Two things that I am barely upset about, but feel the need to write an impassioned blog post for.

Maneuvering a public restroom is an art. I think it was Miss Manners who said, you don't pick a stall next to an occupied one. And I'm absolutely positive it was her who emphatically emphasized, you maintain personal space between urinals. You pick the farthest one away. No peeking, Snoopy.

How can one out-think a public toilet with sensors, one that sucks the seat protector down before I can even sit...And the seat protector is always smaller than the seat itself anyway, so when it does stay, the back of the sheet slips and folds into itself, dropping down into the water. So the game continues. By that time, I don't have to go anymore.

(Now, I'm not a germ-o-phobe... hell, I'll eat dropped food off the floor or a shared public countertop. Maybe even fight the cat for dropped chicken. I draw the line at recovering dropped food from airplane tray tables. That's just disgusting.)

But I shall shake my fist to the heavens defiantly if it's the last seat protector, and it flushes before I can sit down. And I am forced to share arse sweat with the colonocally challenged moose that huffed and puffed his way through a morning constitution, before me.

And while I have the space, be good to yourself and us all. Eat a bran muffin or something.

And stop playing Tetris on your phone in the next stall. I can hear your disgusting, germy fingers clicking away. You're a jerk. I'm flipping you off right now on the other side.

Oh yeah...another thing...other shite (pun mostly somewhat intended) that gets me...

People who walk slower than I do (which consists of, oh... everyone). Especially those who walk side by side, shoulder to shoulder. I enevitably am left to wander aimlessly behind them, imaptient and jumpy, well in site of my destination. They block like a nickelback defense, and leave no room for reconaisance end- around manuevers. And they look over their shoulder and rather than get out of the way, they move sideways into my path.

I need to figure out a way to invent pants with cow-catchers. Just scoop 'em up, and knock 'em into the ficus.

Outta my way, pokeys!

What made me smile so far today.

Some days it's good to keep mental inventory of the little things.

Like when the raccoon-eyed teen at Target robotically tells me to "Have a nice day" without looking up, I can latch onto their radiation-vibey flow and have an honest chat. Let them know, "Yes...yes, I have already experienced these moments upon which you have expressed your trust in aspiration. Truly an amazing, epochal rotation of our Mother Earth's axis has bestowed it's graces, and for thine I am blessed. Thank you, O' mysterious gypsy well wisher, my hope for you be tenfold in riches."

Or just say nothing. She don't really care. She's got a bad homemade dye-job, glitter shoes, and a button with friggin' "High School Musical" or something, fer feck's sake.

But today I loved:

1. Vanilla Coke Zero.

God's nectar.

2. Videos from www.hornblasters.com/video.php.

Every successive video I watch elicits an internal review in my head: "Same." But holy hell this is a damn funny link. Huge train horns masquerading around in everyday cars, scaring the living bejebus out of unsuspecting bystanders. And they all react in that duck-down, bird diving, hiccup-scaring strike zone crouch. I laughed almost until I couldn't breath for a good, oh, few seconds. Then I grew weary of it. Just pick any video and watch, you'll get the visceral feel and start drooling on your keyboard. If ever there was anything I truly wanted from Santa, mental note for next year that I will never, ever, ask for anything again if I can just get one of these. Better than t.p.'ing the neighbors. And paintball shooting at pedestrians can suck it until 2009; now if I can just figure out how a kid's car seat will fit over the air compressor...


3a. The duck - like sound my cat Jack makes to no one in particular: "mwak...mwak."

This, I predict, will be the exact sound I will make in early stages of losing my mind. Up in here. Up in here.

3b. Green-headed, Mallard-esque ducks on the Riverwalk at lunchtime. Awe.

Until arriving back to my car to find they had shat all over the windshield. Those ducks are dead to me now.

4. Hot chocolate and an oatmeal raisin cookie on a cold gun-metal grey, rainy Chicago afternoon.

And my jeans didn't even get wet on the walk back out. Nothing my soul shaking than wet denim sticking to your skin.

5. A friend's two-year old daughter consoling me on the phone, after a particularly brutal morning meeting.

The most genuine, heartfelt verbal epiphany I could ever imagine - "It'll be awight" - almost like she plopped down on the floor beside me, gazed all-knowingly at me with her big brown eyes, and reassuringly patted me on the back. Coached or not by her Mama, I'll take it over any reward or recognition. I gotta make me one of them there two-year olds to keep for my own some day.


Be thankful. Stop walking around with the Tigger medicine-face and cheer up.

Things to cover up the fact that you're clearly not really listening.

1. "You have such enthusiasm and speak so excitedly. I'm sorry, could you please say it again?"

2. "I know you laugh when I say this, but I still think you have such a cute accent. It's so soothing. Can you just humor me and say that again?"

3. "Well...That's obviously a thoroughly researched position you've taken. You're very detail oriented. Let's step back a moment and start at the beginning so I can be absolutely sure I've captured all your points."

4. "I think that's a devestatingly effective view, but I'm not sure everyone in the room heard it. Everyone in the back okay? Maybe if you could just reiterate?"

