Saturday, March 05, 2005


Seized by an impulse to post something, but no coherent thoughts present themselves . . .

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We pulled into the driveway after eating lunch at one of our favorite restaurants, Frontera Grill in Chicago. My wife A. went to wheel the recycling bin out of the alley, thinking it was empty. Hearing glass rattle, she opened it and looked in.
“Someone’s been putting beer bottles in our recycling bin.”
I looked in.
“Goldilocks drinks MGD?”
We both started giggling. The kids gave each other a look, slunk into the house, and closed the door.

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Early in the “The Sting,” Robert Redford’s character is flush with money after a successful con. He entices this showgirl he knows to leave work and come out on the town with him by saying “I’ll spend fifty on you.” This line always cracked me up, so whenever I’m proposing to A. that we go have a night out, I never fail to sweeten the deal by promising, “I’ll spend fifty on you.”
I think it’s a pretty good line, because she hardly ever stands me up.

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Overheard this conversation while out having a drink with a friend:

“Yeah, but we’ve been friends for like 3 years, right”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I was just thinking that you’ve like, never told me how you got that scar on your neck.”
“ [long pause] Does it matter?”
“No, it doesn’t matter, but friends know things about each other.”

I liked that last line a lot. It’s the only good answer to that question.

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If you commit three typos in the course of typing a single word that has four letters, it’s time to stop writing for a while.


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