Avoiding bad news is my hobby passion obsession life.
Bad news, which is about the only kind that’s out there, makes me sick.
Literally.
I get stressed, which makes my immune system kersplode, which results in wonky symptoms no one can diagnose but are really irritating and often itchy.

I bet the cure is worse than the condition. Take this pill and the itching will stop. You may, however, experience constipation, diarrhea, urinary incontinence, insomnia, drowsiness, nervous leg syndrome, numbness in your extremities, dry mouth, drooling, and either an increase or decrease in your libido. But the itching will stop. Probably.
But sometimes a news story flies in my face and I just have to share it with you. I consider it my civical duty.
If information is power, then trippy-dippy-what-the-flippy news is an effective antidote for all that powerful awful information zip lining across the airwaves, scaring the gee-willickers out of you.

Don’t worry, Hank. At least your funny bone is still intact. And given what we’ve been seeing in the news lately, you’re going to need it.
What do you get for the prostitute who has everything…except the money you owe her?
Enough with the fear mongering! Just asking the question suggests something nefarious. I feel docu-drama in the making: The Big Short Circuit.

How the AC/DC should I know? Do I seem to be the type of person who knows the back side of a socket like the back of her hand?
Remember the good old days when toddlers having tantrums, biting unsuspecting relatives and not repeating the “bad words” adult sometimes said when they were angry about being bitten during a tantrum were the big worries parents had?
Sometimes the figurative and the literal are literally the same thing. I know. It’s confusing!

I wonder if you are a worse driver if you have an actual monkey on your back or if you are driving while under the influence of something that alters your consciousness? Not that a monkey being all monkeyish in the back seat (versus on your back) wouldn’t alter your consciousness. Maybe monkeys shouldn’t be passengers in your car.
The Pacific Northwest is still the West. Don’t be fixin’ to break the law in these parts. You might find yourself on the business end of a…well…um…you’ll know what those rodeo calves feel like. Feel the rope burn and learn!
This is one of the more heinous news stories. Brace yourselves. It’s shocking and, frankly, unthinkable. But, better latte than never…

If this makes it all the way to the Su-cream Court, I wonder which of the current eight Justices will espresso the ruling verdict?
Finally, Phil will believe me when I say that I did not take his hammer and thing-a-ma-gig and forgot to put them back in their proper place.

I have new motto: When accused of any bunkie, blame it on a monkey. I know. Not very Buddhist of me, but I have a reputation to protect. And let’s face it, monkeys have reputations that are in the crapbasket.
Barriers are being broken. So are windows and possibly a few front teeth.

I don’t know much about America’s favorite pastime or about baseball, but I bet that if I played on one of these teams, the other players wouldn’t all rush to cover me if the ball came toward me (like in every game I’ve ever played in my life).
And you thought Uber was clever…

Introducing Pooper Uber! I don’t think that’s what these entrepreneurs in the world of doggie doodoo are calling it, but it works the same way. Uber Scoopers are piling up for test runs in San Francisco, LA, and NYC.
Why do exercise mavens want to improve yoga? Isn’t it stimulaxing, contorifying, and fartbarrassing enough?

I’m sure lots of people think that balancing on one foot while boozed up is great for your core something, but if I remember correctly, having both feet on the ground while tipsy wasn’t a guarantee of staying upright. Maybe if you have enough wine, you forget about falling and get creative with the explanations about all the bruises. It’s a mind/body exercise.
A new recruiting tool or an elaborate escape plan gone terribly wrong?

I’m seriously rethinking
my aversion to organized religion. The most exciting thing we did in my religious ed class was learning the major and minor ways to get to hell.









