Big Orange Snowsuit

This morning, as I was hanging up my coat in the coat closet, I saw a big orange snowsuit hanging up in there as well. A big orange snowsuit. At a big boring corporation. Who does that?

The really interesting thing is that I've never looked in that corner of the closet before, so that big orange snowsuit may have been there forever. It may be home to all the mice I see running around on the floor or to the bats that occasionally dive at us in our cubes. It may be host to more mysteries than I can count!

But mostly it reminded me of the orange piccolo man from Madison. For a second I thought he moved to Minneapolis and got a job as a clinical psychologist at my insurance company. But who does that?

legends have dreams, too.

Last night, I dreamed that I was walking down this big hill and I realized that I was in Sweden with my good friend, Jose Canseco. When we got to the bottom of the hill, we realized the town was submerged in water and we had to jump to different parts of land that were sticking out of the water.

Lucky for us, there was some Swedish girl who knew her way around town and was also swimming around in a bikini. She and Jose jumped into the water and started swimming around. I couldn't swim, so I had to jump far to get back onto the land.

I lost them, so I looked around town. I walked into a room, and they were in there, and apparently they had become a couple. I yelled, "C'mon, Jose, we gotta go, we've gotta get out of Sweden."

When I said that, I thought to myself, "Man, it's weird having a friend named Jose."

She wears her heart on her sleeve

Every time I tune into Clueless, the tv show, it's that episode where her boyfriend dies in a drunk driving accident. Seriously, every time. Clueless is so depressing.



I'm in Nevada!

Restless Leg

Has anyone ever heard of "Restless Leg Syndrome"? Sounds like a 60s B-movie about an anarchist gang called the Restless Leg that invents a disease the wipes out the entire population of Earth except for Charlton Heston, some other dude, and that girl from Barbarella all on some deserted island. At one point Charlton Heston gets shot and eaten by monkeys. Then Barbarella and the other dude are rescued by surfer astronauts from the future.

somtimes

Sometimes, Legends even lose their keys.

And then, sometimes, Legends, after tearing their entire apartment apart, find their keys underneath table cloths that Legends thought they had already checked.

And then, somtimes, Legends don't ever want to lose things again.

I WANT TO KNOW!

Did anybody ever really get beaten up for their lunch money?

only on laguna beach

Only on Laguna Beach could there be a "previously on" that features a girl yelling "YOU ARE SUCH A WHORE!" to the backdrop of inspirational pitter-patter-piano music.

Ah, Laguna Beach, you are the best.

The Last Fifteen Minutes

I wish there was a way to make time go faster. I think this would have to be a variant of the time machine, and I think it would work like so. First you travel forward in time to the time you wish it would be. Once there, you hang out with your future self for a while, which would be totally awesome because future self + present self = most fun ever. And by the time you're done hanging out, you can travel back to your present time, and all those minutes you were waiting to pass are GONE! Sure, you may not have existed for a certain block of time, but you don't care, cuz you're about to hang out with your past self!

somebody get this freakin' duck away from me.

Here's a tip to the entire world -- don't park your car in a no parking zone and then not check on it for a few days, because to get your car back, you a)have to pay a lot of money, and b)stand in the cold in a crappy building for a long time, and c)scrape the thick ice off the windshield of your car.

Just don't do it. Tell them I told you.

the combover, in visual form.

two observations.

1) Hey baldies who grow a combover: give it up! You're bald. Combovers look terrible.

2) There's a type of popcorn by Pop Secret called "Home Style". By "home style," they really mean "loaded with salt and butter." Instead of calling it "home style," they should just call it what it is -- FREAKING DELICIOUS.

On the lap: PUN!

As I have nothing to do and ended up looking down toward my feet, I discovered that my lap was missing, and this got me pondering about the nature of the lap. Here are my thoughts collected in a form for easy absorption.

-People don't talk about their laps very much.
-The lap is much too inactive. It ought to learn to dance.
-The lap is the only part of my body that I cannot figure out how to make produce sound.
-The lap is actually an arbitrary construct and therefore illusory.
-Taller people do not necessarily have bigger laps.
-Lap surface area is directly proportional to athletic ability.
-There is no such thing as lap cancer or cancer of the lap.
-It is highly unlikely that one would rig the lap with an explosive.
-If other animals had laps, they would also be superintelligent.
-You cannot store things in your lap like a kangaroo pouch.
-All laps require knees, but not all knees can produce laps.

criminy!

I just found a peanut stuck to a raisin sitting in the middle of my living room floor.

man alive

My shower in my apartment was about to explode today, I think. Turns out that some thing inside the thing that you use to turn it on and off was busted, but my shower was on for about three hours this afternoon. It was nuts, I tell you.

Almost as nuts as the Duff Sisters' doing a movie together!

The Duff sisters unite

I cannot contain my excitement.

Famous Daves and Libraries.

I like to think of this blog as a place where I offer up my advice to the world reading.

Do yourselves a favor, world, do not bring Famous Daves to the library.

Hallucinating

There is a picture of a baby on a calendar in my coworker's cube. When I take my glasses off, the baby looks like a giraffe. This makes me think that this baby is actually a giraffe in disguise, which makes me think that all babies are actually giraffes in disguise. Beware.

Stripes

Why have I never seen a horizontal stripe on a shirt? Oh wait, I have.

plus, a true story.

So, I got a land line for my apartment, right? So anyway, I picked a number that I thought would be really easy to remember (I won't divulge it for fear of more annoying people getting it, but let's just say it has a lot of 1's in a row) but turns out was used in the past by some hospital.

So, the last week or so, people have called pretty much every morning at about 7:30 asking if this is the ear nose and throat doctor, or, my personal favorite, if this was the gastro and urology wing of the hospital. I say to you people, screw you, let me sleep, you jerks.

Oh, people who call me early in the morning with a wrong number. You are idiots.

what is that stuff?

You know the feeling you get when you don't brush your teeth, and it's all kinda filmy on your teeth?

What IS that stuff?

Anybody?