Don’t Move My Cheese

Dear Diary …

You know … I must just be different than everybody else on the planet. I mean, of course there’s that whole, “Oh we’re all different in our own special way” … that whole thing. But what I’m learning in particular is that I must not want stuff in the same place as any other human in my life.

Every single morning when I get to work … stuff is ALL over the place. All the settings for the radio station are changed. All my buttons are tweaked and messed with. All my computer screens are facing in weird directions. Pretty much everything is changed.

Now … as best I know … nobody around here does anything drastically different with this studio. And yet … they’re tweakin’ more than a meth head dyin’ for a fix.

Then … I go home … furniture is all over the place. Stuff is just in the middle of the floor. And remotes for the TV? God knows where those things are. When I use them, I put them on the armrest of the chair I’m sitting in. Plain and simple.

When the children use them … As best I can tell it is their mission to make sure the things are hidden as much as humanly possible so nobody else can change it away from their God awful YouTube channels they watch.

Of course … now that I think about it … maybe I’m the weirdo since I’m the one who wants things a different way. Everybody else in my life probably says, “Curse you Zack Jackson … you moved all our stuff again!” Yeah … well … too bad!! I ain’t changing!!

Moving on Diary …

As anyone with children knows, you are asked to wear many different hats in your day … parent, spouse, friend, advisor, etc. But in the eyes of your children, the single most important hat you wear each day is simple … person who goes and gets them snacks. Every day. As many times as possible.

To them, you are merely an extension of the kitchen pantry, and you should be available to deliver delicious snacks into their tiny little devil mouths on demand, whenever their little bellies desire.

And here’s my favorite shenanigan …

“Daddy … when you get get up, can you get me some Goldfish?”

Yeah, sure, I can do that when I get up.

Which of course is then immediately followed up ten seconds later with …

“Daddy … when are you getting up? I said I wanted Goldfish!!!”

Oh pardom me, my Liege! And if you’re lucky enough to have more than one child, you can be rest assured that they will never ever coordinate their snack demands. The second you return with Goldfish … “Ooooh … can I have Goldfish too?” GAHHHHH!!!!!!

And God forbid you tell them to get their own snacks.

“But I just sat down!”

Oh … my bad Your Highness. I forgot that the Royal Legs are to be worshipped much more than these sad old sticks your servant calls legs. Where’s my butler uniform? I might as well at least look the part if I’m gonna be treated this way!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

So … Many … MEETINGS

Dear Diary …

Every day is one step closer to me taking over the Kingdom of Zackmerica. OK … at least I hope every day is one step closer, because I swear to you, you’re gonna love a lot of the new laws. And yes … there will be a LOT of new laws.

But don’t worry, we’re gonna throw out a bunch of old stupid ones too, and the new ones are gonna be really awesome.

Like this one … a swift and across the board ban of all meetings at work. Gone. All of them. And anybody caught uttering such horrible hate-filled phrases like, “Hey can we have a meeting at 10:30?” … They are instantly deported to Craptown.

And originally I would’ve been able to compromise on this issue, and maybe just limit the amount of meetings, but I am forced to go to … so … many … meetings. All day meetings, out of town meetings, middle of the afternoon meetings … my life is becoming a non-stop parade of days where I’m sitting at a table staring at a bunch of other people who don’t wanna be there either.

Look … I get it. I’m awesome. You like having me around, but I’m about to lose my mind.

Because you know what’s pretty much always the first thing discussed at the meeting? The stuff from the previous meeting. After that? The stuff we need to do for the next meeting.

What did we even do here?

We just need to stop talking about the meeting, and the virus that is the meeting will simply die off, since it’s not actually accomplishing anything.

Here’s another thing that will be banned … when people make things stupidly inconvenient for no good reason.

For example … recently my wife had to give me some money for household expenses. Now, to her credit, she at least respects my hatred of being handed the responsibility of a cashing a check. You want a helpful hint if you owe Zack Jackson money and don’t really wanna pay me? Just write me a check. Half the time I just lose the thing or forget to cash it for a year.

Now I accept plenty of other forms of payment … cash, PayPal, or the fact that your name is also on the account and you can just put money in there, but my wife returns with …

“I sent you $300 thru Zelle.”

Zelle? What the hell is Zelle?

“It’s like PayPal, but different.”

Well then why didn’t you just use PayPal? I have a PayPal. I don’t have Zelle.

“I don’t have a PayPal. I have Zelle.”

Why is that my problem?

I mean … if somebody owes you $20 and they say to you, “Well all I have is pesos, can I pay you in pesos?” You say … no … get your butt to the bank and get me some ‘Murican money!

And again … we live in the same house! Why is this so much harder than it needs to be?

Sorry Zellers … King Zack is shuttin’ ya down. There’s too many different sites out there… we’re crunching ‘em all down into one. The one I have. (I am King after all.)

Till next time Diary … I say …. Goodbye.

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

Dear Diary …

This is a message to the people of the world … You are a liar. And not only are you a liar, but we KNOW you’re liar. You’re not fooling anybody with your silly little stories. You’re a liar. And we know you’re a liar. And we want you to know that we know that you’re a liar.

“What do you mean? I always tell the truth!”

Whatever, liar.

There are times when you start flappin’ your jaws, and we are on to your scam.

Like when I send you a text message and ask you a question that requries an answer … and you don’t respond for six hours, and then you say, “Oh sorry, I’m just seeing this text right now.”


“I’m just seeing this text” is the modern day equivalent of the 1987 lie of, “I don’t know what happened to your message on my answering machine. I never got it.”

And you know how I know you’re not “just seeing” my text? You’re lyin’ behind has been all over Facebook, Instagram, and whatever the heck else for the last six hours … which I’m sure you’ve been using your phone for.

Not to mention the fact that every time I’m around you, I gotta pry your nose outta your phone to even get your attention. So I know darn well you’re not “just seeing my text.”

Here’s another one the liars of the world like to throw out there … Observe …

“Hey where would you like to go for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t mind. Anywhere is fine.”

Liar … liar … liar … liar … LIAR!!!

“Anywhere” is NOT fine! I know darn well you at least have some kind of preference in your head … so out with it.

Why do we play this game?

And let me be more specific … ladies … ladies, ladies, ladies … Why do we play this game?

We men don’t know much, but we know you’re messing with us here. Playing some sort of “let’s see if he really knows me” head game just to test us. I’ll let you in on a little secret … we’re never gonna figure it out. We are clueless. So stop thinking things are ever gonna change.

Or maybe … I don’t know … it’s some sort of Jedi Mind Trick you’re trying to perfect … “This is not the restaurant you’re looking for … You want to choose Olive Garden.”

Ladies … please … stop lying to us. We’re too dumb to figure it out anyway. We’re smart enough to know you’re a liar, but that’s about it. So save yourself the aggravation and pick the stinkin’ restaurant you wanna go to.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.