Category Archives: Bizarre

Shouldn’t-a done that.

I (feel like) I ate the whole thing.

I (feel like I) ate the whole thing.

So here it is, 3:30 a.m., and I’ve been up since I opened my eyes at 1:40. I blame the birthday cake.

Yesterday was the Thriller’s big day, and we had a small gathering to celebrate; kind of an “open house” deal, in an effort to make it convenient for the kids and their families to just come over when they could.

I didn’t plan anything for dinner, figuring that we could just make a sandwich or something at 6:00, when everyone left. Well….turns out that dinner was cake. And cake, and more cake. While this photo is an exaggeration, by the time I went to bed last night, I felt like the four pieces I’d eaten between 4:30 and 6:30 were all that size.

Cake wasted. Oh, and don’t forget the half piece before bed, with a small cup of milk, of all things (I rarely drink the stuff, and even this was the lactose-free kind). I think that was the deal-breaker.

Unfortunately for me, I can’t do the “bedtime snack” routine. It interferes with my already-shaky sleeping patterns, and I end up wide awake with indigestion at 2 a.m. Last night was no exception; only this time, a nightmare came along for the ride:

I was standing in my high school parking lot, having just got back from teaching middle school choir (strange, because I don’t travel for my job; the kids all come to me from the building next door). I was baffled because even though I’d just arrived, somehow I couldn’t find my car. Dude…

So I did the beep-beep thing on the key fob, trying to locate it. Every car in the parking lot responded — except mine. I remember pointing my keychain at a motorcycle, and it kept beep-beep responding to me. I tried to tell a group of students that “this motorcycle has stolen the code to my car,” but they acted like they didn’t hear me. Panic scratched at the back of my brain.

Switch to the teacher lounge at the high school, which in reality is the size of a small bedroom, but somehow today held the entire faculty — most of whom I didn’t know. I retold my tale but no one listened, except a guy who is a principal in another district, and even he was more interested in my Browns season tickets than my plight. (Like I’d sell ’em if I had ’em.)

Suddenly, I was out searching the parking lot again, when, to my horror, I realized I’d blown off middle school choir (which supposedly I had already taught, right?), and now, on top of losing my car, I was going to lose my job.


I came to and looked at the clock: 1:39. The ooky feeling in my gut told me why I was floating around in dreamland. Indigestion was keeping me semi-awake, or at least not deeply asleep. Drat that birthday cake.

Shouldn’t-a done that.

So now I’m up for the day, as it’s 4:15 and there’s really no point in attempting a do-over, even though the Pepto is starting to work. Meh…serves me right. I rarely eat high-sugar/high-fat stuff in any great amount, so it shouldn’t surprise me at all that I’d be affected by making a meal (or three) out of it, all in one afternoon.

Rat Fink, Rat Fink. What a donkey. *yawn*

Um, hey Superman…

…you’re kind of a jerk. And a misogynistic, selfish, abusive, sadistically cruel megalomaniac. Other’n that, you’re A-OK. (Seems many things Superman have a dark side. Hmmm. *stroking beard*)

Anyway, I’m fixin’ to weird up your Monday morning coffee.

Some Actual, Comic(al) Examples of Truth, Justice and the American Way

Superman crushes Jimmy's humanity

Superman crushes Jimmy’s humanity

Superman insults Lois in front of a younger woman

Superman insults Lois in front of a younger woman

Superman being, well...yeah, I don't know either.

Superman being, well…yeah, I don’t know either.

Superman, going all Ming the Merciless

Superman going all Ming the Merciless

Superman, the Happy Murderer

Superman, the Happy Murderer

Superman, the Happy Murderer II

Superman, the Happy Murderer II

Superman going the distance for his friends

Superman going the distance for his friends


And my personal favorite:

Superman overreacts juuuuust a bit

Superman overreacts juuuuust a bit


HA — it’s just a fantastic new day, ja?

Trippin’ the creepy meter III

Not really creepy at first, as much as disgusting.  From this article in last Saturday’s Wall Street Journal:

Many Asians regard all cheese, from processed American slices to Stilton, as utterly disgusting—the equivalent of cow excrement.

Hmmm. And I turn up my nose at bird poop soup. Maybe it’s the same thing. I mean really, what is cheese? Rotted, fermented animal juice. And my wonderful Velveeta? The cast-off waste product of rotted, fermented animal juice.

Food for thought. :P

And speaking of head scratchers, I humbly submit the following for your consideration:

Have a lovely day, fiends. :-)


Come fly with me.

Is this for real?

Check it out. Arrive at the front gate, and you’re greeted by the Pale Horse of the Apocalypse, complete with glowing red eyes. Pass through the doors, and morbid murals and nightmarish paintings, depicting dead children and scimitar-waving, green-faced man-monsters line the interior walkways. Otherworldly images and mysterious symbolism pervade the space, skyrocketing the “ooky” factor.

Where are you? A bizarre funhouse in a rural carnival of horrors, straight out of a B-movie? An abandoned, haunted Soviet munitions factory? Hell?

No; you’re at the Denver Airport.

Honestly, I don’t know how I have gone the last 15+ years not knowing about this. Definitely weird. But hey, it’s a nice place and it’s art, so thumbs up. Still, I’m not sure it does any favors whatsoever for my, you know.


Are you happy today? I am. Go ahead, ask me why. Well, silly, because I get to see my family and close fiends tonight for dinner! Everyone’s coming over for pizza and birthday cake. The Thriller has held back a birthday present for me, preferring to give it to me tonight (instead of last Thursday, which was my actual b-day). Fun! I just hope it’s not a blue pony with red eyes…


Or indictment. Heh.

Last night, I ran across the site I Write Like. Bizarre title for a writing site, but…anyway. It’s supposed to tell you whose style your writing resembles most. So I thought, hey, this sounds like fun; I’m curious, so I’ll give it a go.

I collected ten blog posts from the archives, basically at random (I looked for length, not subject matter). According to the results I received, I’m either quite the eclectic writer, or my every post is a schizophrenic shot in the dark. Think Jackson Pollock with a pen. So who do I “sound like” when I write? The results from their script’s analysis of ten different posts indicate that I Write Like:

  1. Dan Brown
  2. Cory Doctorow
  3. H.P. Lovecraft (twice)
  4. Douglas Adams
  5. David Foster Wallace (twice)
  6. J.D. Salinger
  7. Stephenie Meyer
  8. And on the last try: Stephen King (yay)

But then I got to thinking, I cannot possibly resemble all these famous people — two of whom I’ve never even read. They’re just randomly selecting names. So I tried something different. While glancing around my desk, at Facebook, at a couple of websites I had open in tabs, and about the parlor in general, I simply typed whatever words caught my eye:

Donkey cat whistle black finale charming sugar brother charlie watch eraser earrings

The result? James Joyce.


So much for thinking I’m a writer, ja? Pshh….