Excedrin for Humpback Whales

Ok, imagine you are outside walking around minding your own business. Out from the clouds a loud, booming voice is broadcast frantically, saying, "Aieeeeee! Shut up! You are giving me a friggin headache, you jerk! Why won't you stop? I'm in so much pain right now!" This would be pretty perplexing, no?

Still with me here? Good.

I was thinking about whale researchers who blast back whale songs in order to illicit a response back from the whales or the mighty sea unicorn, if you believe in such things (I do). Well, I found out recently that submarines and other sea going vessels give whales headaches. So, I did a little hypothetical thinking. I usually don't try to do too much of that sort of thing on an empty stomach, but what the hell. Here's what I hypothesized: Some of the whale songs recorded are actually whales complaining from massive headaches caused by the vessels recording them. Not having to adhere to any scientific standard kind of helps in this case.

Further, I thought that the rebroadcast of the "I've got a headache this big" whale songs back to the whales, or better yet, to new and unsuspecting whales would really mess with them. I mean, that has got to be a trip to be bombarded with screams coming outta nowhere.

Just for fun I came up with a whale headache haiku:
Throbbing veins in head.
Where is that sound coming from?
Please kill me, Bubba.

I end all my haiku with "Bubba". It's my signature. Plus, Bubba is totally a whale name and you know it.

Peace out.

It happened again...

You know what? I even looked at my neighbor's dog catch a fly with his mouth and it still didn't effect me. That stuff is pretty damn compelling action right there, but I was still bored. So, what did I do about it? I started fixing things. Anything I could get my hands on I fixed. If I were a veterinarian I probably would have fixed dogs and cats, maybe even a ferret.

Ferrets need fixing too, you know!

When I wasn't fixing something I was taking stuff apart and putting it back together again in my mind. I needed to get out and do something fast. I went and saw a movie.

I forced an unsuspecting family member to go with me.

There was a guy in the movie theater; his hair was all wrong. I prayed to God that I might be blessed with super Moses powers and part this guy's hair correctly--part it from across the theater. God didn't think this was an appropriate use of his power. How did I know this? Oh, God and I go way back, so I sort of know when he's not really chuffed with certain requests of mine. Usually I am bombarded with double doses of Barry Manilow, one song per ear, simultaneously.

Aversion technique: tre clever, God....Touche.

Bored again, or so I thought. The lights dimmed and the trailers started. I was pleasantly distracted long enough to not fix a single thing in my head, except for teenager's droopy drawers and a loose armrest. Okay, two things--a world record. The crowd that lives in my head goes wild, "Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

This is normal behavior, no?

Continuing, the lights now go all the way down and the movie starts. I resist the urge to fix things in my head. I even say this, "Must. Stop. Fixing! Things!! IN HEAD!!!"

Cue birds singing peacefully.

Oh, now where was I? Oh yes...it all stopped--the fixing stuff in my head. I started playing a new game called, "What would I do?" Yeah, I totally wouldn't have done it the way they did it in the movie. A bunch of morons is what they were. This isn't still "Fixing things in my head", is it?

I am so in denial.

I got bored today...

So I built a fort. Yeah, I invited all my "turn of the century" period correct friends over. We had a ball. I have no idea what was up with my friend Wayne blowing the bugle, but we had to lock him in a room for a time out. That boy can get on your nerves. After awhile, the fort party got a bit out of hand. Things ended up with tea and crumpets getting tossed all over the place. I'm going to have to take my leisure robe and fez to the dry cleaners now. Marmalade stains are really hard to get out, you know.

I don't know what keeps me, or any adult for that matter, from just going out (or in) and building a fort. This stuff is fun! When did this activity become passe or childish for me? I'm sure that building a fort would not involve a landlord or weird neighbors. It might involve people laughing and pointing at me, but screw them. If I want to build a fort then I'm gonna!

Are any of you out there feeling me on this?

How to survive between pets

Get a slinky. There. Done. Simple!

Okay, I know you already think I've got taffy for brains, but hang with me a sec, alright? I gave my slinky a name: Ralph. Why Ralph, you ask? Well, just look at him. Doesn't he look like a Ralph? He does to me and as long as I'm happy that is all that matters.

Ralph still doesn't obey commands. Um, that's not true; he can sit, stay, play dead, and roll over...with some help. Really, though, what Ralph needs is a pair of googley eyes and a felt tongue. You know, that really would help people warm up to him and it just might help me pick up women down at the park.

I might have to change which park I've been going to. The last lady that found Ralph and I a hot item turned out to be an undercover cop dressed as a gypsy hobo. Is there such a thing as a gypsy hobo? Well, that's what she looked like to me. Come to think of it, I don't think that was a cop at all. No wonder why that pat down was a bit peculiar. Why must I be so trusting?

Welcome all to my Sofa Cushion Childhood.