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Bozo

Bozo - Disproportionate features, Horizontal elevation

I recently cut my hair; all of it. I’ve been asked countless times why. I’m really not so sure why. The only “why” I know is why I grew my hair long to begin with. I was reminded of this as my hair began to grow back. As you can see from this detailed (and frighteningly accurate) diagram, there are two reasons why I miss my longer hair.

[Reason 1]: Sideways ‘fro; otherwise known as “bozo” hair. This would be a very good explanation as to why I was never seen without a hat.

[Reason 2]: I needed something to cover my face. I always used to wonder if my face was crooked, or if it was just my glasses. People always reassured me it was my glasses. I must have had dozens of pairs of glasses, and strangely they were all crooked. Well now that I’m liberated from glasses, I know they were lying.

Our First Married Christmas

A video of our adventure picking out a Christmas tree, and a time lapse of our tree decorating.

Oh bother

Worst blog

Sweet, this blog has been nominated for Worst Blog of All Time! This is an extreme honor for me, so go there and vote for photricity.com for worst blog of all time. (or other categories if you must)

Worst Blog Of All Time

Pie Chart

Pie Chart - 40% Eaten, 60% Too much

Flabbergasted

My wife felt like she would be cool and use the word flabbergasted. Then she asked me what the definition was. “It sounds like someone’s personal problem,” she said. And it does. Just imagine someone saying, “He he, ‘scuse me, I flabbergasted.” Or, “I can’t eat that. It gives me flabbergastion.” I can see someone calling in to work: “I have a flabbergasture of 73.9 and I think it’s contagious because my wife is looking awful flabberghastly.”

Compulsive behavior

Most addictions are at least somewhat understandable. You always hear about drug and alcohol addictions, and there’s always activists and help groups for each. Stuff messes with your brain, I can understand that.

There are, however, some addictions that I don’t understand. In my mind, coffee is one of the worst addictions of all. Pretty much everyone is addicted to the stuff, and no one even cares. There are no activists and no help groups, because it’s just normal to be addicted to coffee. It’s so bad that if the supply of coffee was suddenly cut off, like three quarters of the population would experience massive headaches and nausea from withdrawal. People might even become murderers and criminals. Who knows what people will resort to when they don’t have coffee to control them.

Another addict I don’t understand is my wife Donita. She’s been struggling with an addiction her whole life. I’ve tried to get her some help, but of course there are no helplines for this. My wife is addicted to eye boogers. Whenever she sees a gooey ball of matter in someone’s eye, she’s compelled to react with an “Oh! Oh! Can I get it??” And while she probably wouldn’t go through withdrawal, I’m just a little tired of having someone’s finger in my eye all the time.

Mass destruction

There’s this fly buzzing around our apartment that just won’t die. He always narrowly escapes. He’s like the Jackie Chan of insects. I thought about bringing out the heavy artillery and obliterating the pest, but then that might look funny to declare war against an enemy the size of a booger. So we felt a little sorry for the little guy, and we considered adopting him as a pet. That only lasted until we remembered that we’re not allowed to have pets in our apartment. But that opens a whole nother can of larvae. We’ve gotta get that thing out of here before somebody finds out. War it is.

You are Pre-Approved

If I were a genius, I would design a credit card with no rewards, an account set up fee of $29, a program fee of $95, an annual fee of $48, and a monthly servicing fee of $84. Then I would booger glue a fake credit card onto the paper, call it “WaMu” for whatever reason, and send it to a geek named Josh. That way he would write about it on his blog and my card would be famous.

Sleeping awake

I’m trying to figure out the difference between when my wife is awake or sleeping. You would think I’d be able to tell her status by having a conversation with her. Not so much the case.

Awake:
Donita: “The ladies are outside playing Yahtzee.”
Me: “Who’s outside?”
Donita: “The ladies”
Me: “Why are they outside?”
Donita: “They’re playing Yahtzee.”

Sleeping:
Donita: “I put the leftover chicken in the fridge.”
Donita: “Then I opened it up to eat some.”
Donita: “But it was cold.”
Me: “Sadness”