Month: August 2004

Laundry

Writer guy

Sometimes the laundry backs up to such a ridiculous levels, scattering the clothes across the front lawn and torching them seems better than washing them. If that leap of logic makes sense to you, then welcome to the Bell Jar.

After experimenting with a variety of laundry schedules – once a week, twice a week, once every other week, once a month – a pattern of truths has emerged:

1) Regardless of the height of the clothes pile, laundry takes longer than planned
2) Clothes always get dirty
3) Tragically, cleaning by thermal compaction – a method that failed me so well as a bachelor, fails me as a married man.
4) Buying new underwear instead of doing the laundry upsets the Wife. Perhaps panties would make more sense for instead of boxer shorts.

Excuse me, the buzzer went off. I must attend to the 6th load of the day.

Darwin is cool

Writer guy

I nearly broke my hand this morning trying to use the toilet, leaving me with just one question. Could not karma wait to deliver such life reaffirming events until after a second cup of coffee? To me this seems a reasonable and just request – but alas the answer was no in this case, for today the gods of karma marched to a more malevolent agenda.

Even before this particular disaster, my hate-hate relationship with the bathroom was legendary. First there was my dislike for the many potential risks: slipping in the shower, toothpaste in eye, death by electric shaver. Second, and perhaps it’s the Y chromosone driving here, but my bathroom tactics always resembled NASCAR pit stops: get in, get out and keep your hands to yourself.

But back to the nearly broken hand. While tending to number 1 this morning, a fly buzzed my head and landed in the window sill – a typical sight during the long, hot summer months. Suddenly there was a tremendous pressure on my first finger. Glancing downwards, I discovered a yellow jacket checking out the real estate.

Self preservation impelled me to slap my own hand with tremendous and precise force. My finger, which absorbed the brunt of my rage and 2 stings, swelled immediately.

Maybe karma was on vacation, but Darwin was at work here. The yellow jacket laid on the tile floor; his body severed in 2 pieces. For the first time in my life I watched an insect writhe in pain until it died – a most satisfying and excruciating death.

Flushing never felt so good.

The War on Popcorn

Writer guy

A terrible tragedy unfolded today, one that requires immediate legislative intervention. For once it doesn’t involve me dropping a case Newcastle Brown Ale on my foot.

Yes, this meance far exceeds my klutziness and inability to walk a straight line while sober.
In Valley Stream, NY, a 3 year old boy died during a matinee showing of Alien Vs. Predator. The cause of death: choking on popcorn.

Forget why a 3 year old was in a PG-13 movie with violent content and adult situations when there’s a dearth of babysitters available during the summer months. Never mind that no refund was issued. Instead, consider the true evil, an evil that lurks behind the counter at every multiplex in this country. Contrary to dogma spewed by corporate robber barons, it’s more than an innocent snack, it’s a dangerous substance. A child was exposed to this substance, one provided by a profiteering movie theater to his unsuspecting parents, with no questions asked. And as a result, that child died.

We must do something to save the children and stop this unchecked lust for blood profits. To prevent further deaths by popcorn at movie theaters, I propose a 7 day waiting period on the purchase and sale. During this waiting period, thorough background checks may be run on the purchaser. Should an applicant be found to be unfit, the clerk will have legal means to refuse the sale. Training and certifications on the proper methods of handling and transportation the substance will be strongly encouraged.

Please help us save the children from the evils of a profiteering industry.

And remember, no matter what the death merchants claim, dangerous substance + child = death.

Submissions?

Writer guy

Periodically, I study either Publishers Weekly or a book on the publishing industry. The tome Buddhapuss is munching these days is How to Get Happily Published. So many books in this genre – books about selling a book or getting a book deal – are commercial powerhouses. For instance, there are more than 500,000 copies in print of How to Get Happily Published. That’s way, way out of the stadium from a sales perspective.

A search on Amazon.com for the phrase published returns several pages of results while Google returns 52,700,000 worth of pages.

Here’s 3 observations about this phenomena.

1) Lots of people want to get published. Or at least read about getting published.
2) 99.99 percent of the people who buy these books don’t get published, thus they were ripped off. Look for a class action lawsuit soon.
3) It’s more fun to read about writing, than it is to write and submit something. Not that rejection is all bad, it’s just intimidating. Fear of the no is a lot more potent than actually hearing the word no.