Je pense, donc je suis

I guess I am feeling a little French today. First, I would like to apologize for the silence around here lately. We are busy at work and that means lots of overtime and not a lot of energy to post. But, it got me thinking about something. Do I exist?

In the next apartment building there is someone who owns a Jeep Cherokee, kind of like your old one Curt, with the license plate “I EXIST”. So, clearly, that guy exists. Usually when I am wearing my Rhett shirt or my new rhettoric shirt (from Tracy) I feel like I exist. But the rest of the time it seems like I am somewhere in between existing and not.

For instance, I often exist here, on this blog. But, the question to you is, how long would it take you to forget me?

Yesterday, I was standing at the urinal in the bathroom. I was also peeing. I don’t just stand at urinals. That would be weird. There I was. Peeing. Grunting, a little. That’s what real men do. I might have spit. I admired the weird booger collection that someone has decided to smear all over the walls. That’s actually really gross. Worth sharing, however. And the urinal, with laser censors and full body scanning capability and DNA testing and X-Ray and Blue-tooth for hand-free conversations, flushes before I am finished. Then it flushed about 8 times in a row, while I continued to pee. Which helped. Sounded like a waterfall. Remembering the sound just made me dribble a little bit. Going to have to change this underwear at lunch…

Then I walked away. It didn’t flush. After all those flushes. It didn’t flush when it was supposed to. Basically, the ultimate urinal censor couldn’t tell that I existed. When I walked away it didn’t know that I had been there.

It’s either that. Or it could tell that I had released something so vile into it’s porcelain dish that it had to give itself what could only be equal to a purging of biblical proportions.

Rene what should I do?

Ennuyeux

Michelangelo Antonioni known for his thrilling modern cinematic adventures, such as L’Aventure, has died today at the age of 95. I know specifically that Tracy will be saddened by this news.

Ouch! Tiger Barb Bit Me

I have had an aquarium for many years. I probably got my first aquarium some time around grade 8 or maybe earlier and we always had an aquarium in the house. I got my big, 50 gallon aquarium in 2000. I have had all sorts of different types of fish and have taken care of it—aside from the last year it was in Regina when I moved to Calgary—that whole time. I have never had a fish come any where near my hand while I was cleaning the tank. Tonight, the fish seems really interested in my hand. A little too interested hand. I guess they never heard don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

I had a small cut on my index finger and there was some dead skin hanging off of it. That sounds kind of gross, but you wouldn’t have even noticed it. Anyways, the tiger barbs were circling my hand and then they started biting my hand. It didn’t hurt. They cleaned all the dead skin off. It tickled. Then they started to just bite my hand. It was something else. I deciphered from this that there were hungry. I don’t know why else they would have the guts to pull that off. So, I gave them extra brine shrimp tonight.

It was a win-win in the end. I got my wound cleaned and they got some extra Rhett-food.