The problem with shopping at Target is that they have many of what one wants but little of what one is looking for.

Ob’ession

I am very good at writing very bad poetry.

Blue daffodils of silence in a field of crimson drear’,
Virgil, attest to
Nothing
And turn to mine lonely voided plate, 'pon which lay
A thought
Of
The salmon roll, with ricelets hung dropped from seaweed sheath
Askew in throat, wherein the missing plaint,
“O Featherbottom! Hamilton! Virgil! Four!”
Ricochet back down my trachea-“Sir Piddlesworth Uppington Smythe, please pass the wasabi.”

Facebook RSVPing is a protocol dependent on interpersonal relationships as much as on projected attendance.

Breakfast: cereal
Lunch: bagel, yogurt
Dinner: eggs, toast, fruit
Midnight: bacon

“Can never have too much bacon.”

“Millennium…”

It’s amazing how little and how much of the world can change from one glimpse to the next.
(The best I’ve found is Paris Hilton.)

“…We all enjoy the madness ‘cause we know we're gonna fade away…”

She has mastered the fine art of jumping into boxes she cannot jump out of.

Unemerging.

Jump is an overstatement. More like, climb onto the chair next to, and fall down from. It’s adorably awkward in a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you kind of way.

Searching for meaning in an Oliver Stone movie about George W. Bush should only be done for the sake of rampant overanalysis. The film has a focus-losing hodgepodge that it more amusing for the real-life moments it recalls than for what is actually presented on screen. The film seems to lack any other artistic or thematic purpose until perhaps the final scene, revealing that George W. Bush isn’t a tragic figure at all. For, while the film does explore the myriad of options, he lacks a tragic flaw; thus, it’s instead a farce.

Everyone needs to do something crazyspontaneous over Fall Break at least once.
Everyone needs to sleep through their flight departure at least once.

I’m going to be horizontal now.

There is no problem with delving into illogic and abandoning whatever point was actually supposed to be argued, if there is the opportunity to establish something tangential more aesthetic, be it an admission of the acceptability of lying, or simply an ironic statement regarding the divine.

When the urge to *run* without regard to destination is felt, there are 3 kinds of places to flee to:
1) To a generic location.
2) To a foreign culture.
3) As far away as possible.

Essentially: Columbus, Madrid, New Zealand.

[This list could include the base case: 0) Out of sight, which corresponds to Inside.]

Presidential debate could use a little less accusative and a little more ablative.

Cats operate on a logic, their own.

How geos?
I'm writing an autobiography. I started yesterday.
Oh?! That's awesome. Don't forget the part where mom and dad adopted you from a moose farm.
I'm old enough to finally know?
I guess so, yes.
How geos with you?
I'm applying to culinary school.
Don't forget the part where mom and dad taught you how to grill moose.
Oh, they told you that was moose? It was your second brother. They didn't like him much.
He needed more salt.
I agree. Maybe some curry?

Thai together.

“What’s the difference between green curry and red curry?”
“You could ask the waitress.”
That’s one option. Or, you could go out, get an iPhone, and look it up online.

Contemplating days, dates, and the difference between.

I’m too old for this.

Tears pour out: torn until
The heart lies still
I grieve, for by your leave I will
Know what it’s like to kill.

The wonder of the Internet’s time-wasting potential is encapsulated in an Office throwaway joke about a youtube video involving Cookie Monster singing Chocolate Rain.

When humanity fails, at least we'll have theoretical physics.
“Some have skipped humanity entirely to move straight to theoretical physics.”

If you’re going to die in the upcoming year, you probably shouldn’t starve your immune system for a day.

Server service.

It is a good day when you can get free food, broker free food, and receive free food in commission. Especially when it involves pepperoni, lamb, and $2 bills.

What’s surprising isn’t that a vomit party is needed, it’s how many people need it.