The Walking Deadpan

You know what I would love to eat for dinner?

Lasagna.

I love lasagna so much!

But lasagna isn’t an option.

I wish it were, but because of forces beyond my control, there are only two possible things I could eat for dinner: frozen fish sticks or a burger.

I hate frozen fish sticks. Burgers are OK. Those facts are beside the point.

I REALLY WANT LASAGNA.

Lasagna is so good! It has so many delicious things in it, like CHEESE and CARBS. I like all kinds of lasagna, from the very traditional red sauce lasagna to the slightly more innovative spinach artichoke lasagna to the somewhat experimental butternut squash lasagna!

I am VERY passionate about lasagna.

Well, OK, I’m not SO passionate, it’s just that I like it better than burgers and fish sticks (ugh). So I’m gonna pass on those dinners. I would rather hold out for lasagna.

LASAAAAAAAGGGGGGGNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I know lasagna isn’t exactly an option, but I really WANT lasagna to be an option. That’s why I’m OK going hungry for a while. Because it’s important to me to go for what I really want. Even if it’s “unrealistic” or “impractical” or--what was that other phrase? Oh, yes: “moronic beyond even the greatest limits of sense and imagination.” Haha! ;)

So yeah, that’s my choice. Lasagna. Or, as some people call it, “starvation and eventual death.” Those people are what I call “realists.” I do not like them. Certainly not as much as I like lasagna.

Which is why, you know, I’m here--well, the parts of me that currently remain. Some parts are gone because my own stomach acid has been dissolving my body from the inside out. Right now I’m pretty much a face on some bloody limbs.

People have asked me if my brain’s still functioning and I’m like “as good as it always was!” I explain that I decided a long time ago to have lasagna for dinner. That makes them agree with me. They say “yup, it seems that your brain has always functioned at this level” as they walk away, shaking their heads. I smile at their backs with my half-mouth.

“Lasagna!” I say. “Lasagnalasagnalasagnalasagnalasagnalasagna,” which is actually just nonsense. “Lasagna,” I say again, because principles. I have them, along with 84% organ function loss. I would be fucking shitting myself with superiority if I weren’t already shitting myself with the last drops of my putrid life force. 

“Lasagna,” I whisper, even though nobody is left to hear me.

lasagna

The City of LA is doing some sort of water line maintenance on the street outside my apartment building. It is expected to last for ten weeks. This is the second week of work. One of the more fun effects of this water line maintenance is that my normal route to leave my apartment has been diverted from the main road into a tiny alley that I didn’t even know existed and which--note to self for future reference--looks like the PERFECT place to hide something you don’t want found, like evidence for example. One of the less fun effects of this water line maintenance is that now, in the mornings, my building does not have hot water.

I am a morning shower person and I am also very naturally greasy, so as you can see, this is quite a problematic situation for me. The good news is that I belong to a gym that has a shower! The bad news is that now I have to go to the gym. I’m getting so fucking fit. Grumpyface emoji.

Ironically, while my days have been very low on literal hot water, they are very high on metaphorical hot water. I.e. TROUBLE. I’m not going to get into a lot of details, because Fifth Amendment, but suffice it to say that a number of personal and professional crises have arisen and not a day goes by that I don’t feel scalded. Metaphorically. Not literally. That would be impossible in my freezing cold shower.

Snowflake emoji!!

This is a very serious post about a trend I have noticed lately in US politics. Maybe you have noticed it too. It is the tendency of politicians to make comments and engage in behaviors so absurd that they simply make you laugh. No matter what your political views are, I would venture a guess that at some point in the past few months you have heard some piece of news and reacted by saying something like: “What? But that’s ridiculous! You have to be kidding me!” The absurdity of what you were hearing struck you as being simply unbelievable, and you had to ask yourself what in the world was going on. Now you know the answer: you were being politickled!

