Jen and I were trying to tell my sister a story, it started like this…
Jen: Okay, so our neighbor…
Me: Bob!
In Unison: HE’S A PALINDROME
Hysterics all around.

This morning during my 2nd bout with rush hour traffic ( you don’t want to know…maybe you do, I’m not telling) I was driving next to a big rig with out a trailer attached. Lack of sleep contributed to my utter confustion but it took a full two minutes to comprehend what was painted on the back of the rig:
Cause The Little Voices
Told Me Too
First of all, I always get confused when they don’t use an apostrophe on “Cause”. You’ve cut off the front of the word and an apostrophe would indicate be helpful since the word ‘Cause’ is a word in its own right and to read that word first sets up some expectations about how the rest of the sentence will be read.
Second is the issue of the ‘too’. Is he saying that something he had done had been guided by little voices? He’s using the wrong word here. Or is he saying that the little voices told him something that they had also shared with some other people (but obviously not me)? Perhaps he wants to advertise his participation in this most exclusive of groups. Honestly, (and remember I am talking about someone who chose to paint a poorly conceived slogan on his transportation) I think that if you combine the issue of the ‘Cause’ with the fact that he even went through the trouble to paint that on his truck you can only come to the conclusion that he is using the wrong ‘to’ and is not actually part of some exclusive voice receiving posse.
So then we are forced to ponder this: why would you pay someone cash money to paint something that is:
* Painfully stupid
* Obviously not well thought out
* Grammatically incorrect?
Well I think you should look no further than the back of that truck for your answer.

Facial Hair, Gay Bar, or Sex Position
* Jungle Jim
* Unlucky Pirate
* Infinite Loop
* Reverse Shuttlecock
* Soul Train
* Unlined Pocket
* Indian Burn
* Pigs in Blankets
* Muffin Top
* Landfill
* New Recruit
* Taffy Puller
* Hairy Potter
* Party Barge
* El Camino
* The H.O.V.
* Split Rock
* Victimless Crime
* Meat Packer
* 7/10 Split
* Muddy Footprint

Dear Jenni
This Friday we celebrate our tenth anniversary. Ten years. Seems like such a long time, ten years, and yet I still remember vividly the moment i fell in love with you.
We’ve had ten years together. 3650 days. Each and every one of those days required effort and work and the payoff was something so sweetly intangible and imperceptibly solid that I know in my heart that there will never be another person that can replace you.
More good days than bad, I think that’s about what most people ask for. Sometimes I feel lucky for all that I have with you, I know that I probably don’t deserve, but on the other hand we’ve worked hard to get here and the reward is sweet.
Ten years! I’m not the same person now at 30 as i was at 20 and neither are you. No one ever is. We’ve changed. We’ve had some growing pains. We’ve gone from tentative, cocky brats to um…what the fuck are we now? Christ, i don’t know!
We’ve spent this past decade learning and growing and loving and laughing and crying. There’s been fear and indignation and comfort and bliss. We’ve nursed each other back to health and celebrated our achievements together.
I don’t know where we are going. I know where I want us to end up, but I don’t know any of the specifics. What I do know is that I could not get to where I am without you these past ten years. I know that my successes, my confidence, my attitude would not even exist if you had not been there every day.
Thank you. Thank you for your patience, your guidance, your love, your attention and most importantly, thank you for not taking my shit. You kicked my ass when I needed it and I love you for that.
Ten more years? Why not! I’m up for it.

My head is like a poorly organized grocery store:
Lots of color and some neat things like SpongeBob macaroni and cheese, but it’s hard to find things and often times I am out of canned tomatoes.
Also, some of the carts have wheels that don’t work.
On the other hand, my head is full of really nice ladies willing to hand you a quarter-round of sausage on a toothpick.