Devine Design

The other day, while in my parent's shed, I had a design epiphany. I knew what my design aesthetic would be for the rest of my life; whatever spider's hate.
        I want to know which colors make spiders quiver. My wife's nails will be painted these colors. Those are the exact colors that my children's bedrooms will be painted. If the suit I choose is not one of these colors, you know my tie will be. and verse visa.
        Are there specific octaves that cause spider migraines? My favorites bands will be determined by whether or not they play these sounds. I will buy cases of kazoos that play one of these octaves. On Halloween, I will pass out these kazoos to all of the kid's in my neighborhood.
        Is there a certain shape that spider's can't stand, a shape so hideous that they won't live in the same house with people who love these shapes. Sorry, pideys, I just could not resist these sectagonal bifocals and this triangular television simply completed the room. Sure, these pentagonal sneakers are killing my arch but at least i'll never have to squish a spider in them.
        Basically, the foundation of my design aesthetic is to live life without fear. In my dream home, I will never have to check underneath the toilet seat before I sit down to lay cable. Of course I want an Eames chair, but if my furniture isn't scientifically proven to reduce the number of spiders I eat during sleep, then it doesn't make the cut. And yes, if you come over wearing spider-friendly trends, I will offer you an alternative outfit and gladly incinerate the one you brought.

Foundations for What?

I'm not accustomed to going on rants but I have had it up to here(I am touching the top of my Hakeem Olajuwon poster) with all of these "charity" events going on in my beloved city. It seems every other week there is a walk going on for the Aids Foundation or a tree climb for the Diabetes Foundation. People naively take time out of their busy weekends(probably for the free tee-shirt) to help raise money for these institutions that on the surface look altruistic. Well, looks can be deceiving(and the tee-shirts aren't that cool)

You wanna know why you will never see Thomas B. Culton at a relay race for the Polio Foundation? or a black tie gala for the Jaundice Foundation? Because Thomas B. Culton doesn't support the founders of these diseases. I am against them. I want to fight them, not support them. Frankly, I think these foundations ARE the disease. I know we live in a "free" country, but really? Really? Can any country truly be self-respecting that has allowed these foundations to thrive and infect its own people. Moneys are exchanging hands somewhere in the District of Columbia.

Space Invaders

Sometimes, in sci-fi stories, there are scientists who go to distant planets in order to study and report about alien culture. They are some of the bravest characters ever penned. They walk in a cloud of unknowing, led only by their passion for knowledge. Will their tools aid them in this foreign land? They can't be sure. Has their education prepared them for the mystery they are about to behold? Not likely. Also, a very common storyline is romantic involvement with a member of the species the scientist is studying.

The real-life occupation that best resembles this fictional character would have to be the male gynecologist.

Dishwasher Dad

I had a very rough morning. When the coffee was done brewing I grabbed a mug from the cupboard but it had stuff caked on the inside of it so I had to put it back. It gets rougher. The next cup I tried also had little particles stuck to the inside. Put it back. Tried again. It wasn't until the fourth cup that I found one clean enough to drink from.
        Later I asked my dad what the deal was with the dishwasher not doing its job. He told me that he tends to think of the dishwasher as a sanitizer and suggested me doing as much of the cleaning as possible before putting the dishes in. In a lot of ways I am a carbon copy of my dad and I gladly admire many of the similarities but two dishwashing techniques diverged in a  yellow wood and I being one washer chose the one where I didn't have to do as much work.
        I explained to my dad that I viewed the dishwasher more like an old friend. An old friend that owed me an enormous debt. I don't want this debt to get in the way of our friendship, so I strike a deal. I offer to forgive my friend the debt he owes in exchange for cleaning my dishes. He doesn't get a free pass but it's severely discounted. For the sake of my friend's dignity, I tell my dad, I don't clean the dishes off before I put them in. Go back on my deal? Dilute mercy? No, I am afraid this would deeply offend it.

