Milo and the transporter

I bought a new coat this weekend. Spring is the best time to buy a winter coat because they are all on sale. Hurray. Not only that, but it was the last coat in my size.

I wore the coat a few days ago. As I was sitting at the bus stop, enjoying the sunshine, I noticed a wiry white dog-hair on the front of my coat.

Not so unusual? Wrong. This was a hair from my Jack Russell Terrier…my dog that lives in another state.

Hmm, how did it get there? I suppose I can craft an elaborate story to explain the hair. A story complete with transporters. Make it so, you say? Yeah, I should. My four-legged friend transported from the Land of Enchantment to the grey skies of Oregon. Then he proceeded to raid my closet and take a nap on my new coat. When his day was done, he beamed back home. But not before eating the crumbs off my kitchen floor, of course.

Or perhaps the story is simpler. The hair came from some other clothing item which I wore the last time I was near him.

Naaaaaaw. I’m sticking with my transporter theory. Maybe I should watch a non Trek-related show for a few days…

Commercials fit for a commercial holiday

Cupid prepares for operation Valentine’s Day. His wings are a flutter. He’s loaded his quiver with arrows and his bowstring is taut. But what is he firing? Well, based on the past 48 hours of TV commercials, Cupid comes bearing greeting cards, jewelry and bottles of personal lubricant.

How…errr…romantic?

I’ve never felt inspired by this holiday. No, that is a lie. When I was younger it was a fun holiday. Back then the holiday was all about making crafts, handing out cards with candy and an innocent crush hidden behind each sentiment.

Now, as an adult, the commercial holiday force-feeds me pre-packaged love. But I guess it’s not all bad because I still want the candy. Yumm.

Style is in the eye of the judgemental beholder

Mighty fine people-watching today. Mighty fine. If you disconnect from your own bubble long enough to stare mindlessly at the people around you, you are sure to see some nutty stuff.

Style don’t:

Cinching pants below your butt.

What is the point of the belt if the pants aren’t near your waist? Either put the pants on or leave the pants off. Don’t half-ass it. No one wants to see your Hanes covered butt-cheeks. It’s not enticing.

Style don’t:

Sandals with socks.

Unless you are in your house or on your way to your soccer/basketball/etc. game, wearing socks with sandals does not make sense. Why not wear the sandals alone? If your feet are cold, put on different shoes. And no, wearing black socks doesn’t make it better…even if they never get dirty the longer you wear them.

Ode to NYE 09-10

Ode to NYE

Another year,
a warm can of beer;
bubbly drinks that hinder fear.

Take a leap,
resolve to try;
don’t let the cork damage your eye.

Bowls of chips,
decadent dips;
determined to decrease the girth of your hips.

Starting tomorrow…

January first,
without fail;
resolutions will bolster your sails.

After the haze,
maybe a few weeks;
by early spring your resolve will creak.

So give it a rest,
put that list aside;
there’s no need to abuse your pride.

It’s just champagne,
an excuse to dance;
it doesn’t matter if you can’t fit in those pants.

Happy 2010!