It took thirty one minutes to write this title, so I guess it's free. I still expect my tip, though.

Scale of one to ten, how badly do I want pizza?

1 - eh, pizza, oatmeal, what's the difference?

2 - they aren't giving me one free, they're charging me for two no matter how many I order!

3 - if I pour ketchup on my mac n cheese and throw some bologna on top it'll be like a pepperoni pizza I can eat with a spoon! Kind of!

4 - not sure I'm down with the whole putting on pants to open the door thing.

5 - pizza's always good. Because it's pizza.

6 - pardon me, I don't usually drool. You were saying something about pizza?

7 - I can probably find enough change in the couch to pay for it

8 - I can probably find enough change in the neighbor's couch to pay for it - you distract them.

9 - would it be less creepy to run out and meet the delivery person at their car if I'm not cry-laughing and screaming "Thank You!" when I do it?

10 - not having pizza isn't a real option, is it?

Haha - fooled you! It's a trick title.

Hey guys! Wanna see my new haircut?





I wouldn't mind seeing it myself someday.

Titles are like snowflakes, except that they're all exactly alike. But otherwise, you know, it's uncanny.

So there you are, going about your perfectly normal way on a perfectly normal day. The atmosphere is allowing a comfortable ratio of sunlight through, plant life is flowering tastefully, and the birds are displaying a competent level of vocal skill. Then suddenly and without warning you become aware that something is very, very wrong.

One of your boobs is misplaced.

This is not an isolated incident I'm describing. It's a legitimate ongoing concern. This can and does happen in a variety of circumstances that in no way lend themselves to the misalignment of boob flesh. Waiting in line. Operating a motor vehicle. Enjoying calm, non-gestural conversation. One moment I'm completely focused on some non-boob related topic or activity, and the next I'm utterly fixated on the relative position of one of my boobs to the bra cup that contains it. Or select parts of it. Or select parts of it and an additional sampling of adjacent flesh.

C'mon, bra. Your job isn't that hard. I pay good money for you, and all you have to do is hold the boob. That's it. That's your whole job. Do you have any idea how many guys a woman can find who would do that for free?

And you, boobs. How much technology do I have to invest in before I convince you to stay where I put you? I'm not a cheerleader, jackhammer operator, or professional jumping jack champion. I'm a writer. I spend the majority of my time in a decidedly sedentary state. Why can't you just go with it and sit still when I do?

Don't worry! You get more than ample attention just by virtue of the fact that you exist. You do not need to start doing tricks to get noticed, I promise. As a matter of fact, if you want to continue to enjoy the attention you do get, you're going to have to settle down.

I'm serious. Don't make me get the duct tape.

Understood?

Truth in Titles (Currently Unavailable)

I don't actually know what planet I'm from, but I can describe it perfectly.

Days on my planet are 30 hours long. I get to put off going to bed for an extra four hours every night and sleep an extra two hours every morning.

We have four seasons: summer, warmer summer, even warmer but still perfectly comfortable summer, and refreshingly cool but still perfectly comfortable and with prettier leaves than usual summer.

The only constellation in our night sky is the "Whole Buncha Random Stars" constellation, so everybody on my planet's astrological sign is Randomarian. Randomarians are well known not to believe in astrology, so that column in the news pretty much never gets read.

Our water has to be processed before it can be drunk. It has to be extracted from the coffee that flows in majestic rivers across the landscape.

Dogs on my planet hate people food. On my planet you can safely leave it lying around places that would be brazenly reckless to leave food if you own a dog here on earth, like on top of the refrigerator.

People on my planet have adopted the custom of skipping the argument and going straight to the make-up sex. This has had the unfortunate side effect of creating a culture of deliberate aggravation, but so far nobody's complaining.

On my planet you get paid days off for your birthday, Halloween, Valentines Day, and getting your nails done. If you come to work sick you have to pay everybody for the days they have to take off sick because of the cold they caught from you, and also bring them soup. And fashion magazines. And a Toblerone. And a lottery ticket.