Like regular tickling, politickling is fun at first! But eventually it starts to get irritating. And then it becomes downright unbearable. Amidst the giggles, you start to cry out “stop, stop, please stop!” but it does not stop. Laughing turns to weeping. Eventually you are in pain. Real, physical pain. Surely this can’t still be going on. It is torture. Pure torture. What kind of sadist would inflict this kind of agony upon you? Why won’t they stop politickling?!?

Why, indeed.

Happy Election Season!!

You know how sometimes, when you’re washing clothes, if you have a shirt you spilled spaghetti on or something, you pre-treat it with a stain remover before you wash it? Or how, if you’re about to run a race, you take a little jog to warm up first? Or how, if you’re in college and about to go to a big party, you get together in someone’s dorm room about an hour before and do shots of the vodka that comes in the big plastic handle before you actually go to the party? It’s always good to do a little warm-up before any activity. And that’s why, now, before I go to bed for the night, I like to pre-sleep.

Pre-sleeping is when you sleep for a little bit before you sleep for a longer time. For example, last night I pre-slept on my living room couch with the TV blaring from about 8:30 PM-9:30 PM. This was great preparation for what happened around midnight, which was that I went to regular sleep in my bed for about eight hours. In between my sleeps I watched the first episode of Season 2 of UNREAL and ate some chili-spiced dried mango. Those details are irrelevant. What’s relevant is that, thanks to my training sleep last night, I felt very prepared for my actual sleep.

A lot of people might not understand the function of pre-sleep. They might say things like Are you depressed? Because you seem to be sleeping more than usual... or Wow! You’re lazy! Then you might answer something like Yes, I do have a chemical imbalance, thanks for noticing or Shut up, asshole, I don’t see you out there singlehandedly building the Pyramids!! You might get in a big fight. You might punch each other. You might break each other’s noses. That’s why I wrote this blog post, so that everybody would understand what pre-sleep truly is, and why it is a good practice for anybody who sleeps. Once everybody adopts pre-sleeping into their daily routines, there will no longer be the possibility of this kind of misunderstanding.

You read it here first, guys. Pre-sleeping will save your nose. You’re welcome.

I don’t know where you get your ideas, but for me they appear in one place and one place only. My shower.

Seriously, the other 23.5 hours of the day, there’s, like, NOTHING going on in my head. The ole noggin is empty AF. Have you ever been out hiking in a lovely forest when all of a sudden you came face-to-face with a deer, and found yourself transfixed by the deer’s limpid brown eyes as you tried desperately and fruitlessly to find some modicum of intelligence or awareness therewithin? No? Just take a close look at my face when I’m not in the shower. It’s the same.

Also: deers get hit by cars a lot and I often run into coffee tables and door frames and shit. Like I said: samesies.

Also #2: yes, my half-hour showers are the sole reason California is in a water crisis. 

Anyways, when I am in the shower, I get so many awesome ideas. I’m not sure what they are because I can’t remember them once I step out of the shower but I know they are brilliant because I am often so transfixed by them that I completely lose track of time. I just stand under the running water, thinking about something-or-other and then the next thing I know we all have to move to the Pacific Northwest because LA has become a parched, barren wasteland in the time it’s taken me to finish my shower. I’m sorry, everybody. Also, again, I eat almonds.

Other things I do that will result in me eventually being the sole cause of humanity’s downfall: eat foie gras and veal and lamb and basically every adorable animal, watch reality TV (the bad kind where real people’s lives are ruined), buy cute shoes instead of donating to charity, forget to eat leftovers so I have to throw food that had formerly been perfectly edible but is now disgustingly moldy away, frequently roll my eyes at annoying people (both on purpose and accidentally), have sexual fantasies about people who would be creeped out if they knew I was having sexual fantasies about them (hi Paul), fail to research the places I buy cheap sweaters from to see if they are being made by 7-year-olds in knitting cages on another continent. They probably are. 

Basically I’m a terrible person and I feel guilty all the time. Like, all the freaking time.

If only the guilt could be washed away in the idea shower. :(

4:34 AM: I am listening to my neighbor have sex with a woman.

