These are posts that will go in the blog, under the slider
This morning when I biked to work, I really shouldn’t have.
It was 90 ° at 7:45am with humidity above 50%. I had the dog in a backpack, and a pack of my suit and clothes sitting above the rear wheel. I bike along Lake Michigan, and, while beautiful, is also tough because the wind coming off the lake is usually shooting right at me.
I am not a parent. Not yet.
(Aren’t you glad I didn’t do a “not that I know of†joke? Those are never funny. Plus, I can tell by looking at a woman how fertile she is. I never went for those chicks.)
(Yes, that was a joke. Would be an awesome skill for a guy at twenty two, though. “I’m sorry Sally, I can’t take you to the Bijou tonight. You appear too fertile. I will instead accompany your roommate, Madeline. Good morrow!â€)
I spent the last few hours responding to (I’m pretty sure) every comment that has been posted on this site in the previous week. It was like 80, and I’m all joked out.
Yesterday I wrote a post where I talked about how I can manually go in and edit your comments should I so desire. Just in case you have forgotten I am a humor blogger. I would never edit your crap. Well, I would like to. But I wouldn’t. I did have to ban a few people months ago for being insensitive to social politeness.
My favorite tech company, LiveFyre, has finally given us bloggers the keys to the kingdom.
We can now edit your comments as we see fit.
I am going to have so much fun with this. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I’ve decided to set up each day with a theme. Of course I’m going to take all your comments and adjust them to fit the following theme.
One thing I’ve realized that is important for my well-being is the idea of making my world larger.
Not the one I’m constructing in my cellar out of paper mache. That world is precisely the right size, and it’s not like I’m crazy or anything, but if there were little people inhabiting it they would probably bow to me as their perfect God.
At least six times a year (basically, whenever I can remember to) I flip around and sleep backwards in bed. You know, head where the feet are supposed to be.
In a weird way, it’s almost like a mini vacation. I wake up, and for a second I don’t know exactly where I am. The room is totally foreign from this vantage point. I’m not sure why I get such a kick out of it. When I was married and also with past girlfriends, I haven’t found anyone that gets as much pleasure from this simple change. I feel like my current girlfriend would do it, but only because she knew how excited I get. But in her mind she’d think it was stupid. It sort of is.
When I was at BlogWorld LA last fall I kept hearing about the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I was posting every few days.
If you’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers you’ll remember that he keeps coming back to the magic number of ten thousand hours for mastery at any skill.
Being in a band that plays regularly you’d think I’d have a stronger sense of the local music scene in Chicago. I mean, I am part of the local music scene.
One of my readers Mary kept insisting I go see one of her favorite bands, Ozomatli, when they were scheduled to play here. Just about every day she’d send a message asking me if I had bought tickets. I relented and purchased one.
From a woman’s perspective, it’s not that difficult (is anything with men that difficult, really?): men are born to be providers. Whether they embrace that role or not, our society thrusts it upon them from a very young age. Even if they eschew materials things, it’s still a point of pride to be able to provide them.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