Stinkbugs

        For their intelligence, Stinkbugs have got to be one of the most underrated creatures on the planet. It is not for what they have done since the day they were created, but rather for how they chose to be remembered that makes them brilliant bugs. On the day when all animals were given the choice of what streetname they wanted, the Stinkbug obviously understood the effect of such a decision and chose to play the idiot genius.
        Despite warnings against names that would prove problematic in future relations with humans, many obstinate insects still wanted bad to the bone names. The Black Widow bragged about being deadly and the Brown Recluse for being sneaky. Others chose inconsequential names that would render them free from enmity with man. The Rolly Poly and the Grasshopper are examples of harmless choices. The Ladybug chosen to illicit sympathy. Nobody kills Ladybugs and nobody has ever met a gentle Black Widow. All Ladybugs are assumed to have manners and Black Widows to be vicious. These judgements are largely based on their names and may be incorrect more often than not.
        The Centipede thought it would be cool to be known as the insect with the most feet, and then the Millipede trumped him. The Centipede appealed to change it's name to Billipede and litigation ensued. One of the rules of the meeting was that once a name was approved there was no changing. Otherwise those bugs would have argued until one was named Infinitypede and the other InfinitytotheXpowerpede.
        A roar erupted when the Dung Beetle chose its name. The Leaf Beetle and Six-Spotted Green Tiger Beetle implored their kin to choose something else, anything else, mostly out of the dignity of the species. When asked to give a defense for its name, the Dung Beetle revealed a baseball hat made out Elephant poo, a twelve-speed bike made out of Horse doody and wrist watch fashioned out of Feline feces. The essence of his passion was undeniable but so was the stench of his passion. After its disgusting defense the committee reluctantly approved the name and a 15-minute recess was immediately ordered.
        It was during this break that the Stinkbug had its brilliant idea. He observe the interactions of the Dung Beetle and the other insects. Nobody wanted to be around him. The Stinkbug knew this meant that the dung beetle was destined for a life of solitude apart from its own family. The Stinkbug also knew this meant that predators would rarely search them out for dinner. It did not remove them from the food chain. A predator hungry enough would eat a poop covered bug, but only under desperate circumstances. The tradeoff from many friends/many enemies to few friends/few enemies was an easy one choice to make. A life of tranquility is almost non-existent in the animal kingdom, but the Dung Beetle had uncovered a loop-hole and the Stinkbug was prepared to crawl through it no matter how disgusting it was.
        The meeting convened and the Stinkbug put in his request immediately. The only noise heard immediately following his request was a pin drop followed by a Cricket chirping. Apparently, a Cricket had dropped a pin and then was chirping to everyone around him so they didn't step on it.  Many bugs were annoyed and others skeptical. The explanation given was simple enough. The Stinkbug said that upon its life being threatened or the actual moment of death a retched odor is released staining the flesh of any parties in close proximity. The committee accepted it on account of everyone was growing weary. This meeting was going on way longer than expected.
        To this day, the name Stinkbug has had little effect on the insect socially. It still gets invited to pool parties and bar-mitzvahs and all that stuff. Its loneliest moments are on its deathbed. Cards and flowers are sent via Stinkbug delivery services to the specially built Stinkbug hospice facilities. The price paid for longevity.
        I don't understand why when people discover that something has soured, like a carton of milk, they then bring it to me to smell as if I don't believe them. I believe you. I am not interested in smelling a frightened Stinkbug just to find out if it smells or not and that is why I cannot tell you if Stinkbugs actually do stink. For that I tip my metaphorical hat to the Stinkbug, the creature that swallowed its pride for the sake of preserving the life of its family for generations.

Buy 1 Get 10 Free

Recently, my girlfriend and I were driving to a wedding in Boliver, MO, the city that she grew up in. It is about two hours from where I live and I had never been there. We were slightly behind schedule but she was calming my nerves by giving me turn by turn directions.
        Thirty minutes into the drive she pointed to a billboard and said, "That's our exit." She is so funny. The billboard was an advertisement for a fireworks warehouse. I laughed to myself a little bit and then started thinking about all of the fireworks stands in the world. They are all over the place in America. Out in the middle of nowhere exit after exit and sometimes multiple in the same exit.
        It baffles me because everywhere I have ever lived permits the firing of recreational explosives for only two days out of the year, New Year's Eve and Fourth of July. I have so many questions about fireworks stores and since my girlfriend made that joke I can't stop thinking about them.
        Do these fireworks stands really pay their mortgages by their sales for these two dates? I hardly think so. How are the stores so close to each other? Why is it that whenever there are two stores next to each other that there is always just one car parked out front? Why is that one car always a Chevy Malibu? How far away do employees have to walk to go on smoke breaks? Will another company ever challenge the branding supremacy of Black Cat? How can they offer such incredible deals? Buy 1 Get 10 Free!!
        Twelve miles into my musing, my girlfriend asked a rather confusing question, "Are we still on 71?" "As far as I know," I replied. She had broken my concentration. I was trying to get back to my thoughts when she asked if I had taken the exit she told me to. "You never said anything. What exit?" I replied firmly. "The one with the fireworks stand," she replied rightly.

