Must not order books from Amazon.
Must not order books from Amazon.
Must not order books from Amazon.

[Via Spamula]

Weasel: Yogurt? Lo-calorie yogurt? That’s all you’re eating for breakfast? I thought the diet was over?
Man: Well, it is, but I hate to gain everything back right away, you know?
Weasel: Jesus, yogurt. So these chocolate eggs are up for grabs, then?
Man: Until the kids get up, guess so. Look, how do I know you’re really my spirit guide?
Weasel: What, you were expecting maybe a jaguar? A panther with flaming eyes?
Man: I just, you know. You expect it to *click* when you meet your spirit guide, right? Some cosmic flash of recognition.
Weasel: Be glad you didn’t get a sheep. Lots of people get sheep. That’s really fucked up.
Man: I was thinking, tiger maybe. Or a big black bull.
Weasel: Hah! Or lemmings. They’re even worse than sheep.

Man: Look, if you’re going to eat something, eat it. Don’t just lick stuff and put it back.

“Look, dad.”
My younger daughter showed me her specimen-viewing jar. I think she got it from her sister, who got it from well-meaning relatives who picked up some educational toys for the nieces and nephews at the local science museum gift shop once; her sister tired of it quickly.

A small plastic jar with a magnifying glass attached to the top. There was a fly buzzing around inside.

We were in a hurry to get to a restaurant on time, where we were meeting the grandparents for lunch before they left on a tour of Mallorca with the retired persons’ tour group they belong to.

Buzzing and buzzing. When he’d walk up the walls of the jar, out of range of the magnifying glass, she’d give it a good whack and he’d buzz around again.

The little naturalist.

“How did you ever get the fly into the jar?”

She brandished her hand like a secret weapon. “Just whacked him against the wall. He fell onto the floor, I stuck him in the jar and he woke up.”

The fly buzzed. Through the magnifying glass, it looked like a really big fly.

My curiosity was piqued by a line in a previous post about never having felt “at home” anywhere in the world. And I began to wonder again about all those notions of home that haunt us, how much home is a part of our collective mythology, marketing’s imagery, societal constructs and each person’s own concept of a mini-nirvana – the hope for a place where we can be fully ourselves…

And I wonder what it is that makes someone feel like a pariah in their homeland? Whence that dissatisfaction, that itch to see how those elsewhere go about this business of existence? Is it mere curiosity or a deeper need of displacement?

Continue reading →

By experimenting on ourselves, my wife and I have determined why models and body builders are often so fucking stupid. It’s not because those professions attract people who are any less intelligent than, say, law or medicine.

It’s the dieting.

We had a long conversation about this in bed last night, only I can’t remember the details, which is just as well because it was probably a stupid conversation.

It boils down to, the brain needs glucose to function properly. And if you’re dieting right, you’re probably cutting down on the carbs, and that means no sugars, and that means not only talking to the diet angels, but talking to them about very mundane things.

We had bananas at breakfast today, and some shortbread cookies our kid brought back from Scotland with our coffee just now, and a couple slices each of this Easter lamb cake they have here, and we’re ready for a crossword puzzle.

What’s it mean when you dream your wife and you are both pr0n movie actors, only she’s getting work and you’re not?

Kid home safe and sassy.
Diet over, for now.
Nice weather predicted for tomorrow, and especially Sunday.
Happy (E)Ostara fest, etc.

Also:
Turtle running laps in office.

Continue reading →