Welcome back.

How fragile the fabric of soceity.
I like writing checks at the grocery store. I imagine that if I were naked smoking a cigarette, I would receive fewer looks of horrified disbelief. Such jaw dropping shock and awe is induced by the mere production of a check book in the check out line. Evenings are ruined, meal plans squashed, long term aspirations and goals tossed aside in apathy, colors washed with whites; nothing matters now, this guy is actually writing a #($*&*ing check.

There is still, currently The Knife, next to Rite Aid. It appears as though the constant rain has washed the brownie offal from the blade, but I suspect that it has been purposely wiped clean of this evidence, further implicating the JCC.

I was inspired by a call with a client this morning, I am going to attempt to not answer a single question directly this week.

Q: "So, how do you think that call went this morining?"
A: "Well, I would put that same question to you, as that is really what matters."

Q: "So, what did you have for lunch today?"
A: "I am glad you asked, don't you feel that lunch is one of the three most important meals of the day?

Q: "Will you please just answer my question?"
A: "Gladly. Do you know how to spell the gerund form of the verb 'to tongue'?"