Sometimes the message your inner voice is shouting is "shut up and listen."
I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to write here, and all that came out was this.
You haven't truly experienced the post-modern professional business model, until you've stood between two executives having a staring contest – each hoping the other will suddenly become competent.
A flash of tit can turn even the crappiest day around.
There are days when I'm just out of tune, like an old guitar in cold weather.
I own about thirty blank notebooks – each one I purchased, thinking "I wonder what I'll write in this one." Then I blogged.
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A few things you'll never read on a tombstone:
"I wish I'd spent more time at work."
"Jogging was totally worth it."
"I ate all my veggies."
"He knew every knock-knock joke."
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RETURN OF THE DAMN POETRY CORNER
Little Johnny Harmon, he went to town,
loaded up with water balloons, to make folks frown.
That night Johnny Harmon lay in his little bed,
Next morn, police found Johnny with concave head.
The meat wagon pulled up to carry him away,
The cops asked his parents had they anything to say.
"When was the last time you saw the little sport?"
"Hopefully just now," was their thoughtful retort.
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