Tag Archives: blogging

Gandhi’s Top 4 Tips On How To Have A Crappy Blog

Posted on by
65

I realize it’s possible that a few of you might have been slightly distracted by the crumbling economy and possible impending doom of our country’s unresolvable debt crisis, therefore you might not have been tuned into the Discovery channel like I was last weekend. And that means, you missed the recent archaeological discovery of a lifetime.

Gandhi was so cool. Not only was he the change he wanted to be in the world, he was waaay ahead of his time. Yes, he might have been barefoot, but he knew things about the future. And it was no surprise to me when his list of  Top 4 Tips on How To Have a Crappy Blog were excavated. Obviously, when he wasn’t selling his quotes to card companies, he was busy documenting his wisdom.

My heart is too big and full of love for you just to let you sit there all non-educated. I inherited my mom’s sense of compassion. And maybe even a little of Gandhi’s too?

Here is what they were able to interpret from the hieroglyphics. Don’t ask me why Gandhi was writing in hieroglyphics. Some things aren’t meant to be understood in this lifetime. Lucky for you I took Intro to Hieroglyphics in college. Right before I dropped out.

1. “Felesnale eef  linxeicve bi w.aiven.a wefiengt!  slfiewh!”

Translation: Why in the name of my visible sternum do you make it so impossible to leave comments? Do you hate me? Why do you hate me when I am just trying to act interested in what your dog did yesterday? Cus it seems by the obstacle course you have set up that you’re trying to scare me away. Ouch! Is that an electric fence? (there’s the forward thinking again) Ah! I think I just gashed my leg on some rusty barbed wire!

Gandhi’s advice: Captcha sucks. Especially if it shows up after I have already submitted a comment. Half of the time, I have already left the page before it pops up, in which case my comment is lost and I’m too busy making up quotes to resubmit. The other half, I can’t read the captcha correctly, not because I’m a robot, but because it’s stupid. Also, if you have the captcha Nazis in place, why do you need to approve comments? You don’t. Comment approval cramps my style and the natural flow of conversation. It makes conversation and replying difficult. P.S. WordPress automatically catches spam without captcha, so maybe you should switch over. 

Hey, his words not mine.

2. “wao;ifwa #() frefwas fwal;ifaw;oinee fneifms e! wefiens!”

Translation: See these dreadful round glasses I have to wear? It’s because your black backgrounds and tiny fonts make my eyes hurt. After I read your posts, I have to close my eyes and meditate to alleviate the stress and ward off the dizzy spells. Which is okay, because it gives me so much more time to think of quotable quotes, but dangit.

Gandhi’s advice: If you must have a black background because you feature art, or cartoons (ahem, Bearman aka Mr. Hotlink) then by all means. But if you can help it, you should have a light background with dark text that is easier on the eyes – many people have issues with dark backgrounds and light text. Oh, and have text that is LARGE enough for me to see without my spectacle! Reading your blog shouldn’t be a struggle!

3. “stop being an idiot”

Translation: None needed.

Gandhi’s Advice: Posting every day will not make you famous. It will only annoy me because you have nothing quality to say. Although all of your words might not end up on a greeting card like mine, you should still put some thought into what you’re saying. My time is precious. I am busy making peace and I don’t have time to hear about what your kid left on his dinner plate last night. Plus, I cannot possibly leave a comment on all of those posts. Not that I would anyway, because your barbed wire fence got in the way.

4. “awoefne lfleell! fwlifweoi, flwiefw, wflieefjisisi!”

Translation: The Blogger commenting structure sucks. It’s very discouraging if you don’t have Blogger. I have been to some Blogger blogs where the ONLY option to leave a comment is to enter my Blogger ID or Google account. How very discriminatory of that blog. I know Google is taking over the world, but you do realize that not everyone has a Google account right? And even though I do, it doesn’t link back to my blog.

Gandhi’s Advice: If you choose to use the Blogger comment system, you must enable ALL options for leaving comments. This includes the name/url option, for those of us who have self hosted sites. Otherwise, there is no way for us to comment. And I don’t. And then you get all “where’s my comments?” and I tell you to shut it. My best advice in this scenario would be to install Disquis.

