Shoe Condoms

Today, I accidentally wore my nice running shoes to work instead of my grubby fish-mongering shoes. This worried me because I did not want to get fish goo all over my nice running shoes, so I slipped a large plastic bag over each shoe and cinched them closed with a well tied knot and a rubber band. I called these my “shoe condoms”. For the rest of the day, my shoes were well-protected from any flying fish guts, shellfish juice, or VD’s that came their way.

I must say, I felt pretty good for coming up with this idea and found myself waltzing around the department with an air of confidence and ebullience I hadn’t felt in ages. I felt invincible. Nothing could stop me as long as I was wearing my shoe condoms. Even if by some freak accident, a water-main broke and the store flooded and water came rip-roaring down the aisles with ferocity, my shoes would stay dry and clean as a whistle, thanks to my shoe condoms.

I even had a number of customers compliment me on my shoe protection. One particularly fly-looking young lady heard the plastic-rustle of my shielded shoes coming her way, so she looked up, smiled, and said, “Hey, nice shoes!” so I puffed out my chest, tilted my head and said, “Yeah, they’re size 13’s,” and kept on walking. I’m surprised she didn’t jump me right then and there. After all, there’s nothing ladies love more than a well protected shoe.

The entire day, I couldn't help but keep thinking about how good of an idea this shoe condom thing was. I even got to the point where I was thinking of patenting my idea. So, when I got home, I did a quick google search to make sure that noone else had thought of it first and sure enough, someone has:

http://www.jaminleather.com/Shifter-Toe-Shoe-Condom-Blue-P112.aspx

Damn, another good idea down the drain...

Tennis is a Shitty Game

-->Today, I went and played some tennis with my friend, Alex because I thought that the playing of tennis would help release some of my anxiety and frustration over this whole detox-sobriety thing. This would have worked out just fine if it were not for the fact that I suck at tennis. Every time I made contact with the ball, it either hit the net or landed three yards past the baseline and this made me more anxious and frustrated and I threw my racquet and made obscene gestures and said things like, “FUCK THIS GAME!” So, as it turns out, tennis does not relieve my anxiety, it only makes it worse.  I’ll make a note of this for future reference. 

What Do You Think, Robert?

I can’t sleep,
I can’t drink,
I can’t smoke,
I can’t think.
I’m rhymin’ but I’m outa rhymes..
I’m tick, tock, timin’, but I’m outa time…
My toes look like peanuts,
But that doesn’t make sense…
My feet look like bowls for the peanuts,
I wonder what Robert Gates, Secretary of Defense
Would have to say about that?

Things that I will have time to do now that I no longer drink or smoke

-Build an ark in my garage (a small one)
-Paint a wall and watch it dry
-Learn how to go yachting
-Work on my grammar
-Study the meaning of “phalanges”
-See how many oddly shaped rocks I can get to balance on top of one another
-Knock over the previously built stack of oddly shaped rocks, then fold my arms and wear a smug expression
-Juice an orange
-Adopt a highway

-Think of more interesting things to write about

Elephant Ears

Sometime I wish that I were an elephant because then I'd have very large ears. If I had large ears, I would be able to hear things from far away places. Someone could say, "Hey, Walter!" from like two miles away and I'd be able to hear them no problem.

As is, I have relatively small ears and have trouble hearing things from two miles away. If someone said, "Hey, Walter!" from two miles away, I would not be able to hear them because of the size of my ears.