An enigma, wrapped in a question mark, shrouded in mystery

We've all heard about using super glue to attach a quarter to the floor. Here's a twist that fits nicely into a social experiment. This works best in an office setting that includes an entry hallway and a couple of offices. Glue the first quarter in the hallway. It's an innocent enough location to lure the skeptics into a get rich quick scheme. Once they realize they've been foiled, their ego will likely be bruised. Here's the twist. Glue the second quarter in one of the offices. No one would ever expect the second quarter to be glued down too. "What kind of idiot jerk would glue two quarters to the floor?", they would silently think to themself. As it turns out, I could easily play the part of the previously mentioned idiot jerk. The social experiment has begun and all you have to do is sit back, watch, and prepare your, "suck failure, freak!" finger. Whether they go for it or not is of little concern to me so save your sob stories. It ties into the glass half empty thing. Try it. Don't skimp, you cheapo. Nobody bends over for a nickel. Write that down.

Movies

We are an hour and a half into Sex and the City the Movie and I need a break. Watching this movie reminds me of crying through a magic show, except there are no tricks, and I have to cut my own wrists in order to see color. Also, I would like to add, I have never cried through a magic show. The movie has a scene that involves running in snow, and for that, I offer my nostalgic admiration. But cheap add-ins like snow and acoustic versions of real songs aside, save your money. I have just reinforced my ongoing habit of wanting to ignore those humans who dress like clowns, live like clowns, act like clowns, and then tell me to love clowns. It's quite a fake lifestyle. When did Lame get so popular?

Whispered Screams of 1000 Lunatics

The voices in my head have communicated to me that the New World Order is actually the ultimate in ironic trickery. The newest of world orders here has made it perfectly clear that there will be no order. None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. The Order, or as we call him, "Al", does not care what any of us is doing. He simply cries out a snap of his fingers and we come running. It is virtually impossible to entertain the idea of any behavior other than ultimate servitude. Al, however, does not let good behavior go unrewarded. He offers cuddling and coos, poops and pees, and the look on his face when he's trying to compensate for his undeveloped neck muscles and therefore publicizes the strain of lifting his head, along with the resulting lines in his forehead, is priceless. He is the talk of the town. It is a pleasure to live vicariously through him. Everyone offers their kind words like, "He's so cute!", or "He's the cutest boy in the entire world!" I am content with these verbalized emotional endorsements because I am content in the knowledge that any other type of response (read "negative") would indicate ignorant envy of the highest magnitude and would highlight that individual's inability to properly define the word "cute". Such elementary definitions aside, the boy truly is cute. I recently alluded to our symbiotic relationship. The key to my happiness is that "Al" looks very much like me. When he gets praise, I get praise. Simple math. It's like they're all saying, "Mark, your genes are of the most superior lineage and your power and majestic destiny are emblematic of this superiority, will you date my daughter?" I am happily married, and so, I decline these advances. We are happy with the addition to our family and I look forward to Nerdfest 2020 when he's 12, and a Junior in college, making his peers look silly and comically obsolete.

