Notes on the week

I successfully wore untied shoes every day with no inconvenience, no tripping, no getting knocked out of my shoes like Charlie Brown on the pitcher's mound or that dead kid by the railroad tracks in Stand By Me. My feet don't get claustrophobic, and in the mornings I can jump into them both feet at a time. I get to the office up to 30 seconds sooner than before. It's a modern-day miracle of efficiency and expediency.


I slept approximately 15 hours on the couch over six days. That can only mean one thing: I'm getting old. If I can't watch TV and stay awake for a whole show, I need to skip right over marriage and kids and go straight to being a grandfather. I'll start by driving with my turn signal on for 15 miles and gradually ease my way into tipping no more than 15% down to the penny on my meals out (fixed income, yo!). Of course, it's more appropriate to fall asleep sitting up in a recliner, but I'm working with what I've got. I used to sleep on the couch all the time in college, but that was because I was drunk and stoned most days. Now, however, I'm... well... hmmm... I... ummm... maybe I'm not elderly after all.


What up with the furor caused by Obama choosing the Rev. Rick Warren to deliver the invocation at the inauguration next month? Sure, Warren hates the gays and probably never pressured his girlfriends to have abortions. But is that all it takes to get the liberals up in arms? It's just a traditional formality, and the good reverend represents an increasingly irrelevant mythology. But nobody's bitching about our next president being sworn in by a man who prays to a silly symbolic space creature.


Speaking of space creatures, I have nothing to add to the first part of this sentence.


It's Saturday, so I'm going to spend the day getting things done. Like watching movies and taking a nap. Maybe on the couch. The day has limitless potential.