Bullet Time

Because I am truly now out of blog ideas like we are almost out of Kennedys, I had planned on beginning the blog favorite ‘100 Things About Me’ today, but 100 seems like an awful lot. I suppose I could break it down into chunks, but I don’t like the word chunks, especially when it has to do with food. I realize it doesn’t in this case, but I’ll tackle 100 things later. Besides, you know the drill: fried food, Tina Fey, The Office, coworkers, HR seems to use me as a target, etc. When you stop to think about it, I really only write about 5 different topics, yet people keep coming back to read this blog. Perhaps I should go into sales…

And now the bullets:

* Go figure that days after posting about how bad drivers are when they multi-task while operating a motor vehicle that I was behind a car this morning that missed the middle divider by about a foot because the driver was playing with his cell phone.

* Lucy and Ethel’s month-delayed birthday party is this weekend. Is it wrong that I am so excited about keeping my string alive of collapsing bounce houses? I really feel like my personal sense of success and failure hinges on collapsing this bounce house I have yet to see.

* I’m thinking of getting colored contacts and rotating out the color daily. I’ll assign a color to each day and see how long it takes until people notice. Although I imagine the length of time it would take until they notice just dropped dramatically since I mentioned it here. I gotta stop doing that!

* I’ d like to challenge the person who said you can’t sit and watch grass grow. I did this weekend and I was actually standing while doing so. I just wish I had planted the seeds better because now my backyard looks like a bunch of little patches of flat top haircuts. I’m sure no one will notice.

* A nice warm fire should only be enjoyed after all in-home fire safety precautions have been taken. I am specifically speaking of opening something referred to as the ‘flue.’ Apparently that step is pretty important.

* Since bullets take less time, require less thought and can be entirely random, I am going to begin speaking in bullet points. Picture me like Dwight Schrute saying ‘Bullet:’ before every sentence.

* I have decided that if there is no patron saint for fried foods that there should be and he should be called Saint Crispux. He will visit while we sleep at night and leave brand new deep fryers with a nice cookbook. Saint Crispux will also have a toll-free hotline like the Butterball Turkey people do at Thanksgiving time. Saint Crispux is the older brother of Saint Ignacious of Cheddar.

* It is very hard for me to make eye contact with the pretty women I encounter in our work’s parking lot after they come out of the ‘Lady Waxing Place’ because I know what they have just finished having done to themselves. While they don’t seem to blush, I sure do. It’s a pretty hairy awkward situation for me.

Crappy Possibly Made-Up Holiday Alert: Today is Mulligan Day. While I can’t find a legitimate definition for it online and I tried really, really hard (definition: Google and Wikipedia turned up zilch), I will attempt a guess at what I think the holiday is about and celebrate that.

I believe that Mulligan Day is a day of do-overs. It’s a day where we get to do things over. Though don’t confuse it with doing things over like in one of the best movies ever - Bill Murray’s Ground Hog Day. I’m focusing in on getting do-overs after making mistakes. For someone like me, it really is an important holiday.

Forget to pay an important bill? Take a Mulligan. Forget to divorce your wife before getting remarried? Take a Mulligan. Burned dinner again? Take a Mulligan. Wore blue socks with black pants? Mulligan, baby. Bad mouthed the boss without realizing he/she was behind you? Yep, Mulligan time. Did not order your french fries with gravy on them? Greasy Mulligan. Vomitted in a coworker’s car? Sloppy Mulligan. Went almost a week without visiting your favorite blogs? Apologetic Mulligan. Confused your twins and had an entire conversation with the wrong twin? Bad Daddy Mulligan. Got caught blogging at work? Play stupid Mulligan. Telling the special lady in you life that her a$$ DOES look fat in those pants? Leave town for a few weeks.

I hope the explanations help and Happy Mulligan Day. Now, perhaps I should take a Mulligan with this post…