Once again my thoughts are in knots with lots of plots. They're a disjointed bunch but shouldn't be wasted, so without any further au jus, I offer more brain-droppings:
• For the life of me, I can't fathom why anyone would choose a plain Hershey's bar over Hershey's with Almonds. Why just have chocolate when one can have chocolate and nuts? Sure, conventional wisdom says “Sometimes you feel like a nut; sometimes you don't,” but I always feel like a nut. By the same token, it's hard to imagine choosing Mounds over Almond Joy, since Almond Joy's got nuts; Peter Paul's Mounds don't!
• Many of life's small annoyances anger me, but two in particular. No. 1: Cold water on my skin or my teeth when rinsing. I would caution any potential suitor, “Never, ever spray me with a hose, no matter how breezy and romantic it might seem at the time.”
No. 2: Forgetting my sunglasses, then having to drive west in the late afternoon with my dog-smudged truck windshield compounding the blinding glare. I know God made the sun and all, but I find its brightness quite annoying.
• Speaking of driving, I feel superior to no one, nor any sense of entitlement. Yet, I'm often irked that others are out driving the same time as me. “Why does this idiot behind me keep turning when I turn? Is he following me or what?” “Why would this moron be entering a drive-thru just seconds before I do? Who orders fast food in the middle of the afternoon, anyway?”
And someone deciding to turn left off Main Street just as I'm trying to enter left from a side street? Infuriating! I mutter, “Why aren't you losers at home or at work doing something productive instead of holding me up from something important? I missed Judge Judy yesterday, and now because of you, today's episode is in jeopardy.”
• Speaking of TV, I caught the end of a segment about a woman's dog that sniffed out her breast cancer in time to save her life.
Anyone who still doesn't get that dogs are heaven-sent, and animal abusers hell-bound, just hasn't been paying attention.
• Speaking of dogs, remember my little Trina that a carpenter backed over on 9/11 and broke her foot and coccyx? I twice canceled appointments to end her misery, once at the last second in tears. I'm giddy to report Trina is on the mend and happier than heck to be alive. Even though it was believed she'd always be incontinent, I left her out of the truck the other day and she sprinted into a grassy area, squatted down and squeezed one out just like old times. I was so dang proud, I just wanted to scoop it up to show all my friends.
• I fear that a middle-aged man's maturity level is in direct correlation to the value he puts on his hair. Sadly, I should probably be throwing water balloons from a roof with Justin Bieber.
Speaking of my hair, it has almost all grown back from that grotesque, “free” haircut I foolishly entrusted to my friend Phoebe, a photographer — NOT a barber. Once again, my hair is shaggy, unkempt and in my face. And I'm loving every minute of it.
• Sans helmet, Green Bay QB Aaron Rogers looks like Aaron Rogers. With a helmet, I'd swear it was Jerry Seinfeld behind the center. Against the Cowboys, I even thought I saw Kramer lined up at tight end.
Speaking of quarterbacks, listen up, Brett Favre: For the love of God and Vince Lombardi, stop acting injured after every unsuccessful play and whining about it all week. We get it: you're a tough, resilient legend who plays through pain. You're also sounding like the Quarterback Who Cried Wolf.
• I think “greatest thing since sliced bread” is an erroneous tribute. Heck, I think I could go on living even if I had to slice my own bread. I buy cheese in blocks and don't feel overly put-upon slicing it for a sandwich. Now, “greatest thing since instant replay” I could get behind. No matter how you slice it, many football games would be unjustly lost if not for instant replay. Pro refs make so many glaring errors that the replay breaks make for a long game, but still, it's brought a sense of fairness back to illegal sports wagering.
• The prediction of the world ending at the close of 2012 because of some Mayan calendar snafu brings me an odd comfort. Since I've been end-phobic for decades, it makes me think, “Whew; it's great to hear we've got two more good years left!”
Speaking of the end, that was it.