Wednesday, August 19, 2009


If you find yourself stuck in a rut during these last dog days of summer, may I make a helpful suggestion? Get the flu!

Speaking as one who has had this precious gift for three weeks now, I think I speak with authority when I say it’s just the spice you need to sprinkle on your doldrums.

If you’re really lucky, it may even develop into bronchitis. Mine did!

Just look at the benefits of inviting the flu into your life:

Sleep: Who needs another boring night of restful, uninterrupted sleep? With the flu, your sleep pattern is full of excitement, broken up all night long with intervals of coughing spasms, cold sweats, and expectoration. Every night is like a party. It does wonders for your marriage, too; just when your spouse was complaining about how predictable you are, she will never know just when you will cough in her face!

Mucus: With the flu, say goodbye to the everyday routine of breathing in and out. Boring! Instead, each breath you take is like a new adventure, and usually results in a wonderful mucous mélange spewing out of your throat.

Drugs: If you can finally get to see a real doctor, you can enjoy the benefits of miracle pills to tackle your flu. (Actually, it’s a miracle if they work, so don’t worry.) One possible side effect is diarrhea, so you may have a chance to create your own personal poo stew.

Diet: Still need to shed a few pounds from all those BBQ parties you’ve been enjoying over the summer? No worries! With the flu, you won’t feel like eating a thing. Watch the pounds melt away. I’ve already lost 10 pounds and counting.

So what are you waiting for? Go lick some doorknobs. Hang around toddlers. Use a public rest room. Visit a Wal-Mart. And soon you will know the delights that the flu can do for you!

Sunday, August 2, 2009


People say there are no adventures in suburbia. That they are sterile, overly planned, anally retentive communities divorced from the excitement of a big city, the natural wonders of a rural setting, or the cozy cement comforts of a mental institution.

Well as a suburb dweller, I am here to tell you that suburbia can be the best of all these worlds.

Why, just today, the so-called predictable suburbs threw us a curve ball when the lovely and angelic Mrs. Jerry K discovered a turtle—yes, a turtle--in our garage.

How did this mysterious, prehistoric creature get in the garage? Was he there to deliver a message to me? Was he a time traveler? Or did he just lose his way? Speak to me, turtle, I beg of thee!

After spending two hours questioning the turtle and receiving little more than a shrug in return, I realized this would be one tough shell to crack.

Soon, I was faced with a predicament that we all face at some point in our lives: What do you do if you find a turtle in your garage?

Drawing upon my vast knowledge of Turtology, I sprang into action. First, I needed some sort of device to pick the turtle up. My forklift was in the repair shop, so I resorted to my bright yellow Playtex gloves.

Now, some of you may be wondering why I just didn’t pick him up with my bare hands.

I laugh at your ignorance. And at your funny hat.

If you knew anything about turtles, you would realize that these exotic marsupials secrete numerous poisons to which there are no antidotes, despite the continuous efforts of our finest scientists and yearly telethons.

In addition, you may have seen the Japanese documentary know as “Gamera,” in which it is proven that a turtle can recede into his shell and then shoot flames out of his opening, launching himself into outer space. No way I’m gonna risk that; hence, the protective Playtex gloves.

Just as I was ready to call 911, Homeland Security, and Appleby’s, I discovered that turtle X actually belonged to the next-door neighbors.

Amazingly, said neighbor picked up her turtle with her bare hands, and returned it to her backyard.

Oh well, it’s her funeral.