That being said, if you’re out there and you have a Blogger blog with a black background and captcha with barely any commenting options, you have the crappiest blog ever! If you have a blog with only a few of these things wrong, your blog is only a little crappy and there is still hope for you.

Peace be with you,

Gandhi

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

WANTED: Gray Haired African-American Man With Saxophone Skills

Posted on by
72

[Because it’s was my birthday, and because I’m refinishing cabinets and I started a new job, I’m recycling an oldie. If you remember this post, congratulations. You’re two years older and still like reading pointless stuff on the INTERNETS.]

I’m currently babysitting my best friend’s 6 month old.  Yes, the same best friend who pumps breast milk in my car and leaves it in my fridge, okay?  This is the first 10 minutes I’ve had all day and I find myself exhausted on the couch, drinking coffee that I poured five hours ago, and watching an Oprah special on loveless marriages.  Somehow I feel that I’ve just been given a glimpse into my life in about five fifteen twenty years.  I’m sorry, will you excuse me while I wipe the squash residue off my glasses?

Ok, I’m back. As you can deduce from its title – this blog ends with us pondering matters of Destiny, but first, it’s going to stop at the gas station and pick up some snacks while we avoid the subject.

Somewhere around 2am last night I was like, what the crap?  So I proceeded to pop in one of my all time favorite movies: Only You.  Stop scratching your head –  you’ve never seen it.  And if you have, you wrote it off within the first 5 mins or as soon as Marisa Tomei said, “He’d kill tigers for you.”  And you’d be justified. But I love it to pieces and that is just something you’ll have to live with. 

The reasons why I love this movie out number the reasons why I hate Neil Diamond. And no, it’s not just Robert Downey, Jr. speaking Italian. Or the runaway bride fiasco. Or Marisa Tomei. No, definitely not her. In fact, just ignore her the entire movie.  The main reason is because it is set in Italy, for which my obsession grew exponentially when I actually visited. Then my camera broke right in front of the Colosseum and ruined my trip.

Needless to say, I cannot express the beauty of this land. It’s magical. And I never use that gross word. Not only the scenery, but the people.  It’s a place where people actually care about something more than money.  They enjoy life.  They can’t understand you, but they’ll laugh with you and hand you some gelato.  Or a plate of pasta.  Go as quickly as you can.  It IS as beautiful as it looks. It WILL change your life.  And I PROMISE to stop talking about Italy now.

Anyway, I’ve never been a gooey person.  Shocker. I can’t even accept a compliment on my hair much less someone telling me that they can’t live without me. I hate receiving flowers or any other impractical gift that dies or has an expiration date; I would never dance in the middle of a street; I don’t want a fairytale wedding, and I certainly don’t celebrate “anniversaries,” whether they be actual legitimate yearly milestones or fake excuses to go out to eat, like, say, 7 months.

Although Only You may be a chic flick, the sheer beauty is that it actually makes fun of the concept of “destiny” and preconceived ideas that there is one true soulmate for everyone.  Because would I watch it if it didn’t?  Absolutely not.  I think when I was younger, I believed that your whole life was a search for “your other half,”  and now, I believe you could be happy with any number of people.  Just in a different way.  I’m not sure which conclusion is the right one, and I have a feeling I never will.

However, there are exceptions to every rule. 

And this is my exception:  if I should ever find myself strolling along a rainy, cobblestoney, Italian street, while being serenaded by a gray-haired African-American (note: he HAS to be African-American for this scenario to work) playing the saxophone, while talking to a charming and dangerously witty brunette who was able to quote Goethe  – I just might dance in the middle of the street.  Under the right circumstances, anything is possible.

If you’d like to witness this exact scenario, please skip ahead to 1:35.  If not, please watch the entire thing anyway. 

Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny.   

 – Goethe.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Plus Sides To Dating A Heroin Addict

Posted on by
42

Well, there’s always ice cream in the fridge.

And I don’t know if we’ve been introduced but that’s kind of a big deal.

That’s about it. Oh, did I say side(s)? Unintentional mislead, sorry.

So, with lightening speed we’re encroaching upon the worst time of the year: my birthday. For those who’ve been around awhile, you know that there are a few things in this life that’ll piss me off more than my birthday. Except this one is going to be extra special annoying since it’s my final birthday before turning THIRTY.

