Thursday, February 10, 2005
Minutiae
A man at my gym this morning whistled all the way through his run on the treadmill, lifting regimen, and subsequent shower and change. I hate him, to be sure, but I have to admire his lung capacity. There’s also a man at my gym who compulsively washes and dries his hands each morning for a good ten minutes. Maybe it’s time for me to change gyms.
I tried the new "cheesy potatoes" at Taco Bell today, and I am pretty sure they are neither "potatoes" nor particularly "cheesy." If they want to name the product truthfully, perhaps "plasticine preservatives" would do. Which is not to say that they were not delicious. I’m pretty sure they were in fact saturated with a powerful narcotic.
Ash Wednesday was yesterday. I didn’t have a chance to get all ashed up, but I did try to feel extra guilty about things all day long. After ignoring a guy selling Streetwise, I rent my garments and gave myself thirty lashes with a stiff reed. Of course, that’s a pretty typical day for me, but it’s the thought that counts.
And speaking of Catholic absurdity, apparently the Pope has been miraculously cured. I bet they just injected him with a big ole dose of stem cells. Actually, my pet theory is that the Pope has been secretly replaced with an actor. My guess is Kirk Cameron.
A man at my gym this morning whistled all the way through his run on the treadmill, lifting regimen, and subsequent shower and change. I hate him, to be sure, but I have to admire his lung capacity. There’s also a man at my gym who compulsively washes and dries his hands each morning for a good ten minutes. Maybe it’s time for me to change gyms.
I tried the new "cheesy potatoes" at Taco Bell today, and I am pretty sure they are neither "potatoes" nor particularly "cheesy." If they want to name the product truthfully, perhaps "plasticine preservatives" would do. Which is not to say that they were not delicious. I’m pretty sure they were in fact saturated with a powerful narcotic.
Ash Wednesday was yesterday. I didn’t have a chance to get all ashed up, but I did try to feel extra guilty about things all day long. After ignoring a guy selling Streetwise, I rent my garments and gave myself thirty lashes with a stiff reed. Of course, that’s a pretty typical day for me, but it’s the thought that counts.
And speaking of Catholic absurdity, apparently the Pope has been miraculously cured. I bet they just injected him with a big ole dose of stem cells. Actually, my pet theory is that the Pope has been secretly replaced with an actor. My guess is Kirk Cameron.
