I did a very bad thing last weekend. It was an impulsive moment, but I’ll be dealing with the consequences for a long time. I’m not even sure why I’m writing about it, because it was so incredibly stupid. I just need to clear my conscience, I guess, so here it is: I bought books at a yard sale. The yard sale part isn’t the problem. I’ve gotten some real bargains, like five bucks for a four-year-old printer/copier/scanner, with a handwritten tag...
If you’re following along at home, you’ll remember I visited a neurologist recently to find out why my body seems to be breaking down like a car with a just-expired warranty. Like any older car, it’s a little sluggish to respond (especially in winter), and I’ve definitely got some alignment issues. Begrudgingly, I agreed to take their fancy tests, because, well, I’ve always been good at taking tests. Of course, these weren’t like the exams I used to ace in school. My...
I saw a neurologist today, and by that, I don’t mean I spotted one from a distance (“Look, there’s one now!”)—I had an appointment. If you know me, you know that I’m dealing with some health issues, and I’m irrationally afraid of going to doctors. But, thanks to the State of Minnesota, I have insurance now, and my friends would kick my hypochondriacal ass if I didn’t at least start the process. So, I saw a neurologist today. Actually, I told myself...
I’ve never been too worried about my age, and I’m sure when asked “When did you first start feeling old?,” everyone can point to something different. For me, the first time I sensed a ticking clock was one day about a year ago, when I looked at my hands. See, you might look like someone out of a Bowflex ad from head to toe, but the hands don’t lie. I can’t say time has treated me badly—if you never saw me walk,...
Recently, I joined a Facebook group dedicated to my high school, and as we chatted back and forth, the names of my teachers came spinning at me like calendar pages in a film noir. Then I realized that, while I remembered the teachers, I wasn’t as able to remember the things they taught. Oh sure—I remember random fragments—bits and pieces of mid-seventies curricula. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to pass a midterm exam in any of the classes I...
For some reason, my neighborhood has more labradoodles than most. Makes me wonder if there’s some kind of canine genetic engineering facility in Uptown, disguised as a Vietnamese restaurant or a bike repair shop. I don’t usually weigh in on bioethical issues, being a comedy writer, and I realize the labradoodle was bred to be a service animal, but I think it’s a slippery, if adorable, slope. What’s to prevent an enterprising breeder from crossing a crow with, say,...