Can you even believe that crap?

And just as is the routine, I’m starting to have all these introspective and quasi-deep thoughts about life and where I’m at, or more importantly, not at. Oh, you couldn’t tell by the title that this was going to be one of those posts?

Good, cus it’s not. I wouldn’t do that to you on a Thursday.

But the next one will be. So get ready. I’ll also be giving out some props to select bloggers.

Like clockwork, every year, right around my birthday I lock myself out of my house. I never know when this phenomenon will happen, I am just at the mercy of the universe. But, there is always certain criteria, if you will:

1. It is hotter than a landscaper in Hates.

2. Humidity is at 600%

3. I am wearing either pjs or a swim suit.

4. I haven’t showered yet.

5. It always somehow involves working out/trying to get out of working out.

So, last week, at 11:00 am, the universe gave me my early birthday present. I was locked out, in pjs, looking disgusting, hundred degree weather, super humid, with no where to go except my cement patio which has full sun all day long.

Don’t ask how these things happen. Embrace the mystique.

My friend Jo, who is becoming a regular on Blunt Delivery yet is not at all okay with that, fortunately had the day off. The unfortunate twist is that she picked me up on her white horse posing as a Honda then hijacked me into “working out” via paddle boating. We get repeatedly disgusted at the rapid rate our metabolisms are malfunctioning and thus, we’re always searching for ways to exercise that aren’t really exercise.

Jo: Hey last year when we did this we saw a paddle boat of nuns, remember?

Me: Um. We gotta take these life jackets off so we can get a tan. Then this won’t be totally useless.

[after and hour of floating and talking]

Me: Where are we? Everything looks the same? Crap. I can’t feel my legs. I’m sweating everywhere. I need food.

Jo: When we get back, I know this mexican place where we won’t see anyone. I always go there looking like crap. And $2.49 margaritas.

[Two hours later after circling, fighting against extreme winds and what I’m convinced was a defective paddle boat, we got off torture island and effectively canceled our “work out.”]

And then double canceled it.

Then, as if the world’s most annoying day couldn’t get any longer, she decides to stop at the thrift store on the way home. Our eyes beheld many splendid treasures.

This is a choice no one should have to make. I’ll take them all!

Jo, thank you for rescuing me. I guess.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

 

An Open Letter To The Dentist

Posted on by
48

Last week, I posted a picture of my dad eating his ice cream with a butter knife because he was too impatient to wait for the spoon. What I failed to tell you was that when I commented on it, he said, “It’s not that big of a deal. Yesterday, I ate my yogurt with a screwdriver.”

And now it’s time to lift a burden that I’ve been carrying around for far too long. I feel like a suicide bomber that has alas been rescued by Jack Bauer.  I have avoided the dentist for so many years that I can only consume foods from the carbohydrate section of the pyramid at this point.

Why?

I have put it as eloquently as humanly possible, in the following video.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Life Lately In Pictures: Failures Brought To You By My Camera Phone

Posted on by
46

I had like 7 dreams last night.

First, I was shot in the stomach and pulled the bullet out myself, while driving to the hospital. Then, I was being chased through the jungle by kidnappers. Then, I was eating cupcakes in my mom’s kitchen as I watched my dad get assaulted in the backyard.

Now either I really need to stop eating hummus before bed, or I need to quit falling asleep to 24 on Netflix.

You know how when you have so much going on in your head you feel overwhelmed even trying to put together a cohesive thought? Well, I can’t even choose which thought I’d like to try to put together at this point. That’s bad.

So, instead, I’m going give you a glimpse into my past week, which consisted of consecutive failures on my part. And on the universe’s part.

I’m gonna kick this one off with my mom’s birthday dinner, when my dad, who couldn’t wait for the waitress to bring him a spoon, ate his ice cream with a butter knife. Like a 5 year-old. Except not even that, cus they aren’t allowed to play with knives.

The next day, I was attempting to sit down on the couch with some food, watch TV, and relax for like two minutes. As I went to grab the blanket on the couch, it knocked over this glass onto my carpet, which was full of cranberry juice. Not only cranberry juice though, ground flax seeds because they are good for the ticker and you know how I almost had that heart condition. Ever try to get cranberry juice out of cream carpet? How about when it’s mixed with ground seeds? Oh, but what you can’t see is the wine glass that was still there left from the night before, which landed on the other side of the coffee table and splashed red wine all over the side of my white couch.

