Spelling Lesson #1

I was never sure how to spell "the-mucus-you-cough-up". Apparently, it's loogie. L-O-O-G-I-E.
I was wondering. Perhaps you were, as well.

That Broasted Chicken Dinner

What is it about long car trips? It's like you've never smelled worse. It's like you ate an "Italian style" footlong (that's "eye-talian"), went running/cartwheeling/hot yoga-ing, and then didn't shower...for three days. How does that smell from the backseat happen?
You've also never felt worse. What happened? Oh...that Broasted Chicken Dinner happened. At that diner. In that town of 100 people. It was delivered to your table by Doris. And the CHEESE bread happened. So did onion rings. Snacks for the car ride. Coffee, lots of it. But it does nothing, so you're just tired with gut rot.
Then when you get to your destination; it's more anticlimactic than a fishing trip with Uncle Dave and his coin collecting stories..
For example you drive an incredibly long way to go to a raptor center...
Instead of being in awe of what fantastic creatures these birds of prey are; all you can imagine the birds doing is ripping the flesh of your trip-mates off with those talons.
"Do these birds go for the jugular?", you wish worry to yourself.

This is why I travel alone. My friends ask: "Aren't you scared?" "Isn't that dangerous?"
Possibly. That's part of the reason I do it.

Hypocrisy is dumb

 Listen pal, there's a difference between meeting your needs and being a total A-hole. You can still meet your needs and my needs at the same time. I have never detracted from your needs and have been the best girlfriend I have ever been to someone to you. It's not like my needs are real complex. Sure I need dancing bears with tutus and clown hats, but I know you can't meet that need. That's fine. What I need are these six things...
Things I Need In A Relationship:

1. Be my friend. Confide in me so I can confide in you. 
2. Be considerate. Hey, I'm in this too. (Hello...over here...yeah me, hi.)
3. Be communicative. Seriously. If you don't say it, I probably don't know.
4. Be affectionate. No need to smother me, but show you like me. 
5. Be vocally affectionate. People like to hear that they are attractive. It's not insecurity, it's biology.
6. Have sex with me. It doesn't have to be every night but Mama needs some lovin'.    

And really, that's it. Sure there are things like loyalty and honesty but those can be filed under Number One. Monogamy would fall under Number Two and probably would have already been decided by Number Three taking place.
I don't ask for much, just these six simple and easily fulfilled things. I ask that you follow the Golden Rule. I rarely get truly angry and almost never "freak out". It's just not my style. I'm really easy going.
BUT, quit punishing me for shit your young ex-girlfriend did. Quit trying to get back at her by being an ass to me.
Just needed to rant.

Have you done this?

Ever sitting at your desk digging in your nose, you get a good one, then go to wipe it under the desk, only to find a crusty old booger you previously wiped under the desk now on your finger? Ever use someone else's bathroom and while you're sitting there sneering at their bathroom decor, pick your nose? Then try to get it off your finger but you end up wiping it on the wall? Do you then have a small smile come across your face like maybe you improved the room a little bit? Or is it like marking your territory? Are you ever in the same scenario but are able to get said booger off your finger by flicking it? Ever question the formula you might use to figure out the trajectory of the booger before it landed on the monogrammed towel? What is that formula anyway? Ever pick your nose and then smell your finger, only to find that it smells kinda funky? Why does the inside of your nose stink? Shouldn't you be able to smell it? I mean, it's right there.

Misplaced Hostility

I am an art guard but I like to tell people I'm in security. It's one of those "white lies" that seems to be fully acceptable. It's kinda true.
Last week a young, well dressed couple in their mid-twenties came into the gallery where I was conducting surveillance. They looked around a bit and glanced at their map of the museum. I observed the all too common appearance of confusion on their faces.
Male: What gallery is this?
Me: Seven
Female: Seven?
Me: (a more authoritative) Seven.
Male: Seven? (Cocks his head slightly)
Me: Seh-ven.
They shuffled out and went on their way.
There isn't a Gallery 7. There is a seventh floor, which is indeed where I was, but no Gallery 7. Gallery 7 is actually a corporate sponsored gallery and so in turn, bears their name.
I didn't even lie to them purposefully. I had one of those completely brain dead moments. I felt like an ass but nonetheless laughed maniacally about it afterwards.
Remember in 7th grade when the older kids would send you to the boiler room because they serve ice cream there after school on Wednesdays?

Rikki and Friends

Greg: Smell this. (Pushes a large brown translucent cube towards my face)
Me: What is it? (Wrinkled nose and look of concern )
Greg: It's a bar of soap my sister made. 
Me: Oh. (sniff sniff) I could wash my butt with that. It's lovely.