Sociology students call you and ask for an Oral History interview.
Posts Tagged ‘daily short’
I am trying to sell a table on Craigslist. My potential customer can’t spell you. Or punctuate. Or NOT USE CAPS LOCK>>>
I hope she buys my table before I bust out a rudimentary grammar lesson. It should be obvious that I don’t care quite as much as Mr. Personality, but come on. It’s “You”.
“You sell table. I want to buy it.” See? Not hard.
I was at the coffee shoppe yesterday, when I overheard a conversation about art. A woman was talking to a man about his ink drawing of a giant tree/forest scene. After asking a few polite questions about his art (he had his portfolio and he showed her some others), she turned the conversation to herself.
“Are you left- or right-brained?” she asked.
“I suppose it’s mostly right.” he responded, “And you?”
“Yeah, I could tell you a lot of crazy things about myself, but I’m center-brained.”
Then she talked about herself for five minutes before he put his headphones back in his ears.
I suppose her first mistake was thinking of a brain as a spectrum. The second was being stupid in front of me.
What is usually in the middle is a small gap filled with fluid and a handful of nerves that carry messages from one side to the other but do no real processing. In fact, the center can be bisected down nearly to the brain stem and humans and many other mammals can continue to function with only slight motor control loss. It’s a last resort treatment for seizures. It would have been more correct to say whole-brained, unless she really meant that there wasn’t anything up there that wouldn’t be missed. Which is possible, because she seemed pretty stupid.
The solution to the litterbox puzzle is not to add more litter, but to scoop the poop out of the box.
How does one say, in a polite and tactful manner, “I don’t want to attend any function you are going to attend.”
Accepting creative responses in the comments…
This morning I dreamed that I woke up, turned off my heater, turned off the humidifier, got dressed, fed the cats. Before I left for work, I removed the heater from a painting into which it had fallen. (It is one of those plug in radiator models.)
Shortly afterwards, I actually woke up, turned off my heater, turned off the humidifier, got dressed and fed the cats.
There was no painting from which to remove the heater. I went to work.
It was a painting of clowns. In my dream.