11.27.2008

Without a Doubt (or, I Am Doubtless)

I'm not sure. Perhaps due to the advanced hour (or perhaps not), this wikipedia page restores some of my faith in humankind. Rarely have I ever encountered such stunning wit and knowledge in the same place. I swear, it is a solid read.

Learn about the Serial Comma

love,
t

ps - crank up the 'Oxford Comma' by Vampire Weekend.

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11.06.2008

This Sweater

Dear Sweater that I am wearing right now,

Why the hell are you so damn warm and when in history has anything made in Sri Lanka ever done what it was supposed to do extremely well?

Waiting for an answer,
t

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10.24.2008

Space

Dear Space,

I wish you were more inviting. Instead, you are cold, vast, and increasingly vapid. In the very least, maybe some oxygen and a few tiki torches would help your cause. Try Pier 1 Imports.

Waiting for a reason to come visit,
t

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10.23.2008

Axl

Dear Axl Rose,

We waited 17 years for that?

Audibly not yours,
t

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10.14.2008

Calendars

Dear Calendars,

You deserve more than a tiny kiosk in the concourse of a mall. You do not, however, deserve much more than a tiny kiosk in the concourse of a mall.

Until next time,
t

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10.13.2008

Yogurt

Dear Yogurt,

You are so incredibly weird, yet you still remain so incredibly delicious. Please be less weird, so you could be decidedly more delicious.

Hungrily,
t

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10.12.2008

TBS

Dear TBS,

We get it. You don't like the Red Sox. You really like the Rays. You condone Craig Sager. Move on.

(Can't believe I'm about to say this) Can't Wait for Fox,
t

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10.08.2008

Danger

Dear World,

Danger is a terrible middle name. Inevitably, someone will pronounce it as if it rhymed with 'hanger', effectively erasing any cool you hoped to gain from having that as your middle name to begin with. That is all.

Love,
t

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Law

Dear Law,

Everything I ever needed to know about you I learned from 'Legally Blonde'.

Legally,
t

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10.07.2008

Bacon

Dear Bacon,

You, not General Electric, make life better. I love you.

Sincerely yours,
t

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7.07.2008

on the street: again

Today, on my stroll to the train station, I spotted another union worker eating a banana. Whats the deal? Is potassium mandated now?

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7.01.2008

Answering Machines

I made a phone call. Nobody answered. I spoke to their answering machine though. This is, roughly, what it had to say:

“Hi, I’m not here right now, but I really, really want to talk to you. Please leave a message at the beep.”

If that person “really, really” wanted to talk to me, they’d have called ME. In the least, their "sincerity" would be more believable if they were acually at home when I called.

Comments, thoughts, suggestions?

tommentary@gmail.com

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6.25.2008

On the Street: Pregnant Lady

Today I saw a pregnant woman waiting for the elevator...

It looked like she was pregnant with another pregnant woman. In words other than those previously used, this woman was rather large.

Lady in the train station who was pregnant: best of luck with the remainder of your pregnancy and also with the bringing up of said child, regardless of how large he or she may end up.

tommentary@gmail.com

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6.19.2008

Cyd Charisse


1922 - 2008

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6.16.2008

On the Street: Banana Guy

Today I saw a union worker holding a banana with great disdain. It was poetic, to say in the least.



tommentary@gmail.com

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6.13.2008

Tim Russert


1950-2008

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6.10.2008

Is It Wrong to Look Forward to Work because of Air Conditioning?

Yes. It is.

tommentary@gmail.com

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5.20.2008

A Trip

This week finds me on the precipice of greatness: a family wedding. My lovely Sister has chosen to wed her lovely manfriend friend and the lovely Me has been invited to partake in the show. Additionally, I will be in the ceremony itself as a groomsman. When I was first approached about this honor, I had to brush aside the fleeting feeling that at any point a groomsman may randomly be called upon to actually groom another man. Afterall, why else would they be labeled as such. Nevertheless, I accepted the offer and now find myself ready for the occasion.Part of my required uniform for "the day" is a tuxedo. Sadly, I have no idea what the final tuxedo will look like - the gentleman tryer-on guy fitted me in a hodge-podge of suiting leftovers that seemed the likely result of a orchestra explosion. It was rather unfortunate, though, when I was realized that I was a captains hat away from being a cast member on 'the Love Boat'.(a thought: Every kiss begins with E, not K.)