And make sure you get the bonus pick.

I do get homesick, sure, but I'm doing my best to make myself comfortable here. I just wish I could find a tattoo artist that knows how to draw the Randomarian symbol, or at least have the decency to take their clothes off when I yell at them for getting it wrong.

It's like I'm forgetting to write a word here... oh well, it's probably not important. Just kidding! Title!

Comments you will never see on my blog:

- That looks yummy!

- Could you customize my layout too?

- Your courage inspires me.

- Hawking hypothesized something similar once.

- I wish my pets were that well behaved!

- You really need to indulge yourself more.

- How do you get it all done in a day?

- I don't think what you did was stupid at all.

- Wow! Thirteen grapefruits at once?

I don't think anybody else is using this title - can I have it?

I love all of my readers, sincerely. When I write, I write for you. When I make you happy, I'm happy.

But I love *my dog, too.

Mackie, this post's for you:

Who's a good dog? You are! Yes you are! Yes you are! You are! Yes! You're a good dog! Yes! A very good dog! Yes a very good dog! Yes you are a good dog! Yes you are!

Who's got a blog post? You do! Yes you do! You gots a blog post! Yes you do! It's a blog post for Mackie! Yes it is! Good boy got a blog post! Yes he does! Is this your blog post? Is this your blog post? Is this Mackie's blog post? Yes it is! It is Mackie's blog post! Yes Mackie's blog post! Yes it is!

Did ums like his blog post? Was it a good blog post? Did Mackie like his blog post?

*I have two dogs, but the other one's just not much of a reader.

The title of this entry is "Eggplant" - I know you know what I'm saying there.

2011 Resolutions: Update, Week 1

1) Be more popular!

• poster campaign underway
• public decency laws reviewed
• fines paid

2) Get more vitamins!

• achieved!
• digestive tolerance of Flintstones Chewables @ 3/4 bottle per day

3) Get more exercise!

• replaced all furniture with treadmills
• sprained both ankles eating soup
• burned 150 calories dragging self to phone!

4) Control the weather with my mind!

• achieved!
  
• skeptics remain
  

5) Master a foreign language!

• pending (all languages investigated so far too "wordy")

6) Build an addition on to house!

• plans drawn up
• stalled at permit stage
• researching precedent for alien craft landing pads

7) Start a family!

• achieved?
• followed directions on kit, still no sign of monkeys in tank
• microwaving does not appear to have accelerated evolution as hoped

8) Be shinier!

• achieved! (with restricted breathing)

9) Redecorate!

• in progress
• re-thinking "candy land" theme on veterinarian's recommendation

10) Start referring to self in third person!

• limited success
• have written name on back of hand to avoid further embarrassment
  

Rhymes with title, only it starts with... oh never mind. I can't think of anything dirty that ends in itle.

12 Reasons Why I Would Make A Good Duck

1. I am not water soluble.
2. I can say "quack" in multiple languages.
3. I have absolutely no problem with the required seasonal relocation to Florida.
4. I have collected the necessary amount of twigs, grasses, and small sticks necessary to make a nest for all my eggs (although I will have to take them out of the carton first).
5. I am not afraid to put my head underwater. Anymore. Much.
6. I have the walk down cold. Ask anybody who's seen me after a shot of tequila.
7. I have experience swallowing worms (see item #6).
8. I'm delicious with orange sauce.
9. My physique is well suited to bath toy design.
10. Bread crumbs excite me.
11. I've already learned not to swallow things with fish hooks in them (see item #7).
12. I flap.

Based on these observations it is therefor logical to conclude that one of the following hypotheses must be true:

a) I was a duck in a former lifetime
b) My spirit/totem animal is a duck.
c) God is a duck, and we were all created in God's image.
d) I was raised by a herd of wild cartoon characters.