Mish mash mosh

There's a lot of mush slopping around inside my head but none of it feels worthy of fleshing out for an individual post. On Abbey Road, The Beatles took several half-finished song fragments and turned them into what is now considered a medley masterpiece. I'm going to co-opt that idea and maybe make one halfway entertaining post out of a bunch of flotsam and jetsam.

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Is there a handy guy or gal out there who can give me some painting tips? Why is this always happening to me?

WHY IS IT that when I pull off the painter's masking tape, it takes some of the paint with it? I wait 24 hours until it's dry but it still happens every single time.

I thought this shit was supposed to be super non-adhesive to prevent this sort of thing from happening? I always end up with a lot of extra touch-up work when any normal handy guy or gal would be done. It's annoying.

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Fashion catastrophe #1.

This is bad, right? You shouldn't wear socks with sandals. And isn't wearing socks that color-coordinate with your sandals just adding insult to injury? I showed this to my friend and he said that no man, under any circumstances, should wear sandals in the first place. [Sheepishly admits to owning sandals.]

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Rooting for the New York Yankees to win is like rooting for Goldman Sachs to post record profits in the third quarter.

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Do you remember the Wantologist nonsense from the previous post? Well, here's another winning profession courtesy of, once again, the idiot features editor of The New York Times.

Lynsey Stone [already the "unique" spelling of her first name tells me what direction we're headed in] has morphed from ordinary photographer to a Birth Photographer. A Birth Photographer will rush to the hospital when a woman has dilated six centimeters. There's a growing demand to capture the blessed moment when the baby first appears and share those photos (where else?) on Facebook. The photos have to have artistic merit. Mere snapshots are inadequate.

A woman in Long Beach, California shelled out $1,895 to have the birth of her child documented. Quoteth her: "That moment when both my husband and I look to see what the sex is? That's something that I want to see happen." Can you imagine being married to that? The Birth Photographer interviewed spoke of "Divas" who insist that their faces be depicted from certain flattering angles.

I remember when I was in the delivery room when Daughter #2 arrived. During the labor, I whispered gently into Mrs. Wife's ear, "You're doing great. Breath." She looked over to me and said, "Will you shut up!?" No diva, she!

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Fashion catastrophe #2.

I was waiting for my transport back to New Jersey after a long day in the salt mines and noticed a BIG spot on a shirt collar in front of me.

I zoomed in and saw that this guy had never removed the sales label.

Van Heusen classic fit. 17 34/35. What can we surmise? First, this guy isn't married. No wife would allow her husband to step out of the house looking like this. Also, I think we can assume that he's not very well liked at work. Shouldn't one of his colleagues tell him? I refuse to believe that nobody noticed. Now, that's just mean!

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This is from when I flew over the snow-capped Rocky Mountains on my way to Las Vegas.

A good friend of mine recently pointed out that my Las Vegas trip was a month ago to the day. Is that all? It seems much, much longer than just a month. Time bends to its own will. Not yours.