5. "Can you spell that?" (most noticeable AFTER the fact, when you clearly weren't listening, and the word in question is something simple like "Smith." Or "idiot.")

6. "Let's give credit where credit is due. Why don't you take the lead in the presentation. This would be so spectacular, if YOU could say it."

7. "I'm sorry, I WAS listening, but... you have the most captivating eyes. " (careful how you use this one. it's good for changing the subject, but also for a donkey punch if you overthrow.)

8. "Now, I may have been caught up in fully absorbing the nuances in your presentation, so maybe you can go back and verbally bullet-point the 'easy wins.' And then perhaps capture this in a followup email? I'm visualizing some hard hitting charts and graphs, maybe put it all in a more formal presentation. Yes. That would be perfect. When do you think you could have that out to the field? I'd like to see, oh, let's say before the end of the day."

9. "Okay, I hear what you're saying. I understand your requests, but I think there are some sidebar discussions going on here, and everyone clearly is excited about the prospects of this new endeavor. For the sake of formality, we should apply some due diligence and run through it all again. One more time."

10. "Que'?"

The first to know will be the one with all the cookies.

So, as of 12:01 a.m. on January 1st, 2008 - once again, our world didn't disintegrate into a ball of technology-crashing, apocalyptic alcohol-fueled confusion and hysteria. The streets didn't flow with the blood of the non-believers. And I managed to once again traditionally justify not staying up until midnight, because technically 11pm Central (or "Fake Time" as my more East Coast family calls it) is midnight somewhere.

What if we knew time would stop the next day? What if we knew this day would infinitely be our last? How would we spend our last day on Earth? It's an age-old pondering many have spent in countless heated debates, dissecting the merits of time wasting and last moments well spent. One might spend the day expressing true feelings to our most loved ones. Maybe saying words left unsaid. Some may choose to eat an entire package of Oreos in one sitting. I've done that. So...box checked.

Now, how about if only one of us knew the world was ending? I'm not talking about some bearded, picket-sign carrying, "repent now or thyne will be lost" crazy bags-for-shoes guy who smells like cheese and sausage, and shouts all bug-eyed in your face when you're standing in line just to snag free steak-on-a-stick samples from the Super Wal Mart. No wacky tripod aliens snagging people with vending machine claws. Silly gooses, trying to outrun aliens. I'm talking about, time just stopping: the world just slowing down, like a dying winter car battery. everyone just fading into a peaceful....zzzzzzzzzz.

I'm talking, what if only YOU knew it was for certain? For the sake of exercise and my ego, let's say it was only ME who knew. What would I do, on our collective last day....hm...

Well, I can certainly tell you what I wouldn't do:

1. No 'Bless You's' anymore to sneezes. Wasted words on my part. I figure, at this point, the damage is done; if you don't have it figured out by now... and no fair fake sneezing with a cough to get one in under the wire from someone else. I'll call that shite out, and you still aren't getting one from me.
2. No waiting in lines. Anywhere. Especially when you're up there arguing with the cashier because she smooshed your bread with your Spaghetti-O's. I might even just barge into a public restroom, and knock you out of the way mid-stream. (No, I wouldn't. I'd just pee in the street. Maybe even in your pool.)
3. No driving on the streets. Streets are for those delusioned with believing they have time on their hands. I'd drive through yards and medians, 'cause I got places to go and a short time to get there. Maybe drive backwards. And no courtesy waves, either.
4. No pauses between thoughts or sentences. Gaps will be filled with either "Na Naaaa's" or "Oooooooo", just like the chorus or bridge to a song. I'm not even gonna bother thinking about my inner-censor. I'll just say, "Who cares? Your stories suck", or "You too!" when told to have a nice day (because why be a complete tool and risk a beat-down the whole day? Plus, I love irony and being an inner anarchist.)
5. No holding my farts in. Enough said.

What I WOULD do:

1. Eat in the supermarket. Undaunted. And I'll share.
2. Go head first down the biggest playground slide I can find.
3. Ride with my hand stuck outside the car window. Okay, Mom, we'll see what REALLY happens. If it DOES get cut off, oh well. What's there is there. And in eternity, doesn't it grow back into some sort of Go-Go Gadget mechanism any way? I thought I read that somewhere.
4. Make verbal honking sounds to those in my way. With scissors in my hand. While running. Outside. In the snow. With shorts on. And no jacket.
5. Tell everyone in shouting distance who matters most in my life how much of an impact they have made on me, and I have become who I am because of them, good or bad. Nothing could have been the same without them, and I wouldn't have changed the path. You know who you are. From family and friends, an ex-fiance', to that girl at Petsmart who once told me the difference between cat litters. (Because they would have no point of reference to the world ending, I'd of course run the risk of sounding all mushy-hearted and starry eyed. But better to be dead outside and emotionally spent, than to be gone and remembered as dead inside.)

Wow. This could get heavy just thinking about. Maybe I just practice now, with that last number 5 (the other "first" one, I've pretty much got down.)

Anyone with me?