Sometimes I use my shower time to pray. I could go all English-major on it and say it’s all about cleansing the soul and body together, but it’s really because I have a short attention span and there’s not much multitasking to be done in there anyway. Unless there’s a hair stuck on the wall and I can spend five minutes trying to aim the shower head at it. Still, the lack of focus will kick in eventually and my holy intentions turn to ridiculous thoughts… like the fact that biscuits and gravy are just wet flour poured over dry flour.
Other thoughts do sometimes include my English major. For example, next time you feel like you want to criticize someone who doesn’t speak English well, think about these sentences…
- Though rough, the dough-faced, thoughtful man, after falling into a slough, coughed. Later, he sloughed his skin with a bough while walking through the borough.
- He then slipped on a brooch on the floor, spilled his food, and bloodied his foot. Cooperative, isn’t he?
- The Creator heard the heartbeats of sweaty creatures from above the Earth.
When someone tells me to hold my horses, are they implying that I need to be more stable?
In the ruining my childhood column… ever consider that The Wizard of Oz might simply be Nietzsche’s “eternal recurrence” in which Dorothy will forever wake up from her dream, the tornado is always on the way, and she has to walk the yellow brick road until she reaches the right conclusion without murdering witches?
Also, The Lion King is essentially the same plot as Hamlet, but it’s much more fun with cute animals.
This didn’t actually ruin any part of my life but finding out stripper poles actually spin… it’s not the super athletic dancer making her body move around it… is kind of a disappointment.
If you replace the W with a T in What, Where, and When, you get the answer.
Self driving cars will not need windshield wipers. I think lights might also be optional until everyone else is driving them too.
Does anyone ever click on the 3,000 ads that pop up on the 42 one-sentence pages of every click-bait “You won’t believe…” headline? How much are those people spending?
Well, since the answer is probably a “butt-load”… I found out that is an actual measurement. Based on English wine units, a butt-load cask holds 126 gallons, nestled between the “Tun” and “Puncheon” sizes. You’re welcome.
Having robots do some of our jobs better than we do sounds like a great idea, until we no longer find extra fries at the bottom of the bag.
When we started out, our belly buttons were our mouths. Since the day I began using my mouth as my mouth, I’ve woken up 19,345 times and I’m still not good at it.
All my life I was told never to get in a car with a stranger. In my 20s they said don’t meet up with people from the Internet. Then someone invented Uber.
They also told me not to believe everything I saw on TV. Now I have to tell my mom not to believe everything she sees on Facebook.
My least favorite advice: Just don’t think about it. You’ll feel better in the morning. Don’t let it bother you.
In my 20s, I partied to music on speakers large enough to be furniture that shook the house. Today, I listen to that same music silently through what are essentially hearing-aids, while I do housework.
Finally, I realize I didn’t say any prayers for people who need them and then I feel bad about wasting water, so I pray for rain.