Superman Insurance

     If I was an entrepreneur in Metropolis, I would develop a market for Superman Insurance. I have nothing against Superman but boy does he cause a lot more damage then he realizes.

     

     Firstly: Getting Changed in a Phone Booth 

     When he gets changed in the phone booth it is so quick that nobody even notices. I have never gotten changed in a phone booth before, but I imagine that it would be extremely difficult not to touch the glass enclosure a couple times while taking off my shirt or pants. If Superman bumps into the glass walls getting changed as quickly as he does there would an explosion of glass that sprayed out like grenade shrapnel. Superman Insurance would show up, see a demolished phone booth, assume it was S-Man and cut you a check.

     Secondly: Laser Vision

     Superman may have amazing abilities, but he is far from perfect and I would say that to his face. Having laser vision is a gift, but being a marksman is a skill that needs to be developed and practiced on a regular basis. S-Man won't hit his desired target 100% of the time. Molten sidewalk outside your storefront? covered. Car been lasered in half? covered.  

     Thirdly: Falling From a Building

     Everyone knows that if you fall from a building in Metropolis and yell Superman's name he will catch you. However, Superman rarely takes into consideration the delicacies of the human spine. If you are falling from a building at 35 mph and Superman intercepts you at a ninety-degree angle, you will be in the hospital. So will we, with a check, if you have Superman Insurance.

      Fourthly: Freezy Breath

      In the event that S-Man is fighting a nemesis that uses fire as his main weapon, freezy breath will be Superman's most obvious counter-attack. This could get bad depending on the intensity of the battle. Frozen branches falling on power-lines, pipes bursting, pneumonia, damaged crops, hypothermia and frost bite would all be covered.

    

It would be company policy to never speak about Superman in a negative manner. Our stance would be an empathetic one. Superman makes mistakes just as much as the next guy. His mistakes just happen to be super.

On The Dot

I have heard a lot of people complaining about gas prices lately. Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought. People at my work are regularly quoting prices from around the country and making predictions for later this Summer. I have not once been tempted to chime in, until today.

Have you noticed with the higher prices how difficult it is to pump to the even dollar? You slide your card and put the little kickstand up on the pump. The handle clicks and you look over and it reads $38.27. I venture to guess that many of you are like me and are equally as concerned, if not more, about the $0.27 as you are the $38.

I couldn’t sleep at night if I knew that when that when that transaction posted $38.27 would be taken out. It has to be an even dollar. I don’t want to consider $0.27 when I am doing my budget. It’ll screw the whole thing up for weeks.

So, I go for the even $39. My car doesn’t necessarily need $0.73 more of gas -- my mind does. I do the pulsating grip technique to scoot my way closer to serenity.

(hard squeeze)

$38.45

(hard squeeze)

$38.67

(hard squeeze)

$38.83

(medium squeeze)

$38.94

(little squeeze)

$38.97

(little squeeze)

$38.99

(Pause)

Concentrate, Thomas! You’ve done this a thousand time. If you were a rapper your name would be Lil Squeezie.

(tiny squeeze)

$39.01 

The worst possible outcome. 

Chef Marshall

           Back when I was 24 years old, I trained to be a Certified Nurse’s Assistant. I sat in class, the instructor told us everything that we needed to highlight in our books and we got out early almost everyday. Being a CNA is not difficult, but it was still alarming how easy it was to pass this class. One of the multiple-choice questions on a test asked me what the role of a CNA was. The first option, A, asked if the role of a CNA was to welcome new resident’s to the facility, make them feel at home and provide immediate care for their everyday needs. The other option, B, asked if the CNA’s role was to alienate the resident, and make them feel uncomfortable. When I read this I remember sitting up and looking around the class, and no, not to cheat. It felt like somebody was playing a joke on me.

            Clinicals weren’t much more difficult. I had to serve 100 hours at a long-term care facility. I had a checklist of things that I needed to complete. It included things like give a bed bath, dress a resident, shave a resident, administer range of motion exercises, and assist in feeding a resident. I looked up the place that I was assigned to. It was rated one out of five stars. It was also four blocks from my house.

