Juxtapositions

Today, in the mail, I received several items.

A notice from my Alma Mater (ooh, doesn’t that sound fancy?) that tells me about the millions of dollars they are going to spend to make a new commons area and residence halls.

A letter postcard from my satellite company reminding me that I signed a contract and by golly I better keep my service for a full year or they will charge me an obscene amount of money or rip some of my teeth out, one or the other. It was rather fine print.

Three bills from my gas company, cheerfully informing me of the $1,000 I owe them. And oh, yeah, they’re already past due. Merry Christmas, indeed!

And finally, a CD from my Amazon wishlist that I had forgotten I even had. Well, I think it’s a CD, it might be a DVD, it looks like one or the other, based on the envelobox*. And I know it came from my wishlist by the address that’s on it. And I have no idea who sent it, and I am so torn about whether I open it and listen to it or watch it now, or wait until Christmas, seeing as it’s almost Christmas and the way I’ve been behaving there isn’t really gonna be much else under the tree (except I know the kids bought me a belt, since I actually picked it and paid for it, thereby insuring it will fit).

I know I haven’t thanked everyone who has commented and supported me this week, not for lack of trying, so I’ll thank y’all collectively. And I want to send out a special thank you to whomever sent me the gift – you know who you are, I hope – it really came at a perfect time.

* envelobox: cardboard that has been folded into the shape of an envelope, which provides strength to protect fragile goods but requires no additional packing material and little extra postage. I just made that up.

Well, that went well.

Oddly enough, I’m a man of few words. For those of you who have had to read through page after page of my drivel, that may come as a bit of a surprise. But what happens to me is as soon as I’m in a face to face conversation, my tongue gets tied. Especially if it’s an important topic.

Doesn’t matter who I’m talking to, it just happens. I clam up. I shut down. I can’t put anything into words beyond “hell, I don’t know.”

So, three guesses how counseling went this morning? Here, I’ll share a hint:

    The top ten times in history when it was OK to use the ‘F’ Word

  1. “What the f… was that?” -Mayor of Hiroshima
  2. “Where did all these f…ing Indians come from?” -Custer
  3. “Any f…ing idiot could understand that.” -Einstein
  4. “It does SO f…ing look like her!” -Picasso
  5. “How the f… did you work that out?” -Pythagoras
  6. “You want WHAT on the f…ing ceiling?” -Michaelangelo
  7. “I don’t suppose it’s gonna f…ing rain.” -Joan of Arc
  8. “Scattered f…ing showers…my ass!” -Noah
  9. “I need this parade like I need a f…ing hole in my head!” -JFK
  10. “Aw, c’mon Monica, who the f… is going to find out?” -Bill Clinton