little nuggets of goodness



Usually deli meats last longer than a week, but not my latest batch (salami, ham, and turkey - a powerhouse combo for sandwiches). The salami I had was fine (of course it's a process, not a meat) and lasted for a few weeks more. The ham and turkey had a layer of slime on them. Not a heavy layer that means they should be thrown away, but a thin layer that says CAUTION.

So I exercised caution and put them in the freezer, hoping that one day science will find a cure for them.



If I ever declared a war on life, Change would not be first on my list of allies. Stomach Pain and Intensive Research, however, would be high on the list.



I opened a new deodorant this morning, and it challenged me to "Take the Risk". Yeah. I just decided what day it was two minutes ago, I had A very real dream about some giant man-eating snake. AND it's still dark outside. I need to avoid as many risks as possible.

Instead of challenging me like some child on a playground, how about giving me some good advice? Like, "Be safe driving this morning, the roads are slick." or "Diversifying your investment portfolio lessens potential risk. " or maybe just a "Don't forget to wipe the toothpaste off your mouth before you go to work." There's a piece of advice that I can apparently use. [shakes head]



Be careful what you wish for, you just may get it.

What people really mean to say is, Be careful what you wish for, you just may get some perverted horrible thing that is vaguely related to what you wanted. An example:

You wish for a million dollars. You receive a million dollars in life insurance when a loved one's life is tragically taken. So here's when all the cliche dispensing asses would jump in with Be careful what you wish for. . .

Shut up! The person didn't wish for anything bad, they wished for something good. Think before you start throwing out that crap. I'm tired of hearing it.



Holy shit, anyone heard of cancer? How about working on that one? Sixty year old can't get it up? That's what should be happening. Count your blessings until now most sixty years old were called dead people.

Enough with flacidity. Let's knock out cancer first. And then lets knock out a few dozen other diseases before we head back to erectile dysfunction.

And what's up with the commercials? Why not just say, Can't get it up? Does your wife have one more reason to be disappointed with you? Do you have no other measure of self-worth than your ability to have sexual intercourse with your wife for 3 minutes?

Whatever happened to buying sport cars to make up for sexual inability?

I may have lost focus so let's review: 1. Knock out cancer. 2. Knock out dozens more diseases. 3. Limp dick.



If I ever put together a mission or expedition, and have to choose office workers to fill the party, I'm not picking anyone who, year round, has a sweater hanging on their chair. I'm not sure I could count on them when the polar bears / giant squid (s) / pigmy warriors attack.

I would, however, try to find the office where people come to work with spear guns and broad swords. I think they could be trusted in a tight spot.



I heard that the military now has a ray-gun. I'm not sure what it does or how it works. I just know that I like it. Ray-gun, it's about time. Now lets get working on these items:



If you listen to enough ill-informed assholes, you'll hear someone say, 'Everyone is only a few missed paychecks away from being homeless'. Personally I feel I'm at least three months of missed paychecks away from drinking rubbing alcohol to chase away the pain. But I do feel a sort of connection to refugees.



There's some work going on in the house - primarily the kitchen (which is no longer a kitchen, more like a giant dirty closet with a broken stove in it). The "kitchen sink" is now the laundry room utility sink. The stove is now the hotplate next to the television, and the refrigerator is a hole in the ground that I keep vegetables and smoked meat in.

It's not an ideal situation, granted, but we're pressing ahead. By 'we', I mean 'me'. My wife keeps asking if it would be easier to hire someone. If it might save some time to purchase floor stain instead of making it from walnut shells and cranberries (I am not kidding). Sure, in the short term not learning how to make floor wax may save us some time, but where would the long term satisfaction come from?



I'm always looking for ways to a save a buck. Retirement planners advise "trimming the fat" in order to increase savings. Examples they commonly provide: don't go out to lunch, skip the store coffee in favor of some home brew, maybe even turn the thermostat down a notch or two. Thanks for that advice.

I cut my own hair and buy dried bags of beans because I consider canned beans frivolous. There's no more fat left to cut. How do I trim the bone and still live.

How about some cost-analysis breakdowns for candle-light vs. electric-light? Is it cheaper to buy wax in bulk and make my own candles? How long will it take to amortize the cost of a loom and spinning wheel? I don't know how to make my own cloth, but I'll buy a few sheep, if the process will net me a few extra dollars.



Now that football season is over, I've taken to watching spelling bees and equestrian events. I'll watch anything where a winner is declared, just so I can slam back a few more beers and not think myself an alcoholic.



I pulled into the parking lot at work. In the distance, on a bus, was an advertisement that read "Lesbian Bartending". Now that's a bar I could come to like.

No, wait. It was just my sleepy eyes.

It actually said, "Learn Bartending". No thanks then. I like to keep my evenings free.



The last time it snowed heavily, the plow truck dumped a big pile of salt at the end of the road. Not so handy for melting large areas of ice, but helpful for the modern hunter/gatherer. A dozen people from the neighborhood were out with buckets scooping up the salt.

Like primitive man, we were gathering base resources. It would have been foolish to wait until bison and antelope appeared to lick away all of our precious salt.



I received an email from the future. It looks like in 2038 I'll win an IPod Nano. Fantastic news.



It's cold outside and being as it is very early in the cold season, I haven't had the opportunity to assemble and organize my winter wear. Digging through the closet, I only found two gloves, one black and the other brown. No problem. I'm more concerned about my warmth than my appearance.

But, you guessed it, both gloves are for the left hand. Decisions fantastic! - just what I'm good with. I picked the thicker brown glove and left the house. I could use the gloved hand to carry my lunch on my walk to work, leaving the other hand in my pocket.

Wearing one thick glove I couldn't help but think of Spock in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn. Specifically, when Spock is standing before that beaming alter of energy wearing his thick gloves, attempting to put the mains back on line. Spock indeed puts the mains back on line, allowing the Enterprise to escape before the Genesis device detonates, but in the process loses his life. In dying he lived by the axiom, The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.



Maybe I'm a prude or a germaphobe, but...

What's up with people that wait for a urinal in an office bathroom? As the person using it steps away and the urinal flushes, the waiting person steps up to use it. What? Just go into a stall. Why would you want flush water splashing on you? AND I've never seen a person waiting for a urinal that isn't pulling down their zipper as they step up, so more than your shirt is getting splashed upon. [shudder]

And remember, this isn't a bar or some house party at 2 in the morning; even some sporting event where the urinals are full along with the stalls. Lining up at those places is somewhat understandable. But in an office? That's not right.



I don't work in the comedic industry, but I often find that my greatest contributions at my place of employment is being funny.

I'm not sure what to make of that.

Though, I'm guessing I shouldn't work in the comedic industry. It would be indescribably depressing if I quit my current job and found myself onstage telling some amusing stories only to get no laughs - instead getting lots of comments about how neatly typed my joke sheets were, or how efficiently I organized my stage area.

I suppose instead, that I will keep cranking out these witty observations.



On my deodorant -- the actual white deodorant part -- is printed Take the Risk.

What risk am I taking?

Its 7:15 in the morning. Life is dangerous enough, I need no additional harassment from my deodorant.

Tough Choices (a fun game for some ages)

It's cold (brr)

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