4:36 AM: Hey, at least somebody is getting laid.

4:40 AM: Good for him. I am happy for him.

4:47 AM: It is still happening.

4:50 AM: If only they were quieter, then I could fall back asleep.

4:52 AM: Hmm. This sounds unrealistic.

4:54 AM: I wonder if my neighbor knows that this is unrealistic?

4:55 AM: Should I feel bad for my neighbor?

4:57 AM: I am too tired to feel bad.

5:01 AM: This sounds like the end.

5:02 AM: This is definitely the end!

5:03 AM: Finally, quiet. Now I can fall back asleep.

5:05 AM: Is that EDM?

5:09 AM: Who listens to EDM after having sex?

5:14 AM: Seriously, after sex, I would rather listen to ANY OTHER KIND OF

MUSIC.

5:17 AM: The music is still playing. He did not seem to hear me loudly slamming

the door out into the hallway we share.

5:21 AM: The music is off. Me kicking the wall we share must be louder than me

slamming the door into the hallway we share.

5:22 AM: Now that there is no music, I can fall back asleep.

5:23 AM: I am glad this ended well for everybody.

5:25 AM: They are having sex again.

5:30 AM: Don’t these people have to go to work?

5:36 AM: And aren’t they sore?

5:40 AM: They are even louder than they were before.

5:42 AM: It’s over!

5:44 AM: It isn’t over.

5:50 AM: It’s over. For real it’s over.

5:51 AM: Please don’t put on EDM. I really want to sleep.

5:52 AM: There are strange sounds but they aren’t coming from next door...

5:54 AM: A FUCKING THUNDERSTORM? SRSLY????

6:00 AM: At least it’s not EDM. 

Congratulations, you’ve picked someone up! Way to go, you irresistible sex panther. You were able to convince someone to let you put your tongue inside their mouth and that is a significant accomplishment.

Now you’re just left with the problem of how to get rid of the person whose self-esteem was too low to go home alone. You need an anti-pick up line. You need a drop down line.

Here are some suggestions:

-“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? It must have, because you look pretty busted. You should go to the emergency room.”

-“I lost my phone number. Can I have yours so that I can give it to the people who wait outside grocery stores trying to get people to sign petitions?”

-“If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me? It would be almost as good of a restraining device as my straightjacket.”

-“Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes, which is a symptom of my syphilis.”

-“Your legs must be tired because you’ve been running through my mind, which has also given me a headache. Please leave.”

-“If I could rearrange the alphabet I’d put U and I together, except there would also be a T in the middle.”

-“Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants. Because I’m a kleptomaniac. I steal things. I’m taking your pants.”

-“Where have you been all my life?” [the person answers] “I think you should go back.”

In all likelihood, these lines will get rid of the person you picked up, so you can be alone again. Yay!!!

After my rousing success alerting the world to State of Confusion Chic, I figured it was about time to share more hip trends that are swiftly taking over style industry. You see, there are some extremely cool fusion looks that are just starting to make appearances in Paris, Milan, my imagination and other fashion hubs, and it’s my pleasure to share these new trends with you before they become mainstream so that you, too, may be on the cutting edge of fashion. 

1) Food prints. Everybody loves a fun print, and everybody loves food, so it’s no wonder that today’s fashionistas are rocking food prints! And no, I don’t mean that you should buy cotton that has been dyed so that the fabric pictures slices of pizza and then make a dress out of it...I mean that you should get a dress, and you should get some pizza, and you should rub pizza all over the dress and see what happens. No, I’m just going to tell you what happens: you get a dress with a unique, whimsical pattern, AND you get to smell like pizza when you wear it. You can’t lose. 

