I spent the better part of today comparing different colored metallic foil fringe and tinsel curtains, because I live the sort of life where stuff like that frequently comes into play. However, thirty-six hours earlier, I was at a wedding held in an all-wood American Legion hall, located in Michigan, to see off my friend, who currently lives in New Mexico, before he went back to Germany to live with his new bride. My date had just shattered the heart of a second grader on the dance floor while my best friend and his wonderful wife helped me guess the flavor of jellybeans between trips to the open bar. While catching up with some of my favorite companions, I was asked about my writing and when I would post something new. My response was, “When I have something to write about.”
Normally, my weeks are fraught with strangeness but this one was full of extra work, job interviews and my internet connection repeatedly committing suicide for some mysterious reason. However, I can’t do with an entirely dull week so, obviously, I did a few things to spice it up. Anytime I made a purchase, I always claimed that the price was the year I was born. I remembered always overhearing it in restaurants. Someone would say, “The total is 19.55” and the person would respond with “Oh, that’s the year I was born!”
So that’s exactly what I did, only I did it no matter what the price was. My best reaction was when the kid wrapping my subs turned the screen around when I claimed 2518 was my birth year, to check if he had put in the right price. When he gave me a concerned look, I just nodded and gave him my most serious eyes. I considered winking or mouthing, “I’m from the future” but got distracted by the delicious aroma of food.
I had a strange dream that night but, again, that’s not abnormal for me either. If I wrote down every dream I had this would not only be the worst blog in the history of the world it would also be regularly upsetting to anyone who happened across it. I drew a scene from it after I woke up. To put it in context, I am pretty sure I was inhaling fumes from the gas fireplace while sleeping.
I ended up having one of my illustrations featured on I Love Charts last week, except someone claimed that it wasn’t really a chart. Either way, it ended up getting a little extra traffic so I thought I’d just let my new audience enjoy what was already there to see. They probably didn’t stick around though since my blog is mostly chart free. I suppose I should really create a legitimate chart to hold their interest and to make up for the non-chart that someone else submitted on my behalf. A lot of people argue that chart-based-humor died out a long time ago.
Based on the chart I just made, I would have to agree. It’s definitely more true than it is funny. However, everyone is encouraged to send it into I Love Charts, family members and to print out copies to be placed all over the office.
I’ve always sort of figured that having a lot of power is like being presented a box full of cat whiskers. It’s an indescribably wonderful gift, but you’re really not sure what to do with it. I recently had an extended conversation with someone about the tragic events happening around the world and the poor leadership behind it. I went on and on about the feud over education and encouraged ignorance in this country while they went on and on about war and global poverty. Their assumption was that the entire world was controlled by people who wanted power for predominantly selfish reasons and claimed that this phenomenon only worsened as leaders aged. We also discussed the inefficient nature of food production and how the American government claimed that Social Security was unsustainable. Through some combination of sleep deprivation and gin, I achieved a plan that would satisfy both sides of the political fence and save everyone a bundle.
that penis comic was really funny
I saw my father’s penis once when I was 13. Neither confused nor aroused I still found myself resisting the urge to paint.
You should have rolled with it.
Aside from sniffing the delicious aroma of food, do you take drugs, Mister Posky? Your mind meanderings make me feel rather-as we said in the old days-trippy *alarmed look*
No, with the exception of caffeine, I’m entirely drug free. I don’t even drink regularly.
Love it, love it, love it. Truly meaningful, irrefutable, substantive data. Not the “bell curve,” but the um, hot dog curve.
Funny the way your data t(r)ails off (up?) as it approaches that half century mark.
The people I collected that data from didn’t think it was so funny.
Hey, better a hot dog than Soylent Green, I always say…
Neither look particularly appetizing, do they?
I mean, if I didn’t know they were made from people, there would be almost no reason even want to eat them.
I really needed a laugh to day…thanks Posky!