A recipe

The following is a recipe for biscuits and gravy. Follow it exactly, and you'll enjoy a savory meal. Begin by opening a package (previously purchased) of sausage that is 1 pound net weight. Empty the contents of the package into a pot and throw away the wrapper. Wash your hands. put the knife you used to open the sausage in the dishwasher. Turn on the stove. Make sure you only turn on the burner you are using. So far, this technique has allowed me to continue to store all of my tuperware on the left rear burner without any problems. Individual results may vary. Heat the oven to a level required to properly burn the biscuits (previously purchased) and then back it off a little. We are trying to brown the biscuits, not burn them. Biscuit companies are made up entirely of liars (soon to be proven historical fact) so shave one minute off the lower end of the recommended cooking time. Trust me, they lie. Wash your hands. By now, your sausage should be overcooked on one side because I forgot to tell you to smush it up a bit. We'll consider that your fault and press on. Using a large object (larger than a toothpick and smaller than a horse) stir the already smushed up sausage until it browns. Stir it like it's nobody's business. Really get in there and take out some a aggression on that sausage. You want small chunks, so this is no time to be a wuss. Do a shot, say a prayer, host a radio show, whatever you do, do not let that sausage proceed wthout a thorough butt-whipping. Seriously. Wash your hands. When the sausage has been properly put in it's place, turn the heat down and slowly add flour. Use the bleached kind. It doesn't matter. Nobody is looking. It's too late to try to make this meal healthy now. If you think you're taking too long adding the flour, slow down. This is the key to the whole recipe. If you go to quickly, throw the whole thing out and go to Denny's. If you are ready to follow the instructions, we'll continue. Use about 6 tablespoons of flour. Add it a little at a time and stir like you're still angry at the sausage for making fun of you earlier. You are loading up the sausage with flour that you will later draw out with milk. Trust me, you don't want to screw this up. Once you have loaded the sausage up, turn up the temperature (only on the burner you have been using) (don't switch burners now, only Emos and Goth freaks do that) and slowly add the milk. I used 1% because I didn't want to stop the recipe to go to the store. Who am I to disregard the 1% milk in my fridge like I'm some kind of pop star with long hair and questionable orientation. (that's right, I said it) So use what you have and stop complaining about how short you are. If it's that bad, you should've employed the use of a footstool at the beginning of this thing and now is not the time to whine. Just get the stupid milk. Deep breath. Add the milk slowly but surely, whatever the hell that means. Use between four and six tablespoons but use exactly neither four or six tablespoons. It's the alligator mouth with the line underneath, remember? The amount of milk you add is directly proportional to the viscosity either positively or negatively depending on whether you are adding it or have already added it. The amount of milk you add is negatively proportional to the amount of surface area of each piece of sausage that comes in contact with the aforementioned milk. Remember, all values go to infinity upon completion of the stirring. Check the biscuits. They are probably burnt. Whatever. Who cares at this point really? Just remember, burnt bad, not burnt good. As the sausage-flour-milk mixture (a.k.a. gravy) cools down it will thicken. You'll know pretty quickly if you screwed up the amout of milk. This is why they teach math in school. This is also why stupid people are at a greater risk of starving than educated folks. Look it up, I'm right. If anyone is still around, serve the gravy on top of the biscuits and eat up. Regardless of what you might have heard, tequila, moonshine, and shame are not on the list of things that are good to wash down this meal. Trust me. Water or milk will be just fine. Enjoy!

Friday

Still no baby. He's gonna be gigantic. Stupid doctors and their crummy math skills. Due date my ass. I'm all walked out. We saw Lakeview Terrace in the theater tonight. It would be a decent movie if they left the characters' skin colors as they were instead of making all the white people black and vice versa. After the movie, we got some ice cream and walked around the mall. Normalcy is so stressful. Maybe we should teach kids as young as 12 how to drive so they know where they're supposed to walk (right side) in the mall. We're not in the UK. I pity our future. Apparently, we will have no shortage of janitors and ditch diggers. I will spend my retirement watching them try to work a shovel and text their buddy at the same time. Happy days will be here again.

The 33rd

I got to sleep in and have a delicious bowl of cereal. I watched Flash Gordon on my enormous television while curled up underneath a blanket because the window a/c unit I installed in the living room dropped the temperature to a blustery 68 degrees but I was compelled to leave it on because, let's face it, free electricity can only be enjoyed if it's used. I made sourdough bread bowls that ended up too small because the last batch was too big. Stupid over-compensation techniques. We enjoyed the bread with our broccoli and cheddar soup. Yum. Lasagna and swimming (the girls, not me) and some chocolate cake and the night was almost concluded. For the coup de gras, we are now watching Baby Mama. It's a mildly-humorous jaunt through the core of comedic mediocrity, fake pregnancies. "Stop framing your face" she says.

Monday

The end of times is upon us. I have created my own blog. More to come.