2) Hacky sack shoes. Look, even the least stylish nitwit amongst us knows that the 90s are coming back, WAY back, and that means that it’s not long until high school parking lots and fast food parking lots and pretty much all parking lots are once again filled with groups of disheveled skaters kicking a hacky sack around. Of course, no styles are ever exactly the same when they cycle back around, and hacky sack is no different; in 2016, hacky sacks will be pre-affixed to shoes by means of a retractable elastic band. If you’re having trouble imagining what this would look like, just imagine a paddle ball, except in place of a paddle you should imagine a shoe, and in place of a ball you should imagine a hacky sack. With this new shoe style, you’ll never find yourself without a hacky sack when you need one! Plus, it’s a lot easier to do intricate choreographed foot bag routines. 

3) Pube bangs. If history has shown us anything, it’s that sometimes it’s cool to have pubes, and sometimes it’s not. If it’s shown us anything else, it’s that sometimes it’s cool to have bangs, and sometimes it’s not. Well, friends, right now is a time in history when it is cool to have both. Together. It might seem absurd, but take a minute and think about it. You know how cutely bangs frame your face...just imagine what they could do with your junk!

Now, my friends, go forth and be fashionable. And send me pics of you rocking your new style! (But not #3, because I sometimes read personal emails in the office and that shit is NSFW.)

They say that the first thing you do on the first day of the new year sets the tone for what the entire year is going to be like. I sure as fuck hope that’s true because if it is that means I’ve got 364 amazing days of online shopping ahead of me. That’s right, friends. I woke up this morning and the first thing I did was order a bunch of clothes from an online retailer that had emailed me a coupon code overnight. I didn’t even get out of bed. I just picked my iPad up off the nightstand and next thing you know I’ve got a skirt, a tank top and two bras coming my way! And all for a very reasonable price! So if it’s just the first thing you do in the morning that counts, then I’m totally golden. I’ve got an awesome 2016 to look forward to.

If it’s the first couple things you do in the morning that set the stage for the next year, then I think I’m still OK. Because the next thing I did this morning was eat a banana. If I spend the next 12 months eating bananas, that’d be aight, too. I need potassium, fools. 

After that I read a book for a while. Once again, if this is a window into the rest of the year, I’ve got nothing to complain about. I love reading books because this is an activity you can do a) in a supine position b) in your pajamas c) while eating bananas (or, let’s be real, brownies) and d) all by yourself. If 2016 is a year I spend in some hermit-like state in my apartment, interacting with the outside world only when I order delivery or visit the doctor to see what to do about my bedsores, then I can deal with that. It’s not a problem. In fact, I’d welcome it. So obviously, I’m still totally fine with this early morning’s activities being harbingers of things to come!

Where things get dicey is what happened AFTER I read my book. For some reason, at that time, I decided it would be a good idea to participate in an interactive yoga video. Only now am I realizing that, if what they say is true, I’ve just committed myself to 52 weeks of downward dog, tree pose, warriors I, II and III, etc. I hate that shit! Well, I guess shavasana is OK, but that’s because that pose that’s basically just lying down. But all those other sanas? I don’t want a year of toning, stretching and finding spiritual balance! That’s all totally anathema to my vaguely toxic lifestyle of both physical and emotional flabbiness! But now, because I wasn’t thinking about the repercussions of my actions this morning, I fear that achieving a higher standard of health and wholisticness may be exactly what I have condemned myself to this year. What have I done?!?

Also, happy new year, everyone!

I don’t like standing desks. The reason I don’t like them is because they are irrational. Desks were invented so you could do work sitting down. A standing desk, by definition, is not a place where you can sit. Essentially, it’s a product that does not allow the person who buys the product to do the specific thing the product is supposed to do. A standing desk is the furniture equivalent of wearing glasses that do not have corrective lenses inside the frames. It is an assault upon my sense of logic.

But apparently standing desks are “ergonomic,” and I guess the world is willing to buy anything in the name of “health.” So look, if that’s the case, I have a buttload of ideas for products that don’t do what they were designed to do that I would like to market and sell.

