An untimely fate I did meet.
At the pearly gates, who did greet
But Saint Peter, attentive on his feet,
Who calmly told me, “Take a seat.”

“Before you enter, there’s one last thing.”
Was it something I had to bring?
A review of all my lying?
Good deeds tallied before dying?

As if he could read my thoughts,
He simply shook his head no.
“It’s your passwords we must review
Before I let you go.”

My Goodreads categories include biography, classic, comedy, fiction, health & wellness, historical fiction, military, non-fiction, poetry, science & nature, self-improvement, sports, thriller, and YA. There’s no specific romance category (I usually hide those in fiction), but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good love story.

As much as I appreciate escaping into a world where I know the protagonists will inevitably end up together, I have one major problem with the genre: universally attractive main characters.

I know, I know—beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and “ugly” is a relative term. But I believe there are some universal beauty standards. And, somehow, the criteria that define those standards always seem to match the physical characteristics of every romantic lead.

It’s not appropriate to attack Christmas songs during the holiday season. But once January rolls around, they’re fair game.

The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas to You) is problematic.

And no, I’m not talking about chestnuts. They’re gross, no one eats them, and no one roasts them. I’m talking about something else entirely.

“And so I’m offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although it’s been said many times, many ways
Merry Christmas to you”

Apparently, Nat King Cole takes issue with babies and old people. Two of our most at-risk, fragile, and sensitive demographics are somehow undeserving of a “Merry Christmas.”

I work in a school, so this doesn’t apply to me. But a good idea is a good idea, and when one hijacks my brain—as good ideas frequently do—I feel it is my responsibility to share it with the world.

Walls are expensive. It’s far cheaper to purchase or rent a large open area and scatter cubicles across the entire space. Cubicles create individual work areas that provide privacy for the 287 employees working in close quarters. They allow people to have private phone conversations, change clothing (midday outfit changes are essential in cubicle-based offices—fashion is paramount), and prevent food odors from wafting into neighboring workspaces.

The cubicle was a great idea.

But now, allow me to introduce the tribicle.

A tribicle is exactly what it sounds like: a cubicle, but with three sides. Get it?

Xeglyze, Zepbound, Qsymia, Xolair, Wegovy

Words your 4-year-old nephew blurts out while playing Scrabble?
Names of ancient elves from a forgotten chapter of Tolkien?
The secret language you and your best friend invented in 4th grade?

Nope. They’re drug names. And I finally know why they sound completely ridiculous.

The Origin Story

When Eminem released Infinite in 1996, the country experienced an unexpected surge: terrible white rappers. Fortunately for America’s collective eardrums, most of them failed to get their “jams” on the radio. But one particularly resourceful rapper—Chip McChiperson—had a brilliant idea.

There’s something oddly satisfying about answering questions about yourself and then diving into the results.

“I’m an extrovert.”
“I pursue creative endeavors.”
“I connect with others.”
“Praise motivates me.”
“Important decisions take me a long time.”

Most personality tests zero in on your strengths. (Clifton Strengths is a big one with “strengths” in the name—I’ve taken it twice [competition and significance are huge for me]).

But what if there was a personality test that focused solely on your weaknesses—in a no holds barred, brutally honest, and salt-coated (trademark) manner?

Introducing the Anti-Strengths Finder.

For Halloween, we went trick or treating in my brother’s neighborhood. It’s an older neighborhood, so the houses are farther apart. The boys ended up with less candy than normal, which got me thinking…

1. Lot Size

Ideal Range: 0.25–0.50 acres

• Anything bigger means more walking between houses and fewer doors per hour.
• Anything smaller often corresponds to higher-density neighborhoods—good for candy—but also tends to correlate with lower home values, which carries its own implications (more on that next).

Bottom line: You want houses close enough for efficiency, but not so close that the neighborhood skews away from family-oriented trick-or-treat activity.

Act 1, Scene 1

Setting: A school parking lot — a public place.

[Enter Hank and Stan, two cooks for the Grillin’ Me Softly food truck, setting up for the day. Hank teases Stan, who fancies himself a future Michelin-star chef.]

Stan
I hope they show up.

Hank
Why — so you can show them what a mean burger you cook?

Stan
I cook a great burger. Better than you.

Hank
That’s because you try. This is just another job to me.

Stan
A job that’s the first step toward my own restaurant.

Hank
Okay, so what’ll you do when they show up?

Stan
Let ’em know how bad their product is.

Hank
Well, looks like you’ll get your chance.

[Enter Chuck and Rick, cooks from the rival food truck Between the Buns. They park nearby and walk toward Grillin’ Me Softly.]

Two candy bars in my son’s orange pumpkin,
And sorry I could not eat both (he would notice)
A sneaky poacher, I stood
And stared at one for far too long,
Its wrapper gleaming in the light.

Then I turned to the other, just as tempting,
Perhaps with the better claim—
Coconut and caramel calling my name;
Though the first was slightly larger,
And I wanted them about the same,

Both equally beckoning,
With so many treats around, one would not be missed.
“Oh, I’ll take the other another day!”
Yet knowing it might be gone
If I wait to seize it.