The wedding is in luxurious Florida - home to Dan Marino (presumably), the Spanish language, and Publix supermarkets. Also omnipresent in Florida is Burdines, the Florida Store. While that fact is not entirely relevant (in any conversation), I think its important to note that at one point in time, some Floridian fan of near-Macy's like clothing drove on Florida's Turnpike all the way to Florida's store. Whether or not they were laughing all the way, we'll never know - either way, I'm amused.Since Florida is more than Segue ride away, I've requisitioned the services of Southwest Airlines of Dallas, Texas and their unfortunate-paint-schemed 737s. (I ask you all to pardon me for traveling in a purple and burnt sienna airplane. It hurts me more than you could ever imagine.) As I sit here, less than a day from my travel date, I would love to tell all three of you that I will not be "entertained" by a "flight crew" of "trained professionals". I would love to tell you that while my life is in the hands of two people who can or cannot land in states adjacent to Texas (they can), that that very same life wouldn't be embarassed beyond belief about the unsightly Flight Attendant (Nancy, 5'11", 98 lbs, stringy brown hair, pomegranate lipstick, white turtleneck complete with clog like shoes - no, not Crocs) was belting out a tune that seemed more fitting for the end of an episode of "Barney and Friends". I'd love to tell you that the sheer terror of hearing my fellow passengers actually respond positively to such treatment would make me swear off the airline for all of eternity, but I cannot. I'd love to tell you that I wont be hearing a 65 year old woman (Bernie, 5'4", 185 lbs, curly blond hair with brown at the roots, sweater buttoned at the very top, pastel colored plaid pants, white slip-ons, and an aura that screams "did you see Wheel of Fortune last night?") recap Nancy's entire song to anyone within earshot, but I can't. Because I'll probably be sitting right next to her. And I'll hear every word.

...and then I'll get off the plane and it will be 200 degrees outside.

But still, I really do enjoy Florida. Theres always a good time to be had in Florida. No matter what, I know that when I return I'll be able to say I saw some of the classic Floridian Standards - things mandated by every town in Florida to ensure that they are displayed in some form or another.

Floridian Standards
The following colors: teal, coral, and orange
The words Dolphin and/or Cove
A golf course
A random Indian tribe name
A sideways traffic signal
A Publix supermarket
A Canal, complete with its "dont walk past this point" fence
At least four dozen businesses with the word "Sun" in their names
An Orange

In sum, my trip will be filled with a million different events and it will be a million kinds of fun (except for dealing with the Southwest employees). Updates when I return.

tommentary@gmail.com

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5.06.2008

Sidney Crosby, a Brief Summation of

Sidney Crosby is 95% teeth.

I'm just saying, thats a fairly high percentage of teeth. That leaves 5% to make up the rest of whatever Sidney Crosby is - playdoh and Brut, for instance, seem the likeliest ingredients to the Sidney sandwich.Nevertheless, Sidney is significantly toothy. Perhaps its that which allows him to score so many Canadian hockey goals as he plays Canadian hockey in Pennsylvania, USA.

Goalie: Dam, I dont wan to looook at his teeth. Th-air so breeet, ya know?

(That was phonetic Canadian. Unfortunately, there is no written form of the Canadian language - they prefer using old weather worn traffic signals to communicate.)

All joking aside, I think Sidney Crosby should be replaced by a giant ice skating molar...with a helmet, of course. Safety first, you know...

t

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3.25.2008

Truths

Diet Coke is probably the most pretentious drink ever.


While we're on the subject...so is Ryan Seacrest.

the end

tommentary@gmail.com

3.13.2008

The Pitfalls of Brushing Your Teeth by Artemis Grendspall

I am Artemis Grendspall and I am not one of those people that dislikes brushing their teeth.
While a rigorous toothbrushing is by no means a highlight of my daily routine, it isn't something I shy away from. Like going out to retrieve the mail or carefully drying an egg yolk before adding your dry pigment powder when making an egg tempera paint, brushing my teeth is something that I've come to expect and do on a daily basis. Admittedly, it's not enjoyed, but its certainly not despised.Occasionally - and I stress that this is occasional. I'm far too steeped in my routines to skip something of this nature - a toothbrushing is missed, and I'm thereafter entrusted with the unique, lovely feeling of tooth slime. Needlesstosay, I usually don't make a habit of skipping my toothbrushings.

While I can't claim to be a compulsive toothbrusher, I can claim some of the maladies that afflict those frequent toothbrushers. Maladies which, depending on their severity, make me want to abandon the practice all together.

One such malady is what I like to call the "overpaste".

The Overpaste.
Sometimes, during the toothpaste-to-brush phase, the brusher loses focus or unexpectedly tenses their hand muscles. The result of this is an unholy amount of toothpaste on your brush and, undoubtedly, an expression of sincere remorse on the brusher's face. The situation is exceedingly dire due to the fact that, short of simply disposing of the chunk, there is no way to return the paste into the tube it originated from. Oftentimes the brusher is left with one option: continuing the brushing process and settling on using four times the daily required amount of toothpaste.

Once the brusher's arm adapts to the significant weight change of their brush, due to that non-Lilliputian splash of paste, all that's left to be done is simply to wait. Hours later, when the last bit of toothpaste has given up on its steadfast resolve to make you dry heave, the brusher returns their brush to its holder and vows to never again lose concentration during that application phase.
Easier said than done, I say.

