Talking to a mechanic or a car dealer is like talking to a Dr. Seuss character for me. Seriously, they could say anything and I would believe it.

The fop-whistle on the groaning plate is off by three particles.

Sure, I reply and nod.

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Apparently, the peanut butter cup pancakes at Denny’s are only good in theory.

Who designs their menu? Is it just a bunch of guys debating over beers? This is how I imagine the discussion of their “master chefs” in the corporate offices:

“Should we add more chocolate chips?”

“Good idea, people love chocolate (Burp).”

“Good one.”

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It’s been over 20 years since I have been in a marching band, so why is it that I still walk in tempo?

AND when I try not to walk in tempo a part of my brain seems to revolt in disgust. I just can’t do it. It feels like a success and a failure all at the same time. Continue reading →