Well, dear readers, someone overslept this morning. Someone just got out of bed this morning. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, someone overslept and now it is late, late, late (that is three lates) and someone must now hurry their way through these here notes. I didn’t even go to bed that late last night, but I did have rather a stressful day yesterday, so perhaps I just needed a long and good night’s sleep.
First of all, before we go any further, in fact before we go any farther – is it further or farther or both? Well, you say further and I’ll say farther and then we’ll call the whole thing off. Why we’re going to call the “whole thing” “off” is a mystery – why don’t we just call the “whole thing” the “whole thing” since that is clearly what it is. Why would we call the fershluganah “whole thing” “off”? Ah, sweet mystery of life – in any case, before we go any further/farther, we must all put on our pointy party hats, we must get out the cheese slices and ham chunks, we must dance the Hora, or at the very least the Monkey, we must have the cake and the ice cream, we must shout it to the highest hill and the lowest valley (Pomona), we must wish one of our dear readers a happy birthday. Yes, Virginia, one of our dear readers is having a birthday and we must all wish her a happy birthday right this very minute before we go any further/farther. Dear reader Megan is eighteen years of age today – on the count of three let us all say a big Happy Birthday to eighteen-year-old Megan: One, two, three: HAPPY BIRTHDAY EIGHTEEN-YEAR-OLD MEGAN!
All of us here at haineshisway.com send our good wishes for a special day.
Well, that woke me up – nothing like a little celebration to get the adrenaline going. I am going through a weird food phase right now. Nothing is really appealing to me – I eat because I must, but even thinking about foodstuffs, something I normally love to do, is an ordeal. I think I need some new types of food to eat, or something to get me out of this food rut. Being in a food rut is a pain in the butt, no food seems to make the cut, you start to feel like you’re a nut, you want to keep your mouth shut, to food you say phut, you want to go live in a hut, you don’t want to fill your gut, with what, with food, you silly King Tut. This is what happens when you get too much sleep. We call it The Further/Farther Syndrome, the first symptom of which is calling the “whole thing” “off”.
Well, why don’t we all just click on that unseemly Unseemly Button below. Let’s do that right now, before we go any further/farther.
I enjoyed hearing all about your miserable jobs yesterday. Sometimes it’s fun to look back and know that you’ve been there/done that.
Today, as you all know, is the day when you get to ask your excellent questions because it is Ask BK Day – and tomorrow I shall answer your excellent questions with all the know-how I can muster. Do you hear me buster? You shall not fluster, I shall answer without bluster, perhaps I’ll answer whilst wearing a Sergio Leone duster, certainly it won’t be my last stand like that man Custer, all my answers, as usual, will be in a big cluster, and I do hope my answers sparkle and have luster. What am I, a rhyming dictionary all of a sudden?
My goodness these notes are going up late, aren’t they? Well, I’m going to have to cut them short or they will go up even later. But that’s okay because tomorrow’s notes are always endless and will make up for today’s all-too-brief notes.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must attend a meeting, I must get in my automobile and cruise the streets of this fair city whilst waving to passersby, I must try to think about foodstuffs even though I am off food right now, I must call the “whole thing” “off” just to be contrary, I must figure out what I will be reading at the reading/signing on Saturday, and I must also figure out what I will be signing at the signing/reading on Saturday. So many things to do and do them I shall, damn them, damn them all to hell. I shall check back in a while to peruse your excellent questions. Ask away, my pretties.