Arrrr....You Kidding Me?

Ok. The natives are restless, and I'm out of excuses. The largest complaint (as measured in square feet) I get about this site is lack of regular updates. So I'm going to try this: In addition to any extra posts I want to add, every Sunday or Monday, I intend to provide you, Dear Readers, with an update the likes of which the world has never seen. I intend to make one more drastic change in the future, namely moving to another site, but I have to add stuff and fiddle with the HTML before I can do that. For now, it's just the weekly update. So, here it goes: My roommate thinks he's a pirate. No, not a software or music pirate, but the kind that plunder on the high seas, sing about rum and dead men's chests, and wear far too much eye makeup. I'm not quite sure whether it's a delusion or an aspiration, but either way, there's reason to show concern. I'm not making this stuff up. He goes around singin pirate sings, and enjoys everything pirate-related, except (hopefully) the whole keelhauling bit. (What is keelhauling, anyway? It's doubtless unpleasant, much like drawing and quartering, thrawing, or garroting, but how does one keelhaul, exactly?) Despite our best efforts to convince him otherwise, he has maintained this position. College students. Can't with 'em, and.... ....that's all I've got. So it was his birthday two days ago, and a mutual friend and I went to Walmart to find him a gift or two. We asked the guy at the front of the store where the pirate section was. Honestly. I kept a straight face, while he struggled to understand what we asking for. Walking away, towards the toy section, I laughed about this. Then I realized that we were making the life of a hardworking, honest American more difficult with our childish joke. Then I laughed again. (I'm going to hell, aren't I?) To make a long story short, we got him a pirate balloon, a plastic pirate sword, a copy of "Muppet Treasure Island," an ice cream cake, a flask, a cup with the words "Drink. Pee. Repeat." on it (that one wasn't my idea, and due to a misreading, we discovered the concept is worsened when you take out the first period from that line), a Nerf-like missile launcher, and an axe, with a sharpener, and we wrapped them in My Little Pony wrapping paper. Let me clarify. The first two weapons are meant as toys, and are relatively harmless, but this was a real camping axe, about a foot and a half long. In case you were wondering, we got him the pirate stuff because of the whole pirate thing, the flask and cup because he's into bartending, and the axe because he like camping. Looking at his presents, you'd think that he was a drunk outdoorsman-pirate who likes ice cream, balloons, and My Little Pony. Man, is he messed up. In any case, I'm not sure what I was thinking. I actually bought my roommate who thinks he's a pirate a real axe, with real and present lodging-in-my-head potential. If this is my last post, please let it be known that I leave my life savings to the Time Cube guy, my stereo to the Flat Earth Society (I hear they throw wicked parties!), and my toenail collection to science. Let it be known, or I'll keelhaul ya. Just as soon as I figure out how.

Truth Be Told

Ok, so first of all, at least three people asked me whether the implication in the last post was true. Let me get this straight: You guys think that having run over a defenseless animal, I would not only not express deep and sincere remorse, but that I would actually ridicule the poor beast as well as its legal guardian?

Well, yeah. I guess I would. Good call. But in this case, I was making stuff up. I should clarify. Since funny stories are almost always funnier when true, I generally make it quite clear when I am telling a true story. For instance, I might say "I am not making this up," or "This is a true story," or "Leave $1 million in unmarked bills underneath the water fountain by 5 PM, or little Fifi is going back into the well." In all of those cases, I'm serious, ok? In all other cases, assume I'm joking, or assume it might be true - whichever makes me look better. Bear this in mind while perusing these here postings, and you will not be the lost souls you so clearly seem to be, seeing as how you're busy reading this. Remember these rules, because, after all, little Fifi is depending on you.

Driving, Part Deux

The way I figure, if one is supposed to drive "defensively," and the best defense is a good offense, I acted appropriately.

Unfortunately, the cat's owner did not agree with me.

Hawaii

I have a birthmark on my arm that kind of looks like Hawaii (if you squint a bit). Yeah, I know people have interesting talents - being able to wiggle their ears, oppress the destitute masses of an undeveloped country, or conjugate Latin verbs (stuck up overachievers in the corner - are you listening?), for instance. But this is Hawaii! We're talking about the 50th state on my arm, for Pete's sake!

Wait. Who's this Pete character, and why are people always worried about his sake? Why don't you worry about my sake every once in a while, for a change? I bet you Pete isn't out there worrying about your sake, while I....Ok, so I don't worry about your sake much either. But hey, at least I'm better looking. And I have that birthmark. I bet you Pete can't top that.

Butting In

I've been on vacation, and therefore too sluggish to write. Or slug-like, at least.

But I did get a chance to check out that bastion of excellent pop-media magazines, TIME. (By the way, did you notice that TIME magazine's site is actually www.time.com? Wouldn't you think that such an impressive domain name would go to some person or institution who dealt with - I don't know - time? Just my opinion. Then again, it is a magazine whose title is in ALL CAPS, as you can see on its cover as well as its website. That must count for something.)

So, anyway...where was I? Ah, yes, the article in TIME. This article was discussing happiness. I found it rather interesting, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I gave it 4 stars. Or, rather, I was going to do so, until I came across the following (completely unaltered) quote:

Asking people how happy they are, Kahneman contends, "is very much like asking them about the colonoscopy after it's over. There's a lot that escapes them."