1) Bottomless Wine Glasses. In this case, “bottomless” does not mean “neverending”. It means that these wine glasses literally don’t have a bottom. They are basically just a tube of glass. When you pour wine in them, the wine goes straight through into your lap or the floor or whatevs. These are great for your health if you have a drinking problem, because they are glasses that do not actually allow you to drink.

2) Outdoor Mobile Treadmills. This is a very interesting piece of machinery that provides a moving pathway for you to walk or run on, but when you run on the pathway it causes the whole machine to move. So if you want to use this machine to exercise, you have to use it outdoors. Does it differ in essence from simply running outside, on any kind of pathway that already exists? No, but it’s more expensive.

3) Flat-no-screen TV. This is just like a regular TV, but instead of a plasma screen or an LED screen or an LCD screen there is just a big piece of grey plastic. You won’t be able to watch any of your favorite shows on it, but you’ll be so bored that you probably will have to get off your fat lazy ass and do something else. Automatic mental and physical health improvement!

I feel certain that any one of these products could revolutionize the fitness marketplace. Investors, line on up!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a very obvious trend rising in our society, and that trend is OVERSHARING. Apparently this is something that’s been encouraged by a proliferation of social media and a growing tendency towards narcissism. I don’t know much about oversharing, but I do know that I never, ever do it. 

For example, sometimes when I go out to dinner with friends, we go to restaurants that do the small plates thing, where you just get a bunch of different dishes to split amongst the group. I always make sure to get the first helping of every dish so that I can be sure that I get the most food while I’m telling everybody which guy I’ve hooked up with has the smallest penis.

And when I am on a date on a movie and we get popcorn, I don’t let the guy hold the bucket. That’s because it’s a lot easier to get more of a food item if you are the one holding it and not the one having to reach into someone else’s lap to get access to it. I find that having a sufficient amount of popcorn is really therapeutic as I’m whispering to my date about which of my family members have what mental and emotional problems when the movie gets boring.

Not to mention the fact that I am very, very tight-fisted at work! Everybody who works with me knows that I have a jar of candy on my desk. I’ll let my coworkers have one or two pieces, as long as I can have three or four while I’m relaying the specifics of whatever gastrointestinal difficulties I’m currently experiencing.

Oversharing is the worst and I’m so glad I never do it.

A friend recently alerted me to the fact that the radio station for which I DJed all four years of my college attendance recently seems to have been undergoing some programming turmoil. I hadn’t thought about those halcyon DJing years for some time, but this article got the wheels of my mind turning, reflecting upon how if it weren’t for my involvement with that radio station, I might not sport the predilection for pretentious indie rock that I am now so proud/ashamed to have. After all, I went to college in the ‘90s. The internet was barely a thing. Online shopping was barely a thing. People still had to get their porn at video stores. College radio stations were basically the only way of discovering non-mainstream music.

And that got the wheels of my mind turning even more, reflecting upon what I would have done if I hadn’t even had access to a college radio station. Like, what if I had been alive during the Renaissance. How would I have discovered non-mainstream music then? Sure, I would’ve known the Monteverdi and Palestrina tunes. They were basically the Red Hot Chili Peppers of the 1500s. But I’ve always had a really snobbish disdain for all things populist, so I have no doubt that I would have wanted to have some knowledge of more obscure music so that I could be all “sure, Thomas Tallis writes some pretty good vocal harmonies, but I personally prefer my partsongs to be a little more unique” to the cobbler or glassblower or whatever. But how would I have discovered the off-the-beaten-path songs of the Renaissance? What was the Elizabethan equivalent of Rasputina and Arab Strap? Who were the minstrels that never got signed to a major troubadouring label? In short, where are all the indie madrigals??

This question will haunt me for at least a few minutes after I post this blog entry.

