I tried to leave a building via some glass doors tonight, and saw ANOTHER goofy fat dude trying to enter at the same time. I backed off TWICE trying to let him come through before I exited — then I realized I was being polite to my own reflection.
People saw this happen.
This one goes out to all my Tolkifriends! It’s a sandwich so good that you’ll want your second breakfast right away!
There are no fewer than five kinds of cheese here: American, Swiss, provolone, Muenster and cheddar — all topped off by Duke’s Mayo. (It’s gotta be Duke’s.)
I call it “The Battle of the Five Armies.”
“They just like being depressed. They like it. They’re still under bondage, still pissed off about potatoes, I don’t know.”
*It’s cool if I laugh at this because I am 100 percent Irish.
You’ve just gotta hear her say it in her bored voice and southwestern accent. I might just change my Twitter sub-head to “pissed off about potatoes.”
What I want is a “Star Trek” episode where one dyslexic Borg embarrasses the whole cube by telling entire planets that they will be ass-limited.
My dudes, THANK YOU for all of the fun and hilarious birthday messages yesterday. It means a lot to me.
I’m happy to mark my half-century on this planet with such thoughtful friends. 🙂
Photo credit: Ominae, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
So I’m a little bit of a weird guy. I had this absolutely vivid dream the night before last that I was a world-famous singer-songwriter. And I stopped into my old college town of Fredericksburg, Virginia, where all of my school’s deans and professors came out to greet me and invite me over for coffee. I was a celebrity.
The reason I was in Fredericksburg was to record a new version of my latest big hit at a local church — this time it would be a gospel version of the song. (Think of U2’s Rattle and Hum album.) This song, which had been my most popular ever, was called “My Girlfriend Got Eaten by a Gator.”
Here’s the thing — I SWEAR I can remember it perfectly. It’s stuck in my head. I was humming it all day yesterday. If only I knew how to write music, I’d write it down and go all the way to the Grammys.
Update — sorry for not posting a trigger warning for any unfortunate souls whose girlfriends were, tragically, eaten by gators. My bad.
Photo credit: The Howard Gospel Choir performs at Kulturama in Stockholm. US Embassy Sweden, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Early birthday present from a fellow creative. Writers make the greatest friends. They know exactly what fuel you need.
And these happened along at exactly the right time, as I am making good on a vow to start writing stories again. They are currently helping me to conjure killer robots.
Chatting with a pal on the phone tonight, and there’s this audibly vicious dog with a terrifying, thunderous bark going nuts next door to her. It sounds like it’s the size of a Buick.
Her: “That dog does this every night. It is such an asshole.”
Me: “It’s the Hound of the Asskervilles.”
I tried to tune into “House of the Dragon” tonight, and I was really confused, because it was just this show about a house in New Orleans that was the ruin of many a poor boy.
Turns out I was watching “House of the Rising Sun” by accident.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 