Hopefully I’ll be able to cheer you up again soon or, better yet, you won’t even need to be cheered up.
Stay strong, Sister.
hey matt, if you were a hot dog, would you eat yourself?
How do you define elderly?
Stop that! Stop looking at me! Stomps foot . . . I. Am. Not. Elderly.
BTW: I find it rather Freudian that you are discussing penises and hotdogs in such close juxtaposition. What does your therapist have to say about that? :D
I don’t trust therapists.
Elderly probably qualifies as someone who is too old to be productive, fun or interesting anymore. …No wait, I have some friends in their mid-twenties that could apply to. Actually, let’s just dog them up too.
Don’t worry. You’re safe, Nancy.
For the time being.
You should document your dreams.
I’m worried that sharing them might help them spread.
A fellow Michigander or were you just visiting the mitten? I loved the penis chart…great blog!
I do travel a lot but I would never deny the glove, dilapidated as it may be. It is my first and current home.
A hot dog saying “I used to be old people” – ridiculously hilarious. Literally burst out laughing at my desk. Everyone is looking at me now…how do I explain what I’m laughing at??
I would just grab them by the shoulders, say “get ready” and then push their face into the screen. It doesn’t even matter if they read it or not, they’ll get the message… or maybe just become really afraid of it and you.
Either outcome works for me. They can’t really understand you anyway. Not like I do.
I’m not sure they’ll be able to understand the hilariousness of a hot dog made of old people. They will either nervously laugh out of politeness or else call the authorities. You’re right…they can’t understand me the way you do. lol
You are a riot. I’ve heard of many things hotdogs are made of, but not old people! YUM!?
Have a good one Posky! Thanks for the laugh! :)
You can make hotdogs out of anything.
I’ll prove it.
Was the combination of the chart and the hot dog cartoon as brilliant social commentary intentional?
I think I actually drew the hotdog first though.
..I’d so subscribe to a blog of your dreams… you could call it “Posky not Prozac”
seriously, as always, in all your glib humour, you truly are quite the writer, cheers ~
That’s very nice of you to say, whether it’s true or not.
As for the dream blog, it’d either be pure nightmare fuel or just accounts of me having some brilliant sleepy idea, waking up in the middle of the night to frantically scribble it down and being unable to read what I wrote the following morning. I could call the blog “The thing that makes me the most upset.”
I live in the condo dominoes on the left side of that bridge and I see that big broad all the time. Now that I am approaching 62 I think I have my dad’s penis. Both have only one use : to go peepee. It’s the blood pressure pills not my age.
Carl, you almost always write my favorite things ever. I’ll save you from being devoured in a bun when you turn 80 (unless that’s what you want- that’s what I would want).
The way that penis chart started curving up after age 40 was positively frightening. ;-)
And positively true.
You always crack me up. You make us take life a little less seriously.
Congratulations on being featured on I Love Chart! The chart you included in this post? IMO 10 times as funny! And precise too. LOL.
I rather like your 21-century Modest Proposal. However, I am closer to the hot dog age than you and your readers are so I am at a conundrum…
I’m sure you’ll be delicious.
Actually, my average readers seem to be all over the age spectrum (but predominantly female for some reason).
You are an irreverent genius, Posky :-D I laughed harder than I usually laugh on a Sunday….
Thanks, but I’m not sure how to take “irreverent genius.” I am usually perfectly polite and professional but it’s easier to leave a mark with a little bit of an edge.
Your dream looks like the attack of the 50-foot naked woman. The clouds with teeth are freaking me out!
I’m betting you’ll see them in the sky the next time there is a blue sky with some big fluffy vapor masses up there.
Just seeing my dad would be nice, let alone his penis.
Seriously, where are you, man?
Wherever he is, I’m sure he still loves you.
I do that trick with the price and year of birth but never withing fifteen years of when I was born. I want people to think I am a hundy or five or negative a thousand but not anything normal.