Where did this stupid idea come from?? Was it GREASE, or did it exist even before John Travolta?? I don’t really care and I don’t have the time to do a lot of research on the etymology of a phrase that is most well known as being the lyrics to a song from a 1970s movie musical. The important thing is that the phrase is out there now, and the world is worse for it. It is a dangerous, more deadly place. You might not believe me at first, especially if you’re currently participating in some beachy bootycall or foreplaycation. But consider the following: 

1) Summer is hotter than winter. This means summer is sweatier. And that is bad. Not because excessive sweat is gross (although it is). No, excessive sweating is bad because it dehydrates you! And if you are too busy quenching your thirst for love, you won’t have time to quench your thirst for water. YOU COULD DIE. 

2) In summer, the days are longer. This means that Circadian rhythms change. There are fewer nighttime hours, and therefore fewer hours during which your body is naturally inclined to sleep. Now, it’s [probably] a well-documented fact that most loving happens during nighttime hours, meaning there is less time for sleeping. Did you know that driving drowsy is just as dangerous as driving drunk? Because it is. So if you are summer loving instead of summer snoozing, you know what that means...YOU COULD DIE. 

3) Scripted television shows all but disappear during the summer. Without being able to rely on the safe, secure romance of sitting side-by-side with your lover, not talking but instead staring mutely at a screen, you’re forced to seek out much more dangerous date activities. Scary things that require you to go out into the world. Terrifying things like hikes, concerts and picnics. In every other season, you will be perfectly content for all your dates to take place in your living rooms. In summer, not so much. Need I say it again? If you pursue summer loving, YOU COULD DIE. 

There you have it. Summer loving: it’s an awful idea. If you have the misfortune to be involved in a summer romance, my professional advice is that you should cease it immediately. Otherwise, you could -- nay, YOU WILL DIE!

P.S. I felt as betrayed as you when I realized that musicals might not always offer the best life advice. Believe me, I’m going to do some serious thinking the next time I feel down and out. I no longer feel confident that the right course of action is to Put On My Sunday Clothes.

For a long time, I was known amongst my friends as “The Nostalgic One.” (Or, in FRIENDS Episode Title Lingo, “The One Who Gets Nostalgic.”) It took very little prompting to spur me into a long-winded ode to high school, or 90s music, or having hope for the future, or any number of long-gone artifacts of the past. 

Sometimes I would even warn people: “I am about to get nostalgic now,” and then they could choose whether to stay in my presence and continue to subject themselves to my memories or to do something more productive with their time, like cleaning their apartments or staring blankly into space. 

However, I’ve realized something about myself recently. I’ve changed. And I’m not just talking about how my posture just keeps getting worse and worse all the time. I’m talking about a difference that is far less noticeable to the naked eye, but far more noticeable to the naked part of you that senses people’s personalities. The difference is that these days, I hardly ever feel a sense of longing for the past. 

It’s not that I haven’t tried. Some nights, for example, I’ll make myself look at photos from ten years ago. I’ll tell myself I’m not allowed to go to bed until I’ve started to cry, preferably while murmuring something absurd like “those were the good days, the days that really meant something.” I’ll force myself to stare deep into the photographic eyes of my boyfriend at the time, waiting for something inside to crack, something that results in me creepily whispering “but why did it have to eeeeend” at my ex’s frozen face on my laptop. 

But sadly, I feel nothing. Unless ‘tired’ is a feeling, which I’m told it’s not. (I’m also told that being tired is the result of either a) not getting enough sleep, b) not getting enough Vitamin D, or c) suffering from diagnosable depression, but that’s neither here nor there. Or rather, I guess it might be here, but it’s ignorable.) I’ve simply lost the capacity to feel nostalgic. 

I wish this weren’t the case. I wish I still revered the past; I wish I could remember the Junior Prom when I had a black eye or the job I had doing something - never quite got the hang of what, to be honest - in financial services for two years in NYC in the same wistful, magical way that I used to. But I can’t. In fact, I guess the point is that the only thing I am nostalgic for now is those halcyon days of yore when I was actually able to feel nostalgia. I’ve lost the ability to be nostalgic for anything other than nostalgia.

On the bright side, at least I still have the ability to be meta. 

