Haven’t we seen this movie?Scientists and Mayans tell us it’s only a matter of time before the Earth is destroyed. Possibly as soon as Dec. 21. Probably by a giant asteroid — whichever comes first. This of course would lead to a cataclysmic event unleashing tidal waves, earthquakes, 6,000 years of winter, and, theoretically, mankind’s final offering as an evolved species:
There are many advantages to shopping with Bigfoot. Keeping a low profile is not one of them.There are times when, as a columnist, I am faced with the difficult decision of choosing between two equally important topics in order to meet my deadline.
Then there are times like this when, thanks to years of experience and accidentally consuming a quadruple espresso meant for the person next to me at Starbuck’s, I realize both topics can be combined into a single, well-structured piece of journalism.
Which is why, today, we will be talking about how to prepare for holiday shopping with the help of Bigfoot.
As some of you may have heard, a hiker in Utah recently posted video of what appears to be Bigfoot rummaging through the brush.
In addition, some of you may have heard about Thanksgiving.
Don’t let your first Thanksgiving turkey become memorable for the wrong reasons.The countdown has begun. Soon, thousands of newlyweds will be in the kitchen preparing their very first Thanksgiving turkey. As a service to our readers, we felt a responsibility to help educate people about foodborne illness by offering a special holiday feature that we like to call:
Don’t lose your giblets this Thanksgiving.
Being a writer, I’ve naturally spent a good portion of my career working in the food service industry. And like most writers, it was there that I was able practice my craft and eventually acquire something that ALL good writers must have: A Food Handler’s card.
Because of this, I can stand before you as someone highly qualified to talk turkey.
This weekend, watch for falling pumpkins.I left the house this morning and made an important realization: What I had assumed was a fleece-lined, bright orange sweatshirt laying crumpled on the front steps was actually NOT a garment at all.
It was our jack-o-lantern.
This realization was made while attempting to pick it up. Though my intention was to give my children a stern lecture on taking care of their clothing, I decided instead to scream uncontrollably after grabbing a handful of pumpkin mucus. Somehow, our pumpkin’s aging process had accelerated, causing it to collapse in on itself and sprout white fur — literally — overnight.
This isn’t an isolated incident. Anyone who hasn’t disposed of their jack-o-lantern by now has witnessed this process, which we can all agree defies the natural laws of physics. One morning, your pumpkin’s face is triangle-eyed and gap-toothed as normal. The next morning, it is Buddy Hackett. Continue reading Your decomposing pumpkin could threaten mankind
Unless your baby looks like this, he or she could be a slacker.Parents used to be satisfied with sonogram images of their child developing in the womb, even though, for all we knew, we were actually watching video footage of a school of mackerel on a depth finder.
“And if you look closely, you can see your baby … right … about … whoops! It’s gone. Something must’ve scared it.”
The doctor would then print copies of these images, which we carried in our wallets to share with family, friends, and anyone unfortunate enough to make brief eye contact. At the end of nine months, the only real expectation any of us had for our child was that they come out headfirst. Laughably, we actually felt it was enough for them to grow from a microscopic egg into a full-fledged human child within nine months.
As if being sick wasn’t bad enough, my laptop burst into flames while I was on the commode. Ask Tina Fey — she saw the whole thing.I’d like to start by apologizing for this column.
Technically speaking, I’m still writing it. However, given the volume of cold medication I have consumed, and keeping in mind that I have finally given in and, as a time saving measure, moved my workstation to the commode, there’s a good chance my current location is exactly where this column is headed. Making matters worse, the laptop I’m using is about 10 years old. Getting it open was like shucking a Pismo clam. After opening it, I realized it’s the very same model that caused panic aboard a flight to Miami when it overheated and singed the thighs of an intoxicated businessman.
True, I am not on a plane. Yet there are still some frightening similarities: