I entered the reception area of the medical clinic, a tinny doorbell announcing my arrival to the lady behind the frosted glass.  A sign written in faded ink asked me to PLEASE DONT TAP ON THE GLASS THANKS. I waited a few moments, and then tapped anyways. I’m a rebel, and it’s what they got for lack of punctuation. The anamorphic, blobish image behind the glass slid the partition open, revealing a clearer, still blobish receptionist; she looked over the rim of her glasses as she handed me a clipboard.

Welcome to the jungle.

I’m no stranger to tears. Crying and I go back awhile, more years than I can remember. Lots of things make me cry, notwithstanding the almost comical amount of sorrow I feel everyday recently. Luckily for you I’m not here to bore your undies off with my regularly-punctuated-by-weeping life bubbles. No. I’m here to ask what song makes you cry, and why. My tearmaker is a song called “Tender”, by popular British beat-combo “Blur”.

We’ve been having a lot of fun lately with our tomfoolery and monkey shines. Falcon Heene flies around the world in his silver balloon and we sit here and make jokes. Well, no more I say. It’s time for Wordsmoker to get serious. We need to get our act together. We need to organize. Does Wordsmoker have a 401k? No. Do we have a Cadillac healthcare plan like Congress does? No. I have been at the Smokies for the better part of eight months and I haven’t gotten one cost of living increase.

A grown up Holden Caulfield meets Project Runway; remove about 50% of that combination’s potential awesomeness and throw in a pretty catchy intro and Luis Guzman.  Kind of superfluous, but still kind of enjoyable.

Image via wikipedia.

Most humans think of dust bunnies as harmless little bits of fluff that lurk under the couches and beds of their homes.  They seldom think about these seemingly harmless little creatures, but dust bunnies have been around for centuries and are so integral to the lives of the humans they share a home with that without them most homes would be destroyed.

When it comes to owning artificial life, few products deliver as many plastic pets as Innovage’s Living Aquarium Animated Nemo Ocean Lamp. Convert your drab apartment into the underwater lair of Aquaman or the lesser-known Submariner for the low price of just $25.00 (shipping and handling not included).

Compare this with similar products like the Apple iPad, which can cost over $800 and only show fish in two dimensions. The Living Aquarium Nemo Ocean Lamp does not require water or any other fluids, but can be used to smuggle gin into a ball game or concert. It is as versatile as it is beautiful.

If you watch MSNBC or follow DailyKos founder Markos Moulitsas (Markos) on Twitter, then you know that there is currently an intramural feud between certain standard-bearers of the progressive wing of the Democratic party and Ohio Rep. Dennis Kucinich.

The heart of this feud appears to lie in America’s epically stupid debate over health care reform, and specifically Kucinich’s opposition to the Senate’s version of the health insurance reform bill that appears to be on track to become law in the next few weeks.

She seems to shape her eyebrows with a Taser.

In the AFP/Getty photos of Colleen LaRose, aka Jihad Jane, aka Fatima LaRose, aka “The Weird, Weird, Weird Lady Who Lived Across the Hall,” we find a face that looks like something roughed out by a cavalier courtroom sketch artist, something drawn hastily by a forensic illustrator less than entirely engaged by the pathos of the deceased.

The death of Corey Haim has brought back a rush of emotions and childhood crushes, so naturally I went to Facebook straight away to make sure I was feeling the right emotions.  I was.  But then a strange course of events took place.  A dear friend and I followed the logical path from Haim to Feldman and starting discussing how sad it was that the “hot” Corey was dead.  However, Feldman is the one that had the super hot wife!  WTF?!  This women at some point and time said to herself, “I want to have sex with Corey Feldman for the rest of my life.”   YIKES!  I can’t wrap my head around that and neither could my friend, so we are turning to the wise people of Wordsmoker for this.

SQUEEEEEE!!!

I didn’t want it to end. I’d love to give it an A+, but must deduct marks for an awkward futterwacken, and the dreadful Avril Lavigne song spoiling the lovely end credits.

Dearest Gloria:  We’re in!  Frankly, I thought it was going to be much more difficult than it was, but Shulamith was right – all we had to do was ask for a heating pad and a Midol and the guys were out of the Wordsmoker HQ central office faster than you can say Écriture féminine.  Strawberry is so relieved to be in real clothes again – she sends her thanks for the Clark’s Wallabees and wonders if the denim jumper comes in red?

Like sex, the Oscars only happen once a year. Like sex, it involves a lot of forced smiling, awkward toilet breaks and hurried speeches. Like sex, it begins with a big number and promises untold, only for it to end with everyone involved dying to get home to change their underwear. Like sex, I have to watch it on the internet.

This morning as I was putting on my face and listening to the radio, I heard a commercial for the California SNAP (State Nutrition Action Plans) Program. Mild mannered everyman talking about eating right, getting his family healthy . . . blah, blah, blah.

Talk about a missed opportunity! There’s already a perfect song for their campaign. With a little rewriting, Snap’s “The Power” could be blasting over the airwaves again, this time with a different message.