Random Thoughts

Here are some of the things I contemplated while I mowed the lawn this afternoon:

• What is the plural form of the word plural? Does it have one? "Plurals" doesn't sound right, but then again the computer machine thingy didn't underline it telling me it was wrong. However, it did underline thingy. Twice now. For now, I will just say that the plural form of plural must be a made up word. Like pluralidum. "Jim went to the garage to clean up the scatted rakes, and lawn bags." That sentence contains pluralidum.
• Why are bugs of all sizes attracted to your face? Those little gnats constantly fly around your face begging you to swat them away. Are they into that kind of thing, because there are professionals for that. Seriously, you don't see them flying around any other part of your body. You would think they would stay away from your face, seeing as that part contains the most ways they can die. For example, near your face opens up the chance of them flying into your eye, into your mouth, or just by seeing them we, in turn, swat at them. If you're a bug, here's a word of advice: Stay away from the face. Temporarily blinding someone is not worth your life. This theory is not limited to just the insects capable of flight either. Spiders will also crawl up your face while you're sleeping, or repel down onto you from the ceiling. In my opinion, they're just looking for friends because they don't have any. Everybody hates a spider. They never get invited to parties.
• Finally, if there was a giant food battle, who would win: General Mills, or Captain Crunch? The obvious choice to make is to say General Mills due to his outranking of the Captain. Mills also has a plethora of soldiers at his whim, like Hamburger Helper, Fruit by the Foot, as well as wheaties. And let us not forget Lucky Charms. Leprechauns are no slouches. It would seem the Captain would be overwhelmed by this, but low and behold... his secret weapon. The cereal would cut the roof of everybody's mouth. While they're down for the count, the Captain would lay siege to the General and claim victory for crunch berries everywhere!

Who knows what the next lawn mowing experience will bring...

Idea that needs developing

Just to jot a note in case I want to revisit it. This will mostly be grammatically incorrect and incoherent at times. Just kinda brainstorming.

Idea for a script: A film critic who climbs to the top... starts out very low until he becomes the biggest thing ever. And I'm talking "big" as in it makes no sense for a critic to be that famous. So this critic is notorious for his harsh hitting reviews... especially movies that star a particular actress... let's call her Samantha Furlong. To put it in context Samantha could be like a present day Lindsay Lohan... minus the lesbianism... partying... and crotch shots. But still... in badly reviewed movies.

So this critic gives scathing reviews of most of the films she is in.... nothing personal... just does. I think this guys personality could be lots of fun... cocky but likeable. People in Hollywood are almost afraid of him. Until one day he gets too big for himself. He loses track of the fun in his job and only focuses on everything he hates. Because of this he's rarely invited to the big movie screenings, because studios are in fear of a negative review coming out.

One day, the critic is watching after his 10 year old niece. I'm thinking sarcastic, knows too much for her age... like the little girl in knocked up. He takes her to the park... there he sees Samantha. The two talk yada yada yada why do you hate me... i don't... blah blah... chemistry. Long story short the two fall for each other.

No ending yet... not even a solid story yet. Just ranting for my own future reference. 

Hot Off the Presses

People love news. Whether it's good news, bad news, sad news, inspirational news, we all eat that shit up. Especially the bad news. Nothing is better than giving people a bleaker look at the world than we already have. There are droves  of bad things that happen every day. Just as well as there are multitudes of great things that happen every day. So why then is the bad stuff so much more prevalent than the good stuff? The answer is simple. It's the same reason people look off to the side of the road to see a car crash. We think, "Thank God that isn't me. Oh, it's my next door neighbor Bill? Ehh, he borrowed a socket wrench from me one afternoon and never returned it. The bastard. He deserved it." It may not go exactly like that in everybody's head. I mean, your next door neighbor might be named Fred, or even Gene. Hell, I once knew a person named Shitforbrains. An odd kid Shitforbrains was. 

So in a nutshell, bad news makes our day better when we know it didn't happen to us. Let's face it, God has to smite somebody every day, today thankfully was not your day so just relax and enjoy this bit of bad news that you're not apart of. 

Another thing about us is that every single person has the potential to be a CNN reporter. Let me explain. So you're sitting there listening to the radio, watching the TV, reading the paper, a blog, whatever... any form of media that breaks a news story. After hearing said story, we become mini-reporters by passing on these stories to our friends and family. "Hey,Bill, did you hear about the flock of starving, crazed chickens that devoured three children at the zoo today? Oh, you didn't? Well then it's a damn good thing I told you." After saying these words, we suddenly feel a sense of accomplishment. Because of us, that story will now spread to more people and before you know it, the entire world will know about the chickens blood lust. 

The Start of Things to Come

Why is food that is absolutely detrimental to our health taste so damn good? I take a look in the fridge. Let's see here... left over salad mix, a salmon burger from the night before, and some green beans, all awaiting me in their sealed plastic houses. Now comes the important decision. Do I close the refrigerator door and settle for a few popsicles and pretzels? Maybe I stick with what's in the fridge, but I know that this particular option will cease to satisfy me. 

Then is dawns on me. I am a grown adult (that status comes upon turning 22, I believe), and I can use this magic machine called a car to drive to an infinite amount of food distributors that will happily supply me with whatever my stomach desires. The entire world is one giant dinner plate. Just think of the possibilities. Two large supermarkets are within one mile of my house. How convenient is that? Oh, and get this, one of them has the best steaks anywhere, and I looove my steak. There's also a Subway within a mile, as well as countless fast-food chains. So since I'm flying solo for dinner tonight I can choose to eat fresh, have it my way, think outside the bun, and do what taste's right. Oh yeah, I'm lovin' these options so much more than the already forgotten fridge.

So I cave in to my desires. Showing no self-control whatsoever, I head to the nearest burger joint to get my fill of the greasy food that drives my salivary glands wild. I've placed my order now and while I sit in the drive-through I tell myself that this is the last time I'll subject my body to this kind of torture. This is a lie. Up at the window, I'm handed my bag of food. A label notifies me that it was made of recycled paper products. The glistening dark spots on it let me know that there's just enough grease. 

The bag of greasy food is coming home with me. It sits in the empty passenger seat just like it was a member of the family, beckoning me as I drive. Then I do something that has to be done every single time I go through this routine. Even though I plan on eating upon arriving at home, I have to... absolutely have to reach in to that bag to steal some french fries away from their counterparts. After I steal a few, I quickly close the bag back up to conserve the heat. After all, a hot meal is much better than a cold one. The same goes with baths, women, and coffee. Unless it's iced coffee. That stuff is good. Anyways, the closing of the bag is a pointless maneuver. Even though I've told myself to wait until I get home to unleash the feast before me, I open the bag again to steal some more fries! Am I really this weak!? Is my self-control so bad that I let a couple of french fries dictate my behavior? In this case, yes I do. 

I don't know who to blame here. God for making good tasting food bad for us? Nah. He's pretty cool. Do I blame myself for letting myself get away with such cravings? No, sir. Don't you know that I'm just the victim here? Seriously. So who do I blame? For the hell of it I'll blame Barack Obama... or Hitler. They both suck. Oh, Celine Dion as well. She's Canadian.