I shall be unbuttoning my pants with a sigh
Another Halloween ages and ages hence:
Two candy bars in my son’s orange pumpkin, and I—
I ate them both,
And that has made my son cry.

No matter where or when you grew up, at some point in your elementary school career, you did an animal project. A diorama, clay model, paper report, PowerPoint, maybe even a 3D rendering (things have gotten fancy).

And no matter what form it took, you always had to list your animal’s unique attributes. If your animal happened to be nocturnal, that was the trait you zeroed in on. Because, come on, being a night creature just sounds cooler.

Kids’ jokes are supposed to be innocent—cute setups and harmless punchlines that make you groan more than laugh. But what happens when those same jokes grow up, get a job, pay taxes, and develop crippling emotional baggage? You get punchlines that hit a little harder—and darker—than the playground versions ever did. Today, we’re revisiting a few childhood classics and giving them the adult treatment: a little tragic, a little twisted, and very much not for show-and-tell.

1. What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?
   Stolen
2. Why did the math book look sad?
   He just put his dog to sleep
3. What do you call a fish without eyes?
   Dinner
4. What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?
   Hybrid inviability: The hybrid offspring fails to survive to adulthood due to developmental problems, often caused by conflicting genes from the parent species.
5. Why did the teddy bear say “no” to dessert?
   With a cholesterol over 240, dieting was cheaper than costly medication
6. What do you call a bear with no teeth?
   Dead by winter
7. Why was 6 afraid of 7?
   Seven was recently released from Riker’s Island after serving 8 years for assault with a deadly weapon
8. Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants?
   He has irritable bowel syndrome
9. What’s brown, sticky, and funny?
   What’s at the bottom of the golfers first pair of pants
10. Why did the cookie go to the hospital?
    He was stabbed in his soft chewy center after trying to rob a liquor store

I’m not sure when the transition happened—maybe a decade ago (time flies when you’re dominating)—but somewhere along the way, families started decorating their lawns with Halloween inflatables. What Christmas once had a monopoly on, has now crept into October.

Now that houses are dolled up (Chucky doll?) for Halloween, there’s a new player in the color game: purple.

Traditionally, Halloween has always been black and orange. But with Columbus Day trying to steal some October market share (Santa Maria on an IKEA, a la Elf on a Shelf), Halloween had to mix things up. So, they made the logical move and added a color you’d get by mixing black and orange: purple. (Yes, I know black and orange make pink.)

Overindulging with Famous Movie Quotes

Want to revisit Take 1 or Take 2?

1. “My dear maternal figure was fond of remarking that existence itself could be likened to a container of assorted confections: an ornate, enticing repository whose contents, cloaked in inscrutable wrappings, resist all efforts at prediction.”
2. “Permit me the indulgence of formally introducing you to a most diminutive, yet extraordinarily consequential, companion of mine.”
3. “Kindly extricate your odious, grime-encrusted extremities from my person at once, you accursed and uncivilized simian.”
4. “Out of the innumerable establishments devoted to the dispensation of intoxicating spirits, she should cross the threshold of my humble sanctuary.”
5. “Mrs. Robinson, it has become increasingly apparent—through the subtle orchestration of your gestures, intonations, and calculated proximities—that you are engaged in a deliberate campaign of enticement, the object of which appears to be my own moral capitulation to your undeniable allure. Tell me then, am I mistaken in discerning this elaborate seduction?”
6. “At last, with a burst of unrestrained theatricality, I proclaim my arrival—Jonathan stands before you, an apparition equal parts menace and spectacle.”
7. “Behold, the object of my singular and all-consuming obsession, a treasure whose value transcends mere material worth and whose very existence commands the totality of my devotion, attention, and protective vigilance.”
8. “I would like to request a libation of the highest refinement—a martini, if you will—prepared in such a manner that the delicate alchemy of spirits and ice is vigorously agitated rather than merely combined, thereby achieving a precise balance of chill, texture, and subtle aeration that speaks to both my exacting taste and my cultivated discernment.”
9. “A profound and exhilarating sensation courses through me, an irrepressible craving that defies reason and restraint, compelling me toward the pursuit of velocity with such urgent intensity that the very air seems to tremble in anticipation of my impending acceleration.”
10. “No one, under any circumstances, shall consign Baby to the confines of a shadowed alcove.”

I’ve never been a fan of automated “out of office” email replies. To me, they always sound stiff, unnecessary, and—let’s be honest—slightly self-important. I mean, I’m very important, and yet I don’t set them. People need me, so I’m always available.

But then I had a thought: what if I sent out “out of office” replies that were personalized, snarky, and directly tailored to the sender? That might actually make them worth reading.

Examples

Hello,
Thank you for your message. I am currently out of the office and will return on [date]. Based on the contents of your email, you clearly don’t need immediate assistance, so there’s no need to bother anyone else.

Warm regards,
BlogGaud