Thoughts of a Canary

I recently made the move from country mouse to city mouse. In addition to people not looking like hobos when they shop, there are other things I've already begun to notice in the suburbs of D.C. #1) I'm choosing my words more carefully. I was in a training session for my new job today. During the entirety of Day 1 (yesterday), I was sitting in this incredibly uncomfortable, low-to-the-ground cheap office chair. Today I spurred myself to action in order to rectify my oncoming lower-back woes. After the speaker was finished and we were looking up product information, I quietly switched chairs with an empty station. As I swiveled my new chair to my desk and then sat down, my one wish was that someone would comment so I could rejoin with "Yeah, that apparatus was hella-bad for my lumbar support." Unfortunately no one piped up, and my small window for a short comedic soliloquy had meanwhile closed. With bitter regret I resumed my research. You have to act fast in the ci...

I am sick of tolerance. Rather, I am sick of our societal view of what tolerance is. I'll give a quick run-down of the incident that led me to my boiling point as a refresher. Michael Sam, a DE from the University of Missouri , is the first openly gay football player. He was drafted by the St. Louis Rams in a surprise move in the 7th round of the NFL Draft. After his name was announced, the video feed cut to him crying and kissing his boyfriend. So a player that most think can't fit into the NFL was drafted and cried. That's not a big deal; we have underdog stories coming out of our ears. Oh but he was gay so it's special? I thought gay people were supposed to be just like heterosexuals? Isn't treating them different a lack of tolerance ?! The idea of tolerance, as pushed by the liberal media, takes away basic American freedoms of speech and thought. A Dolphins player tweets "horrible" after the kiss and get's suspended. What, is that a hat...

These go together like tobacco and tea grounds... I'm going to nerd out on this blogpost. I consider it my right since I've been so serious lately.  Consider this fair warning.  I was bubbling up with mirth as I walked onto my patio today. After a lot of running around in preparation for my new job and move out to Nova in a week, I finally had some real downtime to vegetate before writing this blog. It wasn't all roses, though; I had to figure out how not to get a scap-line (took it off) and spent two hours pondering whether this massive bumblebee hovering a foot above my head would just sting me or would rather torment me. It turns out he was my buddy, so that was nice. Naturally, I had come out to the beautiful sunshine to smoke a pipe and watch my submerged teabags turn their water into delicious tea via the power of the sun. While loading my pipe, I naturally had to come up with some subject of thought that substantiated the widely held belief that pip...

I miss it...and I LIVE here. You've heard the name in casual conversion so many times before. You wonder to yourself, "Is it the Knotty Pine or the Naughty Pine?" as you've questioned a thousand times. It doesn't matter; you're going to go there for the first time and soak it in whether that "it" is its naughtiness or its knottiness.  You hop in the suburban filled with 9 other hungover college kids, and make the pilgrimage to the Mecca of collegiate fine dining establishments. As you tumble out of the car, your age old question in your mind is answered: Knotty. Shrugging off a keen sense of wistful thinking as to how cool it would be if it were the other, you step inside the hallowed doors. All of your senses are immediately and simultaneously assailed: and you love it. You blink rapidly as to shield your eyes with lubrication from the smokey onslaught. You inhale the medley of smoke, grease, and cheap beer (no matter the ho...