During my usual run around Lake Merritt, I found myself joining with a mass of other people who were jogging in some sort of special event. As I rounded the corner, I saw one of the event sponsors or planners standing to the side, wearing a bright blue shirt. Mistaking me for one of the participants, he clapped at me and shouted “Good job! Good job!” And I thought to myself, what is this, the 5 Kilometer Run for People with Horrible Self Esteem? I do not require someone clapping at me while I exercise. However, it might be nice if I had someone like that for chores where my enthusiasm really does start to flag. For example, grocery shopping is boring. I’d like to leave the deli section and have someone applaud: “Good job! You’ve only got aisles 4 and 7 to go! And don’t forget the 2-for-1 sale on eggs!”
When I’m walking down the street, I spend a lot of time stopping and waving at the sky, because you never know when someone is watching you using Google maps.
Ever notice that the more affluent the parents are, the more ridiculous the names for their children? “Sterling” is not a valid name for a child. Rule of thumb: if it’s an adjective that can be used to describe silverware, then it has no place on a human being.
I will soon be an uncle again, or already am depending on your definition of when life begins. (If you want my opinion, I believe that life begins after 6 p.m. on Friday in either a pub, a club, or a movie theater.) At first this concerned me, because although I possess an absolute infinity of awesome uncleness, would splitting up the bounty affect the quality of my uncle output? But then I realized that half of infinity is still infinity, so now I’m fine with it; both of my young customers will be well served.
By the way, if there’s a reader of this dumb site who lives in Paris, let me know if you’re willing to show me and a friend a cool, non-touristy, hidden gem to eat at during the first two weeks in May. I will reward you with a bowl of fries invented by your people.
Posted by Greg at 06:06 AM.
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I think I deserve a standing ovation between the hours of 12 am and 5 am when I am pulled from pleasant slumber to go wipe a baby’s poopy butt, clean up puke, change wet pajamas, and/or feed children.
I think a guy I met on match.com is stalking me with Google maps.
I know two poor kids named Sterling, too.
and huge congrats on your uncledom x 2.
This will be a terrible blow to my child, Serrated Grapefruit, who must now be prevented from surfing this site. For every ten minutes that I’m successful in this effort, I expect a hearty ass-slap and a fresh water bottle from a bikini model. I am willing to compromise on a watery bikini slap from an ass model. I don’t want to be unreasonable.
So you’re going to be a creepy uncle again?
;o)
Congrats on the new uncleness and the trip to Paris!
I have a rule about naming children: if one day your child sends out his or her resume and the HR people will immediately discount him/her on the basis of having a stupid name, then you cannot - CANNOT - name them whatever it is that you’re considering.
I’m wondering why you fun website bloggers never say, “So if any of you cool readers live in Ponca City, Oklahoma and want to show me to some local eating places, let me know!” Someday, my day will come. Dixie Dog has some kickass pickle-o’s…