Oh yeah we gonna sta

Here is a little feature we at a.LBB like to call:


Generally awesome but can suck:


Triscuits, especially when that piece of wheat gets stuck in your throat


The Chicago Cubs, and I’m feeling generous


Microsoft Word. Yes, it is great and I couldn’t live without spell check, but hit one wrong key and you are suddenly typing in Farsi with no way to get out.


Working out. The suck part is going to do it.


Sushi. Five minutes is the difference between fresh and not fresh


Paul McCartney. Three words: “Silly Love Songs”


“Saturday Night Live” They should thank god for Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, especially that load Horatio Sanz


The San Diego Chargers


TiVo suggestions. Don’t make me bring up that whole Gay/Lesbian phase it tried to put me through.


iPod. This is overwhelmingly awesome, but when you are on a run and it craps out or the volume jacks up, it can make you insane.


Speaking of insane, in the world of mundane events, is there anything worse than losing your wallet?

The transition from anxious to insane is fast and furious and it is marked by the moment you start looking for your wallet in places you are absolutely certain it cannot be, like in the oven or the refrigerator. Your car keys, yes, they might be in there, but not your wallet.


Then comes the frantic thought, is it just misplaced or – and you really don’t even want to think about this – did I leave it someplace out in, shudder, the real world? Suddenly your wallet is like a lost puppy terrified and desperately scampering across a rainy battlefield filled with charging galloping Cossacks. You picture all kinds of vile people sticking their greasy hands all over your nice clean leather and stealing your identity.


Soon you enter paranoia. I bet that store clerk I last saw stole it. I knew she was no good. What about that nice old woman who bumped into me? Was she a pick pocket? What if the person who steals my identity is a convicted murderer? What if they ruin my credit and I can’t buy any Christmas presents for my family. We’ll see how long their love holds out. Probably until New Years.


This is when being married comes in handy. Now you can start getting angry and blaming your spouse. Damn, I know Virg, she was in the middle of a blind cleaning frenzy and probably shoved it into some obscure drawer where I won’t find until spring. This thought is actually more comforting because it takes you away from your wallet-as-a-lost-puppy-on-a-battlefield phase. But still the anger swells as you secretly suspect your wife of trying to Gaslight you into insanity by misplacing your wallet intentionally.


At this point everybody is a suspect. You tell your angelic child if she was playing with your wallet you promise you won’t get mad. When she says no you don’t believe her. You give the dogs an evil look to see if they look guilty. Wrigley always looks guilty.


Now you are entering the realm of insanity that is marked by looking for the wallet in the same place that it is not now, nor is it ever going to be, over and over again. What is the definition of insanity? Doing the exact same thing but expecting a different result?


And finally, you go to the pair of pants you were positive it had to be in for the fourth time, look through the same pockets knowing full well it isn’t there and then it happens: What’s that brown square thing on the carpet partially lodged behind the chair. Oh, sweet relief. Halle freakin’ lujah


You take a mental note to write a note of apology to your sweet wife, the beloved dogs, your lovely daughter, the nice clerk at the store and the sweet lady who bumped into you, but you decide to blow those letters off because now you’re late.

So, where are my keys?


(Sorry, didn't go to get all Erma Bombeck on you narrow behinds)