Why is it that….
Every time you’re in a rush to get out the door?
Great Aunt Trudy will call and want to regale you with detailed stories of her piles.
If I didn’t want to hear about them the last 3 times we spoke? Chances are I really don’t want to hear about them when I’m 10 minutes late for an appointment.

Why is it that…
Every time I cut my hand in the kitchen?
I’m in danger of bleeding out because I can’t get the damned Bandaid package open with one hand.
Seriously, WTH?

Why is it that…
Even though I’m a font of useless knowledge, I let my friends down last week when I couldn’t come up with the winning answer in a trivia game tie breaker at my local bar?

But, come on.
Did you know that the original name for the Google search engine was…
BackRub?
No… I didn’t think so.

Why is it that…
Every time I take the time to wash and wax my car?
It either rains, or a flock of pigeons who’ve just eaten at Chipolte follow me home.

Why is it that….
Every time I think I have absolutely nothing to blog about?
I always manage to come up with something ridiculous.

You’re welcome.


























