Okay, okay, so the past couple of weeks have been hectic and I haven't been keeping up with the blog. It is like the blog is an athlete who runs a four minute mile and I am a non-athlete who just takes the bus instead. But here's news for that smug athlete: buses have engines, Mr or Mrs Athlete. And no matter how fast you run, eventually us bus folks are going to catch up with you. So while you're sweating and struggling your way to the finish line, be sure to look up at the bus whizzing by you. I'll be the one you see through the window eatin' dollar store potato chips and living the good life. What does exercise get you, anyhow? NOTHING.
The last couple of weeks I have been spending a lot of time with my family. This is very typical behavior for many families at the holiday-rich time of year. What makes this behavior slightly atypical is that my family is insane. Not the detrimental kind of insane that leads to lots of tears and car crashes and documentary-style shows on A&E. No, we're the kind of nuts that nestles into the sweet spot that I like to call the FUNcanny Valley, where madness and hilarity meet. In other words, we're like Rip Taylor.
I sort of feel like those hardscrabble prospectors who came to California during the Gold Rush. You know the ones I mean. The ones that founded that football team? God I hate those guys. But when they got to California, they discovered a rich vein of sweet, juicy gold ore running down the plain old rock. Those prospectors mined the hell out of that vein, creating whole towns out of desert with just a little magic golden mineral. Of course, once the gold ran out and the football team started losing, these towns would lose residents and become ghost towns. After that point, the only sustainable business was making sandwiches for the Scooby Doo Gang when the Mystery Machine rolled into town to solve a ghost-related mystery. Sad, sad story.
Anyway, my point is that my family is nuts and that it's comedy gold, which I am planning to mine for all it's worth. I like to make only those New Year's Resolutions that are keep-able. Hence, this year's resolution is "Lovingly mock family." I hope you will join me in the next few weeks as I strive to keep this resolution because, hey, it's way better than running a four minute mile. AIN'T THAT RIGHT, MR OR MRS ATHLETE. Yeah, he or she heard me.
The last couple of weeks I have been spending a lot of time with my family. This is very typical behavior for many families at the holiday-rich time of year. What makes this behavior slightly atypical is that my family is insane. Not the detrimental kind of insane that leads to lots of tears and car crashes and documentary-style shows on A&E. No, we're the kind of nuts that nestles into the sweet spot that I like to call the FUNcanny Valley, where madness and hilarity meet. In other words, we're like Rip Taylor.
I sort of feel like those hardscrabble prospectors who came to California during the Gold Rush. You know the ones I mean. The ones that founded that football team? God I hate those guys. But when they got to California, they discovered a rich vein of sweet, juicy gold ore running down the plain old rock. Those prospectors mined the hell out of that vein, creating whole towns out of desert with just a little magic golden mineral. Of course, once the gold ran out and the football team started losing, these towns would lose residents and become ghost towns. After that point, the only sustainable business was making sandwiches for the Scooby Doo Gang when the Mystery Machine rolled into town to solve a ghost-related mystery. Sad, sad story.
Anyway, my point is that my family is nuts and that it's comedy gold, which I am planning to mine for all it's worth. I like to make only those New Year's Resolutions that are keep-able. Hence, this year's resolution is "Lovingly mock family." I hope you will join me in the next few weeks as I strive to keep this resolution because, hey, it's way better than running a four minute mile. AIN'T THAT RIGHT, MR OR MRS ATHLETE. Yeah, he or she heard me.
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