I know. It's already sounding crazy awesome! Calm down, and grab that inhaler if you're asthmatic, because there's more than just a title with alliteration. (Though that could easily be enough.)
This will be a very special Friday Funday treat for all my lovely imaginary readers, because you've just been so darn good about reading and pretending to be interested in my stories! And also because I happen to believe in positive reinforcement.
I believe in positive reinforcement because I'm afraid negative reinforcement would be something along the lines of: "Every time you don't take the time to visit my blog, a puppy gets it!", and I could never go through with a promise like that unless "it" was something like a brand new chew toy, or a bone, or a stylish new collar. With diamonds. And little jingle bells. Maybe.
I'm actually a total animal pushover. They can sense it. Dogs just know that I'm not going to discipline them, and that's why they like me. I think my aura translates into doggy with messages that say things like:
"Yes, jump on me, please!"
"If we go outside, I will let you control the leash!"
"Yeah, you can eat with me at the table. The more the merrier, and sharing is caring!"
"Oh, is that surgical cone being a bother? Here, let me get that off for you."
and
"Yeah, sure you can go outside unsupervised. Who cares if you've been an apartment dog all your life, you need adventure!"
Makes dogs love me. Makes my friends who own dogs shake their heads and sigh. And also very rarely allow me to dog sit.
Along those lines, someone once told me that I was the kind of girl who would free all the lobsters from the lobster tank.
It was a pretty accurate prediction.
Honestly, I might.
But if you ever hear about that happening and you think you're gonna be some kind of hero by trying to turn me in, I was TOTALLY kidding. Geeze, learn to take a joke. But if that story doesn't work, I just may have to rethink my stance on negative reinforcement. Only it won't be with a puppy.
Think about it.
Am I understood?
Good.
So, let's get to it! I will be posting some of the random thoughts that come in to my head that could probably never be connected to anything else. These are things that have been triggered by small everyday occurrences and usually zoom in and out of my brain in a matter of seconds. Some have been written down. Some were sent as text messages to confused friends. But they're all old and in need of new life. They will find it in Blogland. Or maybe this is Blogville. Blogtown. The City of Blog!
Well, you get it, it's not too hard a concept to grasp.
No? Still struggling? No worries. You'll get the hang of it
Think of it as a field trip into my brain.
Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.
And yes, there will be a quiz at the end.
A la Ms. Frizzle, "Here we go!":
When seeking charitable
donations, people need to clarify that you should give to disaster relief. Because Patti Stanger totally
just tweeted that we should “Please give to Hurricane Sandy!” When you say that
I get a picture of some really weird and twisted sacrifice/offering wherein we
leave gifts and food and quite possibly a virgin tied to some sort of pedestal on
a cliff somewhere for a giant wave to envelop. “It is done. We have appeased
the hurricane gods. All is well now.” Yeah…that ain’t gonna work.
I realized that whenever I
say, or even think, “I hate [insert whatever here]”, it is almost always
followed up with “I hate that rabbit” a la Yosemite Sam. Sometimes I just hear
it in my head, other times I say it out loud.
Have you ever tried saying
“yes” while shaking your head “no”? Or saying “no” while nodding “yes”? It
feels weird. It may be a kind of “rub your stomach while patting your head”
thing. Not impossible or necessarily difficult, but kind of weird.
I just watched an elderly woman riding down the street in her electric wheelchair. What if the person I saw doing that was my grandpa? What would I do? What's the right thing to do? Do I just kind of smile and wave? Honk the horn? Challenge him to a race? Maybe I'm supposed to call my grandma and get him home. After our race.
There’s some joke that has
the punchline “Pati O’ Furniture”, but I can’t for the life of me remember the
joke. But that sounds like a play on an Irish name. Do I have racist
jokes in my head? Maybe I can’t remember because the good in my brain is trying
to block it out. Good job, brain! But who the heck was telling me these jokes?!
I just whitefied a man. Yeah,
it’s a real thing. My brain turned the name “Perez” into “Parker” with
absolutely no suggestion at all. Awesome.
See what I mean? Totally random. And they have nothing to do with anything. They're just thoughts I've had. And now we're done. (Yes, I can be as anti-climactic as I want in the closing, it's my blog.)
P.S. I lied about the quiz. This time. But I reserve the right to quiz as I please. It's in the bylaws. And now you know to be prepared.
Toodles!
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