• Forward thinking

    It would be a pain in the ass, but I think it just might save my sanity.

    Imagine if you will: the twelve days of time change.

    Everyone agrees leaping backward is a breeze. I’m a backwards kind of guy anyway, so I’d be willing to soar backwards. But forward? Losing an hour of sleep in one cruel cut? It’s insanity. Why don’t we walk forward instead, in twelve manageable chunks of five minutes a clip? Like I said, it would be a pain in the ass, but in the spirit of saving daylight, how about we save a little sleep too?

    Plus, even if you do forget to set your clock forward for a day or two, you’re only throwing yourself off five or ten minutes instead of a day destroying hour. We could even make it into a celebration – a nearly two week holiday celebrating the proximity of spring, and the sun hanging out with us a little longer each day. Instead of the time changing in the middle of the night, we could do it in prime-time. Times Square could drop a ball twelve nights in a row when we all step back from nine o’clock to eight fifty-five. Liquor stores would make a killing. Productivity in every other industry would see a lull, but surely it takes time for the workers of America to recover from the trauma of losing an HOUR all at once. I know I’m usually in a funk until at least July.

    Call your representatives in congress fellow Americans! It’s time for change!

  • Good heart, bad heartburn

    Good news people!

    Come on, how often to you hear those words come from my lips? I’m the human downer. Women shield their children’s eyes and run screaming the other way when they see me coming.

    That’s a true story by the way (no it isn’t).

    This morning, minutes before I typed this in fact (but after I called Cheryl – can’t have the wife thinking I love my blog more than her), I learned my echocardiogram was normal. You combine that with the results of my stress/nuclear medicine test and it seems my heart is healthy and strong.

    It does make the chronic heartburn a more likely candidate, but I chew up GERD and spit it out like spoiled milk.

    Ugh, that simile was a huge mistake. I think I may have nightmares. Excuse me, I think I’ll go verify a few expiration dates.

  • New in town

    A new restaurant in town is creating a lot of buzz.

    IHOP.

    That’s right friends, the International House of Pancakes. The one and only.

    No, that’s not quite true. There’s already one 6 miles down the road. There has been for a LONG time. But of course, new is always better in the land of plenty. Except it’s not. It’s just a new wrapper for the same stuff.

    So picture me puzzled. Why on Earth is IHOP suddenly hot? The last time I thought about IHOP – which was a LONG time ago – I saw it as a place people went to nurse their hangovers. Hell, Cheryl hadn’t been to an IHOP since she made a hasty retreat with a young Beth after another customer got really upset about a dirty fork and punched the waitress in the face.

    I might have stuck around for the conclusion. (I hate cliffhangers.) But Cheryl had the good sense to rush Beth out of the building like a Secret Service detail. She didn’t stick around long enough to see if the customer sold her opinions a la carte.

    That’s my idea of an IHOP experience.

    So again I ask you, why?

    Naturally my mom wanted to go, so we went Saturday evening.

    Nobody got punched in the face and no one looked hungover, so it wasn’t so bad after all. I had the pancakes. How can you not?