AND I PROBABLY SMELL GOOD NOW!

Yesterday was beautiful. After four days surrounded by cigar-smokers in Marin, a day off is a slice of heaven. As well as an all-too brief re-acquaintance with my own sanity.
Now, that last part needs some explanation, no doubt because you dear reader presume me sane at all times, a veritable source of rational and balanced perspective on the universe.

Little secret: it's an act; half the time I've lost it.


By the second day I was already disturbed, having had less than four hours sleep the night before, as well as barely five the previous night. Coupled with an excess of caffeine, the heat added to the madness.
By the third day, I wasn't able to formulate my sentences in as perfect a manner as I normally expect of myself. On the fourth day, the cumulative sleep-starvation coupled with the oppressive heat contributed to a general air of fluttering loopiness, similar to Apu Nahasapeemapetilam tweeking in the Quicky Mart after working ninety six hours straight.


ROLL THE SECURITY TAPE, PLEASE


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1aV0W-3qdM .]


Now, what other than heat contributed to my late hours?
Well, the caffeine. Of course.

Like most of the present generation, I am hepped to the gills. Except, unlike all the acolytes of Starbucks, my beverage of choice is not chock-full of fat and sugar.

I drink tea. No milk, and no sugar.
Non-fattening, anti-oxidant.
Strong hot tea.

So I am not a lardbutt either. Had to poke another hole in my belt to keep my pants from slipping down. Daaang I'm trim.
I do not look like a programmer.


If I were a woman, I'd wear yoga pants and show off my camel toe.


It goes without saying that, as a man, I absolutely loathe yoga pants.


WOMEN WHOM YOU CAN NEVER DATE:

1) Someone wearing yoga pants.
2) A woman with a tramp-stamp.
3) Angry black lesbians.
4) Vegans.
5) Republicans.
6) Harridans.
7) White vegetarians.
8) Anti-vaxxers.
9) Anyone who believes in auras, astrology, crystal healing, aliens, angels, past-life regression, or similar namby pamby cottonwool hooha.

There should be a tenth category, but I can't think of anything right now.


Women who don't floss between their toes.



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