How is it that I can be at the store with a million dinner possibilities, choose one that is appealing, then realize when I get home that I really would rather have something else that I didn’t buy?

Dude. I used to work as a baker at a Red Apple supermarket in Manhattan. It was me and a janitor. My job was to make hundreds of rolls and various bread products through the night until the morning. I also sliced cold cuts and lettuce by the bushels while the bread baked.

The manager told me, eat anything you want. Go for it. I had a whole store to choose from.

I usually had a ham sandwich with some cheese for dinner.

Is this a metaphor for committed relationships?

Sometimes my body really hates me.

Urgh.

Anyone know by what mechanism one gets ill after eating too much meat, and how to avoid that while still occasionally eating a Fogo de Chao’s worth of meat in one sitting?

Brother’s new wife (married a couple weeks ago) just had his baby a month ago. Brother just got laid off today.

Fucking timing.

Confusion, is that about the fucking timing or the timing of the fucking?

Its time to finalize my christmas gifts for distant family members and as usual coming up with something for my brother and his family (a family gift) is the hardest to come up with. Last year I sent them some gourmet cookies, but I didn’t get any feedback on that so I don’t think it went over that well. Not sure where to go this year.

Buy them a card, and write a personal letter. Be sure to mention that the cost of perscriptions suck.

Maybe I’ll just send them this mysterious smoked turkey that showed up in the mail today.

Before you send it, make sure it’s not from an enemy.

Good point, though I don’t have any enemies that are likely to ship a a cooked smoked turkey from Minnesota to me.

One odd thing I noticed - it was shipped in a cardboard box with peanut foam packing material, and yet on the turkey itself it says to keep refrigerated or frozen. I don’t think a cardboard box and foam packing material accomplishes that.

Is it wrong that, while singing Phil Collins’ “Don’t Lose My Number”, I replace “Billy” with “Harry” or “Murphy”, the names of my cats, as I run around cleaning? I don’t think so, but people think I’m weird, so I might be biased.

Yes, it’s wrong to sing with Phil Collins; and to own cats named Harry and Murphy.

EDIT: Billy Jean is not my love.

Dude, he doesn’t own a cat named Billy, just two cats named Harry and Murphy. Reading comprehension, geez!

Still, yes, that’s wrong.

Don’t you have a Honda Fit you should be waxing? ;-)

Don’t you have an organ you should be waxing?

Maybe it’s waning.

Huh, I just noticed I work about a block away from Petroglyph Games.

Hmmm. The guy who runs Catalyst Games (Battletech) has a game and toy store in the Everett Mall now.

For years we got magical Christmas ham meant for the previous occupant of our home.

I wonder if the current occupant still gets the ham?

Anyway, it was always entertaining.