A Whole Lotta Ah-Choo

Dear Diary …

I’m gonna tell you something right up front. Consider it a warning …

I sneeze.


If you’re around me and I sneeze once, you best be prepared because more sneezes are coming. And not just one or two, but more like nine or 10. Why? I have no idea. Go ask the person that made me. It’s just what happens.

And I tell you this for a reason … because once I start rattling off sneeze after sneeze, what I don’t need are your little remarks.

Hey … I get it. You’re really only allowed one or two “Bless Yous” when it comes to a sneezer. And that’s all that I expect.

At the same time, I will also give someone a heads up that a lot more sneezes are coming, and yet every single time they start tossing things in there like …

“Geez … you’re still going?”

“Wow … are you ever gonna stop?”

Did I not warn you of the impending nose concert? Why are you acting like each sneeze is a total surprise to you?

Look … I don’t want your sympathy, and I definitely don’t want you to have to rattle off 10 “Bless Yous,” but I also don’t need your editorial comments like this is the first time I’ve ever heard them before.

OK … moving on Diary …

I love my wife. She’s awesome. She has many amazing talents. She’s smart. She’s funny. She’s cute. However, she also has some less than amazing talents. Now … they are still talents, but they are talents that drive me nuts.

For example … she has an incredible ability to ruin leftovers. Here’s what I mean …

When I make dinner, I often do it with the plan of having some leftovers that I can take with me to work the next day for lunch. It just makes my life easier … I get a delicious lunch AND I don’t have to prepare it.

Enter my wife’s talent … eating JUST enough of those leftovers to make it not quite enough for a suitable lunch.

I’ll portion out our plates for dinner and have my glorious little lump of leftovers ready to roll. And then a few minutes later I hear the dreaded phrase … “I’m going to go get a little bit more.”



And now here I am with leftovers, but just a few bites of leftovers. Not nearly enough for an actual lunch. So naturally what happens next is I just end up eating the rest of it at dinner that night and end up feeling all full and gross cuz I ate more than I wanted. And I ain’t got no lunch for tomorrow!!

Hey … I told you she had all those awesome talents too … but this one … this one she could put in a box and ship to Siberia and I wouldn’t mind one bit.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Neverending Chapstick

Dear Diary …

Let’s get all trippy and philosophical here for a second … because I’m wondering if there’s ever been a human on earth who has ever done a certain thing. Do you ever have those weird, trippy questions in your head? Things like … “I wonder if somebody’s thinking about me right now?” … “Is anybody else embarrassingly dancing around their kitchen to old Huey Lewis songs?” You know … philosophical stuff like that.

Anyway … here’s what I’m looking for … and I don’t think this person exists … Is there a single human on the planet who has EVER used an entire thing of chapstick? Because I don’t think there is.

In my entire life, I have NEVER finished a thing of chapstick. They simply just disappear about halfway thru their use, and then I gotta go buy a new one. Not a single time in my ENTIRE existence have I made to the bottom of one of those things. I don’t think I’ve even come close.

And that’s why I put it out there, because I’m pretty confident that there’s not a single person in the history of mankind who’s managed to pull this off. I mean … if you told me you had a picture on your phone of Bigfoot making out with the Loch Ness Monster while he was riding a unicorn … I’d consider that a more likely possibility.

Go ahead … prove me wrong. Claim to be the person who’s used a whole thing of chapstick. Show me that person, and I will show you a LIAR!

OK … moving on Diary …

I stink.

And I don’t mean “I’m bad at something.” (I’m bad at several things … listening … caring about your feelings … basketball …) Anyway … it’s not that. It’s that I actually stink. Like smelly. (Is this where I can use the word “literally” and say I “literally stink?” You know what? I hate that word so much, I’m not using it even if it is.)

Fact is … I stink.

Now … I shower. I wash. I use soap. And if you run into me, I smell fine.

It’s not during everyday life. It’s at night.

When I fall asleep, I don’t know what kind of transformation happens, but I am a rotten stinky ogre of a creature. I go to sleep normal, but then when I wake up in the morning, all my pillows smell like some dirty troll slept on ‘em. It’s like I have a secret second life where I fall asleep, and then I live under a bridge and collect tolls from “Ye who be trying to pass by into my village.”

Where is this stench coming from? Why am I sweating so dang much? And is there a way to coat myself in some kind of protective, sweet-smelling layer to make this all go away?

I don’t wanna stink! And my wife sure as heck don’t want me stinkin’ either! So what do I do?


Alright … well thanks for nothing!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Ben Franklin is a Jerk

Dear Diary …

Can we just … ONE TIME … come together as a people and agree on something? Look … I know we’re probably never getting world peace or even an argument-free Thanksgiving between Democrats and Republicans, but can we PLEASE put all of our difference aside this one time and agree to get rid of Daylight Savings Time forever?

Oh wait … I’m sorry … “Daylight SAVING Time.” Ugh … you see? The whole thing is just filled with attitude.

Yes … at one time in our lives we needed this thing, but that time is over. You know what else we used to need? Quills. Yeah … big ol’ feather … You dipped it in ink … and then you wrote things out on giant scrolls. Sure. We used to need that. Now we have voice-to-text … so we don’t need quills anymore.

And that’s what Daylight Saving Time is … an outdated fossil that we don’t need anymore. Nobody even knows why we do it . Oh it’s for the farmers? No I don’t think they care. Oh it’s to save money on candles? Yeah … again … like the quill thing … we don’t need that.

Nobody knows.

And hey … I know how you’re feeling right now … Tired. We’re all tired. I hate to be all whiny about losing one hour of sleep, but [whiny] “We’re losing one hour of sleep and I’m tired!”

How about this? When we get to “fall back” let’s just fall back a half hour and then be done with this and never do it again. Why is that so impossible to consider?

And you know what? Even if it is impossible to consider, can we at least agree that “springing forward” at 2am on Saturday night is a very stupid idea? I bet if you “sprung forward” at 4pm on a Friday and took us all right to happy hour … that would be something we can ALL get behind.

Granted … that also means we gotta “fall back” into an extra hour of work later in the year. So that’s out. Again … people … a half hour and then we never have to do this again.

Ultimately we all know who’s fault this is … Ben Franklin. Yeah … I’m looking at you you quill-totin’ Founding Father. Fillin’ our heads full of things like “early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” No it doesn’t … it makes a man tired! I feel a heck of lot smarter on the weekends when I’ve gotten some extra sleep … and now you’re stealing that hour from me with your “spring forward” nonsense.

And we put this guy on the $100 bill? The coolest bill in all the rap videos? Uh-uh. This is $2 bill talk right here. That’s where he deserves to be.

And yes … I’m aware … “Ben Franklin didn’t actually invent daylight saving time.” Yeah yeah yeah … congratulations to you for using Google. He may not’ve invented it, but he sure was happy to take credit for it, and since that’s what they told me in school, I’m laying all the blame on him.

Half hour people … we can make this happen! (Oh who am I kidding? We couldn’t even agree what color that dress was on the internet.” Forget it!)

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.