indicator

Aaaahhhhh the PO Box: first refuge of a scoundrel.
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I have a wart on my arm. So I went to the drugstore to get something to get rid of it. Apparently, the cure is to drip acid on it for 12 weeks. Isn't modern medicine wonderful?
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When it gets to the point when there are so many keys on your key chain that you can't remember what any of them are for, is that the day you die?
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My brother's family picked up a dachshund from the local shelter. His last owner dropped dead alone in the apartment with his dogs. They didn't discover his body for four days. Last Sunday during dinner I told my niece: "if I drop dead, don't let the dog eat my eyes".
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Today I invented a new word: undicator, meaning; the opposite of indicator.

plot

I'm convinced that bluetooth is a secret illuminati plot to make everyone on the planet look like a douche.

sound

If a mime falls in the woods, does it make a sound?

Friday

So, tomorrow I have two potential nightmare scenarios, each a culinary and polar opposite:

1. My brother is propossing a "meatless" Thanksgiving. To be specific - vegan shepards pie. Ooo, just what I want, tastless, soul-less beancurd, masquerading as a meat product, mushed together into something that may resemble real food, but will be percieved by my taste buds as some cruel sick joke, or...

2. My brother got his hands on an indoor turkey fryer. And as much as I love fried anything, I've been having nightmares about this thing since he told me he got it. And he even posted on his blog how the kitchen counter is too inconvienient, and he plans on putting it on the rickety forty year old kitchen table next time he uses it.

So, tasteless crap, or an oil fire filled with excruciating fiery death for the entire family. Hmmm. I think I'll choose the fiery death. At least I won't have to go to work on Friday.

- Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

credit

So, it's finally happened. I met that special someone. After all these years. I know what you're going to say: "She's too young for me" or "there's the language thing" or even "she's a Russian stripper" but you just don't understand how she feels about me. She said I was nothing at all like the other middle aged pot bellied losers that she is forced to allow to stick one dollar bills up her cootch every Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday happy hour. And she hates those good looking athletic guys in their late twenties that she screws two at a time every weekend. She's always had a thing for the shy sensitive intelligent type. Like me! She even has a pet name for me: "bolshoi idiot". She told me it's Russian for "handsome intelligent man with incredibly large penis". She likes to wisper it in my ear as I blow through the month's rent for a lap dance. So anyway, I'm walking on air. Tomorrow, right after I throw me elderly parents into the streets, we're going shopping for her new car. I hope my credit's good!

heart

I have a confession. I wouldn't describe myself as psychic, but I do occasionally feel what others around me are feeling. More of an empath kind of thing really. Today, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if millions of voices cried out all at once in unspeakable anguish and torment and then suddenly, were silenced. It was the collective simultaneous screams of all the Mets and Boston Red Sox fans at the final out of the World Series. Oh, how it warmed my black heart. GO YANKEES!!!

loss

Today at work they had a blood drive. They wouldn't take mine. They said it caused crankiness and premature hair loss.