I know today is actually June 2nd, but something came up yesterday. So work with me people, and pretend. Walk backwards in your minds...
All these years I’ve been trying to remember to say “Rabbit Rabbit” on the first day of the month, and all these years I’ve failed. Then in May, at long last, I succeeded – and look what it got me. Writer’s block. Oh, yay.
So I’m not bothering to schmabbit anymore. From now on, I’ll just tell the universe what’s wrong out there that needs fixing, and let it make adjustments on its own.
Here goes:
#1. Sidewalks exist for a reason, folks, can we agree on that? I mean, I think we'd have to, considering it's right there in the name and all. Now, I'm not an ogre. I can tolerate an occasional old biddy looking for a smoother surface to push her walker on – but joggers? Joggers need to run the hell out of my f'ing way, or I hereby claim the right to run their skinny asses down.
#2. While we’re on the subject: don’t push the walk button, people. Please. The light will change eventually, I promise, and if it doesn’t happen fast enough for you, then go ahead and cross against it. You’re going to do it anyway, you know you are (I know I am), and then we’ll all just be stuck waiting for the little man to turn into a hand while you turn into a dot on the horizon.
#3 Those of you out there who have children, please teach them how to use a knife and fork. Because you’d hate for them to win the first season of Top Chef, get invited back to judge the third, and then be broadcast on national television wielding utensils like a four-year-old. On a steak cook-off to boot. Jeebers. I wanted to reach into the TV and cut his meat up for him!
#4. While we’re at it, tell them it’s not okay to wear a t-shirt to a fancy dinner party. I mean, seriously. To think that, of those three past-season winners, Hung would be the only one to comport himself correctly? Please.
#5. If it’s Sunday afternoon and I say that I’m not drinking, don’t buy me a beer. Because then I have to buy one back just to be nice, and before you know it — why is it so dark outside already?
#6. And last but not least: If your lady buys and has framed for you a photograph of your be-all, end-all, literary hero, do not hang the jinx-ass thing above your desk or you run the risk of never being able to write down another word. Sheesh. Talk about your Answered Prayers. I don’t know what his plans are in the long term, but he’s living in the guest bedroom for now, and you know what?
I’m afraid he might just die there.
So I’m not bothering to schmabbit anymore. From now on, I’ll just tell the universe what’s wrong out there that needs fixing, and let it make adjustments on its own.
Here goes:
#1. Sidewalks exist for a reason, folks, can we agree on that? I mean, I think we'd have to, considering it's right there in the name and all. Now, I'm not an ogre. I can tolerate an occasional old biddy looking for a smoother surface to push her walker on – but joggers? Joggers need to run the hell out of my f'ing way, or I hereby claim the right to run their skinny asses down.
#2. While we’re on the subject: don’t push the walk button, people. Please. The light will change eventually, I promise, and if it doesn’t happen fast enough for you, then go ahead and cross against it. You’re going to do it anyway, you know you are (I know I am), and then we’ll all just be stuck waiting for the little man to turn into a hand while you turn into a dot on the horizon.
#3 Those of you out there who have children, please teach them how to use a knife and fork. Because you’d hate for them to win the first season of Top Chef, get invited back to judge the third, and then be broadcast on national television wielding utensils like a four-year-old. On a steak cook-off to boot. Jeebers. I wanted to reach into the TV and cut his meat up for him!
#4. While we’re at it, tell them it’s not okay to wear a t-shirt to a fancy dinner party. I mean, seriously. To think that, of those three past-season winners, Hung would be the only one to comport himself correctly? Please.
#5. If it’s Sunday afternoon and I say that I’m not drinking, don’t buy me a beer. Because then I have to buy one back just to be nice, and before you know it — why is it so dark outside already?
#6. And last but not least: If your lady buys and has framed for you a photograph of your be-all, end-all, literary hero, do not hang the jinx-ass thing above your desk or you run the risk of never being able to write down another word. Sheesh. Talk about your Answered Prayers. I don’t know what his plans are in the long term, but he’s living in the guest bedroom for now, and you know what?
I’m afraid he might just die there.
4 comments:
He should be one with his letter!
Hah! I love "jinx-ass". Now I must use it somehow ...
bwaaahawahaw haw! Turn into a dot on the horizon. I swear at the crossing guard at Forest Park middle school EVERY morning- not a kid in sight and he is frantically pressing that dang button. I want to yell, "Hey Pal, the kids aren't even out of bed yet!"
He's just making sure it works! D'ya think
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