Regrets

Not getting into running as a teenager.

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Post of a Good Hell

For some reason, as I was falling asleep last night, I began to wonder what my own personal hell would be like. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far: It would be really windy, all the time, and super hot and humid. Everybody, including me, would be renamed Dakota (Sorry to anybody who likes that name, if any of those people can read, but it’s my hell, not yours). I would be forced to listen to muzak versions of really bad jazz while cashiering endlessly. I would have to wear a Hot Dog on a Stick uniform, and every customer would be buying really sharp objects like porcupines and bits of broken glass. There wouldn’t be a bar code on anything, and whenever the line got down to one person a hundred more people would come up at once and start yelling at me to speed up. What would your hell be like? [ Update : One more thing that would happen is everyone would copy me . Just kidding, Jer.]
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Pointless Game

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I Beg to Differ

I'm fascinated by the way people are afraid to disagree sometimes. For example, sometimes I hear someone voice an opinion, and I'll offer a contrasting one—not to be argumentative, just to explain that I see things differently. Then the other person will sometimes try to agree with me or come up with something conciliatory to say. This also happens with food. It's perfectly fine if my wife doesn't like smoked gouda. She doesn't need to apologize about it (but sometimes she does anyway). I mean, it's nice that we don't want to offend other people. But we have every right to our own opinion. If you hate this post, that's great! I want to hear all about it.
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