            One day I was shadowing a CNA who had been working at this place for years. Her name was Tony and she was a firecracker. She laughed, moved at a determined pace and met the needs of the residents with genuine enthusiasm and concern. I think she is what constituted the one star.

            I was trying to keep up with Tony as best as I could. I was helping people into the shower, lathering them up, drying ‘em off and sending them off on their tennis-ball-capped-walker way. I was becoming an efficient helper. Then Tony and I checked to see if Mr. Marshall had wet himself.

            Mr. Marshall would sit on a love seat by the front door for hours. There was a pee pad that he sat on because if he was left unattended for too long, he would wet himself. Sure enough, he had been left unattended for too long.

            Tony and I acted out the routine. I walked Mr. Marshall to his room. Tony picked out some clean clothes for him. She then went to go check on some other students and I took Mr. Marshall to the bathroom to get him cleaned up.

I pulled his pants off and he was standing there in a diaper. I wasn’t quite sure what the procedure was for taking a diaper off before helping someone sit on a toilet. What I figured was, if anything happened between the time I took the diaper off and sat him on the toilet it was no problem because we are in the bathroom and things are allowed to get messy here.

Tony showed up at just the right time. She saw what I was doing and sensed disaster. She suggested that I sit him on the toilet before removing the diaper. I heard what she was saying and knew it was wise. I respected her but, I wanted to do it my way. What a stupid mistake.

As soon as I pulled the tab on the diaper, the weight of the surprise doodoo that was in his diaper forced the other tab to give resulting in the diaper plummeting to the floor like a broken elevator. The feces was dehydrated and had been sat on for a while which flattened it into a disc. It was as thick and round as an Eggo waffle and had the texture of a Boca burger.

Tony laughed really hard. Apparently, I made her day. She promptly reminded me about what she had just suggested. I took it. I deserved it. I grinned and I leaned over to pick up the diaper.

Now, if you have never worn scrubs before, I need to tell you that the pockets on the shirts are too shallow. I don’t know why they are, they just are. If you have something in it that is not secure, when you lean over, it will fall out.

            What I had in my pocket when I leaned over to pick up the diaper was my cell phone. The cell phone was not secured and it did fall into Mr. Marshall’s diaper. An immediate groan came from my inmost. My deflated voice exclaimed,  “OHHH, TOEEEENNY!” She started laughing again. Mr. Marshall had prepared a entrée and my cell phone was the garnish.

Many people will say that working at a long-term care facility is a humbling experience. Many of the residents are reduced to infancy in their physical needs. They require help eating, cleaning themselves and sometimes just help walking down the hall. Knowing that you are giving them things they need but can’t provide themselves is a delicate and honoring position. Much of the work, when explained sounded disgusting, but actually doing it wasn’t. Except for that one moment when my phone fell in a diaper. That was disgusting. Everything else felt normal.

Guy Ladybugs

I feel bad for guy ladybugs. I imagine that their culture is either female dominated with a bunch of momma’s boys fluttering around or they are the toughest guy bugs around because they have been getting crap from day one.

            Eventually, most of us learn to appreciate our names. That is probably what happens with guy ladybugs, but not before a tumultuous adolescence. One day, when they are older, they probably come to the conclusion that there are more important things to care about. I imagine that it would be similar to a human guy with the last name Poopydoodoo.

            With a name like Poopydoodoo, he would be sure to catch laughs in the classroom, and would constantly have to defend his honor on the playground. Kids can be cruel. With a name like Poopydoodoo, he’d always be a target. No matter how hard he could kick a kickball, how good he was at four square, or tetherball, or math, or drawing, everyday he would encounter the issue of something bringing up his name mockingly. When you’re a kid, it’s hard sometimes to understand why people don’t get you.

            After a while, young Poopydoodoo would start to wonder if he even understood why somebody would have a name like his. So, he would ask his Grandfather the why question. His Grandfather would tell him, “It's about time you knew. Your Great Grandfather was an Icelandic man named Peter Bjorganjorgan.  Everyone in the homeland called him Poppy. His greatest dream was to come to America. On the boat ride here, he learned what little English he could. Before he got to Ellis Island, he decided to ask the first American he met for work. When the immigration official inquired of his name, he had no clue what he was being asked, but nonetheless responded, “Poppy do! Poppy do do!” Apparently, Poppy thought the word “do” was synonymous with work. The overtired, overworked immigration official thought nothing of it and registered your Great Grandfather as Mr. Poopydoodoo.”

