I have been neglecting my poor little blog lately.
Frankly, I’m surprised that BPS (Blog Protective Services) hasn’t paid me a visit and had a long talk to me about my poor blogging skills before finally declaring me an unfit blogger.
Well, I need to change my ways before that simmering fear becomes boiling reality.
Now all I have to do is think of something to blog about.
Oh! The trials and tribulations of living a boring existence!
The Rites and Fowl of the Autumn-Man Empire
Most people think of Autumn as being a woman. They say things like “Autumn has swept into town with her brilliantly polychromatic gown, blanketing the environs in the delicate laces and embroideries of her autumnal petticoats.”
Okay, maybe they don’t actually say things like that. At least, I hope not.
Still, people always seem to personify autumn (as well as the other seasons) as being female.
I on the other hand, tend to think that fall is swept into town by none other than the tights-and-cape wearing Autumnal Man.
The chest of his singlet (left over from his wrestling days at Des Moines Junior College – All-Region Championship, 3rd Place, SW Division) bears his logo: a clogged nose rampant upon a field of pollen.
Upon his cape are the bright orange letters “AM” (for Autumn Man … or possibly Allergy Menace) in Comic Sans [bold]).
He arrives in town on the “J” bus from Des Moines, Iowa, bringing with him, in his DMJC gym bag, the following:
- Slightly less-hot temperatures
- Leaves from the neighbor’s trees that are starting to turn brown and mottled from heat exhaustion
- The more obnoxious varieties of birds (yes, I’m talking to you, crows!)
- Asphyxiating seasonal allergies
Long story short: It is autumn in name only here in Texas. Otherwise, it is business as usual.
Anger’s Away, My Boss
I rarely get angry. I am more the “peace-maker” type. (Think: Mr. Spock in a dead-end job.)
The last time I got angry was in 1987 when ABC cancelled “Mr. Belvedere” after a mere three seasons. I never watched a single episode, but it just rubbed me the wrong way for some reason.
But last Thursday I was in a meeting and got angry. I may have pounded the conference room table once. I may have raised my voice a bit. I may have pointedly banged some papers on their edges to align them.
I guess the absurdity of corporate nonsense finally got to me.
But I got over it.
However, all this week, people have been stopping me in the hallway and saying incredulously, “I heard you got mad last week.”
One time someone said that in earshot of someone who was there and they responded. “Yep, we finally made Father angry.”
I seem to have achieved a new level of “street cred” at work. I’m sure it’s like when you’re in prison and you have to shank someone with a shiv in order to get a little respect. Or a little extra chipped beef in the cafeteria.
Be that as it may, I really don’t like getting angry.
I don’t like me when I’m angry.
And, frankly, I don’t like chipped beef enough to go through all the trouble of whittling a shiv out of a bar of soap. Besides, if you have something to whittle soap with, you already have a shiv.
Variety is the Spite of Life
I recently noticed a pattern in my life.
(No, not my purple, pink, and chartreuse argyle socks.)
Whenever I buy something that is an amalgam of other things, something very strange happens.
For one thing, I begin to use words like “amalgam”.
But seriously ….
No, I find that there is always one thing in the mixture that I do not like. And I then noticed that that one thing comprises most of the mixture. To prove to you that I am not crazy (or maybe that I am), here are four examples:
Raisin Bran Crunch
I love Raisin Bran Crunch. However, I think there are far too many raisins in it. Forget two scoops per box! I can end up with two scoops in one spoonful alone. Is there anything more disgusting than eating a big heaping tablespoon of nothing but raisins dripping in milk? It is like eating an entire package of Gummi Bears in one mouthful. I finally got to where I just simply could not stomach the raisins and so stopped eating it.
Trader Joe’s Omega Trek Mix
I recently discovered this delicious mix in my efforts to start eating more heart-healthy. It is a very tasty mix and has some amazingly large walnuts and pecans in it. It is a wonderful blend of walnuts, almonds, pecans, pistachios, pepitas (aka pumpkin seeds), and dried cranberries. I quickly discovered that, of all the things in this mix, I liked everything except the pepitas. So, guess what half the bag consists of? Soon after tucking into a bag of it, I find that I am eating whole handfuls of nothing but pepitas.
I have solved this problem by setting them aside and feeding them to the birds.
The birds have recently requested that I stop setting out great mounds of pepitas. They prefer pecans.
For one week, and one week only, right around Halloween, I love me some candy corn. What is not to like about sweetened wax with copious amounts of FD&C orange #6 and yellow #3 in it?
But I only like the ones that are orange, yellow, and white. I do NOT like the ones that are brown, orange, and white. I also do not like the ones shaped like little pumpkins.
Yes, yes, I know. They are all made out of the same muck.
But I’m telling you, I cannot abide any of them except the yellow, orange, and white ones shaped like teeth.
So when we buy the large jumbo bag of candy corn ($2.99 for 23 pounds), guess what the ratio is?
93% – brown, orange, and white
6% – Little pumpkins
1% – Orange, yellow, and white
Frankly, I demand more from my colored wax and artificial sweeteners.
I used to eat my own body weight every week in peanut M&Ms.
Much like the candy corn example above, I had my favorite colors. They were ranked thusly from most favorite to least favorite:
So guess what each bag consisted mostly of? Yes … brown. And guess what there was the least of? Yes … orange.
I think it is one of the reasons I gave up eating Peanut M&Ms. (That and my family has a history of heart disease.)
So it makes me wonder … is there some sort of conspiracy among food manufacturers to give me lots of what I dislike, and next to nothing of what I like?
Or is it more likely that I have some sort of mental disorder that automatically makes me develop a distaste for what is plentiful, and a liking for things that are rare?
I suspect the conspiracy.