Dear god. Someone murdered this plastic packet.
at MTA Subway - 18th Ave (D) – View on Path.
I’ve written before about how I think I am ready for a career change. Unfortunately, my brief foray as a pirate did not go well. So, now I am contemplating other possible jobs suited for my very specific skill set.
One of the things that I believe I do well, but not enough of in my present career, is think. However, I find that in between current job tasks, I tend to think a lot. Like how I did a rather crappy job on the previous task and how I am going to get out of doing the upcoming task. Yep, I am a thinker.
Which got me thinking (see what I did there?). Perhaps I could work in a think tank. I could become a think tank thinker. And needless to say, those who work in a think tank are held in high esteem by politicians and people.
All that being said, I do have some reservations about working in a think tank. For example, I imagine it would get kind of cramped if you had more than a couple of people in the think tank at the same time. Also, we would have to be careful not to point the big gun at anybody—or god forbid—fire it. I am a little worried that if I was too distracted by thinking things, I might accidentally fire the think tank gun. Or have it run over somebody.
You know, on second thought, I don’t think I can handle the stress and pressure of working in a think tank. I better keep my current job of manually testing intercontinental ballistic missile warheads.
First things first. Blogging.
Are you more interesting than the average bear? Of course you are. That’s why you have decided to write a blog. Clearly, the rest of the world eagerly awaits your every written word.
But what to write about? Some blogs are specialty blogs, with posts that focus on one particular theme. Like food. Or fashion. Or other people’s pictures of cats doing silly things.
But you? You are too interesting to crank out that kind of crap. No, you need to start a “vanity” blog. One that houses your every thought, feeling and opinion on a variety of topics that are important to you. Like food. Or fashion. Or other people’s pictures of cats doing silly things.
And what about the second part? Well, if you drive down Interstate 95 to my brother-in-law Rich’s house, you can get him there. Unless he’s at Costco. Then you’ll have to wait to get Rich.
Today was one of those beautiful Spring days. Sunny. A little warm but not hot. Makes me think back to last year and my first attempt at gardening.
I recall buying myself some seeds at the local nursery. I don’t remember if they were vegetables or flowers but it really doesn’t matter, does it? I planted them in rows according to packet directions and then watered them with care.
That’s the thing about seeds, you have to remember to water them. And I did. Daily. And after the first 5 days, I watered them weekly. Until one day after coming home from work, I noticed rows of seedlings where there once were rows of seeds.
This was a proud moment. Like fatherhood but without college tuitions. I marveled at my latest offspring, stooping down to gander at them every day after work.
Then one day I glanced at the seed packets, which I of course saved. It said that once the seedlings reached a certain height, I had to “thin” them. “Thin”? What did that mean? I looked up the term on a gardening Web site and was aghast.
Apparently, I needed to pull out several, perfectly healthy plants from the soil so that other plants can live(?!). The packet was basically asking me to commit murder. I so carefully brought these lives into the world and now some stinking piece of paper was telling me to take them back out again.
But which plants were to live and which were to die? How was I to choose? This was not a decision to be made impulsively. No, I had to sleep on it. I made sure not to mention anything to the plants so as not to make them nervous or suspicious.
Needless to say, I did not sleep well. I mean, who could under the circumstances? Still, I knew I had to make a choice. Sophie’s Choice.
So, in the end I chose to sell the house and move into a 5th floor apartment. Still haven’t told the wife, though.
Cindy Clark, a Pennsylvania-based dog breeder decided to share these images of her then 3-month-old nephew with a few 3-week-old French bulldog puppies.
Ok bye I have up and died from these pictures
I had to stop and rewrite the caption for this reblog because it was originally along the lines of “HOLY WHAT THE LOOK AT THE FIRST PICTURE I WAS LOST AT FIRST GLANCE IT’S A BABY PEOPLE WITH BABY DOGS AND SADNESS IS HELD AT BAY.”
Actually, I just bracketed the first draft with an explanation and quotation marks.
Yeah I reblogged these photos because I too have a heart and a soul. And because puppies and babies are delicious.
“Lamenting the fact that no one posts my quotes on their blog.”
In this week’s episode, Dave discusses:
~ Centipedes. Household pests or cool-looking hair berets?
~ The best food selections from prison menus.
~ Why Wheel Of Fortune is actually devil worship.
PLUS an interview with Pete, the creepy old guy from down the street
Dave: So, Pete. What really happened to ol’ Mrs. Messerschmidt?
Pete: I ain’t sayin’.