Vegan Gourmet Shreds NOW with crunchy Gorilla bits!
I have been traveling too much this year and my cat Ikea is sick of it. She has hatched a clever and cunning plan to keep me at home.
Prior to campaigning for election, I think all politicians should spend one week, as a student in an elementary school classroom. Then our politicians can be reminded first hand of what society considers is acceptable behavior. Just in case they have forgotten.
I am afraid of spacious public restrooms.
The type most commonly found in Starbucks.
But not all of these generously proportioned facilities terrify me. I am fine with the ones that have been wisely equipped with good old-fashioned keys, locks, or latches. Solid pieces of no nonsense hardware, tested over time, and tasked with the singular job of securing the door to this preciously private domain. In these facilities I thoroughly enjoy the solitude, and meditative nature of natures break.
But humans can never be satisfied, we feel compelled to advance, innovate, improve upon a design. Well I’m here to tell you that this so called improvement to water closet security scares the **it out of me.
The door shuts. I turn, and stare long and hard at this new fangled advancement in restroom technology. My anxiety builds. The shiny silver handle smiles nonchalantly back at me while masquerading as BOTH handle and lock. A veritable jack-of-all-trades, yet master of none. The small circular silver button in the center of the handle waits for me to depress it. I sense heat coursing through my body, my cheeks flushed, I reach out, my movement unsure, my finger hesitant as I push the button in. It clicks softly. I look incredulously at it.
How locked are you? Completely locked, partially locked, or not locked at all? There is no way to tell.
If I de trouser, trek across the room, and perch myself upon the toilet I will be operating without a safety net. If the door is in fact unlocked, and a total stranger starts to enter, the distance is just too far, eliminating any chance to react quickly by slamming a hand or foot into the door in an attempt to prevent full exposure.
Fear grips me. I have to know. Locked or unlocked?
I grasp the handle and push it down, there’s another soft click. Did that innocuous click really mean that the door was indeed secured? It all seems a bit haphazard and casual in relationship to what is at stake.
I open the door, keep it a jar a few inches, and depress the central button for a second time.
The next person in line for the restroom will now experience the unusual sighting of a hand squeezing out of the gap, curling around the door, and clasping the outside door handle. Then wiggling it furiously to confirm it’s locked state. The hand will then slither quickly back into the restroom. There’s a soft click as the lock is released and the door shut.
Inside I push the button one last time, and trembling, retreat reluctantly to my far off porcelain throne.
Do newscasters become newscasters because they naturally have “Newscaster Hair”, or is hair a critical part of the training?
As I shaved my ears this morning, I realized that evidence of aging materializes in the most mysterious places.
My favorite definition of story comes from a gentleman called Peter Guber. He is a producer out in L.A. who produced such movies as Color Purple, Batman, Kids are Alright, Midnight Express, Gorillas in the Mist and many more.
In his book, “Tell to Win”, he stated that all his successes have been when he told the story, and his failures have been when he got too wrapped up in the numbers and profits.
At one point he said, “A story is a vehicle that allows you to put the facts in an emotional context.” I have always loved this definition for a few reasons.
First I like its simplicity.
Think of stories as little pockets of information. They can be short, concise, purposeful, and often can be told in the same amount of time it would take to list facts or figure. Don’t think of stories as long-winded, drawn out tales that take a long time to tell.
Second, it’s all about the facts. Facts are important. For years people have thought of stories as fluff. They are not. It’s just a different, more successful way of delivering your facts.
And third, it tells us what to do! All we have to do is take our facts and wrap them in an emotional context so the audience can recall them.
That’s it. Simple. Done.
If babies, when they cry, didn’t actually sound like babies crying, but instead sounded like Antonio Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, I think less people would have issues sitting next to them on airplanes.
My wife Susan recently tried a bit of my sugar free blueberry lemon bread from a local coffee shop. She screwed up her face and said, “That’s stale.” I regretfully informed her, “No darling, that’s what healthy tastes like.”
I don’t know of a single Happy Hour that’s an hour.