see everybody. But more importantly, it feels like everyone is there to see YOU! Plus, the best part, you get to beem all the little kids with cheap candy. It's kind of like a game at the fair, where you throw something at a moving target and try and knock it over. Only this time, you're the one moving and the only prize you win is the personal satisfaction of knowing YOU sent little Johnnie home with a gumball size welt on the side of his head. "Man, that was a great shot!" Even better, the kids want you to hit them. They practically run right into the line of fire, screaming, "Me!Me!Me!ThrowsomecandyatME!" And you do, and then their parents THANK YOU! Even as they are picking Johnnie up off the ground, "Tell the nice man with the good arm Thank You for lodging that Tootsie in your ear, Johnnie".

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Grape....that's it

Yep. I would be grape. Cause it's the best. Besides, nobody seriously thinks of putting Apricot jelly on their warm breakfast biscuit. Speaking of Jellies. I wonder what a peanut butter and Jelly-fish sandwich would taste like. Would you even put peanut butter on with it? Maybe it would go better with mayonaise or something. Why is it even called a fish? It doesn't have scales, cartilage spine, or fins. Maybe it should be called a Jelly-blob.....or Jelly-bubble......or a Jelly-thingy-that-stings-the-crap-out-of-ya.
Think about how surprised your friend would be when they ate one of your PB&JF sandwiches. Talk about a a sandwich that bites you back. "Mmmm, this sandwich is good, it tastes like.....ouch...what the heck was that.....hey, I can't feel my lips." The traditional cure for a Jelly-fish sting might be a hard sell to your friend in this instance. "Seriously! This is gonna work! Now open your mouth!"

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Number Two............of the blog, not the bathroom action.

I almost named this post, "Why I'm afraid of Sea Monkey's"........but decided since I am not quite sure what a Sea Monkey really is, that might be too difficult.
I mean, come on, Sea Monkeys? Or is it, Sea Monkeies? Has anyone really ever seen one? And how can they eat bananas underwater? Maybe that's what the barrel is for. They go in there to eat their bananas where it's dry. Oh what, that's not the same kind, is it?
I used to have the barrel kind when I was a kid. There was hours of fun, let me tell you. Open the barrel, pull out the monkeys, hook'em together, put'em back in the barrel. Genius! And what was with them all linking arms? Are they a chorus line? Maybe they wanted to play Red-Rover?
Sorry, I sometimes get distracted. Oh yeah, number two. This is my second time blogging. uuhhhhhh, well..........that's it. Just wanted to let you know I'm 2 for 2. Maybe I'll try for 3. Sure, come back tomorrow for number tres....also known as "If I were Jelly".


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