Grandma

I require a moment of your time

There will be a new addative to this drug that is your favorite blog. I call it, ROPI. Before you judge me hear me out, the acronym is Ranting withOut Political Inhibitors. Here is the first installment.

Ok folks those graphic t-shirts with the written jokes on them have an expiration date. Let's start at fifty years old. After that, DON'T WEAR THEM. If that's not clear enough, then if you are using a walker, you have no business having some pathetic attempt at sarcastic, sardonic, or witty humor written across the front of your shirt.

Special note: NO ONE has any business having an entire paragraph written across their shirt, because I'm not going to stop some schmoe in the middle of the grocery store and read their Khols shirt what reads the entire written works of Shakespear.

Special special note: Girls that means you too. When you've got War and Peace written across your bust, what are we staring at??? We get marked as perves while we get caught staring at some random girl, while trying to decipher the monologue across a $5 shirt from WALMART

Special special SPECIAL note: Point being, OLD WOMEN SHOULD NOT WEAR SAID SHIRTS

Have you any room

Is there room for a hopless romantic?
A white knight for a damsel in distress?
What does it take to be the one and only?
To have and to hold, care and caress?

I want to be your hopless romantic.
Save you from your worries and fears.
Find a place, for me in your heart,
to be your knight through endless years.

Have you any spots for a shameless poet?
Whose rhymes and limericks fall on deaf minds?
Who will listen to the heart's deepest quandrys?
and find they're the one for whom the heart yearns?

Where can I place an overthought thinker?
Who plays out every moment oft in his head?
Why is it wrong for a knight to think long
and hard about life and what lies ahead?

A gift or a curse these things may be,
a gift, for such qualities may be rare.
But oft I am sure these things are a curse,
because none of them, bring you to me.

SERIOUSLY

This weekend

All I have to say about this weekend is CURSE THIS WRETCHED HOLIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Memories of the Mummies

As I sit the intoxicating scent of cheap McDonalds wafts from my boss' office, and I'm reminded of those wonderful summers when I spent at the Field Museum with the mummies, both living and dead. One particular memory sits above the rest as I recall the many times when my good friend and old boss Bob would stress out at somebody and need a coffee afterwards. Usually punctuated with an "Oh hell, lets get some coffee, and you can get a McFuzzy" our conversations would lead from how the day went to what the egyptians were thinking. Yeah, good old times.