The Latex Line

I am 28 and my friends have started producing premeditated offspring. But, it’s not right. I am too young to have friends that are propagating responsibly.

Irresponsibly yes, but not responsibly.

I am not entirely sure where that line is, the line that designates responsible propagating may commence. When I find it, you will know, because I will be running the other way at about 80 mph.

What The Hell Were They Talking About?

The following is real dialogue of an actual conversation that took place April 18, 2005 at 9pm. Please read carefully, and follow the directions below.

Alex: It’s an island.
Mika: That doesn’t mean there aren’t trees.
Alex: But, it is an island.
Mika: Still, it has trees.
Alex: But. But, it’s an island.
Mika: Alex! There are still trees.
Alex: But Mika, you don’t understand. It’s an island.

Repeat a ridiculous number of times.

Please submit theories on what led to this conversation and what it is about, strictly for purposes of amusement. Outlandish and serious entries will be entertained.

Once I receive two entries, I will tell you in a future blog piece what the conversation was about.

The winner will receive a prize. The prize is my laughter (well known as a sophisticated destructive-resonance weapon).

Thanks for playing. (And please play responsibly.)

Weekend Tasks

I am behind in everything, except staring at the wall, which seemed strangely mesmerizing this weekend.

Spontaneous Baby Generating,At The Cost of Tuna Fish

I went to a social engagement recently with a lot of people from a circle I had lost touch with a while back. I mingled person to person catching up with everyone.

When I got to Kevin, who had recently been married when I saw him last, I asked the natural question. "So, when you having kids?"

He looked at me a little dumbfounded. I followed his look across the table to his wife, bursting pregnant. He turned back to me and said, "Next week."

Cool: the funny moments that appear in life.

So I had just finished telling that story to friends I ran into at the supermarket when I returned to where I thought I placed my cart, maybe five minutes before. I looked up and down the aisle. No cart. I look down the previous aisle. No cart. Doubting myself, I check over two aisles, no cart. So aisle by aisle I go looking for my cart, no doubt looking very bizarre to my friends, as they see me occasionally between aisles.

Clear across the store, in a basket containing a few remaining telling items, is a clerk unshopping my basket for me. (I like unshopping... but for those of you who won't appreciate it, I give you, "putting my items away.")

"Excuse me, excuse me, miss? I think you are unloading my basket." (That or someone else was in the store picking up 36 packs of Extra Polar Ice Gum, Calistoga Carbonated Water and Chai Latte drink mix.) She honestly seemed more annoyed than I was. The audacity I had to leave my cart unattended!

I look in my empty, but for three items basket, trying to remember what I had taken twenty minutes to fill it with originally, after a scatterbrained day. Since shopping at 5:30 in the evening is so much fun, I said screw it, picked up some things (notably not remembering tuna fish I had gone in for) and went home.

Stupid: Personal unShoppers