While Waiting For A Meeting

I wrote this for Charish* and

I hope she likes it

I wrote this for Charish and 

I don't care if she likes it

I wrote this for Charish and

It is hip-shaking

Eye-raping

Cookie-baking

Tic-Tac-Toe good

To what does she owe the honor?

*this looks like char-ish to me. char making not the chair sound but the burger king burger type of sound.  my apologies for poor spelling.  this is a great way to distinguish a person from an abstract concept.  

Story of My Life

A grandfather sat his grandson on his knee and prepared the small child for a story.  No one asked the child if the child really wanted to hear a story, or if it really had the time for a story, or if there was something more important the child should have been doing.  The grandfather merely captured his progeny for selfish purposes and all others occupying the house stood witness as it happened, doing little to help.  Each of them had had their turn, and each of them wished that someone had spoken up on their behalf.  Even spanish-speaking house-cleaner Maria had heard (yet failed to comprehend) her fair share of grandfather's stories.  Now it was time for the grandchild's initiation.  His very first. With a toothless smile and slightly crazed cough-infused laughter, grandfather prepared himself.  "There lived a boy of seven married to a dishwasher named Sue in happy unicorn land..." Grandfather began.  And the grandson began to cry, not only because grandfather was a scary man, but because his story was ridiculous.  

On Death and Dying

If Cancer spoke a language it'd probably be French because that's what they speak in Switzerland.  Then again, no.  Well, maybe.  If it did, we'd be pretty similar.  Both of us would speak French, and both of us would be possibly fatal.  

Logic

buying hummers helps terrorists

Truth Revisited?

it is necessary sometimes to sit down and remind me who i am, what it is i do, what it is i need.

otherwise i find myself wanting, craving tragically silly things. 

Truth

I hadn't written in a while.

438-Doesn't-HELP-at-all

Bruce is in the hospital.

I don't know what happened. I don't know when he'll be back.

I just keep hoping they'll treat him well and remember to call him Bruce instead of anything else.

And most importantly, I hope no one makes fun of him.

Because he's a pink computer.

And his name is Bruce.