A lot of people say that it’s not healthy to hold a grudge, but I disagree. I think it feels good. There’s a certain pride that comes from being able to hang on to something long past the time when everyone else would have dropped it. Sure, you can let a grudge go, which I have done from time to time, but the truth is that I always just pick it back up again. Holding a grudge is irresistible.

Every grudge has a different shape and weight. Some of them are slippery, and they might slide out of your grip before you even realize what’s happened. Some of them are heavier than others, and you get tired of holding them faster. But I propose that this is just an opportunity for you to get tougher. Nobody respects people who can’t hold grudges for very long. Letting go of grudges, whether it is because they are too slippery or too heavy, is a huge weakness - one that you should very definitely be ashamed of.

What if you don’t have a grudge to hold? Don’t worry - you can find one pretty much anywhere! Often they will cost you, but if you can hold out long enough, chances are you’ll find one for free. In fact, many large corporations supply them on a regular basis to their employees.

Oh wait, I think I was confusing grudges with those squishy balls you are supposed to squeeze for stress release. Sorry for the mix-up. 

Guys, you know how sometimes something is so bad that it comes full circle and starts to be good? Things like the movie DEEP BLUE SEA and every single item featured on thisiswhyyourefat.com? That is not what my snot has been like. It has just been bad. For the last several weeks it has totally been clogging my sinuses and making everything I do slightly more unpleasant than it really should be. I don’t know if you know this, but things like eating and breathing really lose some of their charm when they have to be done in conjunction with copious amounts of snot.

Some may say it’s a sinus infection. Some might say it’s allergies. Some might say it’s some supernatural entity’s punishment for me not trying really super-hard to find the owner of the $20 bill I found on the stairs of the National Theatre during the intermission of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s less-popular-than-the-others musical WHISTLE DOWN THE WIND. (My friend Katie and her mom took me to see it so I’d like to acknowledge that if it weren’t for them, ultimately I’d be $20 less rich right now.) The thing is, whatever it is that is causing all this snot in my face has also totally changed the way I think. Because now I’m always thinking about snot. How can I get rid of it? When will it go away? Why, when I blow my nose and totally cleanse my nasal passages of snot, does even more snot arrive to take its place only moments later? 

That last question is probably the most thought-provoking one, because it forces me to consider the very nature of existence. Think about it: one moment, there is nothing in my nasal passages. Then, only a few seconds later, there’s just like a TON of stuff in my nasal passages. Where did it all come from? How is something made from nothing? It completely defies everything I know about matter and the physical world. It makes me think that maybe, just maybe, there are still a few mysteries left in the universe after all. It’s kind of a nice feeling, actually. 

I guess in that way - and perhaps in several others - all my snot really IS like DEEP BLUE SEA; it is so bad that it ultimately transcends badness and turns into goodness. You may think that’s a crazy thing to say, but if you think about it, really it’s snot!

P.S. Someone wanna bring me a Neti Pot?

It’s funny how there are some behaviors that only make sense if you are in an office. This morning I did one of them, which is that I ate a chunk out of part of a cake that had been left on a counter in the company kitchen.

The office is pretty much the only context in which it is acceptable to consume pastries of unknown origin. If you are walking down the street and see a muffin sitting on a bus stop bench, you should not eat it. The same is true for brownies left on the hood of your car, cupcakes on chairs in hospital waiting rooms and so on and so forth. It is a lesson so important that Lewis Carroll saw fit to immortalize it in his classic tale ALICE IN WONDERLAND: in a nutshell, you really don’t know what is going to happen when you eat cakes from whoknowswhere that have just been sitting around. Even if they are labeled “EAT ME.”

UNLESS. Unless you’re in an office, in which case you absolutely should eat as much of the cake as you possibly can RIGHT NOW, before Jan from Accounting shows up, even if you don’t know if it’s old or poisoned or just doesn’t taste good. Because when it comes to free cake, Jan takes no prisoners.

By “takes no prisoners” I mean “eats all the cake and doesn’t leave any for anyone else.”

Also, I might be Jan.