Did you catch that? I promise I'm not making this up. Ok, well maybe a bit of context would help you, but I changed nothing in this quote. In case you missed it, let's look at it again:

Asking people how happy they are, Kahneman contends, "is very much like asking them about the colonoscopy after it's over. There's a lot that escapes them."

I'm not sure what to say. Understand that this guy Daniel Kahneman is, according to the article, a Nobel-Prize-winning psychologist from Princeton University. Did he really just compare happiness to a colonoscopy? Did he honestly juxtapose a general feeling of elation and joy with one of the most uncomfortable medical procedure performed in a regular checkup? If this isn't one of the signs of the apocalypse, I don't know what is. Ok, maybe a heavenly rain of fire and brimstone upon the wicked. But in terms of pre-brimstone signs, I'd say that happiness-colonoscopy comparisons are right up there.

And furthermore, the double entendre there is just sick. (Go back and read it again. You'll get it. Then you'll wrinkle your nose in disgust.) I can't touch that one. Not with a ten-foot pole, not with anything. I mean, I'm beside myself. Heck, I'm behind myself. You'd have to be some sort of uncaring bum to use people who need colonoscopies as the the butt of your jokes. Making fun of poor souls such as those is crueler than pulling an old dog's tail. Sick, sick, sick.

Bagels

Have you ever considered bagel nomenclature? Well, have you? I have. Multiple times, in fact. And, in the process (after 33 or so orange popsicles), I came to some fascinating observations. First of all, other than your standard or "plain" bagel, you usually have your four or so standard types:

1) The onion bagel, which has onions on it. 2) The poppyseed bagel, which has poppyseeds on it. 3) The sesame seed bagel, which has sesame seeds on it. 4) The "everything" bagel, which has just onions, poppyseeds, and sesame seeds on it.

Don't you think that last one should have....well, everything on it? I mean, not just seeds and onions, but also ground beef, a pack of angry bees, and the Queen of England? In fact, as my brother pointed out, if there were a correctly named everything bagel, there could only be one, since it would have everything in it. And now for the philosophically-oriented part: Our universe is big. Really, startlingly, mind-bogglingly big. But many scientists don't believe it is infinitely large. And as such, the universe has a shape, or topology, as the mathemeticians and physicists would have it. So what shape is the universe, you ask? Well, one popular theory has it shaped like a single torus, which is shaped like a tire, or a donut...or a bagel. Yes, my friends. The universe we live in may very well be one big "everything bagel." Oh, boy. I should've proabably stopped at my 32nd popsicle.

Puppies, Anyone?

Recently, I was discussing gifts with my parents. Often, when someone comes to our house for the weekend, they'll bring wine, or flowers, or maybe some sort of chocolates or pastries. But I think that people limit their imaginations too much. How about bringing a puppy? Think about it for a minute. If you were to receive a puppy as a gift from a guest, what would you do? You couldn't refuse it, as that would be rude. Nor could you simply give it away. I mean, the guest would notice the next time you visited if you lacked the dog. And throwing the dog out is simply out of the question. Yeah, so invite me over sometime. You never know!

Tell Your Friends

Update: Yes, I know the link is broken. Sorry. Maybe I'll upload an old copy to Google Docs.

Oh, right. I neglected to post this a few weeks ago, when I finished it, but here's a story I wrote. You may find it funny. You may find it enjoyable. You may find it tasty. If you are in this last category, please stay away. You scare me.

Tell Your Friends Tell me what you think. (Oh, and yes, I know that the beginning was mostly ripped from Leading the Blind. But I'm allowed to plagiarize from myself, so you can take your protests and...do something sufficiently nasty with them, probably involving acts illegal in at least 32 of the 50 United States.)

Comment Cards Rock

Hello all. I haven't posted lately because I've been busy/ignoring you/trying to take over the world, or at least my roommate's half of the room. So there.

But I have been doing some other literary work: You guessed it - I've been filling out comment cards at the local kosher dining hall (it's called 104 West!¹) in order to make this a better and more amusing world, for me at least. I now present to you a few of my more beloved comments:

Can you please use Duncan Hines' brownie mix for making your brownies? I may renounce Judaism if you do not.

Please stop putting nuts in your cookies! I have a severe fear of nuts and toddlers.

I'm lonely. Can 104 West! (formerly Kosher Dining Hall) provide me with a friend? Can I have a (preferrably magical) pony?

Can you please provide decaf tea OR give me control of an underappreciated third-world country? (Not one of the landlocked ones, please.)

Ok, that's it. I'm out like the soap. ____________

¹Yes, the exclamation mark is part of the name, and presumably, one mentioning the name of this institution must properly inflect the words to show excitement or exclamation. It can cause confusion when depression and hunger coincide. For example: PERSON 1: Hey Bob! How's it going? BOB: Hello, Person 1. It's going poorly. My cat just got run over my the tow truck that was towing away my uninsured car that sponatneously crashed into a ttree while I was in bed, having cried myself to sleep upon being dumped by my girlfriend. PERSON 1: Oh, bummer. BOB: Yeah. I'm going to kill myself now. First, maybe I'll grab a bite to eat at 104 West! PERSON 1: That's the spirit!

Illiterate?

You know, I've found that my tendency to mix up the word NARCOLEPSY with the word NECROPHILIA has led to some awkward situations. Rather awkward.