Quick Meals for the Working Adult

Too tired to cook your Kraft Easy Mac after work? Bust open a bag of Cheetos and there you have it: dinner for the whole family.

Autobiographical? So? Cheetos are good.

Peace Out!

Students who stop going to school are called dropouts. You might have heard of them while you were growing up. You might have known one yourself. Why, you could be one.

In the real world, people who stop going to their jobs are called quitters, not dropouts, so let's not dance around the facts, all right? I'm a dropout.

Do You See What I See?

Do you see my neighbor standing in the frame of the main door to the building on a cold, cold night wearing grey sweatpant cutoff shorts while the flashing red and white lights of the three firetrucks dance upon his pale face? Well, I don't know what you're looking at, then.

You can see other things I see.

Drizzle, Drizzle, Drizzle

It drizzled all the time I was running around in white go-go boots, in and out of my car, in and out of buildings, in and out of sloppy brown puddles.

I stood out this morning. I stood out at the Law Library's symposium: Law, Information and Freedom of Expression. Maybe it was the shoes. Maybe it was the haircut. Who cares. Law, Information, and Freedom of Expression (yes, I perfer the final comma) is yes, yes, and yes. Mark these words: I know what to do now...I think. Yes, I think. I feel. I am. I should.

I waited and waited. The downtown intersection gave preference to cars. My face was damp, my bag cumbersome, but eventually I met him. Details next week.

CONGRATULATIONS RED SOX!!!!

Next: Chicago Cubs.

Stevie Wonder is God

But don't take my word for it. Take the word of a college undergrad who needed a secondary activity while in a restroom stall. Some preexisting graffiti to serve as her premises, she attempted some deductive reasoning:

Stevie Wonder is awesome.
God is awesome.
Therefore, Stevie Wonder is God.

The bathroom brainiac even goes so far as to boast that she'd learned this in her logic class. The primitiveness of bathroom tagging disturbs me, yet I am troubled by something greater: that I myself never learned to construct a deductive fallacy by affirming the consequent.

A good lesson to gain is to save your smarts for the classroom--it is only there that your professor can offer feedback.

Death Be Gone!

Disclaimer: The following story does not advocate the use of narcotic substances. If you are young and impressionable, you have no business reading this blog. Besides, this entry is mostly about death, and, really, what do you know about death?

I entertained Death this weekend, but Death was not a gracious guest. Death was unfriendly, hung around the bar most of the time, ate all the good olives, and was too high and mighty to socialize with the other guests. I said, "Look, buddy, if you're going to be so anti-social, why did you come?" Acerbically, Death responded, "Hey now! I'm making an effort by coming to your stupid party, but everyone only wants to embrace Life, as if Life had anything to offer!" Touched by Death, I invited Death to smoke cigarettes in the yard with me while everyone inside raved about their drug-free lives and how high on Life they were. From the kitchen window, Life looked on me with disappointment, and I was sad.

You Type Catsup, I Type Ketchup...

Catsup! Ketchup! Let's call the whole thing off!

Since our peanut butter survey, I have been obsessing about a ketchup survey. Please answer using the comments feature and reply anonymously if you must:

Would you eat dehydrated ketchup sheets, a.k.a. ketchup roll ups?

Does anyone make ketchup besides Heinz? Does that bother you?

Thank you for partaking in our ketchup survey. Mustard users need not reply, you useless, useless people.

Happy Days

It's Friday, so Happy Friday, I guess. My co-workers can wish each other Happy Friday all they want, but I find it rather redundant. It's Friday, of course it's happy. We are a culture that jumps at the chance to shirk responsibility, and what better day than Friday to do that? For a genuine greeting, consider Happy Birthday--usually not redundant, since somewhere in your 20s you stop being so happy about your birthdays. No heaps of presents with your name on them. No superheroes appear at your birthday parties. I tried to get one to come to my 24th birthday party (bar undisclosed), but he was turned away at the door, and I was called a pervert. Everyone's so critical.

Rambling, but You Might Learn Something From It

Hi there, friend. I set my alarm for 3:21a.m. the other morning. It was arbitrary, the "21" part, but not the "3" part. I had a few pages to write for a class. Catching up on sleep takes a few days. I hallucinate sometimes. I attribute it to the lack of sleep. Lack of cigarettes. I don't really smoke. I just ramble a lot. It's called brain emptying. I am hopeful because my brain really isn't empty. I am cursed because I want my brain to empty. Figuratively speaking. Duh. Duh is all that inhabits my brain. Brain waves? More like rolls of fat stuffed in my head. I am a fat head. What are you?

No Equivocating

I support John Kerry.

Twins Homer Hanky

FOX news just did a four-minute segment on Homer Hanky Ettiquette, i.e. how to hold and wave your Homer Hanky to show home team support at a Twins game. I applaud FOX for taking on this newsworthy topic--never in history has the act of handkerchief fluttering been equated to a battle cry.

Scoring at Dodger Stadium

As a high school freshman I could still get my hands on giveaways for kids 14 and under at Dodger Stadium. After that, I was denied the goods and in my desperation I began to intimidate the community service kids who handed out the goodies. First I'd try the nice approach, walking up to them, presenting them with an empty hand. If that didn't work, I'd switch hands because on the other palm was this note: "Hi! I'm your age, but less fortunate. Can I have two toys?" The outcome: SCORE!!!

GO DODGERS!

(Photo was not taken in Minneapolis.)

Thinking: A Neophyte's Account

I ate my heart out, not because of envy, but because I had a hankering for heart. Now I think I'd made an illogical decision, but I will not apologize, for I am not sorry! Who but a fool with a heart would feel anything so foolish! I shall embrace my new rational self and rationalize henceforth! Feelings? Those are for pumpkins!

Dumb to the Demonstrative

The other night? At school? I came out of my class for water? And there was this girl on her cell phone? She was saying she got her test back? You know, the really hard one? For philosophy? And she got 30 out of 35!

After my ears finished bleeding into the drinking fountain, I walked over and tapped our successful test-taker on the shoulder, politely inquiring, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound or could it be that everyone is deaf, because no one seems to hear how fucking irritating it is when people? make questions? out of every few words? when they're talking?"

Holey Conjecture!

After repeated postings that portray the author as a perturbed pit of cynicism, readers might conclude that the author is indeed hopelessly bitter. These personality judgers will one day sit on a stump of shame-ridden despair when they realize how wrong they were about me and how many feelings, albeit all mine, they'd needlessly hurt. I have no plans to be overtaken by scorn, but I've invested too much in this blog--I will not change course now!