As the regular readers of Lame Adventures know by now, and first time visitors will quickly ascertain before bolting and never returning to this site, I am a shallow thinker. Aside from this overt qualification to be a Republican candidate for higher office, my brain freezing, horn-dogging, clueless mind has been focused on matters other than solving the nation’s most complex problems with the most simplistic solutions that will render what remains of the tattered middle class fully shredded.
A portion of the shredded middle class sitting in my easy chair.
For example, over the weekend, my mind was focused on housecleaning when I discovered that a reverse-thief with terrible taste in clothes broke into my humble abode and planted four pairs of hideous pants in my closet. I immediately donated them to Good Will where I had the following exchange with The Goodwill Clerk:
The Goodwill Clerk: Would you like a receipt so you can claim a charitable deduction for your donation?
Me: What I’d like is if you’d turn off the surveillance cameras, not to imply that these four pairs of ghastly pants were pants I purchased myself and actually wore in public during a period of extreme self-loathing.
The Goodwill Clerk: Does that mean you don’t want a receipt?
Me: Touché.
I did consider donating a third black leather glove the reverse-thief, or possibly an overnight guest with a double life as a cat burglar, left in my lair, but I was concerned that someone such as The Goodwill Clerk might want to know what happened to that glove’s mate? That is a logical question. It did occur to me to respond with my own unique brand of logic that my mother often referred to as “jackass”:
Me: Don’t you think this solo glove might perfectly accommodate a woman with a solo hand?
Yet, I suspected that that suggestion might merit a look that screamed:
Screaming Look: Do I look like a fool you clown?
A trio of gloves.
Moving onto dogs, particularly those killing time, and fortunately not each other, in the window of the new Biscuits and Bath doggy spa that has recently opened on Hudson Street in TriBeCa. Every single time I walk past this place Patti Page singing a novelty ditty that she recorded in 1953 called, How Much is That Doggie in the Window, fires up on my internal iPod. I would so prefer hearing her sing something else, maybe Conquest, but my mind refuses to go in that direction. Furthermore, these hounds are not for sale, which makes that song popping into my head every single time I walk past that window even more baffling.
Dogs in the window looking particularly envious at a dog on a leash walking past.
Finally, I’d like to know where the computer users around my cave acquired their wireless network names. Specifically, I’m thinking about bettob, BoogusNet (I’d be inclined to wash my hands if I tried to piggyback off that network), right, and shefinds. Really, folks, those are the most inspired names that crossed your minds?
Imagination reaching a screeching halt here.
My favorites on this list are Beaner and BeansInAPod; apparently this user has a legume fetish. Animal themes seem to be popular, too, according to bunny, CleverCheetah, MiniTiger and my personal favorite, SQUIDWARD. Then, there’s the resident faux Latin speaker, Lorem Ipsum, the wannabe porn star, Hungwell, and the guy that recently sat behind me in my neighborhood movie theater, ZZZ666, The Snoring Devil. Finally, one insignificant mystery solved!
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