I don't know if I'll be able to read this blog much longer... You're just too perfect.
You have a beautiful wife who also has a humanitarian-type job, adorable kids, writing talent, photography talent, drawing talent, you play an instrument, math skills, programming skills, you're into local folklore, you lived through Katrina, you have cool pets, you're about to be a math teacher in a high-needs region...
(There are probably 20 cool things I missed!)
And to top it off, most damning of all, you resemble Harry Connick Jr. more than a little.
I had to work on Saturday (grrr) and what with Cindy working late into the night every night until next Thursday, and since I was out of the house anyway, I took it upon myself to see Iron Man all alone (yes, I took one for the team, I'm a great guy, what can I say?).
It was a nearly full theater - I had strangers to either side of me for the whole film, despite my carefully orchestrated early arrival and sitting down in an empty row.
A woman was sitting to my left - I never did see her face. She was light haired, was wearing very pretty flip flops (I'm sure they're called Designer Sandals when you buy them at Nordstrom's) and seemed generally a nice sort. She chatted very softly with her man on and off throughout the film, but since they whispered so softly it didn't trouble me (so it must have been very softly indeed).
The endearing thing about this woman was how much empathy she had. When Tony Stark stubbed a toe, she gasped and cringed - she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. When Tony kicked ass and took names, she was right there for him, woo!ing and yeah!ing right along with the rest of us.
I think it would be fair to say I enjoyed the movie more because she was sitting next to me - her immersion and suspension of disbelief was infectious - I was drawn in deeper thanks to her. "Thanks, Lady in Pretty Flip Flops" I thought.
(I've always considered movie-watching to be a solitary thing - you might attend a movie together, but you're essentially sitting alone in the dark for 2 hours. Iron Man makes me rethink this theory.)
Then, as we waited as the credits rolled for Samuel L. Jackson to make his post-credits cameo, she was chatting it up with her man, and I realized what an OMG LOL As-If Talk to the Hand type-girl she was. Ah well. Still, her contribution to my experience remains.
I checked my email this morning to discover one from Hallmark E-Card Services:
Your E-Card has been sent to BadgeryMojo!
"Whaaaa?" Says I.
I fumble around in my recent memories... I don't recall sending an e-card. Nope.
Now I'm worried. What did I send? WHEN? Was it that night I was high from sniffing cherry-flavored markers? Or that night I concocted the Ultimate S'Mores (80% pure Cocao, Mallow Whip, and Gourmet Graham)??
What did the card say? Was it a mad plea that we run off together to Beautiful Downtown Des Moines, to live in a cardboard box, dwelling in quiet obscurity as Beat Poets and Soap Box Philosophers?
Turns out it was a simple 'Hello', but I still don't remember sending it - and Hallmark doesn't say when I placed the e-card request, just when it was sent.
It might be cool to create a series of e-cards for your loved ones, each one different, to be sent each year on their birthday, for like the next 100 years. How odd would it be to receive a B-Day card from a long-dead friend or loved one? Would you change your email address to avoid it, or wait excitedly to see what they sent?
Imagine getting annual e-cards like that from your parents - it would be especially cool if each card told the secret story of their lives, all the crazy shit you never knew about, and you had to wait a year for each installment.
Is it possible to create a novella-length melodramatic work entirely in the present tense? I'm sure it's been done... How readable would it be? That is, can it hold a reader's attention without feeling too awkward to them?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Green is beginning to stir. His breath is raspy, heavy with effort, wet thanks to a punctured lung.
Gail finds her hands gripping his gun in fingers tight and cold. Her jaw is clenched, teeth grinding. She's overwhelmed by a sense of outrage at his invasion into her space, not just her car, but her space – her tidy world.
Her fingers close on the trigger, and the gun goes off almost effortlessly. She will later convince herself it was an accident. The BANG fills the tiny space to overflowing, and her ears whine an endless E.
The red-haired thug runs up to the car just in time to see his buddy take a point-blank bullet. Red stumbles away, gathers himself up, running off at top speed.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Also, can you say these words in the present tense: punctured clenched overwhelmed
The best arts and crafts take everyday things, everyday problems, and turn them into something other - perhaps wholly unexpected, but somehow fitting in their new guise and surroundings.
In business, huge profits can lie in finding a niche market - going into a fresh direction, solving a problem no other company has even realized needs solving.
The Problem: Serial Killers have loads of corpses littering up our good nation's ditches, copses, and marshlands - this unregulated disposal is highly problematic - I can't tell you how many nature hikes I've taken that have been spoiled by the discovery of a mutilated corpse - another Sunday morning needlessly ruined!
The Solution: EtchCo's Corpse-Cutters: The Road-Kill Collection(tm)
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That's right, we have four high-quality .5mm teflon-coated steel cutters, each with their own size and weight allowance:
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