I chop a lot of things. It's sort of a zen thing at times. Other people have their Tai Chi or Yoga or Catholicism that allows them to enter the realm of connectedness with the universe. I take bell peppers and make them into tiny squares.
I think calling it connectedness with the universe might be pushing it actually, but if that phrase really means "thinking about random crap with out a common link", then I am the Pope. A sample conversation with myself from earlier this afternoon while attempting to chop identical, tiny cubes of carrots and celery 1/8" by 1/8":
I wonder if they still make Tab? Oh wait, I think I saw that they do. It's some sort of energy drink now. Dumb.
I wish for a cookie.
My foot itches. Maybe I should buy some of that powder that old people advertise. What's that called? Bond Paper Powder? Bond Street Powder? James Bond? It's probably an extravagant expense. I'll just itch it later.
What was my locker combination? I swear if I have to cut it off with the bolt cutters again I will scream. That's like 20 dollars in locks so far. I really should start going to the gym, too. [Crazy Person's Explanation: I also use a combination lock at the gym. Thus, this crazy segue.]
I always wanted some shirts like Balki in Perfect Strangers. I guess as an adult I could just buy some, but they seem like something that should come from your mom.
I still want a cookie.
Oh look at that, I cut myself and am bleeding in an amazing manner. At least these carrots look awesome.
20 February 2008
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3 comments:
Chop chop, Badger. That's the kind of great thought things that happen to me while I swim, but because I swim in an outdoor pool beneath a usually cloudless sky, my thoughts are less carrot based, and often follow the lyrical flight of birds in the twilight. And then sometimes I hit my head on the end of the pool when certain, how shall I say, cunts, don't put the flags back after whatever made them take them down in the first place.
There is also swim angst, but you've inspired me to blog on that topic, so keep a look out for that no doubt riviting read.
Far out I miss you...
Totally missed you, Badger. Though you have not the slightest idea of anonymous devotees, we do exist...
Blood? So it's NOT really rasberry sauce?
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