aren’t you, mr. robertson? surely you realize this. i know you’re not stupid. you graduated from mccallie, after all. in fact, i am confident that you know exactly what you’re doing. and what you are doing, mr. robertson? you’ve launched something called a “prayer offensive” — an excellent branding move, i must admit. in an …
i’m rolling my eyes on a regular basis these days. every morning or every evening. i can avoid it by turning off the radio or looking away from the television, but i try not to be apathetic. so i listen. i hear it. and i am hit with that familiar need to shake my head …
behold, this coupon of great discount-saving goodness. and hurry, as it is only good for this weekend!
i abhore online quizzes. i really, really do. “what breed of undersea mollusk are you?” “which member of menudo are you?” “which ex-husband of liz taylor are you?” ack. no, thanks. pointless exercises, all of them. but then there is this one. more of a survey than a quiz. and it has a certain amount …
there is a largish man with an unruly mullet installing deadbolts on the doors of our office restrooms. i can see him from my cubicle. he did the men’s room first, and now he is working on the ladies’ room. passers-by are looking at these new locks with no small amount of confusion. they’re commenting …
well, i didn’t think anything would make me regret moving out of midtown atlanta, but i must admit to a pang or two of longing now that i’ve heard of zifty. and just what the heck is a zifty, you ask? well, if you’re in the atlanta area … and when i say atlanta, i …
fireworks. cookouts. used car sales. extravaganzas. parades. marching bands. all of this frivolity — justified, don’t get me wrong — to celebrate the actions of few brave men that could no longer stand by quietly and watch their people strain and buckle under a remote tryanny. WE hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all …
the europeans don’t have the decency to celebrate independance day, so i am sitting here and waiting for the next panicked phonecall from someone named gunther in munich or jean-claude in paris. “zee ee-mail, she is broken!” eventually, something will break and i’ll have to call one of the on-call people. if the timing is …
i remembered another tune this morning, something from memories of school mornings and my unwillingness to get out of bed. the unwillingness remains, mind you. but in with the smell of coffee and the early 80s kitchen carpet … yes, for a short time, we had carpet in the kitchen … i can remember luther …
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