I crave for the days when I could walk Independence Point. Out to John Foster Dulles’ former camp when no one was there. Watching the water ebb and flow along Johnson’s Shoal. In a photo, it would be reminiscent of the texture of frosting formed by a butter knife. Just like the chocolate frosting on the cakes Mom made.
Mr. Gunderson awoke sweating, and battling a pulsating noggin. It was the morning after a punk themed Halloween party hosted at his favorite watering hole, The Board Room. Upon gaining consciousness, Mr. Gunderson jolted at the thought that he was 86’d. He struggled to remember if he had danced too erratically while dressed as a unicorn. Continue reading “Mr. Gunderson Gets 86’d”
“INTPs thought process is unceasing and their minds buzz with ideas from the moment they wake up.”
Wake occurred after a scant amount sleep. There’s no negotiating with this recliner, the floor is just too hard, and the air mattress sprung a leak.
Couch surfing in the interim of landing permanent employment can curb accomplishing other tasks associated with areas of personal interest. It could be worse. I could be sleeping on the streets or in a tent in one of the city parks. I’m not complaining. Just telling it like it is. Nothing but the facts. But I got friends, ya know. And they help where they can. So… Continue reading “This is Me Thinking About Thanksgiving”
Since I’m riding the security train, I want to make note on an observation from last Saturday night outside the pub I frequent. While listening to friends play at open mike, I was running a hotspot to my computer, writing up a little piece of fiction for my WordPress site. When I finished I stepped outside, around to the back parking lot to see a young Asian man on his laptop. The guy didn’t look like your typical tweaker or street person; therefore, I was a bit surprised to see this. I immediately turned around and went back inside to turn off all my devices.
Continue reading “Mystery Man in the Back Parking Lot”
My esteemed colleague may be top nerd, but not because she thinks she deserves extra points for wearing braces and Coke bottle glasses during her adolescence. After contributing to several fields of study, she’s earned her nerd ranking. I’m not giving her any sympathy points for her orthodontic head gear. In fact, I wanted braces because she had them and I didn’t. Looking cool, with all the metal, kind of robotic and shit. I made robot doodles in the image of her. If that doesn’t illustrate how much admiration I have for this cranium, then give me sympathy nerd points for being deprived the necessity to correct for anteroposterior discrepancies. Hence, science looks good on her and they don’t call her “β-lactamax” for nothing.
Additionally, my associate has been out of her natural habitat too long. Not having a laboratory to manage and no rookie techs to torment, I have been become the victim of her mockery. With that said I am seeking retribution for the ridicule I received, which is in regards to my kernel measuring technique. Little Miss Know-It-All had the gall to taunt me about how I over estimated the volume. Thanks Captain Obvious. Anyone with two working optical spheres could plainly see that the final volume of the popped kernels exceeded the pan. It seemed like I had taken on the role of some previous half-wit underling; however, we were not in the laboratory and I’m not a dimwit. In conclusion, this soured what was supposed to be a relaxing evening of watching episodes of Highway to Heaven together.
Back on point, some company needs to make haste and swoop up this egghead before she starts scheming to compete for the position I covet, the Federal Water Master. That title is mine!
Also its critical that this mastermind not have control over this precious resource. During the darkest hours of the night she’ll mumble to a marble-eyed cat with an abnormal body. Supposedly that cat was used in medical research experiments she was privy to. I’ve heard her whispering and mumbling perverse things to this lumpy bumpy chunky globule of fur. I suspect she’s concocting some vile scheme to rule the world. Plus her pajamas smell like evil.
Furthermore, I want payback! This way, any time this brain decides to roll into Tahoe, I’m shutting down the Truckee! Turning it off! No booze cruise paddling for the gangantubrain while I’m running the show.
Please do me a solid and give my colleague and prized gargantubrain a home. Other than her plans for world domination and that sinister chortle, she’s a good egg.
Lord Eggs Benedict, 8th Duke of Breakfast.
Sorry. You have no choice in this. Your gender rendering was configured based on statistically sound probabilities. If you are disappointed with your genitalia, take comfort in knowing that this is NOT an equal opportunity adventure, and the gender outcomes are solely for posterity. Continue reading “Choose Your Gamete: X or Y?”