Say yes to crack
[ 2 Comments ] Posted on 10.01.04 in observations, random
Some people are down-pushers. Others are yankers. Me? I’m a side-cracker.
If ever I realize that I indeed have feet, and protruding from their central mass are these little appendages called toes, I have the urge to do it. First, though, one must tenderize the muscle by way of backward stretching against a hard floor. Then, to get the little buggers in the mood, one has to massage the mutual skin shared in the trenches between each individual podiatric battlefield. Only then, my friends, can the cracking commence.
Granted, it can’t be done too regularly. And most of the time I don’t manage to even consider it. But when the urge comes and I am in a position inclined to crackage, it remains one of the few joys left in this world for me.
Therefore, like the radicals that have cultivated the human paradigm in the past, I propose that all persons wishing to live happy, healthy lives crack their toes. By whatever means possible, if people hear the joyous little snap of the socket a few times per week, I believe that the human experience in this world can be made more bearable, if not enjoyable for those in dire, crackless states.
My spoon is too big
[ 13 Comments ] Posted on 09.12.04 in observations, random
In pondering what the greatest eating utensil is (barring the spork, which isn’t a true instrument of consumption in that it is a hybrid first created in a laboratory), I’ve considered them all. I thought about forks, knives, and chop sticks; but I’ve decided that the MVP of the dinner table is most decidedly the spoon.
They’re useful for most any purpose under the sun: scooping, stirring, and even the occasional cutting of especially tender delights.
Most mashed and soft foods that I consider to be in the “mounded” category are perfect for the spoon. From ice cream to mashed potatoes, the spoon shows them who’s boss by shoveling them from their temporary housing on the good china to the acidic realm of your mouth.
Lemonade and iced tea which lack the cavity fuel necessary to make our human bodies go can be stirred with a healthy dosage of sugar by the spoon. There are even spoons with long handles for that sort of thing. How thoughtful of the spoon manufacturers to make such entities as to not force moist stirring hands.
And when spoons can be use din unconventional ways, they truly show their necessity. Cheesecake is no match for the edge of a spoon, which can act as a replacement knife if it was accidentally taken away with your entree plate. Spoons can oft times be used in the place of forks, as well. When there is no fork readily available, the spoon comes to the rescue and, while not poking to grasp (which, by the way, can be an impediment to retaining the natural juice and flavor in some meats), the spoon shovels the food to the warm recesses of within your pie hole. Yes, spoons truly shine when given seemingly impossible eating situations that otherwise would not be achieved without them.
In conclusion, I salute you, spoon. You are this year’s recipient of the Most Valuable Eating Utensil Award. May your days from now on be long and prosperous, and may you keep up the good work concerning all things food. Thank you.
Unlisted Numbers
[ 3 Comments ] Posted on 08.27.04 in IB, food, girls, high school, random
And now, I present to the masses a list of unrelated thoughts to compensate for my week of debloggification:
1. Sometimes I forget to turn the knob before walking through doors. I understand that without such a crucial action, the whole process is doomed; I just have other things on my mind when walking through doors. I can only assume it’s because I like to think about what I will do when I get to the other side of the door and force the inner monologue of actually getting out to the back burner of my mind.
2. Frozen pizza is better than hot pizza. I think that when I’m old and living in a Miamian condominium, I’ll just order an extra large pie and refrigerate it for lunch every day of the ensuing week. Then I can save my money for more important things, like my senior’s coffee at McDonald’s for 65 cents.
3. I should probably start my Higher Level History paper comparing and contrasting the Mexican Independence Movement and the Haitian Revolution. Or perhaps I could hire a Mexican to write it for me. Either that or a Haitian. If they cooperated, I’d have an outstandingly accurate paper – what better primary source than an immigrant who’s Great Grandpappy Randolfo actually participated in the bloodshed? Either way, it has to be in Burton’s hand in a little over two weeks.
4. Whoever decided to paint the school while classes are in session should be severely punished. I’ve seen many a damsel in distress with paint on her because of unmarked wet paint. It’s like a severely misapplied case of the Scarlet Letter. Except it’s paint, not scarlet. And more of a blob of blue than a letter. And to receive this letter, you don’t have to be as kinky. On second thought, it’s nothing like the Scarlet Letter.
5. I met these two girls in the courtyard during lunch the other day. From afar, I spotted one of them accidentally drop some spare change. So I sprung into action and dashed the forty feet to their midst and dove to pick up the coins for them, as they had their hands full and were wearing garb that would not be flattering to bend over in. I retrieved the three coins and gave them to one of the young ladies saying, “Here’s your sixty cents,” and ran away again, out of sight. That’s the last I’ve seen of them.
6. Potato turbate would be more appetizing if they changed the name. No one wants to eat turbate.