            I am sure that after a sit down like that, the young boy would despise his name a little less. He should. I mean, it is a silly name, and they should have changed it two generations ago, but his Great Grandfather didn’t care what people called him, he was just glad to be in America.

            Guy ladybugs should take a lesson from the Poopydoodoo family. They should be more excited about their features than concerned about their name. Those little bugs have a ton of things rolling in their favor. First thing rolling in their favor: Easy, gift of flight. Second thing rolling in their favor: Hard shell Lamborghini doors. Third thing rolling in their favor: Humans don’t try to spray you with things or stomp on you. Talk about the insect’s burden, try being a soft-spoken, well-behaved, donates to charity, would rather stay home this weekend and finish Catcher in the Rye(he’s been meaning to get to it for years), keeps to himself SPIDER. AHHHHH! WHERE?! KILL HIM!

Nicknames

            I have been called many things, and I don’t mind being called late for dinner if you used cream of mushroom in that casserole.

My cousin Thomas nicknamed me T-Bone. It stuck for most of my childhood. I loved it. To nickname someone T-Bone whose first named begins with “T” is not very original, however, his explanation for why he gave me the name always amazed me. If you asked him when we were younger, he would tell you I was named T-Bone because I sat on a bench and woke my hamsters up. What an absurd explanation. A back-story was only ever given if asked for. 

I had two hamsters. One was named Sonic. The other was Hedgehog.

I call my girlfriend, Babe. I call her daughter, baby-girl. I call my girlfriend, Sweetheart. She also calls me Babe and Sweetheart. I find it humorous when we are in an argument and she keeps calling me Sweetheart. In those moments, I feel more like Uglyheart. Hearing her call me something tender in moments of disagreements gives me hope that we will get through whatever this is. We always do. She has always been good at looking forward and calling up the best in me.

I still remember my freshman year of high school when one of the nerds told me that he thought it was interesting that I was both a nerd and cool. Still one of the kindest things anyone has ever told me. Recently, almost 10 years after that, my best-friend’s wife told me that she wasn’t sure if I was really cool or just a nerd. Remember, I’m the kid who named his hamsters after a video game character.

I’ve had other alias’s: Bonesaw(variation of T-Bone), Coltrane(this one came from Shane the Brain), Tay Tay(when I hear my nieces and nephew call me this, I can always conjure up a crazy dance to make them laugh), Swampthing(Mokie, my cousin Marc, coined this one. Cover yourself in wet sand, pretend you're a monster and you too can have this nickname, but not before then.).

There are a couple nicknames that float around a group of my friends. They are not normal nicknames. They are temporary, always circumstantial and you never want to be called them.

The first is “The Entertainer”. This is reserved for the emcee of the night. He has been telling the most jokes. He is the one in the spotlight making everyone laugh. The dream sequence in Dumb and Dumber is the template for this nickname. There is one part in that segment where Jim Carry is in a lodge with Mary’s family. We enter to him telling the punch line of a joke; “he said, ‘do you love me?’ and she says, ‘No. But that’s a real nice ski mask.” He then proceeds to throw a bunch of goldfish in his mouth and lights a fart on fire. No matter what he does, everyone bursts out laughing. If any an this niche group of friends catches the other commanding the room like this, he will be sure to be hailed as entertainer.

don't be this guy

“The Godfather” is the other nickname and is far worse to be called. The Godfather is declared if anyone tries to define rules to any activity that we are all involved in. If you are having people over for dinner and tell them which order they are to serve themselves, you will hear “whatever you say Godfather.” If you dispute any rule, whether it is the proper scoring in washers or how to rearrange big-blinds when somebody gets knocked out of a poker game, you will be declared Godfather. It could be the most simple, common rule that just needs to be voiced in front of everyone, but if you are the one to do it, you are sentencing yourself.

The title Godfather comes with the responsibility of answering any question about rules or procedures the rest of the night. In some cases, The Godfather will have to make every decision for the group. When asked to vote on something, it is common to defer by saying that your allegiance lies with the Godfather and whatever he says goes. The trick to the Godfather is to name someone the Godfather first. It is always difficult to get rid of a nickname.

