*Points at camera. Winks. Flexes.*
My parents finally got rid of their second(third?fourth?)hand sixty-inch projection television. This is what we do with objects (and possibly family members) who have outlived their usefulness.
But when I looked out the window, all I could think of was...
...and it made me smile. My brother said that the next day he was staking out the garbage men so he could absorb some secondhand embarrassment as they struggled with the television or simply refused to take it, but when the moment arrived, it was too much for him and he ran to his room and hid so he wouldn't have to suffer along with them. This type of embarrassment avoidance runs in the family.
This is my nephew and my new nephew. A few seconds after this picture was taken, he whispered to the baby, "I love you," and I cracked up. In between bursts of laughter I wheezed out, "You are my brother! HAHA! And yet, heeheehee, I feel a great sadness...in my bosom. HAHAHAHA!" I sobered up pretty quick after that, though.
Also, my nephew is Robb Stark.
I was digging through my junk drawer and I found this illustration of what, I can only surmise, is a time machine. I have no recollection of ever drawing this, but I must have because it's drawn on the back page of a Simpsons daily calendar. The last time August 21st landed on a Friday was back in 2009, but there is another Friday, August 21st coming up in 2015 and again in 2020 and again in 2026. So what could have happened is that I drew this in 2009 and simply forgot about it, but I believe the more likely scenario is that I drew this in the future and sent the sketch back in time to myself to a place where I knew I would find it. I'm not sure what to do with this information. I really wish that either my future self or my present self was more intelligent.
Whenever I find something in my spam folder that doesn't belong there and I get to click the Not Spam button, I always feel a smug sense of superiority over my e-mail filter, or like I'm hitting a dog on the nose with a newspaper. "Don't eat that. That's not spam."
I was driving down the highway and on the side of the road I saw a church that had moved into an old store that had gone out of business. It was called The Church of the Open Door. When I drove past it, my convoluted sense of humor tapped me on the shoulder and said, "It would be really funny if when that church went out of business and closed, if we opened up a small chapel right next to it and called it The Church of the Open Window." So then I said, "That's worse than your idea to sculpt a man out of poop and sit him on a toilet," which is my go-to reply to a surprisingly high number of things.