1. go into your archives.
2. find your 23rd post.
3. post the fifth sentence.
4. post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. tag five other people to do the same thing.
why are numbers 3 and 4 are the same? how do i know ... i didn't make the rules.
how unfortunate it is that i don't know 5 people. what a sad, lonely life.
anyway! here's my sentence:
"maybe that's what i'll do next year ... and from then on only participate in christmas (involving others) every two years or so."
yeah ... that sounds like me.
(know what's funny? the blogger spell checker doesn't recognize "blog" as a word.)
October 31, 2005
October 24, 2005
speaking of frogs
if you've ever been to my house, you've probably seen the 5-foot tall frog painted on my office wall. you know ... the one with the black boots, fishing pole, and wandering eye? yeah. that's him.
for three years he's been the reason that i a.) have a junk room and b.) always, always keep its door closed ... and unlike the frog that was in my toilet, the one on my wall isn't cute and lovable ... he's extremely creepy, which is why he doesn't have a name.
please don't think i'm associating wandering eyes with creepiness. as a matter of fact, one of my very favorite college professors had a wandering eye, and it was fun trying to figure out if he was talking to me or marcia ... after he'd ask a question in our general direction, we'd exchange glances and wait for the inevitable "marcia?" or "jody?" come to think of it, we should have kept score ... then maybe we could have figured out if he was messing with us.
regardless, he was probably messing with us.
you know what's funny? i can't remember the name of the most memorable class i took in college. it was the one where marcia and i sat in the back row not reading machiavelli, lord of the flies, 1984, or anything by that famous diplomat guy ... what was his name? and those two annoying poli sci majors were always talking over each other ... red hat boy, who i shared a mailbox with, and that other kid whose existence the class found grotesque because he never put his hand down. when his hand went up, any life that might have been in the room slipped out rather noticeably. american politics? that doesn't sound quite right, but we couldn't have picked a better pass/fail.
the point is: i think wandering eyes are fabulous unless you're a frog and you're painted on my wall. that said, the frog is now covered in two coats of primer ... and i can still see him.
frankly, he's even creepier now.
what do you think the chances are that he'll bleed thru "cinnamon whip?" realistically, i think the chances are slim to none ... however, as far as i know he's the tell-tale frog ... tho i don't remember killing anyone.
you know what? national novel writing month is only days away. maybe i just found this year's plot ... i could write a soap opera.
for three years he's been the reason that i a.) have a junk room and b.) always, always keep its door closed ... and unlike the frog that was in my toilet, the one on my wall isn't cute and lovable ... he's extremely creepy, which is why he doesn't have a name.
please don't think i'm associating wandering eyes with creepiness. as a matter of fact, one of my very favorite college professors had a wandering eye, and it was fun trying to figure out if he was talking to me or marcia ... after he'd ask a question in our general direction, we'd exchange glances and wait for the inevitable "marcia?" or "jody?" come to think of it, we should have kept score ... then maybe we could have figured out if he was messing with us.
regardless, he was probably messing with us.
you know what's funny? i can't remember the name of the most memorable class i took in college. it was the one where marcia and i sat in the back row not reading machiavelli, lord of the flies, 1984, or anything by that famous diplomat guy ... what was his name? and those two annoying poli sci majors were always talking over each other ... red hat boy, who i shared a mailbox with, and that other kid whose existence the class found grotesque because he never put his hand down. when his hand went up, any life that might have been in the room slipped out rather noticeably. american politics? that doesn't sound quite right, but we couldn't have picked a better pass/fail.
the point is: i think wandering eyes are fabulous unless you're a frog and you're painted on my wall. that said, the frog is now covered in two coats of primer ... and i can still see him.
frankly, he's even creepier now.
what do you think the chances are that he'll bleed thru "cinnamon whip?" realistically, i think the chances are slim to none ... however, as far as i know he's the tell-tale frog ... tho i don't remember killing anyone.
you know what? national novel writing month is only days away. maybe i just found this year's plot ... i could write a soap opera.
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