Just the other day, I was heading into the grocery store to stock up on soda and ice cream when I was sidelined by a guy with a toothy smile asking me to sign some sort of petition. I made the mistake of saying, “Oh, I’m not registered to vote in this city yet” - yeah yeah, not the best response. As soon as the careless words tumbled from my mouth it was like he saw me in a new light. Whereas before I was just another face he was trained to throw the usual spiel at, now I had become a confirmation of his necessity… the very reason he was standing in the shade sweating profusely. It was citizens like me who drove him to get up, adorn his ill-fitting suit, and solicit participation in the Democratic process. Yes! Not only could he get me involved “in the system”, but he could grant me the right to complain over the current state of affairs. And if there’s one thing I value in the world (aside from an impressive Anime collection), it’s the right to complain.
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My favorite part of any wedding is the reception. I love free flowing alcohol, delicious food, and good company. Actually, even if the company isn’t all that good the other 2 things more than make up for it. Shitty company seems less shitty after a second helping of tri-tip and 7 beers.
That’s where I was this past weekend, by the way: At a wedding. We drove up to Sacramento to see one of Jan’s brothers get hitched (”we” being me, Jan, and his parents). The drive was long (8 hours) and definitely not something I’m in a hurry to do again. I’ll spare you the details of how my legs got so cramped I contemplated sawing them off or how I suffered a horrendous attack of gas. That shit was brutal. I wound up holding in farts until we passed groupings of cows out to pasture. Once we were close enough, I would silently ease out a few torpedoes and hope the other 3 people in the car blamed the smell on “manure”. I could have gotten away with doing this the rest of the trip if I hadn’t made the mistake of letting one go as we drove past some orange trees. Apparently oranges don’t smell like dookie.
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You know when you’re trying to open your chocolate pudding and the foil cover splits in half? I hate that. I wind up having to stick my finger in the pudding so I can peel back the uncooperative portion. Then of course I lick the pudding from my finger (waste not want not, people) leaving it vaguely chocolaty and sticky. So hours later after my hand has brushed across my clothes numerous times, that one finger is covered in all kinds of lint and looks like a mossy piece of fruit someone should dispose of. Seriously, that foil lid has a severe design flaw.
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I recently received an award from GO! Smell the Flowers. This blog… how can I describe it? It’s different, but the good kind of different if you know what I mean. It has 20 Founders from all over the world, each with their own personality. GO! Smell the Flowers encourages respectful participation in their posts. If you have something to say, by all means say it; however, people will let you know when they disagree. But that’s life, right? I comment there at least everyday. Some of the posts are informative, some are just plain fun, and some are a bit on the serious side. Either way… it’s different enough to where it’s never boring and I can always find something to make me laugh, smile, or think (I do this between reality TV re-runs).
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