My friend Jo (eye patch girl) and I have decided start walking on a quasi-regular basis. We started last week. I also started discovering that McDonalds cheeseburgers are not only delicious when drunk, but also when you’re about to go for a walk.

When in the middle of the worst storm you ever remember having, while staring at a funnel cloud, it’s a bad time to realize you live in an upper unit condo, with absolutely no tornado plan whatsoever. Or flashlight. Or radio.

While setting up for your grandparent’s garage sale, this is high on the list of things you don’t want to discover.

Stumbling upon an entire AISLE of varieties of boxed wine. It was like a hidden paradise.

My nightstand the next morning. That is crust from a sandwich that I apparently demanded at 4 a.m. because I couldn’t get my hands on any McDonalds cheeseburgers.

Finally being in the mood to paint and then when you get all the colors home they look NOTHING like they did in the store, under the stupid florescent lighting. Yet another reason why it should be banned from the world. So, then you take it back 70 times to have it remixed and then you just decide to watch 24 on Netflix cus it’s too dark to paint.

Last week, when we were supposed to go walking, the apartment building next to Jo’s got struck by lightening and burned down. She also manages the apartments and so she was obviously preoccupied for a couple days. Then, Tuesday night, her car broke down in my driveway as we were about to drive to the park.

This girl will stop at nothing to get out of exercise.

It broke down in an “inappropriate parking spot” so I had to leave legitimate warnings for the neighbors.

We actually DID end up walking that night. But it doesn’t matter, cus the next day Jo needed to have a late night talk and I happened to have a 2-for-1 Steak N Shake shake coupon. It’s kind of our thing. We can’t have serious any kind of talks without them. Try the Key Lime if it’s the last thing you do. It’s got graham cracker crumblies on top!

Sigh.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Blunt Bites: The Lady At The Cafe In London

Posted on by
27

[ Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed laugh-out-loud (right?) posts. They are like snapshots of a significant part of my life. Sometimes, they’re serious. Sometimes, they’re funny. But they’re always gonna be delicious. Yum. ]

I was living in London at the time. One night, some friends and I decided to eat dinner at an Italian cafe; and if there’s anything more disappointing than London food, it’s London food trying to be Italian. As we drank our wine, I jotted down some thoughts in my journal while listening to the rain hit the windows.

I noticed you walk in and take a seat at the table by the window, where you had a perfect view of the beautifully wet cobblestone streets. I would have done the same thing. Those streets are still my favorite part of London. Your glasses were huge, and at first glance I thought you might be a man. You weren’t. Just an elderly lady wearing a beautiful dress and oblivious to the world around you. When a bottle of expensive champagne arrived, I was certain that you were waiting for someone. Anniversary, perhaps? Milestone birthday? As you finished your dinner, I couldn’t help but wonder.

But no one ever joined you that night. And it became increasingly evident by your level of confidence, that was what you expected.

Part of me felt sad for you.

The other part, jealous.

This Blog Is The Next Heidi Montag

Posted on by
53

This blog is so vain. She probably thinks this post is about her.

Well, in this instance she is right.

You know what they say about plastic surgery: it’s addicting. And if anyone would know, it’s this blog, which has had three different looks in the past year. I told her she had better stop before she becomes the Heidi Montag of blogs, but it’s like talking to a brick wall.

So Blunt Delivery went through a little face lift with the help of my girlies over at caffeinateddesigns. I love them so much that I used an Asian Barbie for my twitter feed in honor of Cheryl. Cheryl is the Asian one. Jen is totally white. So technically, all of the other pictures are an homage to her. We’re still working out a few kinks on the site, so just settle down.

Okay guys, after much thought and consideration, I’ve decided to end this blog.

But then I thought about that one person who reads it every week and laughs at the tragedy that is my life, and I thought – I can’t do that to them – whoever they are. If they exist, and I’m 45% positive they do. So instead, I have decided to expand this blog’s horizons a bit.

