Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Do spruce bugs deserve mercy?

My son and I hate them. They are huge and evil and I once fell off a ladder after one landed on me. I may have screamed like a toddler. Because they bite. Hard. Plus I know a guy whose face got ripped off by one. And another guy who mowed off his own leg trying to avoid one. I don't own a gun and frankly, never would, but if I ever did, I would likely choose a Glock and I would use it to annihilate spruce bugs for ruining our wondrous outdoors.

Have a nice day.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Things one should never outgrow:

Although still delicious, pop rocks don't look the same as they did when I was a kid because, well, Breaking Bad. Nevertheless, although addictive, they are thankfully not blue meth, and therefore I believe they are still part of a healthy breakfast (lunch, supper, whatever). Folks, it's just common sense. And even though I'm no longer eleven, it still sounds like laughter feels when I put them all in my mouth at once. Highly recommend. (No pun intended there Walter White fans.)

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Do bears shit in the... woods?

Actually no. They shit anywhere they want. Absolutely anywhere. And I'm okay with that. Because I'm not going to stop them. Or get out of the car. Gulp.

Monday, June 15, 2015

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Dear Google Hangout,

Yes. I'm still here. But I must admit, this prompt was a little unnerving. Why so existential Google? Are you watching me?

Signed,
Someone who wonders sometimes if science fiction isn't so fiction-y anymore.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Just so you know, the answer is no.

Was this built by giants?

It does look as though Hagrid or Mag the Mighty built it, but this picnic table-for-10 was indeed constructed by a very talented regular-sized human being whose only wizardry skill is nevertheless quite impressive: carpentry. I've decided it's the coolest picnic table ever, uh, unless it requires moving at some point.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

mosquitoes and the fine print on mosquito repellent products: "Mosquito Shield Citronella Candle" is "not intended to repel mosquitoes." What?

But I'm pretty sure this could work.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Keyed

We all have those mornings. Take for example, one's keys. There are many different ways a guy's keys could interfere with that frenzied-rush-to-get-out-the-door-efficiency required some mornings when it's important to be early or something needs to be prepped before work or someone needs a ride or whatever. So keys are pretty much key, aren't they? Keys don't always cooperate though. Familiar scenarios follow. Maybe...

1. I can't find my keys.
2. I have the wrong set of keys.
3. I left my keys in my other coat.
4. My key won't work.
5. Someone stole my car so my keys are useless. It could happen. That reminds me of the time
6. One of my teens borrowed my car but came home without it and well, you know that parking-lot-I-have-no-freaking-idea-where-my-car-is-feeling. That.
7. My dog ate my keys.
8. My kid dropped my keys in the toilet. (It's happened to several people apparently.)
9. My keys are at the bottom of the lake/river/swamp/ocean/vat of cheese dip.
10. My wife drove six hours away for the weekend with her keys and my keys. (True story.)

BUT HERE'S A NEW ONE.

I'm going to be presumptuous and declare that this has NEVER HAPPENED TO ANYONE ELSE ON EARTH except me and sure, that's probably exaggeration but wait, maybe not.

Rushing to my car one early sunny beautiful morning recently, I stepped off my deck and onto my driveway, my keys in my right hand. Suddenly I realized I had walked right into one of those cobwebs that spiders like to clothesline us unsuspecting humans with, likely to enjoy the effect of seeing us humans flail around in irrational horror while those same spiders record the drama on their tiny iPhones with the intent to upload footage to Arachni-you-tube and get lots and lots of hits, go viral, impress their friends, and become famous before someone crushes them with a shoe, repeatedly. (My bitterness will be explained momentarily). Anyway, instinctively I reached up to frantically remove that spider silk from my face and promptly shoved my car key up my right nostril into my brain aka a self-administered mini-lobotomy.

OUCHNESS.

If there is indeed an Arachni-you-tube, I suspect I'm famous too.
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