I think we should be much more appreciative of our ears. Not only do they enable us to communicate more effectively, give us something to adorn, and something to hold onto when things get a little heated (nudge, nudge, wink, wink), they also save us they indignities of the ridiculous headgear we would no doubt require in order to hold our glasses onto our face in their absence.
I see the political, ethnic, gender, and every other possible combination of harassment, inequality, and entitlement controversy and can't help but feel it boils down to a very simple principle: Don't be a dick.
It's on cold nights like tonight that I remember my grandmother telling me to always wear underwear when wearing pants that have a zipper. She was chock full of wise sayings like that. All I remember about my grandfather is that he had one testicle. Obviously, one of us wasn't listening.
If a ghost was spotted in today's age of rampant social media, I would wager the Ghostbusters would receive more Tweets than phone calls. If so, would they still need the snarky receptionist? I suppose she could learn to maintain their Facebook page and online presence. Snapchat would definitely see an upswing in activity. Pics or it isn't sliming you or cooking eggs on your kitchen counter.
Some times I know I am a logical, free-thinking individual, with valid opinions and important contributions to be made to the social fabric of our global wide social infrastructure. I know, like everyone else on this planet, I have a voice that matters and making it heard is paramount to the success of our future as human beings. Just some times.
The rest of the time I know it's the aliens testing me.
There will always be those who don't like you no matter how good a person you are. Of course, there will always be those who refuse to cover their mouth when they cough. You'll be much happier if you just avoid them both.
The idiom that "just because you can do something doesn't mean you should", too often conflicts with other important words to live by, such as "do what makes you happy". Like farting in crowded elevators and pointing to the person beside you. That stuff is just too funny to take off the table.
I think the age you stop Trick-or-Treating at Halloween is the one where you realize your desire to collect free, individually wrapped, tiny bars of chocolate is trumped by your laziness over having to walk around the block carrying a bag and knocking on doors.
We all have that one friend who is a complete idiot. Unless, of course, you don't have any friends. Then you feel extra pathetic because as much of a moron as that one guy is, he still has more friends than you.
I am a social rebel with unrealistic anxiety issues. The kind that will walk around without underwear on, just to prove that my life won't be dictated by societal norms, all the while terrified that I will be held at gunpoint and forced to give someone my pants.
I realized today that one person I never tell how much I appreciate, is my mother. She is ten feet away in the next room but I am posting this on Facebook. One of the things I appreciate most about her is that she doesn't make a big deal about how lazy I am. Maybe I'll mention it the next time I get up to go to the bathroom.
I am a great fan of the arts. Art Garfunkel, Art Carney, Arthur C. Clarke, and others. I'm not a snob, though. I like many of the lesser known Arts as well. In fact, there are a few in my neighbourhood. Sadly, we don't share a kindred appreciation and they tend to call the police when they catch me spying through their windows. Apparently, art is not only subjective, but litigious as well.
You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It works with people too, but that much honey can get expensive so I choose to ignore them instead. What would I want with a crowd of people trapped in honey anyway? I have enough trouble with just one of them in a face to face conversation.
Here's a tip: Sign language for "Hump Day" is not grinding your crotch up against someone's hip. I think the old lady in line at Tim Horton's forgave me, but it cost me a maple dipped donut. What is it with old people and maple? So keep your crotch to yourself unless you find someone open-minded with a willingness to learn new languages. You never know, you may even get a fiver tucked into your waistband. I'd probably only get a quarter, and it would roll down my pant leg so I'd have to chase it. Not sure if I'd be bothered.
I started bringing sexy back but it was too much work, so I compromised and went "slightly disheveled with a splash of Axe body spray". It's been working out well since those helpful ladies at the flea market let me in on the fact that "disheveled" doesn't mean "without pants".
They told me I made my bed so now I had to lie in it. Turns out Skittles may seem like a brilliant idea for a fun 2am snack but they're crap at lumbar support. Next time I am going with the wiser choice. Bacon.
Last weekend at the bar I became convinced that I had lost all feeling in my leg, but then I realized I had been grabbing the leg of the guy next to me. Turns out I hadn't lost feeling in my face.
Is it just me, or does anyone else suspect there may be a link between the time you get up in the morning and your ability to tolerate other human beings? I asked a guy outside the coffee shop for his opinion but he had a stupid face so I told him to shut up and I walked away. A perfect example of someone wasting my time.
Back during the 1930's, before we had fully evolved into the finely tuned mechanisms we are today, our posteriors were connected to our bodies through the use of a bolt threaded through our belly button. Unfortunately, these bolts were subject to wear and tear and the threads would often become worn. This would result in a loosening of the connection, making itself evident by a pronounced swaying of the buttocks during various activities. When witnessed by others, it would be suggested the affected individual could benefit from an adjustment to their pivotal rod, a sentiment that would later be translated into the more commonly known phrase, "That person has a screw loose." It was also the earliest known occurrence of the curious activity later identified as "twerking".