February 2, 2010
Well, it’s rainy and cold outside today, and I’m just being a complete slug, so I thought it was the perfect time to write something. At least it seemed like a good idea an hour ago, before I had yet another reminder that my brain cells are dying off at an alarming rate. Sometimes when I log into my blog it asks me for a password, and sometimes it doesn’t. Unfortunately for me, today was a password day. I thought I knew it, but it turns out that I’m even more stupid than I thought, which is really saying something, since I am nothing if not honest with myself about my level of stupidity.
After blogger rejected what I thought was my password about 5 times, I decided to make a new one. In yet another unfortunate twist, in order to change your password you must do one of those Word Verification things, which I usually have more trouble with than College Algebra, and this time was no exception. This time I set a personal record for failed attempts at Word Verification. Not only that, but I am actually quite confident that I may have set a world record as well. So after what seemed like hours of typing in “words” like fgl8esTar and rAvd4ESlg2 I finally got lucky with thEr8ulAte, and made it onto my blog. Problem is, now I not only can’t remember what I was going to blog about, but I also have a headache and a sore throat from screaming curse words at my computer screen.
So needless to say I am now too exhausted to write much of anything, thanks to blogger’s fear that there lives, somewhere in this big world of ours, a very bored and sinister individual who wants nothing more in life than to hack into my blog and wreak havoc on my reputation by writing a counterfeit entry. Listen, whoever you are, you can’t possibly, in a million years, do more damage to my reputation that I can do to myself, so save your hacking energy and find a new pastime.
So there you have it. My excuse of the day. But since I love you guys and I don’t want to leave you completely empty-handed, I will leave you with this: Last week I sent my dear friend John a book that I wanted him to read (it is called “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, and it is hysterical, but not for the faint of heart or die-hard women’s libbers). After sending him this book I received an email that stated the following “Thanks for the book! I’ve only read the first story but I can tell its gonna be fun. You need to be careful sending me packages because I have a tendency to send things back. Usually if I clean out a drawer or closet shelf and find a bunch of stuff I haven’t seen in years, yet can’t bring myself to throw away, it goes in the mail. So don’t be surprised if you get a big box of crap in the mail. Thanks again!” So yesterday I received my “Box Of Crap”, and here is a photo as well as a partial inventory:
-Book of matches, partially used
-Menu for one of my favorite pizza parlor’s. Lightly stained.
-Electric Pencil Sharpener, full of pencil gunk.
-2 Monkey Heads made from coconuts
-Orange Marmalade. Homemade. Looks really old.
-Miniature stuffed Winnie The Pooh in a bunny costume.
-2 broken watches
-2 pens (working)
-Photo of my face drinking a beer (extremely close-up shot)
While this may seem like a strange thing for someone to do (not only the sending of the box, but also the writing about the sending of the box), I was thrilled to receive my B.O.C. See, I may not get to see or talk to John as much as I would like to, but now when I am missing him, I can dump out my B.O.C and sit in the middle of that cigarette smoke smelling pile of trash and pretend I am with him. And each time I look at my B.O.C. it will remind me that maybe, just maybe, I am not the weirdest person in the world, because someone who would spend $11.87 to send me a giant B.O.C. is at the very least, the same amount of strange as the person who was happy to receive it.
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