Has Anyone Seen Sliced Bread?

Has anyone seen Sliced Bread lately? I feel horrible. The last time I saw him was at a party two weeks ago. I was on the porch going on and on about how convenient keyless entry is and then the words just slipped out of my mouth. Sliced walked off the porch and left the party. I swear I didn't know he was there. Regardless, it was really stupid of me. I've texted, called, stopped by his work but still haven't heard a word. I've said some stupid things in my life, but none like this.

Beef Stew

It was a Tuesday and Jensie was mad at me. We had sat down to do wedding planning and it was obvious I had not been very productive with my weekly wedding assignments. I imagine she was thinking, “If he can’t get his relatives' addresses in a week, can I really trust him to safely navigate the chambers of my heart?" She was so irritated, I had to beg her to sit next to me on the couch. She spoke only when I asked a question and, even then, only in the shortest possible grammatical responses.

                The awkward silence was telling me that I needed to either apologize or busy myself. I took a long swig from a giant water bottle that was sitting on the coffee table. I may not even have been thirsty. I just needed some time. I needed an idea. Then it dawned on me, “I could probably impress her until she was no longer mad at me.” I turned to her and asked, “Did you see how quickly I drank that?”

                “No."

                “Do you even know how fast I can drink water?”

                “No.”

                “I am going to do it once more. Prepare to be impressed.”

                “I’m not impressed very easily.”

                “I know.”

                I lifted the bottom of the bottle toward the ceiling and let the show begin. Although my stunt was instantly shocking, I could tell it lacked significant drama, so, I improvised. I pulled the lip of the bottle six-inches from my face. Water fearlessly and without restraint leapt into my mouth. Surely, this was enough charm to get me out of trouble. Unfortunately, i'll never know.
                Right before Jensie could forgive all my wrongs, I found myself in a different kind of trouble. I couldn't swallow quick enough and a pool of water was rising toward my lips. Without hesitation, I flipped the bottle over and shut my mouth. The water which did not make it into my mouth landed either on my lap or was spit onto Jensie. She sat shocked with her mouth open in wonder. I sat stunned with my lips firmly sealed and cheeks tightly stretched due to the water pressure.

I couldn’t look at her. Not because of shame. I knew if I looked at her and we laughed, I would spew water all over her living room. I couldn’t swallow the water either because there was an air bubble in my throat refusing anything else from coming down. My only option was to run to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

                At this point, I should tell you that Jensie is a fabulous cook. Long before any of this happened, she had prepared an amazing beef stew. After hours of simmering, the meat and potatoes were exceptionally tender. I had two large servings. I felt blessed. I felt full.

                It was about twenty minutes after gorging myself on this beef stew that I found myself sprinting to the bathroom sink with a mouthful of water. I made it in time to safely dispel the water. However, immediately after, my stomach sent up a bowl of beef stew which I then leaned over and hurled into the sink.

                Knowing that puking, much like sneezing, rarely travels alone, I turned my attention to the toilet. Another heaping portion of beef stew ejected itself from my mouth. This time it came splashing down as loud as possible. I could hear Jensie ask in the background, "Are you throwing up in there?" Before I could give an account for what my body was doing, the final serving of beef stew projected itself into the murky water.

                I was done. It was finished. No more beef stew or water remained in my system. I flushed my pride down the toilet, cleaned the sink out and washed my face. When I walked back into the living room, Jensie was sitting in the exact same spot as if nothing abnormal had happened. I leaned against the wall, cocked my head to the side, glanced up at her and with an arrogant smirk on my face I shrugged my shoulders and asked, “So?”

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.