Something even more difficult to do is nickname yourself. It never feels right. You end up looking arrogant and nobody will ever feel comfortable using it. No matter how cool a pair of shoes is you won’t enjoy wearing them if they don’t fit. I have some friends that live in Kewaskum, Wisconsin. I tried to get a couple of them to start calling me T-waskum. They asked why and I stopped my campaign right there. Explaining an idea like that, when you are just then realizing it wasn’t as good as you thought, is like retelling a joke to somebody that didn’t hear it the first time.

Some of my closest friends respond to Bro Bro, Hoodmomma, Bigby, Warhammer and Pup. I knew two brothers in middle school. The oldest was nicknamed Air Fish and his younger brother Air Fish Jr. Nicknames are found in the seasonings cabinets of social interaction. Sometimes they are just absurd and fun. Sometimes they can be a subversive way of telling someone you love them.

I Sat on an Egg

My girlfriend bought me a Cadbury Egg. She told me that I need to warm it up before I ate it. I was so confused. She suggested that I put it under my pillow. I was still so confused. I am still a little kid when it comes to chocolate. I have no patience. I don't want to let chocolate get warm under my pillow. I want it to let it warm in my mouth.
     The egg was still in my car when I got to work the next day. One of my jobs is delivering flowers. Another one of my jobs is delivering pizzas. Sometimes I get hungry on the road. I don't like to stop for snacks very often on the boss's dime, so, I grabbed the egg and brought it with me.
     It sat in the cup-holder looking very uncomfortable. Eggs don't like too much exposure to open air, right? It must have known I was planning on eating it. I wasn't really in the mood to eat chocolate at that time. It was about 11am and all I had to eat was chocolate chip cookies that I dipped in my coffee earlier that morning. My hope is that I would be able to eat from at least one other part of the pyramid before I got down on that egg.
     That egg was never going to last till after lunch. I wanted it now, but I knew I had to warm it up first. What was I going to say if my girlfriend asked me about the egg? I thought about turning the heat on and holding the egg up to the vent. That would make me hot. Not into that idea. I felt the egg. It was in fact a little cooler than van temperature. "This will not do. This will not do," I thought. So, I did what any self respecting hen would do. I sat on it.
     The only natural way to give it the warmth it needed was to give it the warmth I had to give. Now, before you get grossed, because I know you will. Keep this in mind: underpants, khakis and tin foiled all played their part in not letting milk chocolate and my flesh get formally introduced. Nor was any gas released. However that may have helped I still have my standards.
      So, there I was. Another day. Another dollar. Running floral deliveries as usual, and then I sat on an egg. When I sat on that egg something shifted inside my heart. I felt a parental bond. I was no longer driving a floral van. It was a mobile stoop. I checked my eggs temperature from time to time. It seemed like it was barely changing. I got worried. What was wrong with my egg? I tried to sit on it better than ever. I would check every 5 minutes. Would it grow up deformed because I didn't sit on it right? Was I even worthy to sit on it?
     I worked myself into a frenzy. There was a long driving section in my route and I kept mulling over what I should be doing better as an egg sitter. I got so worried about how well I was providing warmth for the egg that came into my life that I forgot to check on it. Woopsies.
    I forgot for a moment that it was not my child-to-be and that it was actually milk chocolate. It had gone to the soft side. I know my girlfriend wanted me to warm my Cadbury Egg up, but I can't imagine that she had this in mind. The only way to return chocolate to hard form once it has gone to the soft side, is to freeze it, but even then it tastes different after being re-hardened.
     I wasn't going to let MY egg taste different than it was suppose to be. I wanted to enjoy its last moments. So, I carefully peeled back the tin foil and licked it. About a third of the egg clung to the foil. My greatest achievement after that was not wrecking the van while mournfully enjoying the rest of the chocolate egg.
      If I had to draw one thing from this story, it would be a draw two card. From then I would explain how we need to be careful that we don't treat the "chocolate eggs" in our lives like they are our babies. What are the "chocolate eggs" in your life? For me, it was literally a chocolate egg. For you, it may be a good idea somebody gave you. Don't sit on that good idea. Eat it up and enjoy it. Also, don't fart on it.
      The other thing I would draw from this is that I need to pack a lunch. All I had until 4:45p was chocolate chip cookies, coffee and a soft Cadbury Egg. Come on.