heads carolina, tails california
This morning I received a Facebook invitation for a Christmas Sweater party. This concept in and of itself is pure woolen genius, but it was the tagline for the party that I found particularly brilliant:
The sweeter the sweater the better.
I found the cleverness of that pronouncement to be nothing short of overwhelming, and I thought that all y'alls should be apprised of it. It would certainly take a tremendous linguistic feat to coax me into attending a Christmas party held 70 miles away, but I dare say my would-be hosts have stumbled onto it.
This is the kind of person that I am. Last year I went to Disneyland, which purportedly is a place of happiness unmatched by any on the Earth. My general thoughts on the matter can best be encapsulated as: "Meh". But a pithy nugget about yuletide outerwear? It is a ray of California sun, piercing the hazy smog of my soul.
It was good to be back in Texas for Thanksgiving. And to experience this phenomena oft referred to as "weather". On Tuesday it was in the high 70's. By Thursday it was 23 degrees and snowing. That is not natural. And today in California, it is raining. So perhaps I carry around my own field of precipitation - like Grumpy Bear.
It was my distinct honor and privilege, whilst in Texas, to have dinner with the Fleeg. This is something that I recommend you to. It seems that His Fleegness, his culinary acumen having reached Boyardeean levels, has only to take a seat at any respectable eatery and food is brought unto him. I gather that in the restaurant biz, this practice is referred to as "bringing something out", which has an almost Mafia-esque ring to it.
I also partook in a brief yet infinitely enjoyable encounter with Mr. Hester, wherein the conversation quickly turned to video games and other somesuch nerdery, as any conversation between Hester and myself is wont to do. We were accompanied in this outing by my associate HG, who to my knowledge has never played a video game ever, and, although presumably cognizant that our conversation was still being held in English, regarded us as though watching two Klingons play Boggle.
Other than that the trip was delightfully uneventful. Except for when I hit myself in the face with a lead pipe while trying to be helpful. My nose still kinda clicks. I'm no doctor - well, technically I am a doctor, just not the kind that helps people - but I'm pretty sure that noses aren't supposed to click. Are there treatment programs available for nose-click syndrome (NCS)?
I hope the rest of you had similarly enjoyable Thanksgivings. Although, if you did, you've probably already forgotten about it since it's been over a week since Thanksgiving and I'm just now writing about it. Which is inexcusable, I know. It's like that dude that comes into your office on a Wednesday and says, "how was your weekend?"
And you're all like, dude. It's Wednesday.
The sweeter the sweater the better.
I found the cleverness of that pronouncement to be nothing short of overwhelming, and I thought that all y'alls should be apprised of it. It would certainly take a tremendous linguistic feat to coax me into attending a Christmas party held 70 miles away, but I dare say my would-be hosts have stumbled onto it.
This is the kind of person that I am. Last year I went to Disneyland, which purportedly is a place of happiness unmatched by any on the Earth. My general thoughts on the matter can best be encapsulated as: "Meh". But a pithy nugget about yuletide outerwear? It is a ray of California sun, piercing the hazy smog of my soul.
It was good to be back in Texas for Thanksgiving. And to experience this phenomena oft referred to as "weather". On Tuesday it was in the high 70's. By Thursday it was 23 degrees and snowing. That is not natural. And today in California, it is raining. So perhaps I carry around my own field of precipitation - like Grumpy Bear.
It was my distinct honor and privilege, whilst in Texas, to have dinner with the Fleeg. This is something that I recommend you to. It seems that His Fleegness, his culinary acumen having reached Boyardeean levels, has only to take a seat at any respectable eatery and food is brought unto him. I gather that in the restaurant biz, this practice is referred to as "bringing something out", which has an almost Mafia-esque ring to it.
I also partook in a brief yet infinitely enjoyable encounter with Mr. Hester, wherein the conversation quickly turned to video games and other somesuch nerdery, as any conversation between Hester and myself is wont to do. We were accompanied in this outing by my associate HG, who to my knowledge has never played a video game ever, and, although presumably cognizant that our conversation was still being held in English, regarded us as though watching two Klingons play Boggle.
Other than that the trip was delightfully uneventful. Except for when I hit myself in the face with a lead pipe while trying to be helpful. My nose still kinda clicks. I'm no doctor - well, technically I am a doctor, just not the kind that helps people - but I'm pretty sure that noses aren't supposed to click. Are there treatment programs available for nose-click syndrome (NCS)?
I hope the rest of you had similarly enjoyable Thanksgivings. Although, if you did, you've probably already forgotten about it since it's been over a week since Thanksgiving and I'm just now writing about it. Which is inexcusable, I know. It's like that dude that comes into your office on a Wednesday and says, "how was your weekend?"
And you're all like, dude. It's Wednesday.
posted by hoov, esq at 11:40 AM
<< Home