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Mockingbirds and Tortoises
Damn Darwin. Were it not for his meddling ways, I’d still be catching a daily nap just before–okay, more honestly, during–“Oprah.” But he just had to go to the Galapagos and stare at all sorts of birds and turtles. Then he wrote that thing. And suddenly, everyone was in a tizzy, wanting to roar at…
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Next Up: A Horseless Carriage
“Giddyup!” I hollered to my team after a long day of plowing furrows in the west field. They were whupped, but I had one more section to turn over before heading back into the cool of the soddy to soak up bacon grease with a hunk of hardtack. Moments later, I slowed the mules…
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Unwrap This
Roughly forty-one years ago, on March 25th, my mom didn’t know what to get my dad for his birthday. Somehow “a child” seemed more creative than “a Mickey Mouse necktie.” So on my dad’s 32nd birthday, my mom, spinal-blocked but fully conscious, pushed me out of her girl bits. Half an hour later, she…
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Twenty-Seventh Sign of an Impending Apocalypse
Spontaneously and unthinkingly, I recently did finger guns at a colleague during an English Department meeting. Should I ever attend a Liberal Arts & Sciences Advisory Board meeting and toss up some gesticular air quotes, that will be your final warning. Grab canned foodstuffs and run for your bomb shelters. I kind of hope your…
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Preschooler Oysters
You know how it’s important for a parent to mess with her kid, just to make sure he’s ready for the Whac-A-Mole game that is middle school? I do; therefore, I view every day as a “mess-’em-up-early-and-hard” opportunity. Case in point: While the Wee Niblet still has affection for his Pokemon cards and is…
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Not So Much My Savior After All: The Pompous Lord Rerun
In honor of my naturally-red Irish roots; the big drunk that is St. Paddy’s Day; a lack of writing time; and a firmly-entrenched believe that recycling is always good, I’m re-running one of my earliest posts (it had all of three readers!). I wrote a series of tales about Jocelyn Set Loose in Ireland, and…
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Stockholm Syndrome for the Flabby
My relationship with the airlines thrusts me into moral crisis. When I fly, they make me angry. They treat me condescendingly; they torment me with their itty seats; they feed me not; the handlers bark at me when I inconveniently have to use the bathroom during Beverage Service. Of course, if the handlers could bother…
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Another Wasted TV Hour
There I was, a plate of hash brownies on the tv tray, a bouquet of tulips nestled to my not-inconsiderable bosom, clogs shodding my feet, and damned if I wasn’t disappointed. Turns out that show New Amsterdam isn’t about dykes at all.
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Pecking at the Picketing PETA Pipers
Keith Richards was named this week as the new face of Louis Vuitton (headed by Marc Jacobs). Shortly after the contracts were signed, Jacobs seized Keith’s face in a firm embrace, skinned it, and used the leather to make a suitcase. Keith staggered home, enjoying the aftereffects of the anesthesia, eager to answer his family’s…
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Ouchie-ooh-la-loobie-ding-dat
After a particularly hardcore session of Webkinz, during which he mined for precious gems, tackled fairies in the Charm Forest, and added a new trellis to his platypus’ yard, Wee Niblet stood up and staggered away from the computer. Leaning uncomfortably against the bed, he groused, “My legs fell asleep.” “Eep opp ork ahah,…
