The best of laughs, Volume: 2008, Issue: January

1. On Martin Luther King Day, I had a 100% genuine "Office" (that one show on tv) moment. We told one of our coworkers to build us a snowman outside our window, so he did. And then he decorated him with ink from our stamps and candy from the candy jar. For some reason, we laughed until we cried, it was so funny to us...

Exhibit A: Snowbuddy

Then, we told the security guards that there was a creepy stalker staring at us from the window, so they rushed over to the rescue, exclaimed "oh no" and proceeded to give the snowman a new identity.

Exhibit B: Snowbuddy intact with the ugly, dated sunglasses the security guards at the library trade off wearing and spraying with mace.

2. This conversation (between my friend and her roommate):

So I was in the kitchen and she walked in and said..."It smells like fish."

I looked at her tuna can that was sitting on the counter and said, "Well didn't you have tuna?"

And she said, "No, I had chicken of the sea."

Me: "Jenn, you know that's tuna right?"

Jenn: "But it says chicken on the can."

Me: "Yeah, chicken of the sea, meaning it came from the sea. It's a brand of tuna."

Jenn: "What?"

3. The Shakespearean sonnet I wrote about spitting off our balcony:

From the Balcony

The globules fly straight into silky snow,

And cut the snow like tiny shards of glass.

Those in our sight don't see our splendid show;

I'm glad, for they might find our spitting crass.

We make some targets out of lemonade -

Two circles for the drops to land and splat.

I look and aim for targets we have made

I try to rise above my husband's stats.

The time then comes to grab the air soft gun

And innovate our game a little bit.

So fast and far the yellow pellets run,

Much farther than our measly spit permits.

I cannot wait for cold and sleet to go,

When life holds more than spitting into snow.

4. A couple random forwards:

Nondescript Thoughts

A pile of unwashed dishes sit in a sink full of stale, crumb-filled water -waiting for me to come wash them. They loom over my head, making me think of the screaming bathroom that also complains of how it hasn't been cleaned in over a week.. And yet, I sit here in my bathrobe, musing on who will win the election, and how I don't like any of the candidates that much, and how I wonder if global cooling will ever become the popular new environmental fad, or if people will stop centering their attention on Brittany Spears and the war in Iraq to concentrate on their own life and driving skills.



I feel the let down of finally finishing the Uglies series by Scott Westerfield, realizing that I will never be able to climb into Tally Youngblood's special head again, and that never again will I see pretty Zane or ugly David, and thinking about how much work it takes to get to know people in a book or on a TV series, and how they will never compare to the people I read or saw before them.



I think about how cold it is outside and how I officially banned winter a couple days ago, but the weather didn't seem to notice. I wonder how many Hershey's kisses it is possible to eat before you die from an overdose.... And my professor wonders how snails can operate a door and I don't know - perhaps it was a metaphor that worked better in my head. I think about how I have to leave for work in 7 minutes and wonder if it is possible to live off of cereal, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, frozen burritos, and Hershey's kisses - I sure hope it is.

Finally, I realize that going to the mall with a friend and selecting the ugliest outfits you can find for the other person to try on can be one of the best recipes for laughter.

Out of the Dust

The title of one of my favorite books, and a statement reflecting the fact that my blog is coming back from the dead. Thus far, I'm afraid my blog much resembles that of one of Stephen Crane's poems entitled A Man Said to the Universe:

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

I guess the sense of obligation for poor, neglected, time-wasters is finally starting to sprout in me.

***This is where you celebrate, bang pots and pans, and dance around in a circle with merriment***