This is the best song you have heard in a while:

I love it when people make their own music videos on YouTube. This one plays like a rebus from Highlights Magazine for kids:

The lead singer of Black Kids is Tracy Chapman. Crazy:

Every car my parents owned until I was like 10 had only an AM radio in it. Because of that I am abnormally well versed, for someone in their thirties, in songs of the ’50’s and ’60’s. I always liked his voice when he talks about the briars and brambles:

Me: “Look, there’s a buddha.”
Her: “I don’t like the fat buddhas as much as I like the ones you see in Thailand.”
Me: “What about the fat buddha sitting in our garden?”
Her: “That’s all they had at Walmart.”

Cake Wrecks

Jukebox The Ghost - Good Day

Have you seen this yet?

Sesame Street just gets better and better. Well, except for the emphasis on Elmo.

What is with these astrophysicist and planetary research types?

Seriously, we’re naming holes we dig with wacky names like “Dodo-Goldilocks” and “Snow White 2?”

I’m going to start naming the most mundane details of my life in the same way just in case I need to reference them later. I’m off to take shower “Cheddar-Flintstones” and follow that up with sleep session “Emu-Rutabaga.”

I’m at work today and I’m having a snack from a can of cashews that I previously brought. On the back, under the very obvious ingredients, it says:

Allergen Information: Contains Cashews. Manufactured in a facility that processes: peanuts, almonds, brazil nuts, filberts, pecans, pistachios, macadamia nuts, walnuts, soy, milk, wheat

Wouldn’t it be easier to just write, “Manufactured in a nut allergy death factory. Stay away.”

I don’t get why some nuts come with nut allergy information anyway. If you have a nut allergy, do you really spend your time browsing for nuts at the store in the hope that you’ll find new cashew-free cashews?

“Ingredients… Cashews… Aw hell!”

I asked Alisa if she would still love me if I had a cup for a hand. These are, after all, the important things to know.

Some women see a cup for a hand and they’re immediately put off but my wife tells me she would love me and still allow me to kiss her.

“How about if I put my cup hand up near your neck and pull you close with it,” I ask while the cup on my hand glides up from her collarbone to her neck. I kiss her, cup at her neck.

“Yeah, I might ask that you use your non-cup hand if you’re going to do that,” she replies.

It’s good to know how things stand in the event of my sudden cuphandedness.