Tuesday, August 26, 2008

I don't like things I can't pronounce

Nature is a wonderful thing. When something is very bad for us, nature gives us warning. This way we know to avoid that which can destroy us or make us all itchy. Lions roar really loudly and bears have big teeth and claws, so we know to not mess with them. Some women wear way too much eye makeup so you'll know that they can and will hurt you. I once saw a day-glow orange beetle crawling across my parent's backyard in Florida. I figured nothing with coloring that bright could survive unless it was a major bad-ass, and discretion being the better part of valor, I discretely hauled my valorous backside back inside.

Nature gives clues in other ways too. One that I've noticed lately is that if I can't pronounce it, it's probably not good for me. To wit:

Foie Gras - I'm not going to talk about it. Google if you must know.

Wednesday - Wed-nez-day? No way. It should be Winds-day, and it's too far from either weekend to be useful. I vote we either get rid of it, or convert it to a middle of the week holiday.

February - Feb-ru-airy? Nope. It's Feb-yoo-wary. Too short, too cold, and more bad things have happened to me in February than the other eleven months put together. I'm bitter and it shows.

Toyota Prius - Pri-us? Pre-us? Priss? Pre-yus? Who cares! It's liberalism at it's most conspicuous. Sure they come with a stylish Obama bumper sticker, but I'm old school enough to think that bumper stickers should never be stuck over paint, only over chrome. (When was the last time they put chrome on a vehicle anyway?) That many volts passing near the cabin just has to impair driver cognition. How else do you explain that fact that Prius drivers never seem to know where they're going, and take their time getting there?

Maybe it's a Chapel Hill thing, but you can't fire duck liver out of a slingshot around here without hitting a Prius. I used to mark the spot on my morning commute where I saw the first electro-funk mobile of the day. It used to average somewhere between two and five miles from my house. Over the past year it's gone down to less than a mile. Now it's even money that I won't make it four blocks. It's almost enough to make me miss the new VW Beetles. Almost.

Friday, August 08, 2008

Crazy Eights

Today is 8/8/08, one of twelve days each century when the day, month and year are all the same number. Rejoice in a phenomenon too regular to be coincidence, yet too mystical to be mundane.

I forgot to do something eight-ish in observance of the day*, but I've got a year and month and a day to get ready for Sept. 9th, 2009.

*Not entirely true... I ate a lot.