Once there was a man who had the free-floating unease and indefinable sadness of a fat white American.
A life devoid of the tragedy so prevalent throughout the world had left him with soft hands, buttery chins, a mighty expanse of flat butt.
If great calamity births mighty writers, then a string of a small disappointments must birth...tiny, disappointing anecdotes about things like old girlfriends and Jeffrey telling me his calculator told him to tickle me.
Jeffrey's hands are covered with freshly picked scabs, he constantly reminds himself to "keep his hands off his hand".
Those hands coming your way with the intention to koochie-koo you are an unpleasant sight.
Kootchie Koo. What is the etymology of that?
I would look it up, but the search bar is so far away........
I had a girlfriend in high school who never koochie-kooed me.
She had this delightful way of greeting me in the mornings.
Blora and I fought all the time and it was so awesome.
She was the first person to ever punch me in the face out of anger.
I am sorry for that V-8 joke.
I thought of it on the way to work today and I started laughing to myself.
After writing it down, dear god I am wracked with doubt.
I am the man who blows his nose and stops to analyze if blowing his nose right then had really been his best course of action.
Oh no, I should have snorted it back in.
It wasn't enough for a tissue, it didn't warrant that......
Now a kleenex is wasted, the box is one more closer to being empty, we are one step closer to having to buy another box, we'll have to rob our children's piggybanks to buy it, a tree in Oregon will fall, a child will cry when he has no quarters for a Hot Wheels car, the fallen tree will smother forever a delightful juniper bush.
Have you ever felt like you were on the very perimeter of something brilliant, something monumental?
All you have to do is push.
But what if you push through, only to find a joke about Alf giving you a back massage?