I’m considering a name change to Dingbat, which fits me best during tax season. Every year I promise myself to keep a better accounting of all my financial records, and every year I end up adding, “Damn it, this time I mean it!” I thought it would be easier when I got myself a tax preparer, but it’s sort of like hiring yourself a babysitter; sure, you no longer have to cook or clean up after yourself—and someone else can…
I watched a cloud die today; it was the saddest thing I ever saw. I could no longer stand the cruel heat of the sun, so I sought the shade and lay on my back, sunglasses shading my eyes from the glare peeking through the leaves of my guardian tree. When I finally got settled, I noticed the cloud above me and realized how quickly it moved. It came down on me like a sort of evil, magical mist, spreading…
I don’t feel a day over 30. Maybe 8 or 80, but 30? Not quite. I was asked if I’d rather have Baghdad or my boobs fall on my birthday, and I said, “Anything, just please not my boobs.” So there you go. Baghdad fell yesterday, and you have me to thank. Had they asked me on another day to choose between a bunny and a princess, I don’t know what I would have chosen. I hope they never give…
Once, back when I was in high school, there was a big hullabaloo on campus about some Karate-Kid-like Mickey Mouse Club movie being filmed nearby. They needed extras, a ton of them, and all of the popular ROTC guys took a day off and tried to get into the movie. I actually got to see one of them when the movie finally aired on the Disney Channel. He sat among a crowd in the bleachers, and his bold blue, gold,…
Dear Inner Critic, You have got to stop hounding me. Seriously. You have got to stop telling me what to post and what not to post, what readers will like and what they won’t. I am not a child or an idiot. I can friggin’ think for myself, thank you, and I have a writing degree; damn it, let me put it to some use. I’m almost certain that I can post something acceptable, even if it isn’t my best…