The Overzealous Brush

Sometimes, a brusher gets into their brushing a little too much. When a brusher has gathered too much speed, any of a number of things can occur and, to varying degrees, affect your morning/evening/aftermeal. Inconveniently, the quick brush can directly result in a CSI like splattering of liquified toothpaste all over your bathroom mirror. While it doesn't necessarily present a brusher with bodily harm, it does leave said brusher with an unkempt bathroom - something which may invite strong judgement from friends and family, and lead people to talk about it behind that brusher's back. Its a slippery slope.Another common side effect of the overzealous brush is the train wreck stroke. The train wreck stoke is my pet name for that upward or downward stroke that goes past the bottom/top of your tooth, over your gums, and directly into the bottom/top of your mouth. Almost impossible to describe via the written word, this stroke provides a pain that lasts for days, serving a constant reminder to the brusher that their brushing ability needs some work. Brushers with this ailment routinely run their tongue to the scene of the crime, if you will, and check to see if the pain still resides there. Without a doubt, it still does.

Essentially, toothbrushing is a sport that has its fair share of dangers. It is something that this writer doesn't take for granted. A good brush is a quality thing; the poor brush is something to be forgotten about as soon as possible.

For today and tomorrrow, I am Artemis Grendspall.

tommentary@gmail.com

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2.27.2008

Hey! Make Better Fortune Cookies

In my opinion, they should be called unnecessary sentiment cookies.
Quite possibly the most exhilarating part of any Chinese take-out dinner is the fortune cookie - the mini-present that is the gift of a fortune inside a crunchy piece of glory. No other food introduces the near fatal levels of intrigue and mystery into dining rooms across the world as do fortune cookies. Additionally, they promote gambling, even going as far as to provide numbers you should use in the lottery!. No other food can claim to give that kind of post-meal benefit. (Not to mention the fact that you may be able to say the following words in chinese: Bird, Skiing, Did I just sneeze?)

The only problem is this: fortune cookies have, for as long as I can remember, rarely contained fortunes. For example:

"Love always and deeply."

That is not a fortune. Its "Wash your hands before returning to work", basically.

Another:

"Don't ask, don't say. Everything lies in silence."

Probably borrowed from a military handbook.

One more:

"A friend is a present you give yourself."

None of these say whats going to happen to us in the future. There is little to no fun in reading statements about things you already know and/or don't care about. "Eat your vegetables", "Rinse and Repeat", "Your gas tank is on the driver side".

Write your senator to find out what happened to the formerly sound prognostication wrapped in a delicious treat we were used to. Judging by the news reports, they spend their time on less important things anyway (See: Sen. Arlen Spector).

All I know is that by definition, a fortune cookie should probably contain a fortune.

Without further ado, here are some fortunes I've come up with - fortune writers, take them or leave them (but mostly take them):











the end

tommentary@gmail.com

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2.25.2008

Open Letter to Chief Quimby

Dear Chief,
I am a concerned citizen writing to you today about your propensity for being blown up. I understand that in working with the right honorable Inspector Gadget you are exposed to a series of occupational hazards (hazards that may be subject to OSHA regulation, I might ad); what I don't understand, however, is why you continue to allow yourself to be exploded upon. It does not seem like fun. Additionally, you continue to routinely set a poor example for our nation's impressionable youth.I've come up with a few options that may prevent you from having to experience all that is a charred pipe and a darker shaded nose. For your own safety, and for the benefit of those children I mentioned before, please take them into consideration.

A. Use Non-Explosive paper


A lot of your problem seems to stem from the fact that your stationery seems to be explosive. A less volatile writing medium would potentially resolve this "explosion" thing. In addition to being able to live a longer and fuller life, you wouldn't have to keep replacing your pipe every other day. (An additional thought: you may want to reconsider the pipe. Not only does smoking a pipe increase the risk of igniting your temperamental office supplies, but they also damage your lungs. F+)B. Talk More, Write Less

If you didn't rely so much on the written word, your prospects for blowing up would be drastically lowered. An inexpensive option would be verbally conveying your secret mission objectives. In my experience, very few of my conversations end up with either me or the person I'm speaking to exploding. It just doesn't happen all that often. Considering your proximity to whomever you are giving your objectives to, speaking directly to the person would probably be a million times easier too. This is an easy, cost effective solution that you could use immediately.

C. Consider a New Line of Work

You could enter Ted Levine lookalike contests. Also, Dairy Queens have great opportunity for advancement. And they have sprinkles. Score.So, Chief Quimby, there are three ways for you to avoid blowing up as a part of your job. You'd be surprised how nice it is to not experience an explosion on a daily basis. Chief, I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but I am legitimately concerned. Think all this over.

My best to Penny.

tommentary@gmail.com

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2.20.2008

Regret is a perfect word

Rue McClanahan was famous for being the whorish Golden Girl. Her first name is defined as the following:

Verb. To bitterly regret.
Noun. A perennial evergreen shrub with bitter strong-scented lobed leaves.
For some reason I find all of that to be hilarious.

the end

tommentary@gmail.com

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2.07.2008

When friends become quarters

Ladies and gentleman, the rarest coin of all:

The Lindsey quarter.

the end.

tommentary@gmail.com

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