I dream of sliding on ice
and multi-car pile-ups
on the Interstate.
I wake up alone.
Jan 122010
Jan 112010
She yawns like a kitten.
I tuck her into bed.
Good night, sweet Heart.
Jan 102010
The bell is broken
I’ve not been hearing it
not ringing all day
and it’s really
getting on my nerves
Jan 082010
Fred shook with anticipation as he entered the bedroom. The wind that constantly blew in across the rocky coastline of his village rattled the windows. Or was that his teeth rattling? He had been granted one wish and this was it.
He sat on the edge of the bed and took a few deep breaths. His anticipation was palpable. The door opened and Ginger stepped inside. Fred rose to meet her. He reached out his hand and he could feel the blood rushing out of his brain when she interlaced her fingers with his. Tentatively at first, he kissed her, then hungrily, passionately. Gently, she broke their embrace to lead him to the bed.
They looked deeply into each other’s eyes while she removed all of their clothing. Taking his hand again, she pulled him onto the bed. He knew that she had experience and willingly let her take control. She lead him to pleasures he had never even imagined.
In the morning, Fred awoke alone. Today was the big day. The day of the wedding. He had the honor of representing his village. The path was lined with well-wishers as he strode toward the sea. His family and closest friends were waiting by the altar on a precipice high above the crashing surf. The wind whipped in from the cold water and it filled him with pride.
At the altar he embraced his parents and wiped the tears from his mother’s face. He turned and looked back at his village. He half-hoped to see Ginger, but he knew that by tradition she would be out of sight. Musicians struck up the wedding march. The wind howled in response and brought a salty spray over the wedding party. The sea was angry and needed to be calmed. The survival of the village was at stake. The village was offering her a husband. Fred stepped onto the altar and leapt to the water below.
[Note: Learn more about Fred and Ginger here. ~Tim]
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Jan 052010
I eat m&ms. I do not eat ms. That is, I never eat a single m. I always eat them in pairs. One for each side of my mouth. And they both must be the same color whenever possible. When I eat peanut m&ms, they must be approximately the same size. And the same color.
You may think this is weird. I do. I think it is weird enough that I noticed it about myself. I don’t take two bites of a snickers at one time. I don’t eat both halves of a twix at the same time. If I ate jelly beans, I would probably eat them two of the same color at a time too. But I do not eat jelly beans. Or skittles. Are there other small, candies likes these? I don’t eat them either.
I used to remark here frequently that I am not normal. I suspect this is further evidence of that fact.
So I wonder, do you eat ms or do you eat m&ms?
Jan 032010
I have a sort of millennium bug up my ass. It’s not exactly a Y2K problem… it’s a Y2KX… no YMMX… well, it’s all these end-of-the-decade-wrapup stories I’ve been seeing the last few days.
Remember back when everyone was partying like it was 1999? I mean, when it actually was 1999 and they were all like, “It’s the end of the millennium!” And all the geeks [like me] were all, “No, the millennium actually ends next year.” And we would try to explain that there was no year zero, which NEVER worked, so then we would say, “OK, see. The first century had to be years 1 to 100, and the second century had to be years 101 to 200, and so on. So the twentieth century has to be years 1901 to 2000.” And that’s when we were uninvited to all the new year’s eve parties that year and some of us the next year also [because we just couldn't let it go and we would have spent all that night too explaining that this was the dawn of a new century] and a few of us several more years after that [but I'm not bitter].
OK. So we have NOT just finished the first decade of the twenty-first century. We have finished a decade of years with 0-numbers. But even though I am one of those annoying people [shut up] that said twenty-oh-one right up through twenty-oh-nine, not even I ever said twenty-oh-oh instead of two-thousand. [I have said uh-oh a LOT, but the date has nothing to do with that. Well, once it was on a date. But that's a different story....] And I know you’re wondering, so yes, to me this year is twenty-ten, not two-thousand-ten.
Is this what Santayana meant by, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”?
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