I am a person who can’t sit still. But wait, don’t you spend like 12 hours a day sitting still in front of a computer, writing and editing and doing all sorts of things that the majority of the world despises?

Wow, you have quite the memory. Ever considered working for the CIA? I could get the details from Matt Damon. I guess when I say I can’t sit still I’m referring more to my mind. I always have five different projects going on. I am not satisfied unless I am learning something new. I’m one of those people who will see something they like, resolve it’s too expensive and then go home and learn how to make it. Follow me?

Historically, Blunt Delivery has just been a blog about my ridiculous life; but I am going to start incorporating other aspects of myself into this blog – because you know that I can barely keep up one blog much less a separate one for each of my distinctly different personalities!

The main reason I won’t quit this blog – besides all of the fabulous people I meet through it – is that it is the one place I can entirely be myself. And I need a place for all of the random stuff circling my head, or I might spontaneously combust.

I get a lot of emails/questions through my photo blog and I would like to start answering them here. I would like to simplify the technical stuff so that people can find the joy in this hobby, rather than the frustration. So, you will be seeing some different things here such as photography posts, tutorials, and random DIY decorating things . After the torture of learning how to use my first DSLR and Photoshop, I really fell in love with photography. Since I don’t do it for an income, it has become a great outlet for me and has allowed the ability to provide creative memories for my friends and family.

BUT I will never stop posting about my ridiculous life. How could I considering it is the Sears Tower of Ridiculousness?

I know many of you will have no interest in these things (as my readers are a 50/50 gender mix) and that is just fine! I will title them with strong warnings such as: PHOTO SHOOT: DON’T LOOK AT IF YOU HATE BABIES. That way you can easily skip over them! Always looking out for ya.

Oh, sorry, except for when I just slip baby pictures in there like that!

The jury is still out on whether or not this was borderline child abuse. Would this post be more interesting if I told you this is Kenny’s baby? Cus it is.

Here’s to hoping I’m not headed for the slammer,

Blunt

This Blog Can’t Even Handle Me Right Now

Posted on by
39

Before you read this I have two very important announcements:

1. Check out my guest post over at Cynicism 101. I am very honored to be Doc”s first guest blogger and I would be more honored if you visited us. He’s me, except a man.

2. Bearman is revealing what my yearbook pics would have looked like throughout the decades. He also posted an obscure homecoming photo that no one knew about till now!

Now let’s get down to bid-ness.

Two three things come to mind when I receive Royal Mail:

1. My British-drug-addict-ex is trying to contact me again, which will cause me to reflect upon a time in my life that makes me wish that London Bridge really was falling down. With me on it.

2. Are we past having to worry about Anthrax?

3. Good Morning America must have gotten my contest entry and this is my invitation to Prince William’s wedding! 2011 is the year all my dreams are coming true!

But then, I open it, and I discover something even better.

Better than Anthrax?

Well, if you can believe it, yes.

Free stuff.

I know what you’re thinking, Anthrax is free. True. Yes, but it will also impair your respiratory system and effectively kill you.

I received custom made greeting cards inspired by my blog, which were made for me by the awesome duo from Caffeinated Designs – Cheryl, my Asian Sunrise, located in sunny CA, and Jen, the Secret Keeper, located in foggy London. And I didn’t even ask for them – they just did it all on their own. Never mind that I have promised to put their kids through college as long as they send me customized periodical gifts for the remainder of their lives.

I had sort of forgotten that they had asked for my address a couple months ago.

Phew. That was a close one, Royal Mail. You had me sweatin’ like an 8th grade me during an algebra test.

They have recently branched out into designing greeting  cards.

Thanks guys! Loved the cards!

Valentine’s Day And Other Unfortunate Realities

Posted on by
32

Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of visitors, dodging the landmines and trekking over mountainous terrains to stop over at my humble, but well decorated corner of the Internets and rest their weary souls. So before I blindside you with what I have to say, which by all accounts will probably alter the course of your life and so we better hurry up, I would like to give all the newbies a big, Blunt welcome with open arms.

But I hope that didn’t just make you think of the popular eighties love ballad by Journey.

Because I sort of dislike that band.  But not as much as I dislike hate Chicago.

But I do like that song ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’

But not just cus it’s on the popular Fox musical Glee.

