Poeter

Aphorisms, while often

misused and unhelpful

can contain within

them a great deal

of wisdom. I think

I read that somewhere. Or

maybe I overheard it. All I

know is aphorisms are just

advice you’re tricked into

listening to.

LW

I’m number one. You ain’t number shit.

There was an impromptu break-dancing competition at my work today. It was really surprising.

There’s this woman who works in finance named Debra who kept demanding that everyone call her D-Rex. She said it was because she was doper than a T-Rex. I refused to call her D-Rex because I didn’t feel it was a fitting street name. In my experience she was only mediocre in areas of finance so I couldn’t imagine that she earned this moniker that placed her above a famously powerful carnivore/dominant animal.

On at least three separate occasions Debra improperly calculated percentages. This is something I would consider basic for a person working in finance. So, no D-Rex.

But then, Debra kicked it old school.

The cardboard had been laid out on the conference room floor. Darren, from human resources, was doing some really solid popping and locking when suddenly Debra shouts, “It’s time for D-Rex to feed,” and she shoved Darren off of the cardboard and in to a wall. Then she proceeded to do the sickest b-girl moves I have ever witnessed.

D-Rex was busting out windmills, flares, handstands. She was solid in toprock and downrock and every other move transitioned into a freeze or a suicide. I couldn’t tell if her routine was ending as each move got bigger and bigger until it seemed she would never stop the body rock. D-Rex set into a flurry of moves until we all actually believed she was having a seizure and then she suddenly just stepped off the cardboard, stepped to Greg, who also works in finance, and said, “now stop using my fucking coffee mug, bitch,” and walked out of the room.

It turns out D-Rex don’t front.

LW

Buffalo nickel

There was a homeless guy standing near an intersection on my way home from work today. He had a sign made from a random piece of cardboard like those intersection “please help” dudes do. His sign said something to the effect of him being a disabled veteran and he appreciated any help. I didn’t give him any money.

I thought about it. Oh, yeah, I always think about it. When people go to the trouble of making a sign expressing their need it hard not to think about helping, but I’ve trained myself to be leery of folks in the street asking for money. I don’t give money to door to door charity solicitors either. My giving has to be completely planned out. I don’t like to give on a whim.

The reason I didn’t give money to this guy on the corner was because his cardboard looked too new so I looked closer at him and noticed he was wearing a really nice watch. I’m no watch expert, but it was clearly an expensive watch. Perhaps someone gave him this watch instead of giving him money or a bottle or Jack Daniels, but what’s more likely is that he isn’t homeless or short on money but instead works part time begging on the corner when he’s not at his usual job at a large advertising agency. It’s one of the oldest stories in the book. The book of stories about people who stand on corners asking for money.

I wanted to make sure this guy knew I wasn’t giving him money. It wasn’t enough to not give I wanted him to  notice me not giving money so I looked him in the eyes as I drove past his corner and that’s when I realized the man was my dad. And his sign was actually a briefcase. And he was standing in my living room. And I was either dreaming or I had just woken up from a nap on my couch to find my dad standing in my living room.

LW

Craven idle-headed coxcomb

Today, I decided to purchase a chicken. To be more accurate I decided I wanted fresh eggs and eggs don’t come any fresher than the ones underneath a live bird.

I haven’t eaten chicken in nearly 15 years, but I know they sell chicken for eating at the same place I get my eggs, so I set my sails for the nearby grocery store. I found the meat and seafood counter and asked the gentleman in all white if he knew where I could come by a chicken that was fresher than he was offering. Something on the breathing side, perhaps. I tried to imply that if he helped me out there would be some money in it for him even though I had no intention of giving him any money. He just sort of looked at me funny and then asked me to repeat my request. I demanded he present his manager so I could give him a negative review of my service thus far. When the meat man told me he was the manager I stormed off. After I paid for my juice, because I am not a criminal.

Having had no success in purchasing a chicken at the grocery store and no back up plan I decided I would go where I knew they sold live animals, the pet store. I walked down aisle after aisle seeing fish and frogs and ferrets and furry bunnies. They had tiny sad kittens but the only birds on display were small wrens or sparrows or something. I’ve never had a wren egg but I doubt it would hold up with a little green pepper and smoked gouda. Despite my unpleasant encounter at the grocers I decided to ask a person in a blue apron/vest where they kept their chickens. This young lady informed me that they didn’t have chickens for sale because people rarely keep them as pets in this part of the world. I wasn’t sure why she added that “this part of the world” at the end of her explanation, maybe she wants to seem like a world traveler or maybe she meant indoor parts of the world, like building, and there are actually a lot of chicken pets running around near the pet store but they don’t go in buildings, especially stores.

I would like to say that at this point I was undaunted, but I really just wanted some fresh eggs and all this travel and searching gave me time to realize that I would have to build some type of enclosure for the chicken and I would probably have to feed it and clean up its poo (or whatever besides eggs comes out of chickens) and I would need to do something with it during the cold season, which may involve my home or a really nice blanket. So, I accepted defeat, went home, opened my beehive, collected some fresh honey and poured it on a warm piece of toast.

Failure is sweet.

LW

Empathy

The little miss is two and a half now and I was just wondering when she would start learning that empathy thing that keeps humans from being constantly horrible to each other. She was watching Olympic track and field with her mother this evening, getting her hair combed before bedtime stories. It was a relay sprint event and she was asking questions about what are they doing and why do they have that stick when the U.S. mens relay team mangled a hand off and the baton was dropped. the athletes looked understandably upset as they stopped running and the wife mad a disappointed for them noise. The little miss asked, “what happened, mommy.”

The wife explained that they dropped the stick so they can’t run anymore. Which I don’t really understand so it’s no surprise that this is confusing for someone who’s not yet three. The little miss got a very sad face and then started worryingly coming up with questions. Why don’t they pick up the stick, mommy? Why can’t they run mommy? They could still run mommy?

She totally got that this was a big disappointment for these guys and she was really worried about them. The kid cares about people she doesn’t know because she can’t relate to simply having feelings. And that’s an awesome thing.

Then she recovered from her worry quickly and said, “I will run with them mommy. Some time I want to go to a place where I can run with a stick.” The wife and I of course promised the little miss that sometime soon we will go to a place where she can run with a stick. I’m pretty sure we’re having a relay race down our sidewalk tomorrow if anyone wants to come and watch.

Hey, Check it out – Gob Bluth was on Sesame Steet - here

Also, Sho’ Nuff from The Last Dragon has died

Turns out pancreatic cancer was the baddest.

LW