Specialist, mind you

Perhaps my all-time favorite Craigslist job posting title:

Youth Prevention Specialist

So, that would be what? People who kill babies?

Hello, old friend

Today when I saw "giant cock" among the subject headings in my junk email box, I felt a little wave of sentimental nostalgia. For several months, all of my fifteen daily spams have been about obtaining cheap medications (they're 100% safe! they're available online!), whereas they used to be almost exclusively about increasing the size of my nonexistant penis. It's been challenging to change my priorities so dramatically, but I'm doing the best I can. Still, nice to know someone's still concerned about my ability to please the ladies.

Will I need a secret password, too?

It is 11:20pm. The local NPR announcer reads the Community Calendar. He makes it through several event listings with appropriate mellow-voiced professionalism. He even gets through "Women's ritual dance of ancient Europe. Join in simple, repetitive dances from Bulgaria, Estonia, and other ancient countries." But when he reaches the next sentence, "this Thursday in the alley behind the Sebastopol Cookie Factory," he chuckles. He just can't help it.

Nearly true

I have been looking at apartment listings lately to entertain myself. I just saw a posting entitled WHOLLY CRAP!!!

I looked at it and I think they were being a bit hard on themselves. Certainly it's quite ugly, but I wouldn't say that it's entirely crap. After all, it seems to get a fair amount of sun.

Revelation

Isn't it delightful how one never really knows oneself? How little discoveries about one's personality can come, unbidden, one knows not when?

This evening, for example, I found out that when the tram begins moving forward only to be suddenly, spine joltingly, slammed to a halt, I am apparently the sort of person who yells "JESUS Christ!"

Even more intriguing, it seems that of, say, thirty passengers in the very same sitution, I am the only one who feels the need to utter any sound at all.