Cus I don’t like Glee. But I do like that Jane Lynch.

And I like you. So why don’t you just stop worrying about what I do and don’t like, mmmk?

Actually, I can’t say I don’t like Glee. I’m just assuming I don’t. Never mind the fact that I just listened to the YouTube Glee Mix about a hundred times.

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, did you honestly think  just because I’m in a relationship that I would start liking this dreadful day?? I’ll bet you one aluminum wrapped red rose that you did. Ugh. Well, I was part of a video series that the College Crush and College Candy did called: Kick Ass Valentine’s Day… no date needed. You could imagine my enthusiasm at the chance to make fun of a holiday that is supposed to celebrate love, but really just exists in commemoration of the execution of Patron Saint Valentine.

I have included the original version, without the intro they added, in case you hate Valentine’s Day too (which I expect you do) and wanted to watch it. [DISCLAIMER: Guys, this video might make fun of you a lot. This is not an apology, just a disclaimer]

So, I want to know…. how will you be celebrating the horrendous holiday that is creeping in on us like that weird kid in 8th grade biology?

Cus I won’t ever stop believin,’

Blunt


If This Blog Was A Buffet, Would You Like It More?

Posted on by
44

Precisely.

Which is why Blunt Delivery will soon become the Golden Corral of blogs.

See? And you thought there was no possible way I could tie in such a random title to this blog post. How long do we have to be on this journey together before you will stop underestimating my masterful literary skills?

Hurtful.

Much to my own dismay, I have an endless supply of long-winded, sarcastically-laced stories about my sordid past for your reading pleasure. But sometimes. Sometimes, my phalanges get just a little bit… tired.

I’m sure my next sentence will come as the shock of your adult life, but, it has never been my goal to post everyday. Why? I feel like even the best of writers don’t have something worthwhile to say to the world on a daily basis. On top of that, I don’t even fit in the “best of writers” category. Jay Leno’s writers can’t even come up with something quasi-entertaining and they actually get paid to do it. Well, mama isn’t getting paid, kids- except for the knowledge that I’m revolutionizing lives one blog at a time, and I guess for a self-sacrificial type like myself, that’s all the payment I need. Now give me a moment whilst I yank myself from the tree I’m bear-hugging, snatch up a piece of random litter and gather my thoughts.

Puke.

Another reason why I don’t post daily is because I have never, ever forced myself to write a blog. What does this mean for you, my reader with unparalleled beauty? Well, it means that you don’t have to hear about my dog’s potty training troubles or the fact that my child is so darn cute when he leaves an “R” out of word.

But Blunt, I thought you didn’t have kids and you hated dogs?

Wait, who are you and how did you manage to hijack this blog?

The point is, I only write when I have a thought so utterly preposterous that my hands go on auto pilot and I can’t stop but only for a cupcake. Or two. And although many of you yell at me for my lack of posting, I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve grown to appreciate that about me. And if you’re not being honest with yourself, then you need to lose the spandex and cut the crap already. It’s not working for you.

THE POINT IS sometimes I AM tired, yet I still have something that I would like to say. Thus, I am creating a new category called: Blunt Bites. Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with Vampires. Or brownie bites.

But gosh, I wish it did.

Blunt Bites will break the format of my usual, quasi-lengthy,  jaw-dropping, laugh-out-loud posts (right?), and sum up a significant part of my life in a mere paragraph or two. It will be like a snapshot of sorts. And I don’t even know if I’m up to the challenge.

You lucky ducks.

Or maybe all of that was just a lie and I’m merely using this as a selfish writing exercise on how to condense stories.

I trust you will will find the answer deep within yourself.

The following is a “sample” of what a Blunt Bite will be. They might be sarcastic. They might be funny. They might be tragic. But, they will all be honest.

You said it all felt like high school again – that somehow, being together made you forget that you were an adult with responsibilities and problems and broken dreams. For me, it was an escape, a mere a moment of blind optimism; in that sense I guess I can see what you meant about high school. One day at the gas station, you were down to your last two dollars and so you told me to pick out a lottery ticket. You said, “Choose wisely – this is going to pay for our summer home out east.” I chose a pink one.

It was the wrong choice. And so were you.

Mmm. Now that’s something to munch on.