I have narcolepsy!

And you can read all about it here

My blog in art

Apparently I write about muscle. A lot. Seems strange as I can't remember a single post where I mention my fantastically ripped physique.


Anyway, this is from Wordle and it makes the commonly used words in your blog into a supreme work of word art. Twas fun.

Betty and the Secret Service

Betty and the Secret Service
A play in one scene

Cast

Betty, a woman in her mid thirties. Stylish yet artsy. A no-nonsense type of woman. She wears a badge on a lanyard. She works for the venue.
Muscle, a man in his mid thirties. He is a member of the United States Secret Service. He must wear a suit and an earpiece.


Setting: The hallway lobby outside of Box 16 in a spectacular Concert Hall in the Washington, DC area during a birthday celebration for an ailing senator from a prominent Massachusetts family. Many American dignitaries and former presidential candidates are in attendance. Security is as tight as David Bowie’s pants in Labyrinth.


Scene 1
Lights up on Muscle standing outside of Box 16. Naturally he is standing with his jaw set and his hands folded in front of his belt. Betty runs on from stage left and heads toward Box 16. Muscle jumps in front of her.

Muscle: Ma’am, I’m sorry you cannot go in there.

Betty: No, it’s okay. I just need to get Famous Broadway Actor from his seat.

Muscle: Ma’am, I’m sorry. You cannot go in there.

Betty: No, it’s fine. I have a badge, see? (holds up badge) I just need to get Famous Broadway Actor from his seat. He’s performing next.

Muscle: Ma’am. I cannot let you in here. This is a clean room (referring to the 2200 seat theater), you came from a dirty room (referring to the backstage area from whence Betty has just come and where The President is currently standing). You can’t come through here.

Betty: You don’t understand! I need Famous Broadway Actor! (pulls out program, points to Famous Broadway Actor’s name) He’s next! He’s in the show! He’s an actor!

Muscle: Ma’am, John Wilkes Booth was an actor too.

Blackout.

End of Play

2 Things

Here are two things that happened to me today:

1. I called me doctor's office and was put on hold for 10 minutes.  After that 10 minutes I was transferred into the "after hours" line. The receptionist put me on hold and then let the office for the day.  

I hate people.

2. I apparently dropped a glove this morning when I got out of my car.  When I went back to my car after 13 hours at work, someone had put my lost glove through the handle of my car door.

There's at least one nice person where I work.  I don't hate people.

Book. Book. Book. Book. Plastic Bag, plastic bag!

Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 56.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the next seven sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.


I glowered at him. "I can't help myself when he gets all bossy like that -- my natural teenage instincts overpower me."
He chuckled. "Well, thats not my fault."
I stared at him, speculating. He didn't seem to notice. His face was serence as he gazed out the windshield. Something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Body Check Count for June 25, 2008: 4

I don't understand something, maybe you can explain it to me: why is it so difficult for people to notice when they're blocking a sidewalk? And I mean completely blocking a sidewalk. No sidewalk to spare. Not an inch.

The first 3 body checks came in quick succesion 1, 2, 3. These were nearly inevitable due to the aformentioned Sidewalk Blockers. There was a group of tourists who had parked their mini bus on a side street that just happens to be beside the Metro. As these 15 or so people stood there thinking about other ways to make it difficult for me to get to work, 8 or so people came from the other direction attempting to head to the Metro from when I had just come. In a rather unfortunate series of events I managed to body check three of them. Since we were all in a hurry, no one said anything which is just as I like it: "Check and Run." (Akin to "Punch Him in The Face and Run" which is not dissimilar to "Park the Car and Run.")

Number 4 was a completely different story.

Number 4 was walking with Suit 1 and Suit 2 and was dressed in a nice pink dress. Like all Suits, 1 and 2 feel much bigger than they are and thus decided not to adjust their position on the sidewalk to allow Number 4 appropriate non-body-check space. Now, Number 4 could have slowed her pace or even quickened her pace to give space to myself and the other members of the working force who were on their way to work, but she chose to stay where she was: on the end of a 3-person line across the width of a 3-person sidewalk. It was an unfortunate set of circumstances that lead to her body check, but to quote Carlotta: these things do happen.

Now, for those of you out there who are asking "Well, why didn't YOU move, Ms. Body Check?" Simple: there was nowhere for me to go. And until I perfect the art of walking through trees and small brick walls, the body checks will keep coming.

It's kind of obvious

While waiting for our bags last night, I witnessed a man pick up this pink suitcase, look at the name tag on it, and then put it back on the conveyer belt at least twice.

If your suitcase looked like this, don't you think you could recognize it from a mile away? What do you think would be a logical guess of how many people own this particular suitcase and how many of them would be on the same flight as you?

Exactly.